Rosebud

The Masque of the Red Death (1964)
directed by Roger Corman
rating: 3 out of 5 cravats
watched instantly on Netflix

There is more cruelty here than in Corman's other Poe adaptations, but once again I'm left a little cold by the silliness of Satanists. Why would Price's Prince Prospero give himself over so gladly to the man in red? Prospero believes him an agent of the devil, but what could the devil possibly offer that Prospero does not already have? He wields power freely, controls the lives of his countrymen, and makes mockeries of noblemen and peasants alike. Is it boredom beneath his sadistic veneer, and a hope that the "Lord of Flies" will relieve the repetition?

I accept the allure of immortality, and believe that all manner of people would do anything for even one day past expiration. But Prospero seems more interested in the elevation of his theatrics to some larger stage. I think that's mistaken. If you've seen one terror orgy, you've seen them all. If one poor girl can be corrupted, what's a second poor girl in a bigger town?

I suppose the sickly tone of overindulgence is at least sustained throughout the film. Prospero isn't asked to yo-yo between sanity and madness the way Price's other Poe protagonists are, giving him room to stretch like a lion through a range of catty replies. But if the plague takes every man, regardless of religious persuasion, then isn't Prospero correct to have his fun while he can? What did those sad-sack villagers gain, moping around and starving in hovels until the end?