I Bury the Living.

Review #1791: I Bury the Living.

Cast: 

Richard Boone (Robert Kraft), Theodore Bikel (Andy McKee), Peggy Maurer (Ann Craig), Howard Smith (George Kraft), Herbert Anderson (Jess Jessup), and Robert Osterloh (Lt. Clayborne) Directed by Albert Band.

Review: 

With new directors, sometimes you have to look back into the realm of B-movies to find people to feature, or at the very least one behind films that slipped through the cracks. So, here we are with a film directed by Albert Band. Technically, there are some interesting things to say about the Band family, in that he was the son of Max Band, a landscape artist born in Lithuania (he lived in France for most of his life, which is where Albert was born). Band had two children that became involved with film: Charles became a horror filmmaker and Richard became a music composer. At any rate, Albert became interested in film from a young age (when the Bands moved to the States before France became occupied, they lived in California). He would be tasked to help write the film adaptation for The Red Badge of Courage (1951), doing so with John Huston. Band would be given his chance to direct with The Young Guns (1956), a Western. While he never exactly became a household name, Band was a solid contributor to B-movie cinema for years in directing and producing, whether that meant films like Troll (1986, producer) or other various efforts (which even included work with his brother Charles).

The movie was shot in nine days in a cemetery. Honestly, there is quite a crisp movie to watch here, even if the title (originally referred to as "The Killer on the Wall" before United Artists changed it) is considerably misleading. Nobody is actually buried alive, for one thing. Well, the plot is quite simple, really. A new member of a committee is tasked to manage a cemetery by obligation, and his office just happens to have a wall-map of the cemetery with white pins for plots that are bought but not used and black pins for the dead and buried. Accidents in putting the wrong pins make him think that he has the problem of marking folks for death, and it is attempts by board members to dissuade him from his belief that make things worse (in other words, he isn't "burying" the living, he just happens to be putting pins in people's spots that see them die). Of course, there also happens to be a superstitious Scotsman that works at the cemetery, too. Louis A. Garfinkle wrote the film while also producing it with Band, and the two worked on five films together (Garfinkle is likely best known for his help in developing a computer screenwriting system called Collaborator along with co-writing The Deer Hunter). Garfinkle's script seems like the kind of material familiar with stuff such as The Twilight Zone (although this film came out one year earlier), which means one might find eerie fascination with the ideas presented here. The lighting also certainly helps here (not just being a budget dodge), since it contributes to the growing mood of fear and weirdness presented in a film with limited sets and consistent understated acting. In that sense, one could almost see this as an under-looked gem, one that benefits from Boone (perhaps best known for Have Gun - Will Travel, which premiered the previous year), who moves through the material with icy curiosity that doesn't quiver when faced with looming morbid stuff. Bikel (actor, folk singer, musician, composer) might be a bit clouded under all the age makeup, but he isn't distracting to the point of irritation, as he pulls off an interesting contrast to Boone in offbeat nature. The rest are the usual skeptic type for weirdness (i.e. folks needed to look dull before they could get roped off). The growing sense of losing oneself is the best part of the film, because the climax is a complete letdown, doing a bait and switch that tries to cut off the mystery with rationality. Sure, it might have fit when it comes to trying to make money with the audience, but a bait and switch is still a bait and switch. As a horror movie, it is completely average, but it at least stands out enough in its average qualities to make it worth a curiosity over the attempts at building horror within simple things (a cheap set, reliable actors, Gerald Fried's music, take your pick). It was interesting enough to have praise lent to it by horror writer Stephen King, no less. If that can't sway you, nothing could. As a whole, Albert Band had a lengthy career of film that one could only dream to have for themselves or for their children, regardless of quality, you might say.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

Next Time: This Sporting Life (1963)