Not everyone will agree, but I think the
creators of Masque of the Red Death saw a rare
opportunity. A chance to produce a movie that made big
money. And the opportunity to slip a message in. A
profound message about an individual’s faith, how you live your
life, given the inevitability of death. Even better, they
could include this message without damaging their movie’s
commercial appeal.
Some felt
Masque over-reached… or it was pretentious.
I can understand those feelings.
But the more I watch it, the more I feel how high it
set its goals. Limited budget and shooting schedule took
their toll. In other words, Masque was
bound to fall short of what could have been.
The question is, how good was the final cut, what
they were able to capture.
Real good. I’d still rate it Vincent Price’s
best horror movie…even better than
Witchfinder General. And director Roger
Corman’s best too. (Others prefer Tomb of
Ligeia, Corman’s last horror movie.)
Don’t forget the veteran screenwriters Charles
Beaumont and R. Wright Campbell who came up with a great story and
dialogue, most likely under great time pressure.
The main character is Prince Prospero
(Price)—arrogant, often cruel, most of all, confident in mocking
Christianity. An ego the size of Cleveland Ohio. The
story begins with a plague (the Red Death) sweeping through the
countryside.
Vincent Price as Prospero– in probably his all-time best
movie
Prospero’s opinion on the Red Death? It can’t
touch me in my castle; I am a prince, immune to such everyday
shit.
Prospero is also a Satanist who makes no apologies.
He condemns Christianity in a whole slew of ways: it is
hypocritical; it gives people a wretched life.
Basically—what has God ever done for you?
He takes sadistic pleasure at putting people to the
test—if you really believe, what will you do once I get my claws
in you? Prospero never misses a chance to challenge them—to
say, if you’re such a good Christian, how will you handle this?
The plot is based on a brilliant Edgar Allan Poe
story. But the story is too short to sketch out many
characters. The movie is generally faithful to Poe’s sketch
of the prince, and uses that as a jumping-off point.
Near the beginning, Prospero stops in a
village where the plague just hit. In his typical mocking
style, he invites the villagers to his celebration. Three of
them refuse to grovel—the young lovers Gino and Francesca and
Francesca’s father.
Their courage, especially Francesca’s, intrigues
Prospero. He orders her taken to his castle, the two men
taken to his dungeons—then burns the village.
Prospero is determined to convince Francesca that
her faith is hollow. How? Any way he can.
Show her the suffering of innocent people, and
innocent animals. And not a single sign from God in protest.
Show her the selfishness, the mean-ness of people who call
themselves good people. Tell her about cruelty done in the
name of God—monks who tortured during the Inquisition. Most
of all—let her experience life with the rich people in his castle,
who will survive the plague while people outside die.
Not that Prospero calls his guests good
people. The fact that they survive while other people die
only proves his point.
Francesca gets to Prospero’s castle just in time for
the freak show—a medieval version of the privileged class…at their
worst. You can imagine that old Emerson, Lake and Palmer
song for a soundtrack,
“We’re so glad you could attend/Come along, Come
along/Come along, the show’s about to start/Guaranteed to tear
your head apart/Come see the show!”
Prospero hopes the corrupt atmosphere will rub off
on Francesca. But even more, that he himself can teach her,
win her over to his satanic viewpoint.
Many critics found Jane Asher (Francesca) utterly
bland. They have a point. Yet she shows a kind of
quiet courage that is not easily broken. She has faith she doesn’t
need to throw in your face.
Francesca–quiet but unshakeable faith
Only one scene in Masque takes
place outside during daylight. Yet it is cruel and brutal as
anything else in the movie—Prospero lets his falcon fly free, it
kills a dove; the dove falls from the sky. He and Francesca
watch.
Director Corman was legendary for dealing with the
worst circumstances and managing to use them to his advantage.
He may not have planned this to be his only daylight scene.
But the results are devastating; a good argument that life
is continual brutality—night or day.
Again Prospero mocks Francesca’s faith, tries
to bait her into his argument. She has no compelling
comebacks to his taunts, but continues to hold her ground with a
quiet courage, a dignity. The Prince is clearly not
scoring any quick knockouts.
Prospero believes he will soon receive a sign from
Satan. The festivities begin; a dinner followed by a huge
celebration and dance. Prospero’s humor has a mean edge to
it. Most of his guests take it in stride. They realize
it is a small price to remain in this sanctuary.
Okay. You know things will not turn out the
way Prospero swore they would—a reckoning is at hand. Corman
had directed several movies loosely based on Poe already, and had
done well with most. He knew a formula that worked and
basically stayed with that.
But what messages gets slipped in, along with this
commercial recipe? I wish I knew enough about Corman,
Beaumont, or Campbell to tell you whose concept this was
originally.
Because whoever it was, took a courageous,
enlightened look at spirituality. One not usually found in
mainstream movies… especially as early as 1964.
Satan-worshippers in movies were nothing new.
But Masque’s viewpoint was a major
break from the past.
A lot more than “God/Jesus=good…Satan=evil.”
Carefully, subtly, this movie reached to expand its vision
beyond Judaism/Christianity/Islam into a broader vision, including
other religious faiths.
Look carefully, and Masque reveals the differences
between Prospero and those who defied him—Francesca and Gino.
You may not catch it the first time, but I
think the key is this—their deeds, their purposes, not their
words. With Prospero, forget a moment all his talk about
Satan vs. Christianity. Don’t judge him on his Mortal
Sins… or sins at all…Instead, feel his attitude toward humanity.
And that is an attitude virtually empty of
compassion. At scattered moments you get strange hints of
empathy–perhaps Francesca has touched something in him. But
his arrogance is so great that little penetrates it.
Jane Asher and David Weston (Francesca and Gino),
never became big stars, but there’s more to their characters than
you realize. Francesca’s impact is in her faith—she‘s no
clever evangelist with brilliant debating skills. No zinging
quotations from Scripture.
It is her actions you respect. Her willingness
to enter Prospero’s castle, expose herself to the freak show.
Offering to give herself to Prospero if he spares Gino’s
life.
Even her words to Julianna, Prospero’s mistress,
after Julianna brands her own breast with a satanic symbol.
Francesca could have spoken words of contempt…or
complete disgust. You’re lower now in God’s eyes than a
toad.
Instead she shows concern for Juliana. “Did
Prospero do that to you?”
Her humanity shows through at that moment.
Gino is no Kirk Douglas or Gregory Peck (major
action heroes in 1964) —he is more of an Everyman, a peasant from
a tiny village who never learned to use a sword; he never had the
chance.
But again and again he shows his courage. He
refuses to accept Prospero’s abuse. Later he tries to
appeal to the Prince’s humanity when Prospero orders his men to
burn the village: “Winter comes.”
He fights a guard he knows is a skilled swordsman.
When the surviving villagers come to beg Prospero for mercy,
he tries to stop them; “Forgiveness for what?
Later, Prospero orders Gino thrown out of his
castle. Alone in a dark forest, Gino experiences not just
doubt, but real fear. He falls to the ground in near-panic.
The atmosphere in this scene feels familiar to fans of
Corman’s previous Poe movies.
The figure in red
Then, everything changes suddenly. Gino
notices a figure dressed all in red, his back to a tree. He
slowly drops Tarot cards to the ground from a deck. His
voice is cold but his words are kind, comforting. “Who is
your God?”
“The true one,” Gino says, no hesitation.
“Tell me—have you sinned?”
“I’ve killed, “ Gino says.
“For yourself?”
“No!” Gino says. “I’m afraid.”
“For yourself?”
“For Francesca, and for me.”
Gino gets the reassurance he needs to get his
courage back. Watching him experience doubt and fear, then
get past them, makes him a hero you can identify with.
I don’t want to spoil the ending; I will try not to.
But the same red figure soon enters the castle. He
will have a long talk with Prospero. At first, Prospero is
overjoyed, believing him to be a messenger from Satan.
Definitely wrong.
“Satan rules the Universe,” Prospero tells him
confidently.
“He does not rule alone.”
Rare talk in a movie in the early ‘60’s.
Maybe from exiled Spanish director Luis Bunuel (The Exterminating Angel, Nazarin, unknown to audiences except for hardcore art-film fans).
Miles away from any American movies.
The figure states his blunt truth to Prospero,
“Each man makes his own Heaven and Hell.”
Again, that suggestion between the lines—it’s not
worshipping Satan that makes a difference to your soul, but your
feelings toward mankind—all the people you touched in your life.
You may call God uncaring, even deny God’s existence, but
was your life still a kind one, a caring one?
Most of us have known people like that.
Someone who hasn’t attended a religious service in years,
but a good person, beyond any doubt.
The final scene would be tough to describe without
spoiling it. You may find it deeply touching…or pretentious,
like Sonny and Cher being philosophical in their song
The Beat Goes On.
Again, the theme is the one inevitable certainty in
all our lives—and it’s not taxes, not if you’re a CEO or an
investment banker.
Not everything works in Masque. The costumes
and sets are intense with color and beautifully shot. But
the visual images don’t capture as much as they need to, in the
scenes without sound (Juliana’s hallucinations, the final dance
scene), where powerful images are needed most. Vincent Price
gives a typical performance—powerful but borderline-hammy in many
spots.
But give the filmmakers credit for taking all the
chances they took. Corman had more options making this
movie in England than he did in his previous Poe movies. He
aimed high and found the vision he wanted.