Main cast: Karen Black (Julie Eldridge, Millicent, Therese, Amelia), Robert Burton (Chad Foster), John Karlin (Thomas Anmar), George Gaynes (Dr Chester Ramsey), James Storm (Eddie Nells), Kathryn Reynolds (Anne Richards), Orin Cannon (Motel Clerk), Gregory Harrison (Arthur Moore), and Tracy Curtis (Tracy)
Director: Dan Curtis
Trilogy of Terror is a 1975 made-for-TV anthology that proves sometimes three strikes and you’re out… of compelling television. This cinematic trifecta stars the incomparable Karen Black in what can only be described as a one-woman show desperately disguised as an ensemble piece. Sure, most people remember this fever dream because a tiny Zuni doll gave them nightmares as children, but the real horror is sitting through the first two segments to get there.
Our journey begins with Julie, featuring what appears to be the world’s oldest college students. Seriously, these “kids” look like they’ve been held back since the Carter administration. Leading the charge is Chad Rogers, a jock with the persistence of a telemarketer and the charm of expired milk. When the delightfully unhinged Julie Eldridge doesn’t fall for his questionable advances, Chad decides blackmail is surely the key to her heart.
But wait! Plot twist! Julie planned the whole thing! She’s apparently running some kind of elaborate honey trap operation, seducing and discarding lovers like a black widow spider in sensible shoes. This would be genuinely clever if it didn’t require Julie to possess Professor Xavier-level psychic abilities to predict Chad’s every morally bankrupt move. Either she’s the world’s most gifted manipulator, or the screenwriter forgot that normal humans can’t actually see the future. I’m betting on the latter.
Next up, we have the cinematic equivalent of a Magic 8-Ball where all the answers say “Obviously!” Karen Black tackles dual roles as twin sisters in Millicent and Therese, who are about as different as vanilla ice cream and… slightly melted vanilla ice cream with sprinkles. Millicent is the uptight prude who wouldn’t say “darn” if you paid her, while Therese is apparently the neighborhood’s unofficial welcome wagon (if you know what I mean, and I think you do).
Millicent becomes convinced that her sister wants to murder her, which would be shocking if the “twist” wasn’t more telegraphed than a Victorian-era message. The moment you see these polar opposite personalities, you can practically hear M Night Shyamalan taking notes for future reference. Spoiler alert: Millicent has been talking to herself this whole time. The only real mystery is how it took the audience this long to figure it out when the “two” sisters somehow never appeared in the same shot.
Finally, we arrive at the pièce de résistance Amelia: a grown woman being terrorized by what is essentially an angry Christmas ornament. The Zuni hunter doll is, admittedly, genuinely creepy – all gnashing teeth and homicidal energy packed into a pint-sized wooden nightmare. But here’s the thing: it’s roughly the size of a Chihuahua and about as easy to contain.
Watching Amelia flee from this miniature menace is like watching someone run screaming from a particularly aggressive toaster. The entire 20-minute chase could have been resolved with any number of household items: a large pot, a microwave, a really sturdy shoebox. Hell, she could have just opened the front door and punted the thing into the neighbor’s yard. Instead, we’re treated to an extended game of hide-and-seek where the seeker weighs two pounds and speaks in what sounds like angry chipmunk.
The segment is unintentionally hilarious in the best possible way, turning what should be genuine terror into slapstick comedy. Though I’ll admit, the little guy is kind of adorable when he’s not trying to perform impromptu surgery with his tiny spear.
Let’s give credit where credit is due: Karen Black is an absolute force of nature, bringing more charisma and genuine talent to these three segments than they collectively deserve. Her facial expressions alone could power a small television studio, and watching her juggle multiple roles is like seeing a master chef trying to salvage a meal made entirely of gas station ingredients.
Unfortunately, even her considerable screen presence can’t quite rescue Trilogy of Terror from its fundamental problems: predictable plotting, questionable logic, and the general sense that everyone involved was really hoping we’d all just focus on that scary doll and forget about everything else.
The show isn’t completely without merit, as it’s perfectly watchable in that special way that 70s television could be both ambitious and utterly ridiculous. But let’s not pretend this is some lost masterpiece. It’s a curiosity at best, memorable mainly for traumatizing a generation of children with a doll that probably violated several international treaties on psychological warfare.
