How far can a movie's reputation rise above its actual merit?
When I was growing up, my best friend Steve often told me of the scariest movie he ever saw. It was about a skull that screamed as it flew through the air, killing all with whom it came into contact. I still remember his heart-stopping description of it springing to life from a shelf and attacking a helpless woman.
Steve had one vivid imagination. So does Jenni (Peggy Webber), the protagonist of "The Screaming Skull." After coming to live at the estate of her new husband, Eric, she becomes convinced she is being haunted by the spirit of his late first wife, Marion, often in the form of a skull that pops up in unexpected places. Sometimes she also hears screams, though Eric tells her it's only the estate peacocks.
It's hard to believe this was the movie Steve was so terrified of. For most of its running time, "The Screaming Skull" is a quiet melodrama with only faint hints of menace around its edges.
We watch as Jenni alternately speaks of how happy and in love she is or else screams her head off whenever she is startled by something Eric insists is all in her mind. Occasionally, for variety, Jenni and Eric talk to a friendly minister and his wife, but for a kooky gardener (director Alex Nicol) the only other people in this film.
Words can't do justice to how stiff a movie this is. Occasionally you get a musical sting from composer Ernest Gold and a worried expression from Webber, but otherwise this 68-minute movie is like watching paint dry.
And the dialogue! "I thought life had died for me..." "Learning from her, you give again to me. I wish there was some way to thank..." "Perhaps she slipped on a leaf..." "Dead people don't cry..." "The only cure for her fear is to teach her she is loved..."
"The Screaming Skull" is famous for one thing: A promise to patrons to pay for the "burial services" of anyone scared to death by the film. Nicol and writer John Kneubuhl apparently put most of their effort into ensuring no one would ever be in a position to collect.
To give the movie credit, the black-and-white cinematography by Floyd Crosby (who shot "High Noon" and was David's dad) has real character and works surprisingly well at establishing a gloomy mood despite the sunny outdoor setting. The actors are decent most of the time, and the obvious plot twist developed with some craft.
But that's not enough to offset the overall ineptitude on display. The scares, when they finally arrive, are much too artificial and contrived. When the title character finally does attack, it's more likely to provoke titters than jitters.
I didn't care much about how things worked out for Jenni, Eric, Skully, the Rev. I just kept thinking about Steve, wondering how something so inane as this could have provoked such captivating retellings back in the day. I guess sometimes there are two movies, the one that exists and the one we remember. Too bad the former is usually worse.
When I was growing up, my best friend Steve often told me of the scariest movie he ever saw. It was about a skull that screamed as it flew through the air, killing all with whom it came into contact. I still remember his heart-stopping description of it springing to life from a shelf and attacking a helpless woman.
Steve had one vivid imagination. So does Jenni (Peggy Webber), the protagonist of "The Screaming Skull." After coming to live at the estate of her new husband, Eric, she becomes convinced she is being haunted by the spirit of his late first wife, Marion, often in the form of a skull that pops up in unexpected places. Sometimes she also hears screams, though Eric tells her it's only the estate peacocks.
It's hard to believe this was the movie Steve was so terrified of. For most of its running time, "The Screaming Skull" is a quiet melodrama with only faint hints of menace around its edges.
We watch as Jenni alternately speaks of how happy and in love she is or else screams her head off whenever she is startled by something Eric insists is all in her mind. Occasionally, for variety, Jenni and Eric talk to a friendly minister and his wife, but for a kooky gardener (director Alex Nicol) the only other people in this film.
Words can't do justice to how stiff a movie this is. Occasionally you get a musical sting from composer Ernest Gold and a worried expression from Webber, but otherwise this 68-minute movie is like watching paint dry.
And the dialogue! "I thought life had died for me..." "Learning from her, you give again to me. I wish there was some way to thank..." "Perhaps she slipped on a leaf..." "Dead people don't cry..." "The only cure for her fear is to teach her she is loved..."
"The Screaming Skull" is famous for one thing: A promise to patrons to pay for the "burial services" of anyone scared to death by the film. Nicol and writer John Kneubuhl apparently put most of their effort into ensuring no one would ever be in a position to collect.
To give the movie credit, the black-and-white cinematography by Floyd Crosby (who shot "High Noon" and was David's dad) has real character and works surprisingly well at establishing a gloomy mood despite the sunny outdoor setting. The actors are decent most of the time, and the obvious plot twist developed with some craft.
But that's not enough to offset the overall ineptitude on display. The scares, when they finally arrive, are much too artificial and contrived. When the title character finally does attack, it's more likely to provoke titters than jitters.
I didn't care much about how things worked out for Jenni, Eric, Skully, the Rev. I just kept thinking about Steve, wondering how something so inane as this could have provoked such captivating retellings back in the day. I guess sometimes there are two movies, the one that exists and the one we remember. Too bad the former is usually worse.