"The Norliss Tapes" relays the most recent case investigated by occult investigator Norliss who has recently disappeared and left behind an archive of tapes detailing his recent cases. In Monterey, California, he meets Ellen Cort, a widow who claims she was attacked by her recently deceased husband on their sprawling estate. Norliss's investigation leads him all around the bay as he uncovers increasingly dark information regarding Ellen's late artist husband.
A failed pilot-turned-television film, "The Norliss Tapes" was directed by cult TV horror icon Dan Curtis, and it has his stamp all over it. Running at a concise hour and ten minutes, the film is surprisingly absorbing and at times almost resembles a feature film. Though it shows its age, the production values given the era are surprisingly high, and the cinematography is top-notch. The relentless rain and misty landscapes of the northern California setting are phenomenally captured; I found myself completely drawn into the film in spite of its shortcomings.
The narrative is fairly routine in terms of the moves it makes to advance the plot, and it does seem stilted on dialogue a bit too much in areas (which I chalk up to the limited time slot), but it does maintain a considerable level of intrigue nonetheless. There are several fantastic scare scenes that predate Tobe Hooper's "Salem's Lot" in which the undead husband makes sinister appearances—the rainstorm chase scene at the estate is very memorable. A gruff Roy Thinnes fits the role of Norliss very well, and Angie Dickinson is likable as the flummoxed widow; Vonetta McGee is also memorable as the mysterious madame who knows more about Dickinson's reanimated husband than she initially lets on.
"The Norliss Tapes" seems to have amassed a following over the years, largely of viewers who saw the film as children and were terrified of it (as is the case with many of these television horror movies from the seventies). The nostalgia factor is absent for me as I was not alive when the film was released, but there is an appreciable establishment of atmosphere and substantial intrigue at work here given the film was never actually intended to be packaged as a movie. Curtis would usher in "Trilogy of Terror" and the feature "Burnt Offerings" a few years later, both of which show a demonstrable refining of his talents, but "The Norliss Tapes" is no less an effective, compact offering that is shamelessly entertaining and also offers up a handful of masterfully-crafted scares. 7/10.
A failed pilot-turned-television film, "The Norliss Tapes" was directed by cult TV horror icon Dan Curtis, and it has his stamp all over it. Running at a concise hour and ten minutes, the film is surprisingly absorbing and at times almost resembles a feature film. Though it shows its age, the production values given the era are surprisingly high, and the cinematography is top-notch. The relentless rain and misty landscapes of the northern California setting are phenomenally captured; I found myself completely drawn into the film in spite of its shortcomings.
The narrative is fairly routine in terms of the moves it makes to advance the plot, and it does seem stilted on dialogue a bit too much in areas (which I chalk up to the limited time slot), but it does maintain a considerable level of intrigue nonetheless. There are several fantastic scare scenes that predate Tobe Hooper's "Salem's Lot" in which the undead husband makes sinister appearances—the rainstorm chase scene at the estate is very memorable. A gruff Roy Thinnes fits the role of Norliss very well, and Angie Dickinson is likable as the flummoxed widow; Vonetta McGee is also memorable as the mysterious madame who knows more about Dickinson's reanimated husband than she initially lets on.
"The Norliss Tapes" seems to have amassed a following over the years, largely of viewers who saw the film as children and were terrified of it (as is the case with many of these television horror movies from the seventies). The nostalgia factor is absent for me as I was not alive when the film was released, but there is an appreciable establishment of atmosphere and substantial intrigue at work here given the film was never actually intended to be packaged as a movie. Curtis would usher in "Trilogy of Terror" and the feature "Burnt Offerings" a few years later, both of which show a demonstrable refining of his talents, but "The Norliss Tapes" is no less an effective, compact offering that is shamelessly entertaining and also offers up a handful of masterfully-crafted scares. 7/10.