Ah, who didn’t love staying up late at a sleepover, as a kid, telling scary stories? Tales from the Crypt is about as close to that as you can get as a grown up, short of telling scary stories to children. And let’s face it, that kind of behaviour is frowned upon (for some reason).
This particular set of tales is as hit and miss as any horror anthology but, perhaps it’s the 1970s-ness of it all, it just works. Some of the stories are familiar – there’s the inevitable monkey’s paw, for example – and the wraparound story isn’t exactly strong but it’s no less likeable for it. The blood looks just like the bright red poster paint I used at school, the sets are dated and the whole thing is just a bit cheesy.
But there’s Joan Collins, Dr Who and that infamous monkey’s paw and that’s good enough for me.
Tales from the Crypt is so bad it’s good.
Oh, and I almost forgot to mention that the Joan Collins story is a festive one so I think that justifies my wishing you a merry Christmas! This is my gift to you – Tales from the Crypt, the whole thing in all it’s ridiculous, low-budget 1970s glory.