Interview: Robert Bloch
on the Horror Anthology Film
by Dennis Fischer
on the Horror Anthology Film
by Dennis Fischer
CineFan: The first anthology film you wrote was Amicus' TORTURE GARDEN, which led to many other successful multi-story films. Were you satisfied with the finished film?
Bloch: I had my reservations about TORTURE GARDEN. First of all, it wasn't my title; there are no tortures in it, there is no garden, it's Octave Mirbeau's title from his novel of about 1900; it had nothing to do with that. I didn't particularly care for the way the framing story was handled. They saved a lot of money by handling it the way they did, but I didn't think it was well done. I have heard that during the Edgar Allan Poe sequence the director decided to improve the ending, and I don't particularly think he did; it got a little murky. There was also a rather lengthy sequence that was cut out of one of the other episodes in the interests of keeping the film to a certain length for theatrical release. I think that that was supposedly incorporated into some of the television releases, though I haven't seen it, but it changed the tempo and pace of that sequence considerably.
CineFan; What was your original framing story, or did you have one?
Bloch: It had the same framing story but handled in a totally different fashion. We didn't have a cornball devil with horns that were obviously plastic popping out of his head in an obvious trick shot. This was done very realistically, and with a different emphasis in dialog. I think Burgess Merideth improvised much of his own speeches, but I don't think that helped. As much as I admire him as an actor, I don't think that he is necessarily a writer.
CineFan: What do you think of Amicus' handling of THE HOUSE THAT DRIPPED BLOOD? The vampire episode has always been a favorite of mine.
Bloch: Very, very nice. Now there I must give credit to the director. He added some touches that I didn't have. For example, the use of a blood bank on the set of the sound stage where John Pertwee was portraying the cinematic vampire, and he emphasized the humor at the end of it, and did very well. I think he was aided immeasurably by the performances as well.
CineFan: Whose decision was it to adapt several of your stories like "The Man Who Collected Poe," and "Mr. Steinway?"
Bloch: It was the studio's decision to use my stories, and it was up to me to make selections that they were satisfied with. Mainly, they were satisfied. I think there was one story for ASYLUM that they dropped out, a little humorous episode, and they finally decided this was not consummate with the rest of the episodes, so they eliminated that even though they had specifically requested it go begin with.
CineFan: Have you often had problems with your scripts in films?
Bloch: Inevitably, because I'm not in control of the filming of the final project. The only film I sat in on through script and post-production was STRAIT-JACKET, and that's because Joan Crawford personally requested that I do so. I did what I could, and in most instances I was successful, but in some cases the producer and director prevailed. Bill Castle was more used to working in what he himself called schlock--exploitation--so we emphasized that at the expense of some of the things I thought were a little more subtle, but at least it represents 50% of what I had intended; which is perhaps as close as I've ever come. In the British films, of course, I've been over there a couple of times, but only while they were shooting. I was not able to change what they were trying to shoot. So there are a few sequences in those omnibus films that were left untouched. The first episode of ASYLUM, for example, was shot-for-shot the way I wrote it and I'm very satisfied with it. In other cases they offered their own "improvements," though I don't consider them such. This may be just an author's ego, but I think objectively that's what the case is.
CineFan: Are there any films you've work on that you are particularly proud of?
Bloch: No, I can't say that I'm really happy with anything I've done so far because I've not been able to really put up on the screen what I had visualized, but it's all a matter of degree. Now this is not unique. I think that most writers for film have this problem and there's also the matter of budget--in the case of THE COUCH, many things could be done but they pulled back; they are afraid to spend the money or haven't got it to spend.
That's a peculiar thing about this business of writing for films. When Hollywood pays a million dollars or more for a property--say a successful stage play, MY FAIR LADY, FUNNY GIRL, that sort of thing--they immediately have a multi-million dollar budget appropriated for the transition. They give the assignment to a top name writer, pay him or her two hundred thousand dollars and up for doing the script, he or she spends at least six months on it, then production ensues and this may take another three or four or five months, and what happens in most cases is that the property is translated to film almost verbatim. They do what they call an opening up of sequences. They put in a few exterior sequences that are suggested or alluded to in the stage presentation, and they actually portray it. For example, in MY FAIR LADY, they had scenes at the Ascot races and in the gardens, but they are still within the framework of the original play and story. So actually the writer does very little work, very little changing, has every opportunity to write and rewrite at leisure, and gets paid an astronomical sum.
But when Hollywood does an original or a low budget or exploitation, it's a question of "We've only got X number of dollars and you got to start from scratch, and do us an original, and we'd like it next Tuesday, please." And then you say, "Fine, here it is, but there's some changes...", and they say "Okay, you have two more days to make the changes. We're going to shoot the whole thing in three or four weeks." So oddly enough, one has greater handicaps in so-called low budget filming than one does when given the red carpet treatment. But, yet again, writers are bracketted according to what they've received. If you've once done a script for a quarter of a million dollars, nobody's going to dare come around and ask you to do one for less.
Conversely, I will mention a name which occurs to me instantly in this regard, and I don't mean it in a demeaning fashion--he's one of my closest friends and one of the people I admire most, Richard Matheson. He has achieved an enviable reputation in his field and in television and in film, and he certainly is responsible for--far more than Roger Corman of anyone else---for the success of American International films. But I know that he was paid very small amounts for those scripts, as was Charles Beaumont and many others who did them. He has never achieved any great recognition for them, and when this spate of lavish horror films erupted after THE EXORCIST, nobody to my knowledge went to Dick Matheson and said, "Here's $300,000, we know you're the greatest, now do us a script." Instead they went to these other people because Richard Matheson was doing American International. When he wrote LEGEND OF HELL HOUSE, he still had to work on a limited budget. Same sort of thing. You get categorized. The same is true with actors, actresses, directors, producers and cinematographers. This is not a personal gripe; it's an objective observation of the way in which Hollywood functions.
-END-
This interview first appeared in CineFan #3 (Winter/Spring 1984/1985). Copyright 1985 by Randall D. Larson and appears here by the courtesy of Dennis Fischer and Randall D. Larson.
Bloch: I had my reservations about TORTURE GARDEN. First of all, it wasn't my title; there are no tortures in it, there is no garden, it's Octave Mirbeau's title from his novel of about 1900; it had nothing to do with that. I didn't particularly care for the way the framing story was handled. They saved a lot of money by handling it the way they did, but I didn't think it was well done. I have heard that during the Edgar Allan Poe sequence the director decided to improve the ending, and I don't particularly think he did; it got a little murky. There was also a rather lengthy sequence that was cut out of one of the other episodes in the interests of keeping the film to a certain length for theatrical release. I think that that was supposedly incorporated into some of the television releases, though I haven't seen it, but it changed the tempo and pace of that sequence considerably.
CineFan; What was your original framing story, or did you have one?
Bloch: It had the same framing story but handled in a totally different fashion. We didn't have a cornball devil with horns that were obviously plastic popping out of his head in an obvious trick shot. This was done very realistically, and with a different emphasis in dialog. I think Burgess Merideth improvised much of his own speeches, but I don't think that helped. As much as I admire him as an actor, I don't think that he is necessarily a writer.
CineFan: What do you think of Amicus' handling of THE HOUSE THAT DRIPPED BLOOD? The vampire episode has always been a favorite of mine.
Bloch: Very, very nice. Now there I must give credit to the director. He added some touches that I didn't have. For example, the use of a blood bank on the set of the sound stage where John Pertwee was portraying the cinematic vampire, and he emphasized the humor at the end of it, and did very well. I think he was aided immeasurably by the performances as well.
CineFan: Whose decision was it to adapt several of your stories like "The Man Who Collected Poe," and "Mr. Steinway?"
Bloch: It was the studio's decision to use my stories, and it was up to me to make selections that they were satisfied with. Mainly, they were satisfied. I think there was one story for ASYLUM that they dropped out, a little humorous episode, and they finally decided this was not consummate with the rest of the episodes, so they eliminated that even though they had specifically requested it go begin with.
CineFan: Have you often had problems with your scripts in films?
Bloch: Inevitably, because I'm not in control of the filming of the final project. The only film I sat in on through script and post-production was STRAIT-JACKET, and that's because Joan Crawford personally requested that I do so. I did what I could, and in most instances I was successful, but in some cases the producer and director prevailed. Bill Castle was more used to working in what he himself called schlock--exploitation--so we emphasized that at the expense of some of the things I thought were a little more subtle, but at least it represents 50% of what I had intended; which is perhaps as close as I've ever come. In the British films, of course, I've been over there a couple of times, but only while they were shooting. I was not able to change what they were trying to shoot. So there are a few sequences in those omnibus films that were left untouched. The first episode of ASYLUM, for example, was shot-for-shot the way I wrote it and I'm very satisfied with it. In other cases they offered their own "improvements," though I don't consider them such. This may be just an author's ego, but I think objectively that's what the case is.
CineFan: Are there any films you've work on that you are particularly proud of?
Bloch: No, I can't say that I'm really happy with anything I've done so far because I've not been able to really put up on the screen what I had visualized, but it's all a matter of degree. Now this is not unique. I think that most writers for film have this problem and there's also the matter of budget--in the case of THE COUCH, many things could be done but they pulled back; they are afraid to spend the money or haven't got it to spend.
That's a peculiar thing about this business of writing for films. When Hollywood pays a million dollars or more for a property--say a successful stage play, MY FAIR LADY, FUNNY GIRL, that sort of thing--they immediately have a multi-million dollar budget appropriated for the transition. They give the assignment to a top name writer, pay him or her two hundred thousand dollars and up for doing the script, he or she spends at least six months on it, then production ensues and this may take another three or four or five months, and what happens in most cases is that the property is translated to film almost verbatim. They do what they call an opening up of sequences. They put in a few exterior sequences that are suggested or alluded to in the stage presentation, and they actually portray it. For example, in MY FAIR LADY, they had scenes at the Ascot races and in the gardens, but they are still within the framework of the original play and story. So actually the writer does very little work, very little changing, has every opportunity to write and rewrite at leisure, and gets paid an astronomical sum.
But when Hollywood does an original or a low budget or exploitation, it's a question of "We've only got X number of dollars and you got to start from scratch, and do us an original, and we'd like it next Tuesday, please." And then you say, "Fine, here it is, but there's some changes...", and they say "Okay, you have two more days to make the changes. We're going to shoot the whole thing in three or four weeks." So oddly enough, one has greater handicaps in so-called low budget filming than one does when given the red carpet treatment. But, yet again, writers are bracketted according to what they've received. If you've once done a script for a quarter of a million dollars, nobody's going to dare come around and ask you to do one for less.
Conversely, I will mention a name which occurs to me instantly in this regard, and I don't mean it in a demeaning fashion--he's one of my closest friends and one of the people I admire most, Richard Matheson. He has achieved an enviable reputation in his field and in television and in film, and he certainly is responsible for--far more than Roger Corman of anyone else---for the success of American International films. But I know that he was paid very small amounts for those scripts, as was Charles Beaumont and many others who did them. He has never achieved any great recognition for them, and when this spate of lavish horror films erupted after THE EXORCIST, nobody to my knowledge went to Dick Matheson and said, "Here's $300,000, we know you're the greatest, now do us a script." Instead they went to these other people because Richard Matheson was doing American International. When he wrote LEGEND OF HELL HOUSE, he still had to work on a limited budget. Same sort of thing. You get categorized. The same is true with actors, actresses, directors, producers and cinematographers. This is not a personal gripe; it's an objective observation of the way in which Hollywood functions.
-END-
This interview first appeared in CineFan #3 (Winter/Spring 1984/1985). Copyright 1985 by Randall D. Larson and appears here by the courtesy of Dennis Fischer and Randall D. Larson.