Alright, settle back into that worn armchair, maybe grab a fizzy drink, because tonight on VHS Heaven, we're cracking open a tape that feels like it materialized directly from the dusty back corner of a forgotten video rental store: 1981's The Monster Club. Forget slick, modern horror anthologies for a moment. This is pure, unadulterated early-80s British horror charm, complete with rubbery masks, unexpected musical numbers, and the inimitable presence of horror royalty. Finding this gem felt like uncovering a secret handshake into a world slightly off-kilter, wonderfully weird, and undeniably fun.
### Welcome to the Club, Mr. Chetwynd-Hayes
The premise alone is a delightful hook. Horror writer R. Chetwynd-Hayes (played with suitably aged gravitas by the legendary John Carradine, star of countless classics like The Grapes of Wrath and later genre fare) gets bitten by a desperate vampire, Eramus (the one and only Vincent Price). As an apology, Eramus doesn't just offer condolences; he invites the shaken author to an exclusive, members-only establishment: The Monster Club. It's here, amidst cobweb-draped decor and creatures that look like they stumbled off the set of a Doctor Who episode (in the best possible way), that Price holds court, introducing three tales of terror spun from Chetwynd-Hayes' own imagination. It's a wonderful meta touch, having the author whose stories inspired the film be the character who hears them. Vincent Price, ever the consummate host, guides us through with that silky voice and arched eyebrow, clearly relishing the absurdity of it all. He is the party you want to be invited to, even if the other guests might try to eat you.
### Tales from the Crypt's Slightly Goofier Cousin
The anthology structure, a favourite of British horror thanks largely to Amicus Productions (co-founded by this film's producer, Milton Subotsky), delivers a mixed bag, but that's part of the fun. We get three distinct stories sandwiched between the club segments:
- The Shadmock: This first tale is arguably the creepiest, featuring a lonely, whistling monster who falls for a woman hired to catalogue his valuables. The Shadmock itself is a triumph of practical makeup design for its time – unsettling and genuinely strange. Its whistle, capable of melting flesh, felt genuinely unnerving back on a fuzzy CRT screen. There's a palpable sense of gothic isolation here that works quite well.
- The Vampires: A more traditional horror story follows, featuring a young boy, his vampire father (Richard Johnson), and a team of bureaucratic vampire hunters led by the always-welcome Donald Pleasence (Halloween). This segment has some fun twists on vampire lore and benefits immensely from Pleasence’s typically intense performance as Pickering, the humourless investigator. Remember how solid those stake effects seemed back then? Basic, maybe, but they had a physical thump you felt.
- The Ghouls (or Humegoo): The final, and perhaps most bizarre, story involves a film director (Stuart Whitman) scouting remote locations who stumbles upon a village inhabited by flesh-eating ghouls that prey on the living. This segment, directed by Roy Ward Baker (a veteran of Hammer classics like Quatermass and the Pit), leans heavily into the grim and grotesque, with some effectively squishy sound design and genuinely unsettling moments. Baker knew how to build atmosphere even on a tight budget, a skill honed over decades. It’s also the story that introduces the film’s most unique (and slightly daft) concept: the Humegoo, a hybrid creature explained in Eramus's handy monster genealogy chart.
### Let's Talk Practical Magic (and Music!)
What really makes The Monster Club a quintessential VHS find is its glorious dedication to practical effects. The monster masks, the makeup, the creature suits – they have that tangible, slightly rubbery quality that defined so much low-budget genre filmmaking of the era. It’s a far cry from today’s seamless CGI, sure, but there’s an undeniable charm and artistry here. You see the seams, maybe, but you also see the effort, the handcrafted care that went into bringing these ghastly creations to life. The Shadmock's design, in particular, sticks with you.
And then there's the music. In a move that feels very early 80s, the club segments are punctuated by actual musical performances from bands like The Pretty Things, B. A. Robertson (singing the incredibly catchy theme song "Monster Club"), Night, and even UB40! It’s jarring, unexpected, and somehow perfectly fits the film's quirky, kitchen-sink aesthetic. Was it an attempt to lure in a younger audience? Probably. Does it date the film gloriously? Absolutely. I distinctly remember renting this tape and being utterly bewildered, then strangely charmed, by these musical interludes. It just adds another layer to its oddball personality.
### Uneven, Yes, But Unforgettable
Look, The Monster Club isn't high art. It wasn't even universally loved back in '81, often seen as a step down from the Amicus glory days. Its budget limitations are sometimes apparent, and the tone veers wildly between genuine chills, campy humour, and those baffling musical numbers. But that's precisely why it holds such a special place for VHS hunters. It’s earnest, ambitious in its own way, and packed with legendary talent clearly having a good time. It feels like a passion project, warts and all. Director Roy Ward Baker, despite working with fewer resources than his Hammer days, still injects moments of genuine creepiness, especially in the Ghoul segment.
It never quite achieved mainstream success, becoming more of a cult favourite discovered through late-night TV airings and, of course, the hallowed aisles of the video store. It’s the kind of film you’d excitedly tell your friends about the next day – "You gotta see this weird movie I rented!"
VHS Heaven Rating: 7/10
Justification: While tonally uneven and visibly budget-conscious in spots, The Monster Club delivers heaps of nostalgic charm, boasts fantastic performances from horror icons Vincent Price, John Carradine, and Donald Pleasence, and features some genuinely memorable practical monster effects. The bizarre musical interludes and the sheer earnestness of the production add to its unique, cult appeal. It doesn't quite reach the heights of classic Amicus, but it provides a thoroughly entertaining slice of early 80s British horror oddity.
Final Thought: The Monster Club is like that quirky, slightly eccentric relative you only see occasionally but always have a weirdly fun time with – a charmingly clunky, monster-filled time capsule from the golden age of practical frights and unexpected pop songs. Definitely worth dusting off the VCR for.