Main cast: Hal Holbrook (Henry Northrup), Adrienne Barbeau (Wilma Northrup), Fritz Weaver (Dexter Stanley), Leslie Nielsen (Richard Vickers), Carrie Nye (Sylvia Grantham), EG Marshall (Upson Pratt), Viveca Lindfors), Ed Harris (Hank Blaine), Ted Danson (Harry Wentworth), Stephen King (Jordy Verrill), Warner Shook (Richard Grantham), Robert Harper (Charlie Gereson), Elizabeth Regan (Cass Blaine), Gaylen Ross (Becky Vickers), Jon Lormer (Nathan Grantham), and Don Keefer (Mike the Janitor)
Director: George A Romero
Behold, Creepshow: George A Romero’s delightful love letter to EC Comics that somehow manages to be one of his most overlooked gems despite being objectively better than half his zombie filmography. When he teamed up with Stephen King to create this anthology movie, they essentially asked themselves: “What if we made a horror movie that actually understood what made those old comics fun, instead of just stealing their aesthetic?”
The result is a rare beast in the horror world: a movie that knows exactly what it wants to be and executes it with gleeful precision.
Our wraparound story features Tom Atkins as the world’s worst father figure, verbally abusing his son (played by a young Joe King, because nepotism can be adorable sometimes) for reading horror comics. Mr Atkins brings such magnificent mustached authority to his role as an emotionally abusive parent that you almost forget you’re supposed to hate him. Almost. His facial hair alone deserves its own IMDb credit for “Most Impressive Display of 1980s Masculine Grooming Standards”.
Of course, anyone with half a brain can predict what’s coming for dear old Dad in the final moments but watching Mr Atkins chew scenery with that glorious lip caterpillar makes the journey worthwhile.
Our first tale Father’s Day presents the Grantham family, a collection of people so thoroughly unlikable that you start rooting for the undead patriarch before he even rises from his grave.
Nathan Grantham, the family’s deceased tyrannical father, was murdered by his daughter Bedelia after he killed her fiancé and turned her into his personal slave – which, let’s be honest, probably seemed like reasonable motivation even by 1980s standards.
Now the whole clan gathers annually to pretend they don’t despise each other while tiptoeing around Nathan’s murder like the world’s most dysfunctional book club.
When dear old Dad decides to crash his own memorial dinner, the family members start dropping faster than stock prices in 1929.
This is that rare horror story where the villain wins, but since everyone except Bedelia has the personality of wet cardboard, you’re basically watching natural selection work its magic with practical effects.
The real horror, however, is witnessing a young Ed Harris that still has hair dancing to disco music while wearing an outfit that screams “I shop exclusively at stores that no longer exist after 1989”. Zombie revenge feels downright reasonable after that fashion assault.
In our second tale The Lonesome Death of Jordy Verrill, Stephen King takes center stage as Jordy Verrill, a simple country fellow who discovers a meteor in his backyard and immediately thinks “Sell it to make money!” Because nothing says “sound financial planning” like handling mysterious space rocks with your bare hands.
Mr King throws himself into the role of this lovably dim character with the kind of commitment usually reserved for Method actors preparing for Oscar bait. Jordy proceeds to touch, break, and generally mishandle this cosmic visitor until strange green goo starts spreading faster than gossip in a small town.
What follows is genuinely tragic in that special Stephen King way where you feel bad for someone making catastrophically poor decisions.
The real question throughout Mr King’s performance is whether he’s channeling his character’s simple nature or if this is just how he naturally acts. Given his well-documented recreational habits, one can’t help but wonder if this is less acting and more Tuesday afternoon for Stephen King. Either way, it’s weirdly compelling, like watching someone slowly realize they’ve made a terrible mistake while being completely powerless to fix it.
Next, Something to Tide You Over. Prepare to have your perception of Leslie Nielsen permanently altered.
Long before he was bumbling through Naked Gun movies, Mr Nielsen was busy proving he could be absolutely terrifying as Richard Vickers, a man who discovers his wife is cheating with Ted Danso. Honestly, who could blame her, as Mr Danson in his prime was basically a walking romance novel cover.
Richard’s elaborate revenge plot involves some impressively creative cruelty, but this being a horror anthology and not a revenge thriller, his satisfaction is shorter-lived than a mayfly’s vacation.
The story follows predictable undead revenge patterns — complete with waterlogged zombies that have mastered the art of dramatic timing— but Mr Nielsen’s performance elevates it beyond its familiar structure. Plus, watching Ted Danson get menaced while looking like a 1980s cologne advertisement is strangely mesmerizing.
The Crate introduces us to a mysterious shipping container that’s been lurking under a university staircase longer than most tenure-track professors. Inside lurks a furry little creature that combines the aesthetic appeal of a stuffed animal with the dining habits of a wood chipper. Think of it as the Zuni doll’s more violent and significantly hungrier cousin.
Professor Henry Northrup sees this campus massacre as an opportunity to solve his marriage problems, which tells you everything you need to know about both his moral compass and his relationship with his wife Wilma. Yet, Adrienne Barbeau plays Wilma with such magnificent obnoxiousness that you’ll find yourself actively cheering for a small furry monster to commit spousal homicide. It’s like watching the world’s most violent marriage counseling session.
The creature itself is a masterpiece of practical effects — adorable enough that you want to pet it, terrifying enough that you absolutely should not. It steals every scene it’s in, which is impressive for something that communicates primarily through growling and creative dismemberment.
Our final tale They’re Creeping Up on You introduces Upson Pratt, a pharmaceutical executive so cartoonishly evil that he makes actual comic book villains seem nuanced. Living in a sterile, hermetically sealed apartment that makes operating rooms look cluttered, Pratt represents everything wrong with corporate America wrapped up in one germaphobic package.
When cockroaches start infiltrating his pristine environment, it’s basically nature’s way of saying “time for some pest control”, except the pests aren’t the bugs. If you have any feelings about pharmaceutical companies and their business practices, watching Pratt get his comeuppance provides the kind of cathartic satisfaction usually reserved for winning the lottery or watching your ex get a parking ticket.
However, if you have even a mild case of entomophobia, this segment will haunt your dreams and make you inspect every corner of your living space for the next six months. The cockroaches are everywhere, and they’re very, very realistic. You’ve been warned.
Creepshow succeeds because George A Romero and Stephen King have created something that captures the gleeful nastiness of EC Comics while adding enough cinematic flair to justify its existence as a film rather than just an expensive comic book adaptation.
Even the weakest segment delivers solid entertainment, and the strongest ones (Something to Tide You Over and The Crate) are genuinely exceptional pieces of horror filmmaking. The practical effects are consistently impressive, the performances range from competent to scene-stealing, and the whole thing moves with the kind of energetic pacing that modern horror anthologies seem to have forgotten.
It’s a love letter to the horror comics of yesteryear that doesn’t feel dated or nostalgic. Instead, it feels timeless in the way that good storytelling always does. Plus, any movie that can make you simultaneously terrified of and sympathetic toward a murderous monkey creature is clearly doing something right.
