Tim Curry was a Vincent Price for millennials

Like Curry, Price established his remarkable range before reaching a new crowd later in his career. Price played romantic leads and character parts in the 1930s and ’40s before finding his stride in the horror genre in the 1950s, standing out in movies like House Of Wax, The Fly, and The Tingler with a commanding presence and outsized performances that thrilled audiences almost as much as the schlock that Price needed to convince them were scary. In the ’60s, Price’s horror bona fides expanded into Roger Corman’s adaptations of Edgar Allen Poe adaptations, where he used his elocution and refined performances to elevate the films’ modest budgets.

While Gen Xers were lucky to discover Curry’s early film performances in theaters, many millennials found his early work channel-surfing or rifling through Blockbuster shelves. Something about his face on the poster or the strange, larger-than-life nature of his performances caught their attention. He could be a live-action cartoon, wildly expressive and boisterous in ways other actors never dare to ham it up for the camera, but he could also possess a threatening yet sultry aura. So many of his roles portrayed men both enchanting and dangerous, maybe even comforting, even if we couldn’t see him. In the late 1990s and 2000s, his resonant voice could be heard in numerous animated movies and TV shows, including Fern Gully: The Last Rainforest, The Wild Thornberrys, Mighty Ducks, and Gargoyles. Even if younger fans didn’t know they were familiar with Tim Curry, they likely knew his voice. Similarly, Price also ventured into television, where he frequented game shows and series like Batman, The Brady Bunch, and The Muppet Show that played with his horror-based persona. And like Curry, Price lent his expressive voice to audience-expanding projects like The Great Mouse Detective and the “Thriller” video.

Curry similarly showed a talent for bringing skeevy energy to family-friendly fare. Curry often filled the role of rogues kids had to learn to watch out for. In Annie, he played Rooster Hannigan, the con-artist brother of Miss Hannigan, the cruel woman who runs the orphanage the main character is trying desperately to leave. Rooster isn’t much better, as he tries to pass himself off as Annie’s father for reward money. Curry gives the character a slick, smooth-talking façade before revealing a desperate, threatening edge, especially when it becomes apparent he will stop at nothing for financial gains. Notably, both Prince and Curry performed the villainous role of the slimy, power-hungry Cardinal Richelieu in adaptations of The Three Musketeers, with equally threatening and repulsive flair. Curry’s a lot friendlier when playing the pirate-in-disguise Long John Silver in Muppet Treasure Island, but he is no more subtle in relishing when an evil plan comes together. This culminated with him directly scaring the bejesus out of kids as the shape-shifting monster who often appears as the creepy clown Pennywise in the TV adaptation of Stephen King’s It. 

Part of why so many of these roles are terrifying is because Curry’s characters always seem to have the upper hand, and they relish in the power of knowing more or having more strength than their targets. It gives his performances a smarmy air, but that unwavering confidence can be both appealing and vampiric. At every turn, Curry embraced doing too much, pushing his expressions just a little further, and letting his freak flag fly. He was no matinee idol, but his devil-may-care personality outshone many of the pretty faces around him. Like Price, Curry defined a generation of ghouls, kooks, and crooks, with a hypnotic presence as commanding as that big voice of his—inviting us to keep watching to see if he indeed could be trusted. No matter how much the man thrilled, teased, and terrified generations of moviegoers, we loved him for it.