Thriller of the Decade: Robert Bloch's Most Chilling of Teleplays: "The Grim Reaper"

Above: Host Boris Karloff against painter Henri Rodin's cursed portrait of "The Grim Reaper," also the title of the decade's most chilling teleplay by "Psycho"'s Robert Bloch, adapted from the engimatic and doubtless pseudonymous Harold Lawlor's short story, as stunningly directed by Herschel Daugherty and hauntingly scored by Jerry Goldsmith, airing as part of the NBC anthology "Thriller" on June 13, 1961. A generally superior collection of dark parables, "Thriller" bears the production stamp of live drama veteran Hubbell Robinson. Below, the prolific William Shatner, himself a veteran of live teledrama from at least 1956, some six years before he became immortalized as Captain James T. Kirk of NBC's very cultish "Star Trek," and several decades before his turn as an irascible associate in "Boston Legal," as well as being both the image and voice of "Price Line" commercials, was at the absolute top of his form as a would-be con artist done in by "The Grim Reaper," concerning whose cursed portrait he dramatically expatiates upon before a captive audience.

"The Grim Reaper," adapted by Robert Bloch from the short story by Harold Lawlor; directed by Herschel Daugherty; produced by Hubbell Robinson; music by Jerry Goldsmith; an episode of the NBC anthology "Thriller," first airing June 13, 1961.

The Cast: Natalie Shaefer as mystery writer Beatrice Graves; William Shatner as her accountant nephew Paul; Scott Merrill as fortune hunter and Mrs. Graves' current husband Gerald Keller; Elizabeth Allen as her personal secretary Dorothy Linden; Henry Daniell as Henri Rodin's father in the France of 1848; Fifi D'Orsay as the concierge in the France of 1848; Paul Newlan as the police sergeant.

From NBC's 1960-1962 superior suspense anthology "Thriller," produced by Hubbell Robinson, whose series evokes fond memories of well-staged dramaturgy in the live video era, came this unnerving tale of daemonic possession and supernatural revenge.

Opening somewhere in France in 1848, the presumably mad painter of Stygian figures Henri Rodin has been found dead by his father (Henry Daniell) and the concierge (Fifi D'Orsay), hanging from a noose dropped from the ceiling of his cheap flat. Before his lifeless form, supported by an easel, stands Rodin's just completed masterpiece, a ghastly representation of "The Grim Reaper," with a skull head, enrobed in black, swinging a sharply pointed scythe from around his left shoulder. "What could have made him hang himself?," wonders openly the grieving father. But his question has been perhaps already answered by the concierge when she remarks "His work is evil--what Rodin paints is monsters. He works at night in a graveyard. His last model was a corpse!"

The time now shifts to the present (1961), as the portrait of The Grim Reaper has been purchase by the eccentric mystery writer Beatrice Graves (Natalie Shaefer), as an additional set piece for her Hollywood situated Gothic mansion, complete with chauffeur-driven hearse. Coming to visit is Beatrice's nephew Paul (William Shatner), an accountant who, by his own admission, manages to "get along." Noting the bizarre decor, he asks "Who designed this place, Charles Addams?" She answers "This is show biz," and explains that the home is now referred to as "Graves' End." Paul is soon introduced to Gerald Keller (Scott Merrill), the television actor/gigolo turned Mrs. Graves' fifth husband, and to Dorothy Lindon (Elizabeth Allen), the punctual, smartly dressed cool beauty who is Mrs. Graves' personal secretary. It becomes apparent to Paul that Ms. Lindon has more than once rejected the advances of the recently married Keller, a fact which Mrs. Graves professes to be fully cognizant of, manifesting equanimity, but now drinking heavily nevertheless.

Paul explains to his hosts the nature of his visit being not a social call but rather as the bringer of a very serious warning as regards the recently acquired portrait of The Grim Reaper. Posed before Henri Rodin's always menacing "masterpiece," hanging prominently in the library, Paul proceeds to relate for his captive audience the long history of fatality which invariably accompanies ownership of "The Grim Reaper." Paul cautions "Apparently you don't know the history of the picture. According to the record this picture was painted in 1848. It has had seventeen owners; fifteen have met with a violent or mysterious death." When Mrs. Graves explains that she purchased the painting for precisely that reason--the publicity surrounding the alleged curse, which she merely discounts as a series of natural accidents, Paul interjects, "Then how do you explain the stigmata?" For the painting, Paul continues, does indeed bleed: "Who knows what went on in Henri Rodin's twisted mind when he painted this nightmare? But one thing we do know is that fifteen of the people who owned this painting met with a sudden, unexpected, violent death--and each was warned. They say this is The Grim Reaper, the Angel of Death, and he gives a warning. See the scythe he carries? Whenever anyone is about to die, the scythe he carries..."

But his narrative is interrupted, for as Paul turns to point to the scythe in the portrait, he recoils as his fingertips come away, dripping with blood.

Once the shocked listeners have gained their composure, Mrs. Graves reaffirms her resolve to be unaffected by this "curse," stigmata and all. She has not, however, gained her equilibrium, and further lapses into the temporary comfort of inebriation. Later, seated solitarily before the portrait, Mrs. Graves is approached by her nephew, who again implores her to rid herself of the ghastly image, be it curse or no. She reveals to him full knowledge of her newest husband's duplicity, and while that has caused her much grief, the portrait has not, for she is unafraid of "death...just a business partner." Now rather rudely dismissed, Paul retires, but is awakened well into the night by a distraught Dorothy, who summons him to the balcony. At the foot of the stairs lies the obviously lifeless Mrs. Graves, evidently having plunged headlong to a fatal fall.

A cursory inquest under the auspices of a local police sergeant (Paul Newlan) concludes that the victim met with "accidental death." A reading of the will reveals that husband Gerald has been left Mrs. Graves' sole heir. Of the ominous portrait of The Grim Reaper, the exiting sergeant comments, "I could swear that the eyes were working," though the Reaper's face is but a skull. In Paul's room afterwards, wanting sleeping pills, Gerald confesses "I haven't closed my eyes since Bea died." Paul then reveals that there never was blood on the Reaper's scythe, only on his own fingers. "Dear Aunt Bea, so selfish, so rich..." Paul thus conveys his elaborate plot to acquire his aunt's fortune. Gerald remaining the only obstacle in the way of Paul himself becoming beneficiary, Paul has tricked him into signing a confession by which Gerald admits to having engineered the death of Mrs. Graves. Paul then reveals that the sleeping pills contained lethal poison, which will leave authorities to conclude that a remorseful husband merely took his own life. A disbelieving Gerald quickly succumbs.

A second inquest goes according to Paul's plans, and Gerald is judged to be both killer and self-inflicted victim. Alone before the portrait of The Grim Reaper, a gloating Paul imagines that the Reaper's skull assumes first the face of his Aunt Bea, then that of Gerald. Finding his bearings, he quickly makes his way to his bedroom to pack, intending to depart forthwith, but hears a determined knocking at the front door. The visitor is the returning Dorothy, who prompts that they quickly incinerate the portrait: "From the moment I heard about Gerald, I knew what had to be done." Paul, however, who has found himself attracted to Dorothy, and hopes to make her his accomplice, interjects: "Nothing has to be done. I've taken care of it all! There's no curse. I made it up to frighten them all. It doesn't really bleed."

Jolted by this admission, Dorothy recoils, whereupon Paul grasps her at the neck in an attempt to make her comprehend. To free herself, however, she performs a ruse by crying out "The portrait--the arm, its moving!" Paul turns toward the portrait abruptly and she makes her way through the library doors, bolting them after her. Trapped therein, Paul scans the room in pursuit of an alternate exit and again glances toward the portrait, which he now notices is bereft of The Grim Reaper itself. Petrified, he again peruses the library and his eyes focus on a fixed point. The obvious swinging to and fro of a scythe is heard as he backs his way toward the bolted doors, his face and breathing mixing shock and anticipation. At the doors he drops downward, out of camera view, as a final swish indicates that the scythe has found its destination.

Soon afterwards, Dorothy has returned with the authorities. Pushing back open the library doors, the sergeant look upon the recumbent Paul, whose throat has been lacerated. "Good Lord!," the sergeant remarks, "What kind of a weapon could have done that?" Dorothy now examines the portrait: "The picture! Look at the picture!" And there, just before them, The Grim Reaper again stands in its frame, blood dripping from his menacing scythe.

Robert Bloch based this, his most chilling of teleplays, on a short story by the obscure pulp fiction writer Harold Lawlor. An immeasurable contribution is the use of string instruments, by which composer Jerry Goldsmith has augmented the pervading sense of doom. The portrait itself is a haunting component, as compelling as was the heroine's suspended likeness in "Laura" (1945), a classic work of cinema whose chiaroscuro seems to have much influenced "The Grim Reaper"'s director Herschel Daugherty.

Below, a series of frames from Robert Bloch's remarkable teleplay. First, a captive audience consisting of fortune hunter Gerald Keller (Scott Merrill), current husband of wealthy eccentric mystery writer Beatrice Graves (Natalie Shaefer, later of "Gilligan's Island" fame) and her personal secretary Dorothy Lindon (Elizabeth Allen), on the fabled cursed portrait of Henri Robin's "The Grim Reaper," as explained by Beatrice's scheming accountant nephew Paul (William Shatner), in the frame immediately following. Below these, Paul finally confesses to Dorothy that "There's no curse!," only to drive her from the room with the portrait, where she has bolted the door behind her. Glancing back at the portrait, Paul then notices to his horror that there is no Grim Reaper in the frame. Instead, it has descended, moving toward him, whirring forth its deadly scythe. In the final frame, Dorothy returns with authorities to discover that Paul lies dead, his neck violently ripped open, while The Grim Reaper has returned to its portrait, fulfilling the fabled curse, as its scythe drips blood once more.