Another Childhood Chill over at Limerwrecks, the home of the movie rhyme.
Fiona: “How did they get such an amazing cast?”
Me: “It’s a film about murdering theatre critics. They could have cast it a thousand times over.”
Still, at age 12 or so, I found this one a bit much. Partly it’s the sadistic glee of the bloodletting, the grossness of the visuals (particularly Robert Morley being force-fed poodle pie through a funnel — an acquaintance reported that this scene put her off chicken pie for life), and the fact that Arthur Lowe is killed in his sleep, in bed, the place of safety. I actually had to glance around any room I entered for some weeks after seeing the film, for fear of being surprised by the severed head of Arthur Lowe. Not a very realistic fear, but there it is. Also, as a kid, I think black comedy was particularly disturbing to me — unpleasant stuff not being taken seriously threw me for a loop. Which may be why I’ve taken care to develop quite a strong tolerance for the stuff now, though some jokes still upset me (see review of INGLOURIOUS BASTERDS).