Death Bed: The Bed That Eats (1977-ish)

Tagline: Lost horror film of the seventies.

Curiosity: Patton Oswalt had a great bit about this previously unreleased ’70s cult horror film on Werewolves and Lollipops.

Plot: So, there’s this Death Bed. It eats. It’ll eat anything – apples, fried chicken, PEOPLE. This is because the bed is possessed by an evil force thanks to demon blood. And people keep sleeping in this bed and getting eaten. Just constant death bedding for about a century. We know this thanks to narration provided by a British guy whose soul became trapped in a painting after he was eaten by the Death Bed.

Thoughts: Death Bed isn’t as bad as its reputation would suggest. That doesn’t necessarily make it good, but it displays fleeting moments on genius that defy its low budget, amateur roots. Here’s where the film gets things right: Director/writer George Barry actually thought about how a Death Bed would eat people. The result is like a venus flytrap; the Death Bed captures people and then dissolves them with acidic ooze.

Here’s where he gets it wrong: Just about everything else is terrible and hammy. The dissolvent makes sense; having the Death Bed make chewing sounds is stupid. Sure, it’s campy, but it also doesn’t make any sense, darn it. Also nonsensical: No one reacts when bad things happen to other people. Oh sure, people scream when they get eaten by the Death Bed. But when a character’s hands get dissolved when he tries stabbing the mattress monster, his sister doesn’t react at all. His hands are nothing but bones and she doesn’t say shit. What a jerk.

There is one lengthy scene where Barry perfectly captures the thrills and chills of horror movies, though. One female character almost escapes the Death Bed, and there’s a lengthy sequence where she attempts dragging her bloody, broken body out of the room. I’m sure Barry made the scene so long so he could eat up the running time (Even with all the padding and lengthy narration, Death Bed is still only 80 minutes long), but there’s something simultaneously titillating and uncomfortable about watching this character crawl, futilely, across the floor and up a set of stairs before ultimately being claimed by the Death Bed. Horror offers a degree voyeurism, and this scene puts the viewer right there.

But then, Death Bed also has funny/bad special effects and relies on narration to overexplain important plot points only to jam in an elaborate, unearned ending. Movies shouldn’t have this tough of a time showing instead of telling, but Barry seems to actively loathe writing dialogue when a British narrator will do.

Reflection: Glad I saw it. I’m sorry I paid for it.