Stylish and off-the-wall thriller starring Vincent Price as the eponymous Phibes, a critically-acclaimed organist (!) who gets his revenge on the nine medical professionals responsible, in his view, for the death of his wife. The story itself is no great shakes -- in fact, it's a complete flatline, since there's no mystery (we know what's going on long before the police), and although we're put in the position of wanting Phibes to get away with it, the police (and target Joseph Cotten, with an on-and-off again accent) are complete idiots, so there's little suspense there. But Fuest, demonstrating a visual sense that was only hinted at in The Devil's Rain, puts all his energy in the mise-en-scene, giving us some unforgettable images: a "robot" jazz band, a victim frozen solid in the back of his automobile, Phibes, speaking from a hole in his neck and into a Victrola. What's more, Fuest treats Phibes' preparations for murder as ritualistic theater, with wide angles and long takes (like when Phibes and his assistant have romantic dance) on his Art Deco lair, giving this pulpy story a faux-seriousness that turns it into -- not camp, like both its supporters and detractors claim -- but something unexpected, like a dreaded blind date that turns out to be funny and charmingly eccentric.
And, while I have no proof, I can't help but think that a young Matthew Barney caught this on the Saturday afternoon creature feature and imprinted it on his brain. There are several parallels with Cremaster 3 that just don't seem like coincidence, from the aforementioned ritualistic sequences to the late 20s atmosphere (like in Cremaster's horse race scene) to the operating tables to the obsession with arcana (Freemasonry in Cremaster, Hebrew here) to the climax, which features a spiral glass tube dripping acid that is a perfect rhyme to the dripping wax in the Guggenheim. Of course, even if I'm right, if I were Barney, I'd keep my mouth shut, too.
Where we saw it: tv | We deign to rate it: 72 outta 100