Torture Garden (1967)

 "Did you know that there are ways to raise the dead...?"

This is, I believe, the only one of the Amicus horror anthologies that I still had to blog until now- do let me know if I'm wrong. The format is much as we'd come to expect, though- four lurid tales of grand guignol with an overarching narrative.

What separates this film from the norm is its more than usually transatlantic cast, with Burgess Meredith chewing the scenery in the best possible way as the delightfully devilish(!) Dr Diabolo. Even the opening titles, with the background of a creepy old amusement park at night, set the scenes superbly, and the framing device does its job to perfection.

Not all the tales are equally good, but all are entertaining. The third, in which a lady's pursuit of a desirable man leads to her death at the, er, hands(?) of a jealous piano, is hilarious. The first two, concerning a black cat and the secret reason why Hollywood stars never seem to age, are nicely and evilly gothic and lurid.

Yet it's the final story, with the unusual pairing of Jack Palance and Peter Cushing, that lingers in the mind, as two men bond over a shared enthusiasm for Edgar Allan Poe. This is a delightfully effective warning of the dangers of the more toxic sides of fandom,with deliciously absurd revelations leading to a perfectly melodramatic ending.

This is grand guignol at its best.

They Came from Beyond Space (1967)

 "I will not have sentiment interfering with our vital work!”

I knew, before watching, only that Amicus made this film at the same time as Daleks: Invasion Earth: 2150 AD, and reused some sets, costumes or whatnot.

Having seen it last night, though, I strongly suspect another Doctor Who connection. Yes, this is basically a cheeky rip-off of Quatermass II, both in terms of the plot and in terms of having an American star amongst an otherwise all-British cast. If you’ll forgive a brief Doctor Who fanboy diversion, though, I strongly suspect Robert Holmes saw this film, at the pictures, a couple of years before writing Spearhead from Space. I suspect said story’s debt to Nigel Kneale comes at least partly via this film, which not only has the plot based on alien meteorites leading to mysterious alien doings, but has as its hero an endearingly rude scientist with a vintage car. Yes, quite.

Rip-off it is, but the film is rather good. The cast may be fairly low-wattage, but they do a good job. The visuals are nicely trippy in a 1967 way, making this rather old-fashioned sort of film look relatively contemporary. It does, admittedly, run out of both ideas and budget once the story leaves Earth, but the rather sudden conclusion is brilliantly hilarious in a way which must surely have been intended. Let us just say that the cameo by Michael Gough is… unique.

This film is utterly bonkers. I can’t call it a classic, but I can say it’s thoroughly enjoyable.

The Creeping Flesh (1973)

 "That is why I shall have to employ someone for whom eythics have no significance..."

This is (SPOILERS, even if I remain vague) a film which relies entirely on a last minute twist, upon which all relies and about which I;m not going to be able to say much. I'm not generally strict on spoilers but this is literally a last minute revelation which raises a poor to average film, based on seemingly silly concepts, to a film based on a script which actually has some merit.

Not that the production can be much faulted: Freddie Francis directs and Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee star in a horror film, not actually by either Hammer nor Amicus, yet which evokes both. The question is not whether or not the film is well made; it's about to what extent the last minute twist redeems what has until then been a ho-hum film.

There, I suppose, feminist subtexts here, about how feminine expressions of sexuality are seen, in quite horrifying scenes involving mother and daughter, about how expressions of female sexuality are seen firstly as invitations to rape and, upon resistance, as insanity.

The poster decives in that the skeleton, while impressive-looking, is not seen moving until a brief, dramatic scene at the end of the film. Yet there is an interesting feminist subtext here in a script which takes its time to reveal what is really going on while appering really quite silly for most of its length. It's alsoa film in which awidowed Cushing is made to mourn his late wife.

This is an interesting curiosity, perhaps. But the last minute twist does not save it from mediocrity.

The Ghoul (1975)

”She never came out. None of them ever do.”

This is the second film I’ve blogged by Tyburn Films, an abortive successor to Hammer which uses much the same crew to make similar types of films but sadly didn’t last long. This film, alas, is rather perfunctory and forgettable, in spite of being shot well and a fine performance from Cushing as a man who, like himself, had lost his wife and missed her terribly. It’s chiefly of interest as a novelty, for Cushing’s performance, for a young John Hurt being excellent as a lecherous henchman, and for looking very suspiciously as though a certain Doctor Who story owes a lot to it.

Non-Who fans, please indulge the next couple of sentences, but Black Orchid, I’m looking at you. 1920s setting? Yep. Big country house? Yep. Son kept locked up in a room, having been turned into a crazed killer while in an exotic faraway place? Yep. There’s even a policeman. And a fairly big role for Professor Cliff from The Green Death.

There’s a lot of promise here, especially with the setting of a country house surrounded by mist and marshland, but the plot is clumsy and loses momentum as soon as the major character gets killed halfway through. The film never quite recovers from this and feels somewhat disjointed. Ultimately the problem is the script, and more specifically the awkward plotting, which feels at times like a first draft. There are also some opinions expressed about the Hindu religion, presented as a dark pagan cult, which certainly raise eyebrows. But ultimately it’s a shame that such splendid acting and direction are wasted on a half-hearted script like this.

Dr. Terror’s House of Horrors (1965)

“An unfortunate misnomer for I am the mildest of men...”

This is the first of the Amicus portmanteau horror films from Freddie Francis and Milton Subotsky, and the pieces are already in place- a number of vignettes of varying quality, An overarching framework that looks gradually more sinister as the film progresses, a troupe of British character a tor’s including some quirky choices, and of course the ever-splendid Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee.

The overarching framework is that Dr “Schrek” (Nosferatu reference alert) uses Tarot cards to predict the bleak future of each of the very male occupants of a railway compartments. Yes, compartments and, indeed, a steam train; 1965 feels so very long ago sometimes. It’s an odd structure plot-wise, as each character is told their ghastly tale of what awaits them only for none of that to happen and all of them to die in a train crash, but it’s a suitably atmospheric framework and Cushing is superb.

The first vignette, a Gothic take of a werewolf in the Hebrides, is probably the weakest. But the second, where a vine takes over the world(!) features a rare acting role by none other than future Radio 1 DJ Alan Freeman. Not ‘alf, pop pickers. And we get the interesting sight of him interacting with Bernard “M” Lee as a vine threatens to kill them all.

The third tale, with Roy Castle as a jazz trumpeter, is much stronger, as musician Biff steals the time of a Voodoo god that he finds in the Caribbean, with ominous consequences. But the absolute highlight is Lee’s snobbish and conceited art critic who gets his revenge from being humiliated by an artist he dislikes by running him over so his right hand is lost, only to be pursued by the disembodied stop motion hand until, poetically, he loses his hand in a car crash. I suspect an influence on Evil Dead 2 here, but Lee’s very real performance hopes the main thing work. The silly last vignette, with a young Donald Sutherland and  a very Bram Stoker take on vampires and an interesting effect of a bar, can’t follow this but nicely rounds things off.

The vignettes are variable but the Roy Castle and Christopher Lee segments are particularly superb, and the whole thing is atmospheric, fun and entertaining in equal measure in spite of the plot holes and the variable quality of the vignettes. Worth a look.

Tales from the Crypt (1972)

"Who's next? Perhaps... you?"

At last I get to see a proper Amicus portmanteau film; I’ve been meaning to for ages. And this one certainly doesn’t disappoint. The format means the film never flags, and the top notch cast and direction make for a superbly unsettling experience.

I’ve never read any of the EC comics upon this was based (although I certainly do know that Dr Fredric Wertham smelled of poo, and was a quack to boot) but I get a distinct impression of the lurid style here, and highly entertaining here. The framing device is simple; a bunch of tourists get lost in a crypt and accosted by a sinister monk, who speaks with the actorly tones of none other than Ralph Richardson, who is having enormous fun here. We hear their sinister stories one by one until the conclusion gives us a delightful twist.

All of the stories are compelling, although some more than others, and there are standout performances from the likes of Peter Cushing in one of his best roles, but the segments are carried well by the likes of Joan Collins, Ian Hendry and an unrecognisable Richard Greene, too old for Sherwood Forest. There are powerful moments- the Balentine’s Card scene is heartbreaking- and the comeuppance of the mean major by the blind men he’s been mistreating is glorious. I’m not sure it’s an obvious leap from EC Comics to a film directed by Freddie Francis and crammed with British character actors, but it really works.

Legend of the Werewolf (1975)

"We do not cater for unusual tastes in here!"

This looks and feels like a Hammer horror film, is directed by Freddie Francis and stars Peter Cushing, but technically it isn't- it's made by Tyburn Films, a company specifically set up to continue the Hammer tradition after the Hammer horrors sadly came to an end (well, if you ignore To the Devil... a Daughter). Sadly, Tyburn only made three further films before giving up the ghost in 1975, and this is the last of those; very much the end of an era.

This is, essentially, a bog standard average Hammer horror in both style and quality. It's hard to gauge how dated this would have felt, if at all, in 1975, but the quality is certainly good enough, if not great. The script is ok, Cushing carries the film with his usual charisma and there's a delightful performance by Hugh Griffith early on. And the rather poor werewolf make-up is more than compensated for by some extremely clever effects and direction.

The setting is mid-nineteenth century France, a time of brothels (Ron Moody plays the very dirtiest of dirty old men), daguerreotypes and Napoleon III; a little later in time and a little to the west of the usual setting for these films but suitably atmospheric as far as Hammer goes. The script may be predictable, David Rintoul may be an average actor but, as ever, the film is carried by the splendid Peter Cushing as a pathologist who constantly solves cases for the inspector.

Not a bad film, then, and perhaps quite fitting that (and yes, I know this technically isn't a Hammer horror film, and that there would be one more such film to go, but...) it's a suitable closure for an era of which I am very fond.

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.

The Skull (1965)

"All I can say to you is to keep away from the skull of the Marquis de Sade!"

I haven't reviewed a film featuring the great Sir Christopher Lee since his sad and fairly recent death, which is remiss of me. So I decided, on a whim, that this rather interesting-looking Amicus film, directed by the ever-reliable Freddie Francis, might do the trick. Perhaps it isn't Lee's biggest role- he's very much the guest star to an extraordinary starring performance from Peter Cushing here- but he is, nevertheless, superb. The auction scene alone (a cameo from Michael Gough!) shows that.

The film is excellently shot and made and, while the effects at the end are a little dated, that's all part of the film's charm. The film isn't perfect- the only two female characters exist only to be imperilled, and the Bechdel test is well and truly flunked, as you'd expect, and perhaps the pacing could be improved- but it's carried by Cushing's extraordinary performance: the moment towards the end where, with facial acting alone, he shows himself being possessed by the skull- is extraordinary.

Yes, there are cliches aplenty- we even have a police inspector dressed exactly like Clouseau in his coat and hat- but this Poe-like tale, in which Cushing's Chris Maitland, a rich collector of macabre items who doesn't enquire too closely into the ethics of their acquiral, is slowly unhinged and turned to murder by the cursed skull of the Marquis de Sade, is suitably griping. We get a satisfyingly lurid account of Sade's life, and some rather nice use of flashback to show us the skull's deadly history. It's only the slight slowness of the admittedly well-directed climax that lets the side down slightly.

This may be a slightly obscure film, but it's worth catching on Netflix if you can and, at 82 minutes, doesn't outstay it's welcome.