Editorials

How Vincent Price Headlined ‘The Hilarious House of Frightenstein’

November 9th, 2023 | By Ryan Uytdewilligen

Picture Vincent Price’s ghostly cackling head floating above a misty village while thunder roars, wolves howl, and lightning strikes. You might be thinking of a black-and-white B-movie, but the thing about this curious image is that it acted as a weekly invitational beacon to thousands of delighted Canadian children throughout the 1970s and beyond. To them, it could only mean one thing: The Hilarious House of Frightenstein was about to begin.

Some adults have shrugged off the show as a non-existent fever dream, while others still quote it without the foggiest clue where lines like “Gory, gory Transylvania” or “I am da Wolfman” have come from. For those who do remember being read stories by a raggedy old librarian or given convoluted advice by the sitar-playing Maharishi – even just the rudimentary castle set – it’s a warm piece of treasured nostalgia. Yet, after half a century, one question about the cheaply assembled monster-centric series remains for all. How did the iconic Vincent Price become a cast member of this kitschy relic from the great white north?

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It wasn’t like the actor was early on in his career or struggling for work. He was sixty years old and had carved out a pretty celebrated niche for himself. Price headlined a bevy of horror classics from House of Wax to House on Haunted Hill. He collaborated with Roger Corman, honed his craft through theatre and radio, and had a supporting role in the biggest movie ever, The Ten Commandments. At that point, Price was an indisputable Golden Age Hollywood film legend.

Yet, he eagerly schlepped up to sleepy Hamilton, Ontario in 1971 to partake in an overwhelming wealth of scenes for 130 episodes of an undercooked children’s program. The icon recited dozens of eerie riddles and macabre poems. He dressed in Victorian garb while fiddling with beakers, foam hands, and prop skulls. Sometimes, he’d simply cackle to the camera while shrouded with dry ice. Indeed, the role was pure Price. The show was pure peculiarity. 

It all came about when Toronto-born entertainer Billy Van caught the attention of a producer looking to capitalize on the burgeoning Toronto television market. As a child, Van had toured as a singing quartet with his brothers. He’d become a staple performer on satirical CBC sketch programs and gain fame with a series of Colt 45 malt liquor advertisements. His versatile skills for characterization – matched with his burgeoning local celebrity status – led him to Riff Markowitz, who had crafted exercise shows and family entertainment for Hamilton’s CHCH. 

Their idea was a relatively simple one. An hour-long sketch show set in a haunted castle featuring appearances of classical Universal monster knockoffs. It would be loose and unconnected, made up of stand-alone sketches in favor of a cohesive story. Van would play Frightenstein and eight other characters alongside a small cast that included Fishka Rais as a bumbling Igor-like assistant and former physicist Julius Sumner Miller.  

Because of the unconventional way it was filmed over a nearly nine-month period, Van and the crew would shoot dozens of the same character segments for weeks at a time before moving on to a different one. Of course, they’d all get divvied up later on. Much of the actual onscreen happenings came from the inspired costuming choices and Van improvising with what he found on the set. Cloaked in fuzz, Van would play a wolfman DJ spinning rock records in one sketch and then disappear under flabby make-up to play a cheek-fluttering animal expert in the next. His Oracle character would give astrological readings in the voice of Peter Lorre. Grizelda the Ghastly Gourmet would host a cooking show centered around a bubbling cauldron.

Countercultural sketch shows from Monty Python to Rowan & Martin’s Laugh-In seemed to shape its nonsensical comedy sensibilities as opposed to the lessons or morals that made up Sesame Street and Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood. The twenty-second Maharishi sketches would always end with falling flower petals while the Wolfman would dance in front of psychedelic backdrops. There’s no telling why a name like Harvey Wallbanger – a popular cocktail of the day – was chosen for one of the puppets.

But all that unusualness is exactly what attracted Vincent Price to the project. Best known for his elegant and dramatic delivery style that frequently cast him in the role of narrator, he would serve as The Hilarious House of Frightenstein’s unofficial host. With an undying soft spot for spookiness and an eight-year-old daughter at home, Price allegedly desired to take his talents and do something oriented for children. He had only just begun leaning into comedy and camp through appearances on The Brady Bunch and his pun-loving Batman villain Egghead. Given where both the industry and Price were, Markowitz and Van reached out at the perfect moment. 

Price arrived at the CHCH studio in Hamilton with merely a four-day window to spare. Given the all-at-once shooting schedule, everything would be put toward getting the most out of the legend’s involvement. The “floating head” opening sequence unabashedly utilized Price’s celebrity from minute one while the actor set the stage by welcoming viewers to “where the sun won’t shine.” The show would always close with his same gentle farewell poem and extinguishing of a candle. Price would appear between sketches with quick gags and monologues that were dispersed throughout the show at random. He was always alone and never given a backstory or a name.

In the same cost-cutting methodology as Van’s sketches, Price shot everything back-to-back-to-back. Over the course of four days, nearly 400 bits were recorded – often completed in a single take. The actor was accustomed to receiving $12,000 per day, but given the low budget, he generously knocked it down to $3,000. There was some apparent concern from Price regarding lackluster scripts, but much of his involvement was a chance to improvise and play. To show his admiration for the swift-working crew, he brought beer, signed headshots, and answered questions about old Hollywood. Then, as quickly as a bat disappears into the night, Price headed home and accepted his next job. 

The Hilarious House of Frightenstein aired as one bulky single season on Saturday mornings throughout 1971. It was eventually syndicated and found replay on various cable channels before a home video release and a recent cartoon spinoff. Van’s career subsequently peaked when he was cast on The Sonny & Cher Comedy Hour, but he and the remaining cast and crew would forever be recognized for their involvement with the show. 

It was the prolific Price whose lengthy filmography had much to overshadow the 130 episodes of Canadian kitsch. Most had not seen the show, and it took till the dawn of the internet age – long after Price’s passing in 1993 – to be genuinely appreciated. The subsequent twenty years of the actor’s career saw a more playful family tone that included Scooby Doo episodes, Tim Burton films, and The Great Mouse Detective. If anything, the experience provided him with proof that his image was perfect for family entertainment.

Since the seventies, the hammy character-driven nature of The Hilarious House of Frightenstein has reportedly influenced comedians like Mike Myers. The fond cult classic memory of it has brought generations together, with family members eagerly screening episodes for their kids. In no way was the program built to last. But because of the slapdash sketches having no endgame but pure entertainment, the show feels timeless and distinctly original. Price spent four days on the show – a heck of a lot less than the average time spent on feature films like Dr. Goldfoot and the Bikini Machine. But because of an adventurous heart and unpretentious attitude, we have a smorgasbord of scenes of Vincent Price having an absolute howl and doing what he did best.