One of Vincent Price's Best

Newly released on laser disc, Theatre of Blood is a 1973 British flick that deserves a second look for those of you who might have passed over it on home video.

Vincent Price is Edward Lionheart, a theater actor who has dedicated his life to overwrought, hammy performances of Shakespeare plays. As with most temperamental actor-types, Lionheart believes his performances brilliant. But the London Theater Critics Organization fails to recognize this at their annual awards ceremony. When Lionheart loses to a young upstart, he flings himself into the Thames in a suicidal fit. His soaked and nearly dead body dragged from the river by a group of schizophrenic homeless, Lionheart begins to plan his elaborate revenge from beyond the grave . . .

. . . And what sweet revenge it is! Lionheart waits until a year after his "death" - the eve of the next critic’s award - to begin his rampaging retribution. Taking his cues from the twisted mind of The Bard himself, Lionheart and his crew of wacko homeless begin to systematically dispatch the crusty critics using plot points from various Shakespeare plays. Lionheart quotes iambic pentameter as his sworn foes die in increasingly horrid (not to mention literary) ways - A critic is stabbed by a mob ala Julius Caesar. A deadly fencing match mirrors the duel in Romeo and Juliet. One critic loses "a pound of flesh" (actually, it’s his heart) as per the judicial system in The Merchant of Venice. The gleeful carnage continues until only one critic remains . . .

Basically reprising the tone and plot of the Dr. Phibes films, Theatre of Blood is an absolute joy to watch. Price chews the scenery with obvious gusto, tongue skewering cheek. This man could ACT! As an added bonus, Price’s daughter (Edwina Lionheart) is played by the classically beautiful Diana Rigg (all right, I admit to having a severe crush on her at age 8 when PBS began to re-run The Avengers . . . but she’s still a babe!). I’m not normally a huge fan of the late 60s/early 70s British horror, but Theatre of Blood (like the Phibes films) has a pitch- black sensibility. A morbid streak a mile wide. The film works because it utilizes droll British wit rather than the period pageantry of the Hammer releases. A biting sense of humor is Theatre of Blood’s saving grace.

Theater is one of those films where you find yourself identifying with, if not rooting for, the murderer. A dubious feat, indeed (especially being a wanna-be critic - victim - like myself) Price will slay you (as well as the intended victim) when he poses as an afro-ed, effeminate hair stylist. You’ll find yourself cheering as a porcine critic is forced to eat the remains of his beloved poodles. Hell, I found myself choking back a tear as Price makes his climactic dive off of the top of a burning building (surviving critic: "At least he knew how to do a good exit."). Good, gruesome fun for the whole family. A Price-less film.