Horror and Sci-Fi films old and new, weirdo trash, arthouse, forgotten gems, well loved classics, and I'm watching the original Dr Who from the beginning.
I have watched horror films for over 25 years, and I have had cats all my life. Despite this, I had somehow missed the existence of a Milton Subotsky anthology film starring Peter Cushing as a paranoid writer, who believes felines have a plan to topple mankind as the dominant species on planet Earth. Cushing is Wilbur Gray, a writer trying to convince his publisher of his conspiracy theory. To illustrate it, he tells three tales. The first is set in 1912 London. A wealthy woman changes her will to leave all her money to her cats rather than her wastrel nephew. Said nephew (played by Simon Williams) is also having an affair with her maid. The cats are having none of it. The second story involves an orphan girl in contemporary Canada. Sent to live with her aunt, uncle and their bratty child, Lucy brings her only friend, a black cat called Wellington. Bratty child hates Wellington, but the cat has the last laugh, thanks to some awful camera trickery. The third sees Donald Pleasance as 1930s Hollywood star Valentine De'ath. He does away with his wife by "accidentally" having a film set use a real blade in a Pit and the Pendulum scene. De'ath then bullies his producer Pomeroy (John Vernon) into handing over the role to his halfwit girlfriend Edina (Samantha Eggar). Again, the late wife's cats are having none of it. Don't get me wrong, this is badly written, filmed, and directed. However, the cast alone makes it essential viewing for trash fiends. Peter Cushing made his fair share of stinkers, but I cannot think of any of them where he is anything less compelling, as well as playing it straight no matter how ludicrous the premise. Pleasance had a comparable mix of duds and dandies, but again, he always brought a compelling intensity, and with this film, a campy sense of humour. In addition, there is the always watchable Ray Milland as Cushing's understandably cynical publisher. He is right to be cynical, as the stories only seem to illustrate that the cats are justified in their behaviour.
The Mummy comes from that first flush of Hammer studio's late 1950s horror success that also included Dracula and Frankenstein. It has many of the classic elements, such as the stars, the director, the writer, luscious cinematography, rich dramatic score. It has also has some of the problematic elements, that nowadays are fascinating to examine. The story starts in the 1890s with a team of British archaeologists in Egypt, led by John Banning (Peter Cushing) and his father Stephen (Felix Aylmer). They uncover the sealed tomb of one Princess Ananka, but Stephen inadvertently brings the mummified body of her High Priest Kharis (Christopher Lee) back to life. Years later, back in England, Mehemet Bey (George Pastell), a modern-day worshipper of Ananka unleashes the undead Kharis to take gruesome revenge on the them. Cushing's role is different to that Frankenstein or Van Helsing. Those are more authoritative people, they have answers, they drive the story. Banning has no knowledge of, or part in the creation of the mummy. He is learning as he goes, which does give the character a chance to develop. Even covered head to toe in layers of muddy bandages, Lee is still recognisable, through his eyes and stature. His mummy is a relentless killing machine, immune to bullets and knives, a precursor to the Terminator. Some elements do look dated. In an accurate depiction of the time the film is set in, archaeology is shown as going to a faraway country to loot artifacts and interpret them through the prism of the colonial English. None of the Egyptian characters are played by Egyptians. Pastell (who is Cypriot born) is suitably slimy as Bey. He says his magic spells in a mix of gibberish and English. With brown skin and a permanent bright red fez, he sticks out and is easy to spot as the bad guy. There is mileage in the symbolism of the story. At the heart of it is pesky foreigners and their backwards superstitions. By coming "over here" they can be seen as foreign agents invading the country. However, the English characters are all brought down by their arrogance, and English exceptionalism.
An energetic and atmospheric take on the Sherlock Holmes tale, the Hammer Studios version of The Hound of the Baskervilles works as both an exciting detective story and an atmospheric Gothic chiller.
Although some changes are made to the source material, the basic plot remains the same, with Holmes (Peter Cushing) and Watson (Andre Morell) called on to investigate the mythical supernatural beast that has been haunting and killing members of the Baskerville family for hundreds of years. After his uncle Charles Baskerville is found dead, nephew Henry, the last of the line, finds himself left with the family estate – but does this have an unwanted extra, namely, the fatal family curse?
Cushing makes an excellent Holmes, a keen and energetic man with a razor-sharp brain and tongue to match, while Morell plays Watson closer to the literary version of the character, the heart to Holmes' brain, rather than the affable duffer that Nigel Bruce went for in the Basil Rathbone era films. Christopher Lee acquits himself well, playing a good guy for a change, but with enough charisma and haughty aristocratic manner to make Sir Henry convincing. The script rattles along at a good pace, and the changes from the novel merely help make the story pacey and visual without dumbing it down.
What really makes this a unique take on the story is the way director Terence Fisher seamlessly blends Holmes and his world into that of Hammer Horror. The Baskerville house could just as easily be the Frankenstein residence, and the lush colours, bold music, and spooky atmosphere could be right out of any of their genuinely more supernatural efforts.
Rogue One: A Star Wars Story, a prequel to the Star Wars: Episode IV - A New Hope manages to accomplish the difficult task of being acceptable viewing for fans without alienating those who have never seen a Star Wars film in their lives. It also brings something new to the franchise, a moral complexity, where there are not just good guys and bad guys, but bad good guys, and good guys who have to do bad things.
The plot is set just before the events of Episode IV, and covers the building of the iconic planet destroying monstrosity that is the Death Star. To help with their plans the Empire kidnaps scientist Galen Erso leaving his wife dead and daughter Jyn in hiding, being raised by rebellion fighter Saw Gerrera. Many years later Jyn (played by Felicity Jones) finds herself caught up in a plot to sabotage the Death Star which would also give her an opportunity to find her father. But with splits and factions within the rebellion and conflicting emotions for Jyn over both Gerrera and her father, can she trust her new allies - and can they trust her?
The film's main strengths lie in the story, which is fast paced, and has clear goals for the protagonists. It does not get bogged down in the Star Wars mythology, and without too much rewriting could have worked well as a sci-fi action film completely divorced from the Star Wars universe. However, the filmmakers are smart enough to include enough in-jokes for the nerds, whether it is cameos from characters both well-known and not, or the production design of the Death Star which flawlessly matches the clunky brightly lit seventies design of the original.
Where it differs from the original is by introducing a sense of moral complexity. The rebel who takes Jyn under his wing is later branded an extremist, and throughout we are shown examples of supposedly good people having to do bad things.
The characters are a mix of the new and the old; Jones does an excellent job of making Jyn likeable and believable, a tough female character to rival Princess Leia. It wouldn't be a Star Wars film without a droid, and here we get K-2SO, whose reprogramming has left with him with a seeming inability to be tactful (especially with statistics), leading to some great comic and dramatic moments. Donnie Yen brings his formidable Martial Arts skills to the role of blind warrior-monk Chirrut Imwe.
The action sequences are also a mix of the old and new; the aerial fight sequences, as much a part of a Star Wars film as droids and lightsabers, are done in the traditional dog-fight style, but the ground based action often utilises the chaotic handheld camera work of a war film such Saving Private Ryan.
The only big flaw revolves around the CGI work. At its best, it is barely noticeable, whether in sweeping planetary vistas or K-2SO. However, when two characters from Episode IV make their (dramatically important) appearances, the limits of the technology to properly capture the movement and complexity of the human face become apparent and distracting.
Overall though, a good film in its own right, as well being a worthy addition to the Star Wars universe, and a positive indicator for the future of the series.
The Curse of Frankenstein is the film that launched Hammer Horror on to the world, and there is a deliberate attempt to distance this film from both the Mary Shelley book and James Whale's iconic Universal version and create something unique. There are no pursuits to the North Pole, no fairy-tale castles, and no hunchback assistants, but the basic premise of the precociously talented scientist obsessed with creating a fully formed human being, and then being forced to deal with the consequences of achieving this remains intact.
Jimmy Sangster's script makes Victor Frankenstein the focus of the story but makes no attempt to portray him in a sympathetic light. This is a man who does not think in terms of good and evil, only in terms of getting his work done, and as a scientist who has no concept of the consequences of his actions. Peter Cushing brings a mix of charm, coldness, and nervous energy, to the role, creating a character who is determined, dangerous and unpredictable. While courting his cousin Elizabeth he carries on an affair with his maid, and when the latter finds she is pregnant, it is fascinating to watch the difference in his attitude to creating life in the laboratory and creating life with a human being.
Christopher Lee gives a similarly distinctive performance as the Monster. When he is discovered chained to a wall by his creator, his first instinct is to cover his face, still showing traces of vanity and humanity. The end result is a complex creature who is both a mindless killer, and a slightly pathetic pawn of somebody else's ambitions.
With two such dominating characters (and actors), it is difficult for the supporting cast to get a look in. Hazel Court does her best with the underwritten part of Elizabeth, but Frankenstein's increasingly moral and self-righteous mentor Paul Krempe (Robert Urquhart) is just irritating.
When placed in the context of the Hammer Horror story, what amazes in retrospect is how fully formed the style seems already, with so many of the tropes, such as the colour, the gore, the actors, the urgent, dramatic music, and the Gothic European settings already in place.
Island of Terror is a fast paced, imaginative and at times, wonderfully cheesy slice of British sci-fi horror, straddling the twin sub genres of "science run amok" and "trapped on a remote British island". Despite the presence of director Terence Fisher and star Peter Cushing, it is not a Hammer film, and feels if anything like a precursor 1970s era Dr Who.
On a remote island the police constable makes a grisly find - the corpse of a local farmer, but without a single bone in his body. The local doctor is stumped, so travels to the mainland to seek help from top London pathologist Dr. Brian Stanley (Peter Cushing) and bone disease expert Dr. David West. Back on the island they find more boneless bodies - and a mysterious lab where a scientist was working on a cure for cancer. Has this got some link to the strange creatures responsible for the horrifying deaths? But with all transport and communication to the island cut off, will any of them make it off alive?
Island of Terror was very obviously knocked out cheaply and quickly, but the film-makers respond to it with typical British Gusto. Firstly, by cheerfully ignoring the ridiculous rubber monsters causing the terror, and secondly by focussing more on the script. Being trapped in a place is a classic horror trope, and the script does set up, albeit through portentous dialogue, plenty of reasons why they can not get away. The writers are also not afraid to throw in twists and shocks, and bump off important and likeable characters. Granted some of the attitudes have not dated well. Toni Merrill, Dr West's girlfriend exists purely, as the daughter of a wealthy man with a helicopter, to give the men quick transport back to the island. After that she spends most of her time screaming and needing to be rescued. The slightly patronising attitudes of the London lot to the island folk looks a little cringeworthy too, especially when it was big city slicker scientists that started the whole crisis in the first place.
Some of the special effects, such as the boneless corpses or an dismembering a hand are surprisingly gruesome and shocking for a 1960s film. Others, particularly the creatures themselves, are just awful. They look like rubber shells stuffed with noodles, and coupled with the weird squeaky electronic noises they make, could come straight out of 1970s Dr Who. Cushing, as usual, plays it admirably straight, and brings some dignity to these scenes.
In fact, with some minor tweaks, the whole thing could play as a 70s Dr Who story, with Jon Pertwee in the Cushing role, and similar ideas of science gone bad and threatening the world were explored in stories of that era, such as The Green Death and The Seeds of Doom. Plus, there is a perpetually screaming woman who always needs to be rescued.
The film finishes on a speech defending the scientist whose work caused all the problems, a sort of, "okay, it went bad, but at least he meant well". This is quickly followed by a twist ending along the lines of "at least it's not happening anywhere else", followed by a cut to a lab in Japan, where.... well, I'm sure you can guess.
A lesser-known entry in the Hammer studios back catalogue, Sword of Sherwood Forest is a slight and only sporadically entertaining take on the Robin Hood legend. The plot sees the Sheriff of Nottingham (Peter Cushing) trying to get control of the estate of a nobleman who has been killed fight in the Crusades. When the Archbishop of Canterbury intervenes, the Sheriff plots to have him assassinated. Meanwhile Robin finds himself falling for the mysterious Marion - despite her links to the Sheriff.
Unfortunately, the story is part of the problem, not being substantial enough to sustain a whole film, instead feeling more suited to an episode of the Robin Hood TV show of which Green was the star. Green himself is another part of the problem, seeming a little long in the tooth, lacking the exuberant energy of Errol Flynn.
Thankfully his co-stars pick up some of the slack, with Peter Cushing oily but charismatic as the evil Sheriff and Niall MacGinnis (who played the creepy Julian Karswell in Night of the Demon) as a fun and funny Friar Tuck. Look fast for Desmond “Q” Llewelyn and a virtually unrecognizable Oliver Reed, although as the former has no lines and the latter is dubbed, neither of them make much of an impact
The other asset the film has is legendary Hammer director Terence Fisher who makes the most of the beautiful Irish countryside locations and ensures the sword fights and horse chases are fast and exciting, even if the script is not. Sword of Sherwood Forest was not the only time Hammer adapted a TV show, but unlike with the other examples such as the Quatermass series, here they failed to develop it into something cinematic.
The other thing that I had not properly appreciated is the energy, intensity and swashbuckling demeanour of Peter Cushing. His version of Van Helsing is a world away from the elderly, more academic characterisation by Edward Van Sloan in the Browning film, and the final battle between him and the Count could almost have come right out of an Errol Flynn film.
Asylum is one of a series of
anthology films made by the Amicus studio during the 1960s and 70s, as they
tried to rival the Hammer Horror movies. The acting and writing vary from story
to story and are at times the best and the worst elements of the film, leaving
a patchy but still enjoyable slice of 70s British Horror.
The script is by
none other than Robert “Psycho” Bloch, based on four of his own short stories.
As is standard practice for a compendium film, each tale is linked by a framing
story, in this case that of Dr Martin (Robert Powell), a young psychiatrist who
arrives for a job interview at an isolated asylum for the incurably insane.
Doing the interview is Dr Lionel Rutherford, currently wheelchair-bound due to
an attack by an inmate. Rutherford says he will give Martin the post, if he agrees
to interview four patients, listen to their stories and correctly guess which
one is Dr Starr, the psychiatrist who ran the asylum, until a nervous breakdown
made Starr an inmate.
The opening
credits play out over the strains of Mussorgsky's Night on a Bare Mountain,
suggesting a tone that is loud, lurid and portentous almost to the point of
parody. What follows is thankfully not quite like that, and of the four tales,
the first two are the most successful, for different reasons.
The first, “Frozen
Fear” starts with a woman called Bonnie, who tells how she plotted with her
lover Walter to bump off Walter's wife, dismember the body, hide it in a
freezer and run off with her money. However, sometimes, you can't keep a good
corpse down... While the situation is not so original and the characters are
bland and forgettable, the segment succeeds due to the creepy denouement, EC
comics style cruelty, and some fairly well executed special effects.
By contrast, the
second segment, "The Weird Tailor" works so well because of the lead
actor, with Peter Cushing at his effortlessly chilling best as the mysterious
Mr Smith, who hires down-on-his-luck tailor, Bruno (Barry Morse) to make him a
suit. There are some strange conditions attached though - Bruno can only
work on the suit after midnight, and it must be made entirely from an unusual,
glowing fabric. Cushing moves subtly from cold and determined to desperate, as
the reason for the suit becomes apparent, while Morse is believable as a hard
working honest man, also driven to desperate measures. Director Roy Ward Baker
had an eclectic career working in a number of genres, but
shows in this story great understanding of how to make this work as a horror
story, keeping the direction simple and letting the actors get on with it. His
only misjudgement is the ending, which feels hurried.
Sadly, neither the
writing nor acting can save the third segment. Here we meet Barbara (Charlotte
Rampling) and find that this is not her first time in an asylum. Her story
starts with her being released from the facility, and going to stay with her
brother George and a nurse. The only relief from the boredom of her confined
life is when her mischievous friend Lucy (Britt Ekland) comes to visit and
plots to help her escape - but is Lucy all she appears to be? A very easily
guessed twist ending, coupled with some wooden acting from Ekland make this a
real test of patience.
In the final
segment, Martin speaks with a Dr Byron (Herbert Lom), who is using his
incarceration to work on his plan to transfer souls into miniature automatons
and end what he sees as Rutherford’s reign of terror at the asylum. The episode
feels rushed in execution and the automaton models look very silly, but at
least it cleverly links to the main story, and Lom is never less than
entertaining.
Beyond the merits
and faults of the stories themselves, there is one point of particular interest
about the script. The unreliable narrator is a well-used idea in storytelling,
but here, instead of one, we get several - in fact, none of the characters
could be who they say they are. This also means that we never see the world
beyond the asylum other than through the characters, and much of that world is
indoors. While this may have been for budgetary reasons, it also gives Asylum a subtle feeling of
claustrophobia.
Dr. Terror's House of Horrors was the first in a series of
anthology films from the Amicus studio, and the one that launched them for a
time to the same dizzying heights, at least at the box office, as their arch
rival Hammer. But it is a film that prove Hitchcock's maxim about a film
needing three things: a good script, a good script and a good script, as the
poor quality of the writing is the factor that stops this from becoming a
masterpiece.
