Maybe the creepiest of producer Val Lewton’s great low-budget horror films for RKO in the 1940s. Like the best of them, it’s strikingly adult, it moves at a deliberate pace, it splashes shadows everywhere and it has a sophisticated sense of ambiguity. It also brings some star power with Boris Karloff’s great performance—he’s a very underrated actor—as a Greek
military general who has pure ice water in his veins. He takes a break from battle to visit his wife’s grave on a nearby island only to find her tomb
ransacked. H
e walks to a nearby house to learn what the fuck is going on and ends up at a home in the throes of a deadly virus. From there, he clicks into military mode and takes command. When people in the house keep dying, despite his guardianship, Karloff succumbs to superstitious beliefs. And becomes dangerous. A classic live entombment follows along with some stabbings and scary laughs and whispers in the dark.
It’s the third of four films that director Mark Robson made for Lewton, each one a chill-inducing winner on a serious shortage of time and money. This film squeezes a lot into a mere seventy-one minutes, but never feels rushed.