Better known by the release title Horror Hotel, The City of the Dead is a taut, compact little thriller about a "modern day" cult of murderous devil worshippers in New England. Shot before Psycho, both this and Hitchcock's film share a similar structure — the story's heroine is killed halfway through the picture, her disappearance subsequently investigated by a concerned relative and boyfriend. Director John Llewellyn Moxey (The Night Stalker) really piles on the atmosphere here with hidden tunnels, chanting, black-robed figures and banks of fog thick enough to cut with a ritual dagger. Adding to the luster, cult film legend Christopher Lee (Horror of Dracula, The Whip and the Body) appears in a crucial supporting role as a sinister college professor.
    The movie opens in the village of Whitewood, Massachusetts in 1692. A woman, Elisabeth Selwyn (a terrific Patricia Jessel), is dragged from her house and condemned as a witch by a mob of townspeople. As they burn her at the stake she proclaims her allegiance to Lucifer and places a curse on the village. This opening sequence is quite well done and almost has the feel of an old Universal horror of the '30s by way of TV's Twilight Zone.
    Flash forward 268 years to a history lecture on the very incident being given by New England college professor Alan Driscoll (Lee) to a small group of students. The excitable egghead seems a bit too caught up in his dissertation. One student shares the professor's fascination with the occult: pretty Nan Barlow (Venetia Stevenson), younger sister to Driscoll's colleague, science professor Dick Barlow (Dennis Lotis). When Nan inquires about doing some research for her term paper, Driscoll recommends a trip to Whitewood, Mass. — site of the Selwyn execution and subsequent paranormal happenings. Despite the protests of brother Dick, Nan packs up her notepads and drives to Whitewood for a week of field study. Here she encounters some very odd people, including a mysterious hitchhiker, a blind, elderly clergyman and the creepy Mrs. Newless (Jessel again), proprietor of the town's only hotel, The Raven Inn. In her room Nan believes she can hear a strange chanting coming from beneath the floor.
    Poor Nan ends up getting murdered, stabbed to death as a ritual sacrifice to Satan. (That we'd come to like her and care about what happens to the character — slow on the uptake as she is — certainly adds impact to the story.) With his sister missing for weeks and the police at a loss, Richard questions the jumpy Driscoll but only gets the run-around. He and Nan's boyfriend Bill (Tom Naylor) head for Whitewood to get answers for themselves. They're aided by Patricia (Betta St. John), granddaughter of the blind Rev. Russell and herself a newcomer to the village. Naturally, when the rituals of the Dark One call for another sacrifice it is Patricia who's chosen by the coven to die.
    Very much unlike Psycho, which was about an insane but quite mortal killer, City's tale is rooted firmly in the supernatural. This isn't just some freaked-out cult of devil worshippers hanging out in this backwater New England burg, by no means. They're ghostlike Undead who've sustained themselves over the centuries by drinking the blood of human sacrifice victims. Mrs. Newless is Elisabeth Selwyn, the infamous Witch of Whitewood. Moxey's direction and Desmond Dickinson's excellent black and white cinematography help us buy this mumbo jumbo far more readily than the script does. The flick positively drips atmosphere. (Unlike the ridiculous Slime People, City proves you can make a movie using lots and lots of fog to create an eerie ambiance and still be able to see the actors.) The cast members complement the film's effective production design. They're all good, with everyone but Lotis mastering believable Mid-Atlantic American accents. Jessel's the real standout, though, in her dual role as the cruel and evil Selwyn/Newless. Lee is also fun to watch. With his gigantic, imposing forehead, delivering his lines in rapid-fire style, he asserts a patented checklist of sinister expressions that radiate menace.
    City of the Dead isn't a relatively well-known horror film. Perhaps VCI's release of the DVD will spur greater interest. It certainly deserves a wider audience — we consider it a minor classic of the genre. It's a stroll in the fog well worth taking.