Author
David Norliss (Roy Thinnes) mysteriously warns his publisher that he can’t
finish his new book debunking the supernatural, and that all the extensive work
for the text has been recorded on a series of cassette tapes.
When
David then disappears, his agent and lawyer investigate, and his agent, Sanford
Evans (Don Porter), listens to the tapes in his apartment.
The
tapes reveal a bizarre and frightening story. Specifically Norliss was
approached by a beautiful widow, Ellen Cort (Angie Dickinson), who reported
something strange -- and possibly supernatural -- on her isolated estate.
Specifically,
Ellen saw the ambulatory corpse of her late husband, James Cort (Nick Dimitri),
murder their German shepherd in the dead man’s art studio. He also attacked
her. She shot him at point blank range, but there is no sign of the body.
Investigating
further, David learns that James, a sculptor, went to the grave wearing an
Egyptian scarab “Orisis” ring, an occult object which is reputed to render its
wearer immortal.
Meanwhile,
a young woman driving on a lonely roads near the Cort Estate late at night is
attacked by a stranger, and drained of blood. The local sheriff, Tom Hartley
(Claude Akins) refuses to reveal information about the condition of her corpse.
Soon
another strange event occurs. The dead sculptor’s work is continued in a macabre new
piece: a life-size clay creation of the demon, Sagaroth.
David
fears that Ellen is in danger as James, a zombie, breathes life into the
monstrous figure.
Sargoth, David realizes, is made of
clay, but the clay is filled with human blood!
As David learns with horror,
Ellen’s sister, Marsha (Michele Carey) is also in danger, as is Mademoiselle
Jeckiel (Vonetta McGee), the person who sold Cort the scarab ring...
The
1970’s saw the airing of many psychic/occult investigator TV movies. The most
famous, and perhaps most-well-loved of all, of course, is The Night Stalker (1972),
starring Darren McGavin as journalist Carl Kolchak.
But
Kolchak was not the only occult/or psychic investigator of the bunch. The
TV-movies of the disco decade also gave us Alex Dreier in Sweet, Sweet Rachel (1971),
and Leonard Nimoy in Baffled! (1973), to name just two
others.
One
of the most memorable of such psychic/occult investigator TV-movies, however,
is The
Norliss Tapes, starring Roy Thinnes. In this case, the occult investigator, David Norliss, is an author, and a skeptic, and his discovery of the supernatural is a surprise to him. Like Kolchak, Norliss is a man of words, and
one who works alone to uncover the truth.
Norliss’s
first (and thus far only…) adventure is vetted very much in the style of a
classical film noir. Like films of
that type, this Dan Curtis film involves the equivalent of a private detective,
a lovely widow, and a mystery.
In this case, the mystery involves what happened
to the widow’s husband. Suffice it to
say, James Cort made a corrupt deal for immortality, one that could bring great
evil into the world. As David investigates,
he also “interviews,” essentially, members of the victim pool, and tangles with
the local, corrupt authorities (here represented by Claude Akins’ sheriff).
In the end, there is no meaningful resolution; society
can’t help restore order because society itself is corrupt. And the endangered character flee rather than remain in clear-and-present
danger (not unlike the denouement we get in the tech noir, Blade Runner [1982])
The Norliss Tapes' dialogue and voice-over narration are also effective in a pulpy way, and
loads of fun to boot. At one point, Ellen
colorfully notes “every time the house
creaked, my skin crawled.”
And
Thinne’s laconic, laid-back delivery of the voice over narration perfect for
such purple lines as “no one talks to
anybody about the condition of the deceased.”
Intriguingly
this San Francisco-based noir ends without any real explanation or resolution.
Norliss and Ellen -- apparently still jeopardized by Sagaroth -- disappear
without a trace. They have either
escaped, or been done away with.
And, finally, those who care what happened to the duo are left with just one option: to sift
through the author’s cassette collection listening to additional “tales” of the
supernatural.
Did
Sagaroth exact vengeance upon them? Or did the Ellen and Norliss flee the supernatural? The
movie comes to an abrupt (and somewhat unsatisfying) halt, failing to provide the audience
the necessary answers. It is a bit disconcerting for a movie (TV or theatrical)
to end with no closure regarding its protagonists, but I suppose the idea here
is that The Norliss Tapes -- a backdoor pilot -- would go to series,
and viewers would thus have the opportunity to listen to future and further stories.
Apparently, there were a lot of case studies of the supernatural on those Norliss tapes...
As I've noted, the
noir elements of The Norliss Tapes grant
it some life and energy, but the depiction of the antagonist: a zombie, helps
even more in that regard. James Cort is a yellow-eyed, ash-gray-skinned menace
who moves (and attacks) with unexpected, blazing speed.
The make-up holds up
today, and the film’s best (and scariest) moment occurs when Ellen pulls a
window shade up in the art studio, and the zombie is right there, at the pane, peering
in at her. It’s a great (close-up) jolt that
adds immeasurably to the terror of the piece.
The
zombie is rarely hidden from view throughout the telefilm, but often seen in full-sight
instead. Some might consider this front-and-center approach a visual mistake, but the
scenes with the zombie actually remain pretty effective, because of his speed
and gruesome undead look.
There is one scene here
in which Norliss and Ellen attempt to flee the family estate in the rain, and
the zombie attacks their car. He rips a
car door off, and then proceeds to brush off all physical damage, as Norliss
attempts to run him down. The scene is relentless, and exciting.
The
weakest aspect of The Norliss Tapes is, perhaps, the writing for the main
character. Norliss is supposed to be a thoughtful skeptic who debunks the
supernatural, but here never gets even a single word of dialogue about his
belief system. The audience is told at the start of the film that Norliss is
writing a book debunking the supernatural, but that’s the last thing we ever
find out about Norliss’s skepticism.
Why
is he a skeptic? What does he believe? What is his world-view? It might have
been nice to see more of Norliss in the debunking role before seeing him
embrace the supernatural world so thoroughly.
Even
with an open-ended finale and no real background on Norliss or his beliefs, The
Norliss Tapes is overall well-shot and engaging, and most importantly,
scary.
I
would love it if some relative of Norliss, in 2017, found David’s tapes in an
attic, long forgotten, and started listening to them again, for a brand new TV series.
John, excellent review of another '70s telefilm gem. The Norliss Tapes should have been a series.
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God knows I wish this had gone to series. Such a brilliant concept with a built in out.
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