Hands of the Ripper (1971)

 "It's the Ripper!"

I love Hammer Horror. Not all of the films are good, although most are, but most at least provide some cheesy fun. This one, however, does not really do even that. It's a rare dud.

I suppose there's nothing intrinsically wrong with the concept- the daughter of Jack the Ripper (a married, unnamed aristocrat who murders his wife after escaping a torch-wielding mob) grows up to have blackouts triggered by a certain thing that cause her to kill, much as her father. This is centred around a very Henry Higgins relationship between Dr Pritchard (Eric Potrter, still very good here even while obviously phoning it in) and Anna herself (an excellent Angharad Rees.

There's some good subtext here- one example of which is the debate between Pritchard and Dysart about judicial killing, rightfully reminding us of the barbarity of the practice: after all, how many killers have had abusive childhoods, even if not necessarily watching one's father stab one's mother to death? There also an amusing equivalence, intended or not, between seances, mediums and all that and Freudian psychoanalysis- both kinds of quackery are, of course, nonsense.

There are also enjoyable appearances from both the great Dora Bryan and the always wonderful Lynda Baron, both having enrmous fun with their roles. However, the film never really catches fire and, despite the charasma of the two leads, is rather formulaic without being silly enough to be quite enough fun, isolated scenes aside.

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A Midsummer Night's Dream (1968)

"Lord, what fools these mortals be..."

I never knew before tonight's random looking through Amazon Prime that this odd little Peter Hall film existed- associated with the RSC although unconnected with the many screen Shakespeare plays made a decade later.

As a production it's... odd. There is much use of location and visuals, yet this is very much in the style (and with the necessary attitude to realism) of a stag play- I suspect the budget would not allow otherwise. The make-up for the fairies, in particular, I can imagine working well on stage, but their look falls very flat here.

The fun of this production, though, is not in the visuals; it's in seeing this splendid cast of unfeasible young actors (Helen Mirren is in her early twenties here, and none of the leads are over thirty- five) perform one of Shakespeare's plays with which I'm most familiar. And Ians Holm and Richardson, in particular, are truly sublime as Puck and Oberon respectively. Most striking though is a young, sensual Judi Dench as she frolics erotically with Paul Rogers' Bottom... and yes, I know: that's quite a sentence.

Even a flawed production of Shakespeare such as this can showcase some individual performances worth seeing, and this is the case here. And I must admit that this particular version of Pyramus and Thisbe is the funniest I've seen. On the whole, then, a mixed bag- but it was always going to be a joy to see this play with this cast.