In 1929, the eccentric Dr. Anton Phibes (Vincent Price), mutilated in an accident and now wearing an elaborate false face, seeks revenge on the medical team who failed to save his wife. With the help of the beautiful and silent Vulnavia (Virginia North), Phibes carries out elaborate murders, modeled after the ancient plagues on Egypt. Inspector Trout (Peter Jeffrey), the most competent of the seriously incompetent police, finds that the deaths are connected to surgeon Dr. Vesalius (Joseph Cotten) and works to save him and the team that worked with him.
If you want your horror films to start with a guy in a store-bought mask chasing a teenager through the woods, The Abominable Dr. Phibes is not for you. However, if a weirdly madeup, hooded Vincent Price playing the organ and then directing a clockwork jazz band is your cup of tea, you’re going to love it.
This vivid, art-deco horror-comedy may not be frightening, but it is bizarre and funny, often at the same time. Between murders, Phibes dances with his assistant, Vulnavia, or sips champagne by pouring it into an unseen slot in his neck. To talk, he plugs a cord from his throat into a speaker. As most of his face can’t move (it’s supposed to be a mask), Phibes must express anger, longing, and amusement with his eyes and stance. Most actors would fail in the attempt, but the greatly underestimated Price pulls it off perfectly.
Vulnavia is a whole extra layer of odd. She never speaks, changes from one extravagant gown to another (some with headpieces normally seen on Los Vegas showgirls), and is given no background or motivation. This isn’t a criticism, as it adds to the surrealistic feeling. She even plays the violin at the murders. Plus, her name is Vulnavia. Say that three times quickly.
While Price is given most of the credit for the success of the film, Peter Jeffrey could be considered the lead as his Inspector Trout has more screen time and many more lines than Phibes. And he is equally good. The police investigation plays out like a post-war British film comedy, with the not-so-bright Trout squeezed between his ineffectual underlings (who don’t even know to look up the address of a potential victim) and mindless superiors, who keep saying that there’s nothing going on as doctors die all the time (I never knew what a dangerous profession it was). The funniest moment in the film comes after a man is killed by a catapulted unicorn head (yes, I wrote “a catapulted unicorn head”) that impales him to a wall. The police then put their brains to work figuring out how to get the body free. It would be unfair for me to give away their method, but we’re in Monty Python territory.
Joseph Cotten is the only one who plays it straight, and that works for the picture as Vesalius is the lone sympathetic victim. In all other cases, I was cheering for Phibes. Not that there is anything evil about the others, but their sole function is to be killed. The only other victim I even notice is played by screen comic Terry-Thomas. His doctor has a fondness for alcohol and tame, hand cranked, stag films. When the sublime Vulnavia shows up, he goes willingly; who wouldn’t?
While the sets are fascinatingly flamboyant, the dialog is clever, and the cinematography is a vibrant dream, the actual killings are nothing special. The idea of the plague-based murders keeps you guessing how Phibes will pull of the next, but most are too improbable to have been part of an ingenious plan (one only works because the victim took the most powerful sleeping pill I’ve ever heard of). Then there are the plagues of animals. The second murder is carried out by…fruit bats. Yes, the poor victim is shredded by flying foxes. Have you ever seen a flying fox? “Horrifying” is not the word that comes to mind. “Cute” is the proper description. Instead of killing anyone, they look more like they are ready to snuggle. The only reason they’d be climbing on anyone is to search his pockets for grapes. Even if these large, cuddly, vegetarians were somehow killers, the dozen or so that are tossed into the victim’s room would hardly be dangerous to anyone who is capable of walking away. Later, a victim is viciously attacked by rats. Six or so, fluffy, perfectly clean, gentle looking rats. Only three of them even climb on the guy. Oh the horror, a small rodent who’s obviously been hand raised and well cared for is moving slowly at my feet! How will I survive? Still, these flaws didn’t bother me much, particularly as the fuzzy flying foxes were one of the few parts of the film my wife (who isn’t a big horror fan) enjoyed. The only true misstep is the climax of Vulnavia’s story, which is out-of-step with the tone of the film.
The Abominable Dr. Phibes has weathered the years well. I enjoyed it thirty years ago and I enjoy it as much now. Time has no power over anything this elegantly outlandish.