Take an anthology film, mix it up with some proper British spookiness, add in a top-notch cast, a splash of Hammer Film style, and whaddya get? The House That Dripped Blood, easily the finest anthology film I have seen. Forget Creepshow, Tales From The Darkside: The Movie, Hellblock 13, all of 'em! I've got a new favorite, and should you pick this little gem up, you will too.

The wraparound story concerns an investigator from Scotland Yard checking in on the disappearance of a famous actor (Jon "Dr. Who" Pertwee) who was renting a house in the countryside. When the investigator asks the landlord what he knows of the house, the landlord tells him a quartet of tales involving previous tenants of the house, and the fates that befell each of them.

The first case, "Method For Murder," concerns Charles Hillyer and his wife Alice, leasing the house so Charles can get his creative juices flowing again. Charles is a horror author, and his latest novel is not moving quick enough to meet deadline. All that changes when he imagines Dominick in his mind's eye: a mad strangler freshly escaped from the nuthouse. However, he begins to question his stroke of good luck and creative influx when Dominick begins to manifest himself about the house and its grounds. Even Alice isn't safe, as Dominick attacks her...or did he? As you guessed, something stinks, and it ain't what you'd expect.

The next segment, "Waxworks," begins House's horror superstar lineup. Peter Cushing is Philip Grayson, a retired businessman. He rents the house to enjoy his retirement, whiling away the days reading, gardening, and other busywork. All that comes crashing to a halt when he discovers a little wax museum, and the statue of Salome. Salome is an unrequited love from his youth, and he soon grows obsessed with the museum, and the statue within. Again, everything isn't quite what it seems, and it looks like Phil isn't going to be enjoying his retirement after all!

Christopher Lee heads up the third and spookiest segment "Sweets To The Sweet." Lee is the stern father to his daughter Jane, who he refuses any social contact or toys, and who has a deep fear of fire. The father hires a nanny/tutor to care for and educate his child, and she and Jane develop a bond, drawing Jane a bit out of her shell. Unfortunately, Jane NEEDS to be kept in line: she inherited her dead mother's gift for witchcraft, and she's got some plans for her father. Plans involving missing candles, the "W" book in the encyclopedia, and a hatpin.

The final story, "The Cloak," brings us full circle back to the actor who leased the house, Paul Henderson. An aging horror star bemoaning the low-budget production he's starring in (a sly self-deprecating jab), he bitches about the shoddiness of the set design, the falseness of his wardrobe, everything. Hoping to inject some class into the picture, he purchases an old cloak from a costumery, and discovers it's more than what it seems. Not only does it make him invisible in mirrors, but it gives him a vampiric bloodlust as well. He becomes terrified after attacking his costar (the lovely Ingrid Pitt) and retreats to the house, where yet ANOTHER secret awaits.

I'm surprised this movie hasn't been more recognized by horror buffs. The screenplay, written by Robert Bloch (who wrote Psycho, and was pals with H. P. Lovecraft) is pure pulp fun. Bloch's most prolific writings were short stories, and the format translates quite well on the screen. Peter Duffel's direction is eerie and dreamlike, and having the same visual style across all of the tales is important when the true main character is the house itself. Indeed, the house is pretty creepy, with the coolest study EVER (love the oddly hinged skull box) and lots of stylish antiques furnishing it. As stated before, the actors in the movie are amazing: the cast list reads like a horror kid's wet dream. Best of all is the class this movie has. It's ironic that the movie's titled The House That Dripped Blood: there's not a drop of the red stuff anywhere. Instead of obvious scares and gruesomeness, the movie is very creepy, and builds quite the sense of dread in the viewer. Everything in the movie is great stuff.

Previously available only on VHS, Lion's Gate has given House one hell of a DVD treatment. Colors were even and bold (especially the reds) and blacks had almost no grain. Print damage was there, but not enough to take away from the picture quality. Sound was nice and clean, with no distortion and virtually no hiss. Extras are slim, and include a trailer and an interview with producer Max Rosenberg. Not the dream treatment one could hope for, but the great audiovisual quality is well worth the price of admission.

As I stated before, this has become my new favorite anthology film. It's classy, creepy, and features one of the best casts ever assembled for a horror film. I applaud Lion's Gate for digging this beauty out of the depths of VHS hell to give it a nice DVD treatment and make us happy. It sure as hell made ME happy.