I Bury the Living (1958)

When Robert Kraft (Richard Boone) is chosen as the chairman of a committee to oversee a cemetery, he initially resists the idea. He’s too busy running his department store, he claims. Convinced by the other members of the committee who’ve all taken their turn as chairman, he finally accepts the position. The job appears to be a piece of cake. Simply show up for a few hours and sign some paperwork and let the groundskeeper, Andy (Theodore Bikel,) handle the hard work.

Andy shows Robert around what will become his office and explains the map of the cemetery on the wall. Each plot is marked with a pin — black or white — showing its status. Black means the person has died and been buried. White means the plot has been purchased but the customer is still alive.

Later that same day, Robert accidentally marks a recently purchased plot with two black pins. Soon, he receives word that the newly married couple he just sold plots to has died. This might be easily dismissed as a coincidence, but it happens again. And again. Soon, Robert starts to fear he wields some kind of strange power over life itself.

I Bury the Living was advertised as a kind of zombie movie. The poster art depicts bodies crawling from their graves and the slogan promises an unspeakable horror crawling from a time-rotted tomb. None of that happens in the actual film. Instead, the story ratchets up the tension to provide an uneasy atmosphere. Does Robert possess some kind of ability to choose who lives or dies? Can events like this be explained away as mere coincidence?

Richard Boone, who I am much more familiar with from Westerns like The Shootist and Big Jake, excels at playing the tortured Robert Kraft. The script helps him along by making his reactions to this strange situation believable. Rather than try to hide this predicament from family and friends, he tells them what he’s thinking and opens himself to their ridicule. Even the dialogue — which in that era could get pretty corny — stays relatively grounded. Robert genuinely doesn’t understand what’s happening or why. His gradual slide into depression feels appropriate.

Director Albert Band along with cinematographer Frederick Gately use a variety of camera tricks — some subtle and some not — to convey Robert’s loosening grip on reality. Gately, who worked mostly in TV, may be responsible for the movie feeling like an extended Twilight Zone episode. Some of the transitions from scene to scene look as if they’re made for a commercial break. None of this works against the movie at all. I just found it interesting.

If I Bury the Living has a major fault, it’s the ending, which unfortunately feels like a cop out. Thankfully, the film’s believable build-up, interesting main character, and interesting premise save it from being a wash-out.