THE REPTILE (1966)

THE REPTILE (1966)

THE REPTILE (1966) Review

Who?
Director: John Gilling
Producer: Anthony Nelson Keys
Screenplay: John Elder
Cast: Noel Willman, Ray Barrett, Jacqueline Pearce, Jennifer Daniel, Marne Maitland, David Barron, John Laurie, Michael Ripper, Charles Lloyd Pack, Harold Goldblatt, George Woodbridge

How?
The Reptile was first announced as a project by Hammer in 1963, but was rejected by their then backers Universal. It reappeared the following year, but it wasn't until 1965 that the film actually got underway, as part of Hammer's two double-bills for 1966 - The Reptile was to be shot back-to-back with Plague of the Zombies using the same sets, and was to be released with Rasputin the Mad Monk. Reptile and Plague became known as Hammer's two Cornish films. The screenplay was by Anthony Hinds, as 'John Elder', and John Gilling, who had worked on and off for Hammer since the late 1940s, was hired to direct. Shooting took place using the Plague sets on Bray Studios' backlot, as well as on location in Surrey (for the 'Cornish 'moors), and the exterior of Oakley Court (the same house as used in Plague). Michael Ripper and Jacqueline Pearce carried on from Plague, and were joined by Noel Willman and Jennifer Daniel from Kiss of the Vampire (1963), as well as Hammer veteran Marne Maitland.

What?
Following the sudden death of his brother Charles in a small Cornish village Harry Spalding (Barrett) and his wife Valerie (Daniel) arrive to take up residence in his vacant cottage. Finding the cottage ransacked, the villagers surly, and after a dire warning from the local tramp Mad Peter (Laurie), they soon discover that Charles' death was suspicious and was only one of many such strange deaths in the village. Befriending the local publican Tom (Ripper), Harry and he exhume Harry's brother and find him black and swollen, with a strange bite mark on the body, which Tom recognises as being that of a snake. Deciding to investigate further they discover the trail leads to the local manor house, where a Dr Franklyn (Willman) and his daughter Anna (Pearce) now live, after having returned from exploring South-East Asia. Living with them is a strange character, Malay, who seems to hold some power over the  couple. Soon Harry discovers that the house harbours a dark violent secret, that something evil stalks the moors at night, and that both he and Valerie are now in danger as they seek to uncover just what it is.

So?
The Reptile is one of those films that just epitomises for  many people the essence of a 'Hammer horror' - strange goings-on in a tranquil country setting, misty moors, surly yokels, an evil monster. The Reptile has all this in spades and more.  And yet, it's not a 'typical' Hammer horror - this was one of the few times that Hammer dabbled with Asian mythology in their creation of a monster and it's all the more interesting for it. Anthony Hinds' screenplay manages to meld this mythology into a bucolic Cornish environment wonderfully - the strangeness of it only helping to bring out the 'strangeness' of the rural setting. - those deserted moors really are creepy, even without a critter on the loose! John Gilling was a skilled (if volatile!) writer and director, who had written and/or directed a number of  solid past Hammer pictures, such  as Shadow of the Cat (1961), Pirates of Blood River  (1962) and The Scarlet Blade (1963). The 'Cornish couple' were his first real 'monster' films, however, but he took to it like a duck to water and created some genuinely atmospheric pictures in both The Reptile and Plague, making good use of the tranquil settings to bring out the violent 'alienness' of what has intruded upon them. Whilst perhaps The Reptile is a bit slow at times, and the ending a little rushed, there are enough interesting characters and good set-pieces to keep you interested.

Whilst the lead actors make a solid job of their characters in the film, particularly Noel Willman as the tormented father, it is the supporting cast that really carry the show here. Hammer legend Michael Ripper has a more substantial role than usual as Tom the publican and convinces as a frightened but determined to get to the root of the evil in the village. John Laurie is great fun as Mad Peter, hamming it up for all he's worth - but you do expect a cry at any moment of 'Doomed, doomed, we're all doomed' à la Dad's Army! And Marne Maitland is just plain evil as he sedately and callously oversees the designated punishment. Pearce, while indeed creating a haunting character in Anna and a memorable creature, is not really given enough to do, both as Anna (to make her a really rounded sympathetic character) and as the creature  (to the film's detriment). The real star of the The Reptile, however, is Roy Ashton for his makeup effects. Whilst the creature is revealed pretty early on, and the publicity posters took any surprise away, he really did create something quite unique, that still has the power to unnerve in this age of CGI, and which has certainly given a few kids an uneasy night over the years. Sadly, this was to be Ashton's last formal film for Hammer, but what a creature to go out on!

I have a real affection for both John Gilling's Cornish films (although Plague of the Zombies is the better of the two), and even though The Reptile was second to Rasputin in its double-bill I know which of those two I'd prefer to see. Low budget as it is, it's just a fun monster movie. Yes, it has weaknesses galore - it drags a little, the plot's a bit ropey, the creature seems to catch people too easily in that tight dress, and has no other purpose than to go around biting people on the necks, and is killed off pretty easily in the end, and...But, whatever, it's just fun! Not to mention it has one of the greatest methods of deceasing in a Hammer film - how can you fail to appreciate foaming and suppurating bites all accompanied by major facial swelling and blackening! Especially if they're inflicted on John 'Doomed' Laurie. The censors hated the film, calling it 'nasty rubbish', and insisted on toning down elements in the script. Thankfully, they were not able to inflict too much damage on this creepy, if flawed, little gem from Hammer. Unfortunately, Hammer didn't make too many of these 'English country village beset by Evil' films (despite impressions to the contrary). More's the pity. Goodness knows what else they might have come up with!

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Hammer Films, Horror, John Elder, John Gilling, Reptile, Reviews,

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FANATIC (1965)

FANATIC (1965) Review

FANATIC (1965)

Who?
Director: Silvio Narizzano
Producer: Anthony Hinds
Screenplay: Richard Matheson
Cast: Tallulah Bankhead, Stefanie Powers, Peter Vaughan, Maurice Kaufmann, Yootha Joyce, Donald Sutherland, Gwendoline Watts, Robert Dorning, Philip Gilbert, Winifred Denis, Diana King, Henry McGee

How?
By 1964 Hammer had already filmed a string of psychological thrillers, all penned by Jimmy Sangster and shot in black and white. When they came to make Fanatic, based on a novel by Anne Blaisdell, they took a different tack. Fanatic didn't involve Sangster at all, and it was to be shot in colour. To write the screenplay Hammer brought in the successful American novelist and screenwriter Richard Matheson, whose book I Am Legend Hammer had planned to film but had had to drop. Anthony Hinds once again took the producers chair, and he brought in a 'non-Hammer' director for the project - Silvio Narizzano, a television director. To play the central characters Hammer hired two American actors - the legendary Tallulah Bankhead, and the up-and-coming Stefanie Powers. Donald Sutherland also appears in an early screen role, and a handful of memorable English character actors filled out the cast. Shooting took place at Elstree Studios and Letchmore Heath in Hertfordshire.

What?
American Patricia Carroll (Powers) arrives in England and, while there, decides to make a courtesy call on the mother of her ex-fiancé Stephen Trefoile, who had died a few years previously (by suicide, we later discover). The widow Mrs Trefoile (Bankhead) lives in a rambling house deep in the country, with her housekeeper Anna (Joyce), Anna's husband Harry (Vaughan), and  the mentally disabled gardner Joseph (Sutherland). Patricia is persuaded to stay the night, but it soon becomes apparent that Mrs Trefoil is a sinister puritan religious fanatic, obsessed with her deceased son. When she discovers that Patricia is soon to marry she refuses to let her leave and, with the help of Anna and Harry, imprisons her in the attic and begins a process of 'cleansing' her soul so that she may be fit to marry Stephen and spend eternity with him in heaven. It soon becomes clear that Mrs Trefoil intends to reunite Patricia with Stephen sooner rather than later, and Patricia must escape the house before it's too late. But Mrs Trefoil herself hides a secret from her past in the cellar which may prove her undoing...

So?
Whilst Fanatic followed a long line of Hammer psychological thrillers it stands out for a number of reasons. First, because Jimmy Sangster had no involvement in it, there is a certain freshness to the storyline. For a change there is no-one being slowly driven mad by person or persons unknown. Instead, we have a full-blown madwoman from the get-go in the shape of Ms Bankhead. Richard Matheson crafted a wonderful character in Mrs Trefoile, which Tallulah Bankhead throws herself into with gusto. Certainly, at times Bankhead is hamming it up for all she's worth but, curiously, that merely makes the character of Mrs Trefoile all the more intimidating and unnerving. In fact, Matheson created a whole wonderfully quirky set of characters with which to fill the house - Harry, the amoral lecherous thug, is played with enthusiasm by Peter Vaughan (and is particularly nasty in his sadistically 'playful' chase of Patricia through the woods); Anna, the semi-reluctant but unquestioning accomplice, is coldly portrayed by a young Yootha Joyce (her efficient physical restraint of Patricia often showing an underlying sadism herself); and Joseph, the simple gardener - not perhaps Donald Sutherland's finest hour but he does add to the house's motley crew.

Stefanie Powers is surprisingly good, for those who only know her from Hart to Hart. She manages to convey the journey of a down-to-earth girl from bemused amusement to outright terror with great conviction; someone totally out of their depth but with the balls to fight back. She was later to be equally effective in Hammer's Crescendo (1970). It is Bankhead, however, who really steals the show. After this, Hammer would again experiment with casting 'fading' Hollywood legends - Bette Davis would appear in The Nanny (1965) and The Anniversary 1968), and Joan Fontaine in The Witches (1966). Bankhead fits the roll of Mrs Trefoile perfectly. A nightmare to work with on set, Narizzano tried to reign her in (he thought she got a bit camp) but, personally, her going into full 'dahling' mode only adds to the madness conveyed by her character, and is somewhat fitting given her 'secret' past. The scenes in Mrs Trefoile's secret cellar, where she occasionally unmasks and indulges in her former life, are a joy. Narizzano had been exclusively a television director before this, his first feature. However, this does work to his advantage as most of the drama takes place indoors, in small rooms of the Trefoile house. Narizzano efficiently captures the mood of claustrophobia, imprisonment and confinement - a violent world of its own, lying unknown beneath the surface of the bucolic country village, where Mrs Trefoile is seen as perhaps eccentric, but harmless. Importantly, the story never lags, often providing shocking little twists, and the ending just fits Bankhead perfectly.

Fanatic, while not one of Hammer's best works, is an enjoyably effective and tense little thriller. It owes this to Matheson's script, Bankhead's wonderfully OTT performance, and the cast of misfits she has gathered around her. Throw all-American girl Powers into the mix and you have a fine 'fish-out-of-water' film with madness and murder thrown in. Particularly effective are the scenes of Powers' gradual degradation and dehumanisation as the domineering Bankhead first uses force of personality and then the physical persuasion of compliant Anna to accomplish her will. While weak in parts (would Anna really be so quickly accomodating to her mistresses wishes?) Fanatic provides relief from a certain 'sameness' which had crept into Hammer's psychological thrillers. It was to be Bankhead's last screen role and, much to her annoyance, was released in the US as Die! Die! My Darling (to play on Bankhead's famous 'dah-ling' and to echo the recent Hush, Hush, Sweet Charlotte). Fanatic provided a memorable character in Mrs Trefoile on which to bow out, and a refreshing change for a Hammer thriller.

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Fanatic, Hammer Films, Reviews, Richard Matheson, Stefanie Powers, Thriller,

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HELL IS A CITY (1960)

HELL IS A CITY (1960)

HELL IS A CITY (1960) Review

Who?
Director: Val Guest
Producer: Michael Carreras
Screenplay: Val Guest
Cast: Stanley Baker, John Crawford, Donald Pleasence, Maxine Audley, Billie Whitelaw, Joseph Tomelty, Vanda Godsell, Geoffrey Frederick, Sarah Branch, George A. Cooper, Charles Houston, Joby Blanchard, Charles Morgan, Peter Madden

How?
After coming across ex-policeman Maurice Proctor's original novel Hell is a City, Michael Carreras decided it would make a prestige picture for Hammer and so passed it to Val Guest, who also saw its potential, and took on both to write a screenplay and direct the picture. Guest, at that time, was a regular Hammer director. He'd recently completed the critically acclaimed war drama Yesterday's Enemy (1959) for them and Carreras felt that he would be perfect for Hell is a City. Guest completed a screenplay and insisted that Stanley Baker, whom he'd worked with on Yesterday's Enemy, take the lead. The rest of the cast were comprised of excellent British actors such as Donald Pleasance and Billie Whitelaw, apart from US actor John Crawford, at the time finding lead roles in British films. It was thought Crawford might 'sell' the film more easily to a US audience. Unusually for Hammer the film was almost entirely shot on the streets of Manchester, the city council insisting the name be used and giving the shoot all the help it needed - even off-duty policemen as extras. The film was released to some of the best reviews Hammer ever received for a film, and Guest regarded it as the best film of his career.

What?
Detective Inspector Martineau (Baker), a Manchester policeman, discovers that Don Starling (Crawford), a jewel thief whom Martineau had put behind bars, has escaped and is out for revenge. Starling makes his way back to Manchester and gathers his old gang together to rob a bookmakers, owned by Gus Hawkins (Pleasance). Kidnapping Hawkins' secretary, who's carrying the money, Starling kills her when she screams, dumps her body on the moors, and the gang make off with money. Unknown to them, however, the money has been stained with an indelible green dye. Hawkins' wife is an ex-lover of Starling and he persuades her to hide him, but when he assaults her husband and flees when discovered she informs Martineau, and reveals that Starling had green-stained fingers. Raiding an illegal gambling racket, Martineau and his men uncover stained notes, which leads them to the rest of the gang members. Starling, meanwhile, has gone to an unwilling accomplice's storeroom to recover the jewels he hid before imprisonment. When discovered by the granddaughter Silver (Branch) he shoots her and flees across the rooftops of Manchester, with Martineau now in pursuit.

So?
Hell is a City was produced during a period when Hammer were experimenting in various genres, and producing some of their best work. Harkening back to the time in the 1950s when Hammer were producing British B-noirs for the US distributer Lippert, Hell is a tough, gritty crime drama that ranks among director Val Guest's best films. Eschewing the technicolour of their Gothic horrors Hell was shot in crisp b&w and filmed in an almost documentary style, adding a sense of bleak realism to the unfolding narrative. Adding to this is an almost 'kitchen sink drama' element to the film, a foretaste of the turn British cinema would take in the 1960s New Wave. For Hell is not only a police procedural but also very much a human story, as concerned with interpersonal relationships as it is with the drama of crime and retribution. Martineau is not just a faceless detective, but a man seen struggling with the dramas of his home life - he desperate for a child, his wife not but feeling a virtual prisoner in her home (for she can't be seen to work), needing some meaning to her life. He, so married to his job that he can't fulfill her needs, and tempted to stray.

Hell's cast are, on the whole, perfect in their roles. Stanley Baker, the world-weary and burdened detective dogged in his pursuit of his prey. John Crawford, the vicious thief and killer single-mindedly scrabbling for what he can get his hands on. Donald Pleasance, the twitchy, mousey but cunning bookmaker more concerned with his money than his staff. And his wife, Billie Whitelaw, married for money and torn in her loyalties. Rounding out fine central performances are Maxine Audley, Martineau's increasingly frantic wife, and Vanda Godsell, offering Martineau all he wishes - no strings attached. Hell dips in and out of the lives of each, their relationships, their interaction - one cares about what happens to these people, because they're rounded; no cardboard characters here. Of course, instrumental in the construction of this all-too-human story is Val Guest himself. A perfect screenplay with sharp dialogue, but only so much as is necessary for the story. A tale that meanders through the streets of the city and beyond, exposing an underbelly present wherever humanity congregates in numbers, Guest directs the story gently to its natural conclusion, never afraid to stop along the way and examine the human cost to its participants.

All this is in no way to suggest that Hell isn't exciting - it is a crime drama after all and on that score it more than delivers the goods. The robbery of, kidnapping and ultimate murder of the secretary; the raid on the gambling den in Manchester's industrial wasteland; the fight between Starling and the deaf-mute girl in a furniture strewn attic; and, of course, the iconic flight and fight across the city rooftops, where hunter and hunted finally meet and old scores are settled. Hell is a thriller, and doesn't forget it, the whole narrative winding the tension tighter until its explosive climactic release. And despite having shot an upbeat alternative ending, Guest chooses to leave an ambiguous future for Martineau, perfectly fitting the entire mood of the piece. And in the careful cultivation of that mood credit must be given to cinematographer Arthur Grant, his lighting, framing and movement aiding Hell's noirish narrative elements. For Hell can justly be seen as an example of late British film noir. We can only bemoan the fact, however much we love Hammer's horror and fantasy, that the company never really built on the artistic success of Hell, and others like it, as the sixties progressed. Nevertheless, Hell stands as a testament to the fact that Hammer could compete in the cinematic 'mainstream' as well as anyone.

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Crime, Hammer Films, Hell is a City, Noir, Thriller, Val Guest,

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THE SHADOW OF THE CAT (1961)

THE SHADOW OF THE CAT (1961)

THE SHADOW OF THE CAT Review (1961)


Who?
Director: John Gilling
Producer: Jon Penington
Screenplay: George Baxt
Cast: André Morell, Barbara Shelley, Conrad Phillips, Richard Warner, William Lucas, Andrew Crawford, Freda Jackson, Vanda Godsell, Alan Wheatley, Catherine Lacey, Henry Kendall, Kynaston Reeves, Vera Cook, Angela Crow, Howard Knight

How?
In 1960 George Baxt, Richard Hatton and Jon Pennington formed a production company - BHP. Baxt wrote a script which BHP took to Hammer, who initially refused it. However, after a change of mind they secured funding from Universal and The Shadow of the Cat became a Hammer production, although it was released under the BHP label. BHP's Penington took on production duties and, significantly, hired John Gilling to direct. Gilling had worked for Hammer as a writer from the late 1940s but had left on bad terms in 1951. Now directing, this was his first picture for Hammer again and he would go on to write and direct a number more during the 1960s. Gilling immediately set about changing Baxt's script somewhat, most notably with the addition of an actual cat. Among the cast Conrad Phillips, André Morell, Barbara Shelley, Freda Jackson and Vanda Godsell had all appeared previously for Hammer. Shooting took place at Bray Studios with the regular Hammer crew, including Bernard Robinson as production designer and Arthur Grant as director of photography. The film was released as a  second feature to Curse of the Werewolf (1961).

What?
Ella Venable (Lacey) is confined to the attic of her rambling Victorian mansion by her domineering husband Walter (Morell). Although intending to leave all her estate to her niece Elizabeth (Shelley), Walter forces her to rewrite her will and then has  his servant Andrew (Crawford) kill her. Walter, Andrew and the housekeeper Clara (Jackson) then bury her body in the woods, and report her to the police as being 'missing'. Ella's cat Tabatha, however, was present during the murder and burial and the three conspirators become increasingly concerned that the cat will somehow give them away and they become intent on catching it, but to no avail. Walter's brother Edgar and nephew Jacob have arrived, along with Elizabeth, and Walter eventually seeks the help of the two men in disposing of the cat - who agree, for a price. One by one, however, the conspirators succumb to fatal 'accidents', at which the cat is always present. Those surviving become increasingly obsessed with disposing of Tabatha, convinced that she is somehow exacting revenge for the death of her mistress.

So?
The Shadow of the Cat has occasionally been in a bit of a Hammer limbo - was it to be regarded as a genuine Hammer film or not? After all, 'Hammer' appears nowhere on the onscreen credits - it is a 'BHP' production. For this reason Shadow was often omitted from Hammer filmographies. But there can really be no doubt that Shadow is a bona fide Hammer picture - BHP merely provided a script for Hammer, who themselves arranged financing and distribution, and made the picture in their own studios, with their crew, and many of their actors. So Shadow is rightly recognised now as a true Hammer picture, in all but (onscreen) name. Regrettably, however, it is not one of Hammer's better pictures - although not through a lack of talent. Gilling was an excellent, if difficult, director, the cast were uniformly very good, and the crew were Hammer's gifted regular team. The problem, basically, was the story itself. Bax, had originally omitted any reference to a physical cat - the story was to be played out on a purely psychological level. Gilling, however, felt the story needed the actual presence of a cat and adjusted it accordingly. This, I think, is where the problem lies. Laying so much emphasis on the physical cat strongly implies the presence of the 'supernatural', whether intended or not. This ultimately is to the detriment of the picture.

But first, Shadow's good points, because it does have them - as can be seen immediately, for the film opens with a crackingly atmospheric murder and body disposal. Set to an apt voiceover of Poe's The Raven, Arthur Grant's moody b&w photography, Bernard Robinson's creepy Victorian mansion, Mikas Theodorakis' ominous score, and sinister performances from Morell, Crawford and Jackson as the murderous conspirators all combine to create an opening that promises much - which is why the film is ultimately a disappointment, because it fails to deliver. Only sporadically does Shadow live up to its prologue - as in Crawford's later swampy death. Which is a shame, because on the whole the cast do their best with what they have. Morell and his viciously avaricious family and servants are a delight to behold, Morell in particular because it is such an uncharacterstic part for him. And Shelley is the perfect foil of goodness to their circle of evil. But unfortunately what they have to work with storywise just doesn't gell. Shadow is not sure what it is or wants to be - a tale of the supernatural, or a psychological one? Trying to walk a line between the two, and keep the audience wondering,  Shadow simply falls down and fails to satisfy on either score, appearing confused and illogical.

Much of the blame for this lies with the use of the cat - a normal tabby that, no matter how hard they try, simply fails to convince as either a deliberate or accidental force of revenge. Morell's quickly developed and ever-growing obsession with catching the moggy, speedily passed on to the others, seems comical in the extreme. What did he initially think it would do, go to the police? The constant efforts to imply the cat may be sentiently intent on revenge (the close-ups of its watching, the view through its eyes, its constant popping up) just don't work. Perhaps this was Gilling's way of getting us inside the  tortured minds of Morell and co. rather than to suggest the supernatural but, if so, it was clumsy and  mishandled. For Shadow is best seen as a psychological tale, one of ever-growing guilt and fear - a tale of the ever-present and pricking conscience and the frantic but futile effort to suppress and stiffle it. A tale of descent into madness. Morell and his cohorts' actions may be illogical and irrational but in being so do convey their frantic attempt to snuff out the only living reminder of the evil which they have committed, which can but lead to death through their loss of all rational sense of perspective. Perhaps the story might have worked better without the physical presence of the cat, but it is difficult to see how it could have been accomplished without a physical focal point of some kind. In any case, Shadow is a disappointment (in a highly creative period for Hammer) but enjoyable in its own gloomily atmospheric way.

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Barbara Shelley, Hammer Films, Horror, John Gilling, Reviews, Shadow of the Cat, Thriller,

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SCARS OF DRACULA (1970)

SCARS OF DRACULA (1970)

Scars of Dracula (1970) Review

This was the first Hammer horror that I was consciously aware of. I must have been 10 or 11 years old, and staying at my maternal grandparents’ house one summer. There were several boxes of VHS tapes which I picked and choose my way through. Seeing Dracula scrawled in ink on the side of this tape was enough to pique my interest and I stuck it on. From the prologue with the vampire bat attack in the church, with the vivid ‘Kensington Gore’ I was hooked. Seeing the name ‘Hammer Films’ in blood red lettering caught my attention to the point where I recall asking my parents about what ‘Hammer Films’ were (I’m sure they were bewildered at the time). Patrick Troughton’s presence in the cast captured my attention too – I was already a Doctor Who fan, and Dennis Waterman must have been a welcome face from tv’s Minder.

The slight titillation from the sight of beautiful women demi-clad, and the stylised horror started me on a path of exploration. Within a short space of time I was regularly sitting up past the witching hour watching British horror films from a bygone era on Channel 4 and the BBC and self-educating myself in the genre.

Scars comes in for much stick these days as the ‘worst’ in the Dracula series, but it has a certain charm. Some iffy production design aside, and a not-very-convincing female vampire (Anouska Hempel), this has some great imagery. Dracula and Klove’s relationship is fascinating, with Dracula reaching new depths of cruelty, and Troughton giving a very human portrayal of the manservant.

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19th century, blood, castle, Christopher Lee, Dennis Waterman, dracula, gothic horror, Horror, Jenny Hanley, Scars of Dracula,

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DR JEKYLL AND SISTER HYDE (1971)

DR JEKYLL AND SISTER HYDE (1971) Review

DR JEKYLL AND SISTER HYDE (1971)

Who?
Director: Roy Ward Baker
Producer: Brian Clemens & Albert Fennell
Screenplay: Brian Clemens
Cast: Ralph Bates, Martine Beswick, Gerald Sim, Lewis Fiander, Susan Brodrick, Dorothy Alison, Ivor Dean, Philip Madoc, Irene Bradshaw, Neil Wilson, Paul Whitsun-Jones, Tony Calvin, Dan Meaden, Virginia Wetherell, Julia Wright

How?
Dr Jekyll and Sister Hyde resulted from a suggestion which The Avengers creator Brian Clemens had jokingly made as to how Robert Louis Stevenson's famous story of Jekyll and Hyde could be taken in a new direction. Realising what a novel idea it actually was, and despite having twice before dealt with the subject (The Ugly Duckling (1959) and The Two Faces of Dr Jekyll (1960)), Hammer commissioned Clemens to write a screenplay, which EMI were convinced to back. Clemens and his partner Albert Fennell were therefore hired to produce, and Roy Ward Baker was eventually brought in to direct. To portray Jekyll Hammer cast their star of the moment Ralph Bates, and  after considering a number of actors for Hyde it was eventually decided, at the insistence of James Carreras, on Martine Beswick (One Million Years BC (1966), Prehistoric Women (1967)). It was actually an inspired piece of casting given the uncanny resemblance between her and Bates. Shooting took place entirely on sets at Elstree Studios.

What?
In Victorian London Dr Henry Jekyll is determined to discover the secret of extending life, so that he can complete his work on a cure for all diseases. His experiments to produce an elixir require hormones taken from certain bodily parts of recently deceased women, which he acquires from an obliging undertaker. As he seeks to perfect his elixir he eventually finds that female bodies are no longer forthcoming and so he enlists the aid of Messrs Burke and Hare to 'acquire' fresh bodies for him. At last he produces a formula, with which he experiments upon himself, only to discover that it has the unexpected effect of transforming him into a stunning, sensuous, but evil woman, whom he passes off as his sister Mrs Hyde. As time progresses Hyde begins to take more and more control, and as Burke and Hare have been captured and punished needs dictate that Jekyll must begin to acquire the body parts he needs from the girls of the streets of Whitechapel - an activity which Hyde begins to delight in. As Hyde grows stronger and begins to emerge unbidden, and as the police close in, Jekyll desperately seeks a way to suppress her before it's too late...

So?
What could have been one of the best things to happen to Hammer as it entered the 1970s was the arrival of Brian Clemens. By 'could have been' I mean that we only have Dr Jekyll and Sister Hyde and Captain Kronos: Vampire Hunter (1974) as evidence, but based on these alone it is a crying shame that Hammer never made more use of Clemens. For Dr Jekyll and Sister Hyde is a little gem of a film, taking Stevenson's, by then rather tired, story and giving it a new twist - a twist that should have us guffawing in disbelief but which, in the hands of Clemens and Baker, actually works! Add to that Clemens' ingenious addition of both the Burke and Hare and Jack the Ripper mythos, plus his sly and witty black humour, and you have a Hammer film which both pays homage to the past and also takes the heritage in a new direction. Clemens' is a twisted little tale that explores the 'attractiveness' of evil, and involves some bloody slayings and other nasty deeds, and yet also manages to raise a smile (listen out for the 'Once a berk/Burke always a berk/Burke' line, among others!). Clemens' tongue is never very far from his cheek, which is what makes Sister Hyde such fun.

A large part of what makes Sister Hyde actually work so effectively is in the casting of its two central characters. Ralph Bates was Hammer's rising young star and so was a natural to take the Hyde role. The genius was in casting Martine Beswick as Mrs Hyde. Bates and Beswick bear an eery similarity to one another in their strong facial features and could easily pass for brother and sister. And this is what makes Bates' transformation so believable, and the transformation effects work so well. Hyde is both radically different from Jekyll (in being a woman!) and yet somehow retains Jekyll's features. The film would simply not have worked so well with a different actress, or with Bates in drag (as he suggested!). And while Bates performs admirably as Jekyll, Beswick simply steals the show as Hyde. Her delight in discovering her new body, her raw sexuality, her power over others, her vicious delight in evil are all portrayed wonderfully and Beswick more than makes amends for her previous Hammer appearance in Prehistoric Women! The film, in fact, is filled with lovely little performances by the supporting cast - such as Gerald Sim's lecherous Prof Robertson, Tony Calvin's blind Hare with the mirrored John Lennon glasses, and Philip Madoc's (necrophiliac?!) Byker the undertaker. They more than make up for the slightly insipid performances of Lewis Fiander and Susan Brodrick as the young brother and sister sucked into Jekyll and Hyde's world.

While Roy Ward Baker's direction is perhaps a little uninspired, his is still a capable and safe pair of hands. That may be what helps Sister Hyde work - while the story may be a little outrageous, and in the hands of another director that may have been played up to its detriment, Baker takes the film seriously and creates a genuinely eery environment in which to present Clemens' off-beat story. That seriousness only helps Clemens' moments of black humour, and the entourage of memorable characters, to shine through. In addition, Baker's foggy London streets are just what the film needs (Scott MacGregor having produced some fantastic sets), and his tracking of Hyde as she gleefully follows her prey into twisting dark alleys works wonderfully - the ever-present blind Hare giving an almost Tim Burton-esque look to certain scenes. For those who continue to insist that Hammer only produced rubbish in the 1970s Sister Hyde, from its opening rabbit-gutting and blood spraying to its closing image of a dead Jekyll/Hyde amalgam, only goes to prove how wrong they are. Sure it has weaknesses, and through sheer lack of time and money leaves some ideas undeveloped, but it does what any good Hammer horror does - it takes an outrageous story, makes one suspend disbelief, gives one memorable characters and atmospheric settings, and makes the whole experience eerily and bloodily fun. What more could you ask for?

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Brian Clemens, Dr Jekyll and Sister Hyde, Hammer Films, Horror, Martine Beswick, Ralph Bates, Reviews, Roy Ward Baker,

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THE MUMMY (1959)

THE MUMMY (1959)

THE MUMMY Review

Who?
Director: Terence Fisher
Producer: Michael Carreras
Screenplay: Jimmy Sangster
Cast: Peter Cushing, Christopher Lee, Yvonne Furneaux, Eddie Byrne, Felix Aylmer, Raymond Huntley, George Pastell, Michael Ripper, George Woodbridge, Harold Goodwin

How?
On account of the phenomenal business which Hammer's Dracula had done worldwide, in 1958 Universal Pictures made a distribution deal with Hammer which opened Universal's library of horror pictures for remaking. Hammer decided first on a remake of The Mummy, with the same team behind it as Dracula and the Frankenstein pictures, although this time Michael Carreras would produce. Terence Fisher therefore returned to direct a Jimmy Sangster script, with Jack Asher as cinematographer, and Bernard Robinson on production design. Hammer's Mummy would not, however, be a straight remake, but an amalgam of ideas from the Universal series, with Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee again teaming up, supported by French actress Yvonne Furneaux, Felix Aylmer (who would go on to star in Hammer's controversial  Never Take Sweets From a Stranger later that year), and a host of Hammer 'regulars'. Shooting took place at Bray Studios, apart from a brief period at Shepperton Studios to shoot the Egyptian scenes.

What?
In ancient Egypt Princess Ananka (Furneaux) has died and is given a full royal burial and sealed in her tomb by the High Priest Kharis (Lee). However, Kharis was secretly in love with Ananka and returns at night to resurect her with the magical Scroll of Life. Discovered before he can complete the  ritual, he is wrapped in bandages and sealed alive in her tomb, with a curse placed upon any who in future desecrate her resting place. Forward in time, an archaeological expedition led by Charles Banning (Aylmer) and his son John (Cushing) has found Ananka's tomb. They are warned by Egyptian official Mehemet Bey (Pastell) not to disturb it because of the curse but, ignoring him, the expedition break the seal. Alone in the tomb, Charles Banning begins reading the Scroll of Life, and the door behind which Kharis was sealed slowly begins to open. Hearing a scream of terror the others find him driven mad. And on returning to England John Banning and the others find that what drove Charles mad is now hunting them.

So?
The Mummy, along with The Curse of Frankenstein (1957) and Dracula (1958), is regarded as one of Hammer's 'classic' horror films. All paired Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee and each was to become the first in a series of  films - although the Mummy series was to be notably shorter than the others. And that perhaps points to a weakness that is inevitable in any of these Mummy movies - there is only so much one can do with a mute, shambling, bandage-covered monster. Indeed, by Hammer's final film in the series, Blood From the Mummy's Tomb (1971), such a creature had been abandoned altogether. That being said, The Mummy is an enjoyable first installment. Helmed again by the, at that time, ever-present Terence Fisher The Mummy is a solid, if slightly predictable picture. Jimmy Sangster did enough with his screenplay to give Hammer's version a certain freshness after Universal's series, and being the first Mummy feature in colour certainly helps, but there is a definite feeling of having seen all this before.

While the opening scenes in ancient Egypt do set the tone nicely for what is to follow, there is a certain air of  a 'school play' about them - budgetry restrictions no doubt playing a part there; Robinson's sets are very good but do still have a rather 'stagey' feel to them, and it is obvious that a small number of extras are being used to maximum effect! But the killing of the handmaids and the extraction of Kharis' tongue still have a certain power to shock. Christopher Lee makes an imposing Kharis, and he and stuntman Eddie Powell make an equally imposing Mummy for the remainder of the film - helped enormously by Roy Ashton's make-up, which really is very good. Lee manages to express a full range and depth of emotion with just his eyes, eliciting real sympathy for the Mummy's torment, and Powell also gives the Mummy a real raw brute physicality. Cushing does a fine job, as usual, in his role as Banning - particularly enjoyable is his fight with the Mummy; during which he skewers it with a spear (Cushing's idea apparently). He and Lee play off  particularly well against each other here - there is a real chemistry between them. Furneaux makes an attractive Ananka / Isobel, although neither role requires too much of her! What make The Mummy truly enjoyable, however, are the bit-players - Michael Ripper's poacher and Harold Goodwin's pub customer (along with the rest of it's inhabitants) are great fun.

Primarily, The Mummy is an enjoyably spooky experience because of its location - the action is quickly transferred from Egypt to the foggy moors of rural England, a perfect location for letting loose a monster. The sight of the Mummy rising from the boggy waters is a classic Hammer image, and atmospheric set pieces such as this make The Mummy worthwhile - so also  the ever-reliable crashing through the French windows, and the tearing through the window bars into the locked asylum cell. The Mummy, however, does require a little more suspension of disbelief than we are perhaps used to. That Banning's wife is the exact replica of Princess Ananka is a coincidence that's just a lttle too good to be true! And the vigil in the garden to catch the Mummy before he makes off with Isobel must be one of the most inept in screen history! However, the finale with the Mummy waist deep in bog, Furneaux in his arms, makes it all worthwhile. It even manages to evoke sympathy for the poor guy as he gets blasted with gunshot and sinks beneath the waters. So, while The Mummy doesn't really offer anything new, its sheer atmosphere, wonderful scenes that stay in the mind, and some great characters make it all worthwhile, and a worthy member of the triumvirate of classic Hammer monsters.

 

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Brian Clemens, Dr Jekyll and Sister Hyde, Hammer Films, Horror, Martine Beswick, Ralph Bates, Reviews, Roy Ward Baker,

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ROOM TO LET (1950)

ROOM TO LET (1950)

ROOM TO LET Review

Who?
Director: Godfrey Grayson
Producer: Anthony Hinds
Screenplay: Godfrey Grayson & John Gilling
Cast: Jimmy Hanley, Valentine Dyall, Constance Smith, Christine Silver, Merle Tottenham, Charles Hawtrey, Aubrey Dexter, J.A, La Penna, Reginald Dyson, Charles Mander, Cyril Conway, Lawrence Naismith, John Clifford, Stuart Saunders, Charles Houston

How?
In 1949 Hammer began production on an adaption of a BBC television play, Jack the Ripper, by noted mystery writer Margery Allingham. It was the second of five Hammer features to be shot at Oakley Court studios, with Anthony Hinds producing, Godfrey Grayson directing (the seventh of his nine consecutive Hammer pictures), and John Gilling co-writing, with Grayson, the second of his Hammer features. Gilling would, of course, go on to direct some notable pictures for Hammer, such as The Reptile (1966) and Plague of the Zombies (1966). Cinematographer Cedric Williams returned for the last of his seven Hammer pictures. Valentine Dyall was brought back after The Man in Black to star in his second Hammer picture of 1950, along with Irish actress Constance Smith, former child-star Jimmy Hanley (whose daughter Jenny would later star in Hammer's The Scars of Dracula (1970)), and Charles Hawtrey (of later Carry on... fame).

What?
Over drinks with two friends elderly ex-reporter Curley Minter (Hanley) is persuaded to tell the story of his final newspaper investigation in 1904, and so he reluctantly recounts what happened... Following a fire at the local asylum Minter (Hanley) hears the dying words of the nightwatchman, who tells him that the fire was started deliberately by one of the patients, who then escaped. The asylum director, who had initially claimed a patient was missing, now mysteriously insists that all are accounted for, and  Curley's piece on the mystery is dropped from his paper. Determined to get to the bottom of it Curley begins his own investigation. Meanwhile, a Dr Fell (Dyall) has answered the Room To Let notice which wheelchair-bound Mrs Musgrave (Silver) and her daughter Molly (Smith), a friend of Curley, have reluctantly placed, and has paid for three months in advance. Before long, however, Fell begins controlling the lives of the two women and their household, until they are living in fear. Curley begins to suspect that Fell may be the mysterious missing patient, but even more disturbing is the revelation that he may in fact be none other than Jack the Ripper himself...

So?
Room To Let was to be, it turned out, the first of Hammer's treatments of the Jack the Ripper myth (to be followed much later in 1971 by Hands of the Ripper and Dr Jekyll and Sister Hyde), and it is a notable picture in that many of the elements of  Hammer's later Gothic horrors begin to emerge here in style, lighting, mood, etc. Only running to just over one hour Room is a captivating, if perhaps rather crude, little psychological chiller. It is constructed as a 'whodunnit', the prologue setting the scene with an elderly Hanley telling his tale, with the omission of a central murder, and the epilogue in which one of those listening constructs a theory which explains the murder. All a little contrived, with a neat happy ending, but the meat of the film lies in the story which Hanley relates. One might imagine a tale of Jack the Ripper would be focused on  his deeds, his murders, but that's not the case here. Room is more understated, more concerned with the psychological character of the supposed Jack himself and his domination of the two central female characters, which is just as, if not more, enthralling. Supporting this tale is a wonderfully moody atmosphere that the film manages to construct through lighting, camera angles, etc which wonderfully conveys the claustrophobic atmosphere within the house and the psychological battle going on there.

The success of the picture, however, can be put down to the eerily powerful performance of Valentine Dyall as Dr Fell. Dyall portrays Fell as a disturbingly frightening figure - quiet and measured, showing little emotion, but always with the undertone that he is barely keeping himself in control - that underneath the calm exterior lies the possibility of horrific violence. He becomes a deeply threatening figure to the women of the house, exerting such influence and power over them that they live in fear in their own home - unable to do anything to get rid of Fell and living only for the end of his three months. The viewer, however, knows that this will not mark the end of Fell but only the beginning; the beginning of his 'plans' which he is meticulously putting together so that he may 'start again'. Among the rest of the cast, Constance Smith plays a pleasant and feisty daughter, Christine Silver comes into her own in the final confontation with Fell, and Jimmy Hanley gives a serviceable (if perhaps miscast) performance as the 'hero'. It is unfortunate that Charles Hawtrey is forever saddled with his Carry On persona but he does little in this to show anything different, and he's basically light relief. In the end, though, the film revolves around Fell and the women, much to its advantage.

While Godrey Grayson's direction has an unfortunate stagey feel, he does add some nice touches. Fell is invariably shot from a low angle, heightening his sense of domination over the women. The use of light and darkness in the house as Fell and the women quietly struggle for control over the lamps and blinds. And a few scenes in particular stand out, such as Fell's discovery of Molly hiding in his room, and Mrs Musgrave's final confrontation with Fell as they are alone in the house together. And while slow-moving the film never drags, but succeeds well in racking up the tension. When the final confrontation takes place, however, it is over so quickly that it is perhaps a bit of a let-down. In all, Grayson and Gilling are to be commended for not dwelling salaciously on what Fell could have been doing, but rather on what he may be building himself up to do, and indeed what he may be capable of. His psychological domination of the women is perhaps merely an extension of the ultimate domination which the Ripper sought to have over his victims and, as such, Fell is a truly frightening character. While the film would perhaps have benefited without the prologue and epilogue, and the 'locked room' mystery, it is still a worthwhile little thriller that manages to evoke an atmosphere that some of Hammer's later bigger budget pictures failed to do.

 

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Hammer Films, Horror, John Gilling, Reviews, Room to Let, Thriller,

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