The Witches (1966)

 "I see. What we admit, we believe. And what we believe, I suppose, could destroy us."

This is a most odd example of a peak period Hammer horror film. It totally eschews the usual tropes and fun- and even the usual familiar faces. Instead we get a typical subtly bleak script from Nigel Kneale and a quiet little supernatural thriller, riffing on both voodoo and witchcraft, heavily based on a highly impressive final ever film role for actual Hollywood star Joan Fontaine.

There's much to commend, too. Fontaine is superb, odd though it is to see her share a screen with both Betty Spencer and Reginald Perrin. The misdirection and final twist are well done, and the deep psychological horror of being trapped in a mental institution appears to good effect. It all takes place in a dreamlike mid-'60s Cornwall which adds deliciously to the atmosphere.

Still, it's a bit slow, and the voodoo elements do rather feel crowbarred in, effective though they are at times. The constant flashbacks to the African artifacts are also very awkward. The film is hardly without its flaws, and is certainly far from Kneale's finest work. And the direction is... well, workmanlike. Still, a decent film if perhaps no more than that.

Gamera vs. Barugon (1966)

 "If you doubt that, then you doubt the gods!"

I love how Kaiju films always showcase the charming Japanese habits of always giving names to the massive radioactive monsters that periodically lay waste to their bigger cities:

"Oh no! It's Bob the flame-emitting tyrannosaurus rex!"

"But look! Here comes Kevin the laser beam-equipped triceratops!"

It's taken me a while to get to this second film in the franchise, but this is such a gloriously silly B movie, and is giving me the impression that the Godzilla films will end up looking positively serious by comparison and I, for one, have zero problem with this. Well, beyond a bit of a wince at the Japanese extras in blackface in the Papua New Guinea scenes- it was a very different time. And the fact that one of the main characters is a Japanese veteran of the Second World War, no doubt up to no good.

The opening bit is delightfully bonkers. Gamera is sent straight back to Earth (to Japan- what were the chances?) by a random meteorite. We then turn to a bizarre exploration plot where a load of men go on a quest for an opal which, delightfully, turns out to be an egg which hatches into Barugon, with added radiation. And Barugon has the power to, er, emit rainbows of doom. Yes, really.

We get lots of great retro effects as the two monsters fight, cause destruction and all the usual stuff. The obvious model tanks that are de rigeur for the genre are very much present and correct. And we have all sorts of splendidly bonkers plans to destroy Barugon before, inevitably, it's Gamera to the rescue.

If you're in the mood to switch your brain off for ninety odd minutes then this is a particularly fun way to do it. Top B movie hi-jinks.

The Wrong Box (1966)

 "Yes, I enjoy an egg myself. They don't make good pets, though."

This splendid film is, yes, a farce, quite literally, and one executed with delicious clockwork precision, the climactic scene at once wonderfully chaotic and utterly orderly in how everything is tied together. This is entirely true. Yet the farce, perfect though it is, is merely the plot as background: this film is memorable for the wit and the performances.

There is, of course, exquisite visual humour, not least at the end whith the hearse chase, the unexpected real funeral, the band. The concept is delicious: a tontine. A sum of money is invested for a large number of young boys, with the last surviving to inherit all. The film begins with a highly entertaining series of, well, stupid deaths, crammed with cameos from British character actors. Finally, we are left with two brothers, played by those great theatrical knights John Mills and Ralph Richardson, both as adept at comedy as one might expect. The peerless Peter Cook and the no less inspired Dudley Moore steal the show, of course, but Michawl Caine is a superb comic straight man.

It's a shock to see Tony Hancock in colour, at this late stage. He is, let's be honest, phoning it in, and past his best. Yet he phones it in with aplomb. Peter Sellers is superb, but that's a given.

This superb cast, though, would be nothing without the sparkling, witty script, of a type that, despite its Vicxtorian setting, is redolent of the era between the satire boom and Monty Python, when British comedy was in glorious ferment, with Peter Cook at the centre of most things that mattered. A masterpiece that ought to be much better known.

Persona (1966)

 "The hopeless dream of being. Not seeming, but being...."

This is a glorious mind**** of a film, shockingly only the second example of the oevre of the esteemed Mr Bergman that I've blogged. We begin- and punctuate the film- with random, surreal imagery, freminisscent in spirit of Un Chien Andalou, something which must surely be intentional. At one point a nail is hammered into the fleshy part of a palm. Lovely. Not only is this as icky as it gets, but it's a blatant allusion to Christ, which is brave territory: comparing characters to Christ is the definkition of uber-pretentious.

This is, lof course, nothing of the sort: the surreal imagery is surreal imagery. The beautifuly arty direction is beautifully artbdirection- and this film really is superbly shot.

Yet the film is, sort of, a straight drama.Elisabet Vogler is an actress, successful enough to play Electra. Yet she suddenly deases to speak or act, ending up in a mental insyitution. Alma looks after her. That really is it.

 SPOILERS

Yet the script, the character, the acting, the everything is sublime, terrifyingly so. The two women are intimate, at once close and antagonistic. Complex gamesof friendship, power, love and betrayal play out. Yet, beneath it all lies a socially unacceptable hatred of motherhood, a fear of childbearing and childred upon which a person with a y chromosome should probably not comment. All I can say is that this film is awesome.

The Reptile (1966)

 "They don't like strangers in these parts!"

This may not exactly be Hammer's finest hour. It may, indeed, be a deeply formulaic Hammer Horror with a pleasingly unironic approsch to tropes. After all, we have both a pub that empties at the mention of the evil residence in question and a conclusion based around a country house being set on fire. But it's quirky, it's fun, and frankly I could never dislike a film in which Private Fraser from Dad's Army is bitten to death by Servalan from Blake's 7.

Yes, the film does tend to get slow towards the end as it runs out of plot but needs to pad out time until the exposition and conclusion, with various characters dramatically exploring the house to eerie Stockhausen-like incidental music. Yes, the reptile make-up is rubbish. But it's cheesy, it's fun, and it's recognisably Hammer.

It's nice, too, that there aren't any stars here, and that instead we get a stream of character actors. I'm not sure that this film is in any way scary, but there's plenty of intrigue, tension and mystery to hold the interest. Jennifer Daniel and Ray Barrett make an intriguing enough leading couple, while both Noel Wilman and Jacqueline Pearce are suitably sinister. John Laurie, of course, steals every scene he's in.

This is nothing special, certainly. It's Hammer by numbers. But there are times when Hammer by numbers is exactly what we want.

One Million Years B.C. (1966)

"Their laws are simple: the strong take everything."

Tonight I have learned a valuable lesson. A film may have great special effects, by no less a creator than the great Ray Harryhausen himself, showing his usual genius even within the consraints of what is clearly a lower budget than he's used to... and still be a terrible film. If you want Ray Harryhausen, watch The Valley of Gwangi. It's a much better film, and has cowboys in it to boot.

There are some awesome monsters in here- a family of pterosaurs; a giant tortoise, a saurapod, a tyrannosaurus and a triceratops being the highlights.They all interact with humans, so... yes, let's gloss over the histotical accuracy and move on to briefy praise the location filming. I suppose there's also amusement value at the start as we see Robert Brown, a future M to Roger Moore's James Bond, as a Palaeolithic chieftain. But that's literally all the positives.

Because this is an awful film. Other than some cringeworthy narration at the start there's no dialogue. The plot consist of M's son beng banished, encountering various monsters, joining another tribe where Raquel Welch's character likes him for some reason, being banished again, fighting more monsters at the end, and finishing off with a bit of natural disaster action. There's a lot of visual spectacle. The film looks good.

And yet... it's just dull. Without dialogue, it simply isn't possible for any of the characters to be interesting, or for us to care about them. And without charactesr to care about we have nothing to watch but empty spectacle.

Island of Terror (1966)

“Some peculiar goings-on going on on this island...”

This is a surprisingly good little film, an average script elevated into something superior by the presence of Peter Cushing and the excellent direction of Terence Fisher, who turns what could have been a fairly by-the-numbest science fiction B movie with a science experiment gone wrong as the baddie into something strangely Cthulhuesque.

The whole thing feels curiously like a period Doctor Who story, with its “base under siege” plot and its slightly rubbish monsters- very rubber little bags with silly rubber tentacles- which nonetheless manage to somehow made to be an effective threat through good direction, music, sound effects and effective acting- not least from Edward Judd and the never less than convincing Cushing. Even the radiation suits looking like condoms can’t ruin this film, nor can the fact that the plot resolution consists of... making cows radioactive. And none of the farmers objecting.

I enjoyed this a lot- a science fiction film, strictly speaking a B movie, but that doesn’t so much feel like one as it has the visual grammar, story beats, structure and feel of a horror film. Highly recommended.

Ebirah: Horror of the Deep (1966)

"It's too bad Mothra has no alarm clock..."

Wow. I've rather liked every film until now, albeit some more than others, and was somewhat apprehensive abot the change of director. I needn't have worried. Jun Fukuda has given us an example of the B movie at its finest.

From the beginning this film is fast-paced and gripping. We have the mystery of a brother lost at sea, A stolen yacht, and the destruction f said yacht by awesome crab-like sea monster Ebirah within the first twenty minutes. And then things get even more excited.

Our motley and hastily-assembled gang of heroes end up washed up on Infant Island. There's good news and bad news. On the positive side, they're not blacking up the "natives", Unfortunately, there's a mysterious unidentified private army who are enslaving the natives to make a yellow liquid what mollifies Ebirah so that ships can venture to and fro. Oh, and for some reason they're making a nuclear bomb. Plus their leader has a badass eyepatch.

All is not lost, though. Our heroes are well-drawn, fun characters who react in fun ways to their adventures. Oh, and on the other end of the island the natives are singing to wake Mothra, who can always be relied upon to spring into action at moments convenient to the plot.

Plus Godzilla is buried and sleeping, and can conveniently be woken up with lightning- cue Godzilla, Mothra and Ebirah fighting each other as the plot dictates, plus the baddies setting off a nuclear time bomb. We end with goodies triumphant and baddies smashed- but the island is nuked, gone forever. Yet, in a perfect final shot, Godzilla survives.

Gripping and compelling, this is what a B movie should be.

Batman: The Movie (1966)

“It approaches a climax...”

"Nyet, not so fast. Be more slow."

I had to watch this before embarking on Season Two, but I’d forgotten what an absolute riot of fun it was. I don’t care if they’ve recast Catwoman, or if the Joker is a bit of a spare part throughout. This is awesome.

Obviously, this being a film, we have a much bigger budget. Hence the big set pieces with the Batcopter, Batboat and even the Batcycle- all now available for use in the TV series. We have much location filming, much of it at sea. This is certainly cinematic. We can even afford the big three- the Penguin, Ridder and Joker in order of relative importance according to the script. We even get a second appearance from Catwoman, this time Lee Meriwether. And it's great to see the four felons together, wasted though Cesar Romero is. None of which takes away from the awesomeness of both Adam West and Burt Ward here.

Oh, and there’s also lots of action and spectacle for the kids. But those are not the things which make me love this film. No; those are things such as the Bat-ladder, the shark-repellent bat-spray, and the selfless porpoise which heroically gives its life so the Dynamic Duo may live. It's how nuns, prams and sucks conspire to make it so difficult to get rid of a bomb. It's the ridiculous, utterly nonsensical riddles where we're solemnly told that there's "only one possible meaning". It's Robin telling Batman that "Drink is sure a filthy thing, isn't it?" and Batman saving the lie even of (gasp) drinkers because there is yet hope for them to be "salvaged". I'll certainly have yet another drink to that.

Best superhero film ever. Oh yes it is.

Rasputin: The Mad Monk (1966)

"When I go to confession I don't offer God small sins, petty squabbles, jealousies... I offer him sins worth forgiving!"

This is the kind of film that you know is going to be enormous fun before you’ve even seen a frame; Christopher Lee as Rasputin is a prospect that is certain to get bums on seats. Some films are purely about seeing how a certain actor handles a certain part, and this is certainly one of them.

Lee does not disappoint; his Rasputin is raucous, charismatic, larger than life, magnetic. Just, apparently, like the man himself. Not that we should expect historical accuracy from Hammer, of course; they don’t stand for anything so po-faced and serious as that. But it’s fascinating to see a film from mid-period, peak Hammer which is in their usual horror style but not really a traditional horror; the only monster here is Lee himself, and the only supernatural elements are nicely ambiguous.

Barbara Shelley is equally gripping as the tragic Sonya, and there’s a classy performance from Renee Asherson as the czarina- quite rightly, Nicky is kept out of this.

The only disappointment, perhaps, is that the ending- Rasputin’s dramatic and much-mythologised death- is both a little rushed and not particularly well choreographed, but this doesn’t spoil what is a hundred minutes of seeing Christopher Lee doing his splendid stuff.  All this and a nice little role for the great Cyril Shaps. This may be no one’s favourite film, but if you don’t enjoy this then there’s no hope for you...

Fantastic Voyage (1966)

"The antibodies will attack as if she were bacteria!"

This is a very silly film, played incredibly straight and, what’s even weirder, what looks and acts like a sci-fi B Movie is helmed by a proper Hollywood director and seemingly lavished with cash..

The performances are a cut above what you can expect from a B movie, with Donald Pleasance standing out as (spoilers) the baddie. We sort of know we’re not supposed to like Dr Michaels when he suggests that the wonders of the human body may have arisen through evolution, as confirmed many times over by empirical observation, as opposed to being a literal “miracle”.

The whole thing is surprisingly focused, with very little framing device; with the minimum of fuss a team is put into a submarine, shrunk and injected into the bloodstream of the ill man who absolutely must be cured because plot reasons. It begins quickly, ends abruptly and consists of various perils from the human body in-betweeen, with the realisation of the bloodstream, the heart and various organs being actually pretty impressive. Meanwhile there’s a bunch of fretting military types watching their progress, in scenes that must surely have inspired Airplane!

It’s all very ‘60s spy film, sent in the present day in a large government facility with massive corridors that looks like a Bond villain hideout, complete with those cool little cars. There’s only one token woman, of course, and she’s an assistant. And, er, Raquel Welch is playing a character called Cora. Yes, Cora.

But what’s extraordinary about this film is, firstly, that it actually looks pretty damn good and gets away visually with the premise, but mainly in the way it carries out the Lost art of doing something very, very silly with absolute seriousness. They don’t make them like this any more...

A Man for All Seasons (1966)

"You lay traps for me!"

"No. I show you the times."

This is, obviously, an excellent film even if, like myself, you're somewhat sick of the excess of Henry VIII; can't historical dramas show a bit more interest in other periods. But we should pause and remember that this film is somewhat biased; there's a reason why it's one of the Vatican's official favourites. This is, quite literally, a hagiography. And, while I will leave the sectarian tiresomeness to those whom believe in God, I have to point out that Sir Thomas More himself tortured (personally!) and burned people at the stake because their religious beliefs did not accord with him. This makes his death seem rather less unjust; indeed, he died rather less painfully than most of his victims. More was no saint, whatever Pope Pius XI may have said.

But what of the film? Well, it's superb. To start with, look at the cast. Standing out is an excellent (and very young) John Hurt as the slimy and ambitious Richard Rich. Susannah York is excellent as Meg. Orson Welles, no less, plays Wolsey. But best of all is Paul Scofield himself, whose extraordinarily subtle and dignified More may be the highlight of his distinguished screen career.

But the script is the real star. The theme is of the rule of law, and how it protects us from both arbitrary tyranny and Hobbesian chaos. More's undoing, of course, comes because Henry, Cromwell and Rich are not as unscrupulous as he is, and will happily cut corners. The contrast is between More and Rich; More is willing to die rather than lie before God on an oath, while Tich casually perjured himself- and sacrifices More's life- for the sake of a petty little promotion.

More is forever cautioning people to avoid condemning themselves through what they say; careless talk at Henry's court cost lies. More believes that the age old religious tradition of dissembling will save him, but it does not. We proceed inexorably to his inexorable death, his world slowly narrowing; I love the shot of seasons and time passing as seem through More's tiny cell window. The end finally comes, the axe falls... and fade to black. Superb.

The Plague of the Zombies (1966)

"I should have drowned you at birth!"

"Thank you, father!"

Interesting that this enjoyable Hammer romp is pre-George A. Romero, if only just. But it's fascinating to see that, as late as 1966, zombies were still very much associated in popular culture with their Haitian origins. Thus we have voodoo dolls, and a rather incongruous-looking Haitian butler in a Cornwall country home. It's striking to see the negative portrayal of voodoo here, though: it's referred to, in Christian terms, as "witchcraft".

It's also amusing to reflect on how class-ridden the society in this film is. The baddie is the local squire who, naturally, firmly rules the village. Meanwhile our delightfully grumpy hero, Andre Morell's splendid Sir James, is a posh medical professor to whom everyone defers and whom all working class characters call "Sir". He even gets essentially let off when caught grave robbing by the fuzz because of how posh he is.

It's amusing to see a very young Jacqueline Pearce here. Servalan, it seems, was a Victorian/Edwardian zombie before she rose in the ranks of the Federation.

This is peak Hammer by numbers, but peak Hammer by numbers is a great way to spend ninety minutes. I enjoyed this film hugely.

Dracula: Prince of Darkness (1966)

"There'll be no morning for us!"

Christopher Lee is the nominal star of this film, but he doesn't get to do much other than be a frightening presence: his only line is "Go on!", twice, and that's only to horses. He doesn't even appear until halfway through the film, and his appearances are rationed. Nevertheless, this is a splendid example of mid-'60s Hammer, with Terence Fisher providing atmosphere aplenty and superb performances from Barbara Shelley and Andrew Keir.

We begin with a flashback, glossing over the fact that this is the second sequel, after Brides of Dracula, to Hammer's original Dracula, but we move swiftly on to our new take, centred on four English travellers and a substitute for Peter Cushing's absent Van Helsing in the person of Keir's Father Sandor.

The eerie mystery of the castle is well-set up and well developed to maximise. Both effects and the  an early sense of foreboding. A young Philip Latham (we Doctor Who fans know him as President Borusa from The Five Doctors) is superb as a sinister butler in the early part of the film, but Thorley Walters also puts in a strong turn as Ludwig, an obvious Renfield substitute.

The central scene of the film- Dracula's resurrection- is superb, comparable I. Effect to a regeneration in Doctor Who. Both the effects and the framing of the scene are utterly masterful. Sufficiently so, in fact, as to successfully gloss over how easy it is for the supposedly dead vampire to be revived.

The ending is sudden, perhaps, but better this than it outstay its welcome. This is an excellent example of Hammer during its golden years.

Daleks – Invasion Earth: 2150 A.D. (1966)

“Back in the cell?”

Unlike its predecessor, I’d never seen this film before.  Like its predecessor, though, it’s based on a rather flawed, if generally ok, television story by Terry Nation. Inevitably, given the source material, this is a much darker film, and there’s a certain awkwardness to this. It isn’t as good a film as its predecessor.

Again, the Daleks look much more impressive on the big screen, and there are loads of them. Their voices have improved considerably, although the fact that we see them on location means the smoke fired by their guns looks rubbish. The flying saucer, while much more impressive than the TV version, is nevertheless much less cool in design. Interestingly, though, they aren’t really much more of a focus than they were in the previous film, in spite of the fact that we now have no “Dr. Who and” in the title. So much for that thing we’re supposed to call “Dalekmania”.

The best thing about the film is, of course, the great Bernard Cribbins, as policeman Tom Campbell from an England of 1966 where posters advertise holidays in Franco’s Spain and Salazar’s Portugal. Lovely. He’s essentially playing the same type of character as Roy Castle, but more successfully as he’s a much more accomplished physical comedian; the extended mime sequence with the Robomen (who appear to be wearing gimp suits) is priceless. The other new character, Dr. Who’s niece Louise Who(?!), is a personality-free zone, but in that regard there’s no difference between her and Barbara.

Peter Cushing is a little more subdued here than in Dr. Who and the Daleks, not quite phoning it in but not quite firing on all cylinders, either. It’s also oddly disappointing to hear him referred to as “the Doctor”: David Whitaker’s influence on the script, no doubt. I suspect, given how faithful to its source material the original film was, that he is also responsible for the slight deviations from the original plot, in particular the combinations of people who get split up at which times.

For a deserted Earth, there’s an awful lot of product placement around- it’s good to know that Sugar Puffs are still popular in 2150. But the whole effect of the way the deserted Earth looks, along with the contemporary clothing, means that the highly evocative themes and imagery of World War Two Nazi occupation are no less evident here than in the televised original. Philip Madoc as the black marketer, and Eileen Way as the collaborator, particularly shine in their portrayal of character types which are very familiar from tales of Nazi occupation. All of this would have had much more resonance back in 1966, when much of London was still covered in bombed-out craters, than it is now, but we seem to be entering some rather less stable times in the Europe of 2012 than in 1966: a sobering thought.

The Daleks’ plan is very slightly less bonkers than in the original- at least they now have a reason for piloting the Earth around the Galaxy, rubbish though it is. And there’s now a reason why they suddenly all die at the end, even if it’s bobbins. Unfortunately, though, the film just isn’t that good; the four leads just look out of place in such a gritty tale, and the fact that Susan is a child is particularly awkward.

(And yes, I'll get round to The Doctor, the Widow and the Wardrobe before the New Year!)