Quatermass 2 (1957)

"This is the food, and it burns..."

I understand this is the first ever time a sequel was demarcated with the number "2" in the title?

It's interesting seeing this so shortly after its TV predecessor, as I was unable to do with the last film for obvious reasons; it all seems so rushed and fast paced. So many characters don't appear. The ending is more rushed than anything. No one goes into space. And Sid James is playing Roger Delgado. That's weird.

Add to that the fact that Brian Donlevy isn't at all likeable and you have a film that seems to be treading water and is disturbingly lacking in charm. Yes, it's in colour, it's often on location and it's all so much more expensive, but the sense of scale is so much less. There's only a vague sense of where the meteorites come from and the end- just firing a rocket- comes as a sudden deus ex machina. And don't get me started on all those Cockney natives of Cumbria.

Something of a damp squib, then, although I'm left wondering if I'd have liked it more if the TV series hadn't have survived.

Sword of Sherwood Forest (1960)

"I absolutely forbid it!"

Oh dear, this just isn't any good, is it? The script is for kids in the worst possible way, casually tossed out in the belief that, if it's for kids, it doesn't need to be any good. Richard Greene is crap, hammy and over the top, possibly suitable for live telly in the '50s, but not for the big screen. And Peter Cushing, while he's hardly phoning it in, is wasted on a part that asks very little of him.

Nigel Green's casting as Little John is almost as ridiculous as, well... Nigel Green's casting as Hercules in Jason and the Argonauts. It says a lot that a young Oliver Reed is the best thing in the film, and he's bloody dubbed. Still, at least we get a speaking cameo from a pre-Q Desmond Llewelyn.

There's not a lot else to say though: perhaps Hammer should have stuck to horror.

The Man Who Could Cheat Death (1959)

"I always have a small one before I operate..."

This early Hammer is a bit odd: the opening is genuinely atmospheric, the style of the titles is very Hammer and it feels like an early Hammer. But it's not really a horror film in that there little suspense- and the lack of suspense makes for a short film that feels so much longer. It really drags.

Christopher Lee is good as Pierre, the dignified hero (yes, he plays a hero!), while Anton Diffring phones it in as evil surgeon Georges, who is 104 but looks about 35, having achieved immortality by means of murdering a woman every ten years, and has an inexplicably German accent. Hazel Court impresses as Janine, the female love interest who... well, that basically sums up the character.

The basic plot, from a play by Barre Lyndon, should in theory make a good film in the same way Jekyll and Hyde has several times and yes, there's atmosphere, but the problem is there's never any suspense- and Diffring just doesn't have the charisma to carry the film. The result is a distinct lack of excitement, a rarity with early Hammer when the quality was generally high.

The film's riff on immortality achieved by the murder of others is hardly original although, with its murders of women including a prostitute in the Paris of 1890, and given Robert Holmes' fondness for Hammer, it's a probable influence on the Doctor Who story The Talons of Weng-Chiang. 

X the Unknown (1956)

"It's on it's way for the biggest meal of its life."

Yes, Mr. Kneale. We realise you refused permission to use the character of Professor Quatermass in this film. What's that, Mr. Kneale? Oh, no. Heaven forbid. The character of Dr Adam Royston is in no way a thinly veiled carbon copy of the good Professor. And the odd similarity of the format to your own work is just coincidence. Small world, isn't it, Mr. Kneale?

Suspicious coincidences aside, this is a good and entertaining film, if a rather shirt one. Not bad for the first ever Hammet horror, or not, depending how you define these things; to me this is very much science fiction.

Oh, it's a little odd that none of the characters seem to notice that Royston is American, and the young Frazer Hines' Scottish accent is a bit rubbish at this stage although, to be fair, give it ten years and he'll get a lot of practice. Also, it's the '50s, so everything is radiation this and radiation that. 

This is a fairly inconsequential diversion, but, if you can stand the sight of Leo "Rumpole of the Bailey" McKern bring indecently young, it's a fun and entertaining film.

The Abominable Snowman (1957)

"Perhaps we're the savages!"

So, an early Hammer film based on Nigel Kneale's lost TV drama The Creature: bound to be good, right? Well, actually no. It's a shame this film is the only version that exists because there are times you can almost see through to Kneale's original, intelligent vision. Alas, The Creature was never recorded and not even Philip Morris can find it now.

Peter Cushing is good. That hardly needs to be said. But the film is... dull. It can't quite commit to Kneale's pessimism about the human condition (apparently the yeti, with their wise faces, are superior hominids waiting for us to cop it in a nuclear holocaust, which is nice) but it doesn't really have the thrills and scares to cut it as the more lowbrow fare it's being pitched as: the amount of screen time the yeti has is shocking.

It's interesting to see Tibet being portrayed in a film dated before the invasion of communist China in 1959 , however vaguely racist this portrayal may be. It's interesting to see a Hammer horror (although said institution was just evolving in 1957) in monochrome. It's interesting to see a clear influence on a Doctor Who story set in a similar environment but without a Great Intelligence. But this film ain't half full. Eminently missable.

Countess Dracula (1971)

"Countess Dracula! Countess Dracula!"

Meh. I like me a good Hammer, but this is the most forgettable sort of early '70s stuff. Doing a film based on the notorious Elizabeth Bathory is not a bad idea in theory but the plot is perfunctory, the script tired and Ingrid Pitt, wonderful though she is, doesn't have the charisma to carry a film otherwise full of nonentities, excepting the ever-fab Peter Jeffrey in a minor role and some delightful scenery chewing from Maurice Denham. Overall, it's a Hammer worth skipping. Even the title is crowbarred in.

Any interesting points? Well, the costumes look good, and no doubt are accurate for early 17th century Hungary. The history is a bit off: Elizabeth Bathory was active as a serial killer between 1590 and 1610 (a much longer period!!!) but the film, with Turks encroaching on Vienna, seems to be set in the 1680s. And, of course, whereas the real Bathory may not have committed the murders to stay young at all, in the film she is actually rejuvenated. But beyond that and an incongruous bit of bawdiness with boobies in the tavern (the real world has pubs; cinematic Central Europe has "taverns") there's not much to say about it.

Next!

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.

The Woman in Black (2012)

"She makes us do it..."

This is the first of the new wave of Hammer horrors I've seen and, if this is anything to go by, I'm glad that Hammer are back. It's also interesting to see Daniel Radcliffe excel in his first true cinematic adult role- as a father and widower, no less. How very pointedly adult.

This is a solid and impressive adaptation of Susan Hill's 1983 novel by Jane Goldman, who has written many excellent films of a fantasy bent. I'd still like to see the 1989 TV adaptation, as it's written by the great Nigel Kneale, but this script is pretty awesome. Similarly, it's odd to see the likes of Jessica Raine and Roger Allam in such small parts but the cast here is excellent. So is the direction. In short, it's good.

I should probably be clear that I haven't read the original novel, but I found the plot satisfying and the film even a little scary. A little bit, at least. And I'm so much of a rationalist that, unlike my endearingly terrified wife this evening, I'm rarely actually scared of horror films.

Rationalism versus superstition is a theme here, of course, with Sam Daily holding out as the only person in the village who isn't superstitious. In the real world he'd be right, of course, but this is a horror film. And, I think, we're meant to notice the unfortunate class overtones of the rationalist country squire and the  superstitious peasants. But the film's theme, at heart, is the human cost of high infant mortality, which may have been a fact of life a hundred years ago it still must have absolutely destroyed people.

This film is really about the imagery, though; the creepy dolls, the revealed writing in blood behind the wallpaper, the sudden shocks and the innate horrors of Victoriana. It's true horror; in this modern world of "horror" films where the spectacle of gore overshadows true suspense and shock, this is the real deal, brought right up to date and more than worthy of the Hammer name.

Vampire Circus (1972)

"They play no games. They are death."

I love old Hammer movies, especially vampire ones. The combination of camp humour and genuine creepiness is such fun, and there's such fun to be had with the subtext, too. Take the opening sequence here, for example. It's your typical Hammer setting: somewhere vaguely Mittel-Europa-ish in what looks like Napoleonic times, and everyone has vaguely German or Slavic names. Yet there's a nasty old Count, living in a suitably gothic castle, who's cuckolding the local gentry by stealing their wives, which has mediaeval droit de seigneur overtones, and drinking the blood of their daughters, which has paedophile overtones. Oh, and he's a vampire. Naturally. There are all sorts of sexual and class subtexts here already.

We also have lots more of the usual tropes- mobs with burning torches, sinister forests, even the music. (Incidentally, does anyone know whether the David Whitaker who composed the music here is the same chap who script edited Doctor Who? It's not a common spelling of the surname so I wonder…). Most obviously, of course, there's a very direct equivalence of vampirism with sex; every single scene of necks being bitten in the whole film is so wonderfully erotic. Anna's lust for the Count probably implies that Albert, her husband, is a bit rubbish in the sack. Of course, being a woman who is seen to enjoy sex, she has to be punished by all the men, by being whipped. Which, er, obviously has no sexual overtones whatsoever.

All of this is just the set-up, though, in a pre-titles sequence, something surprisingly rare in films. A lesser film would have this as its main plot, but here it's a mere preamble to establish a curse and get on with the films main purpose; scaring us, titillating us and reminding us that circuses, and not just clowns, are the creepiest things ever. Because they are, aren't they? The mysteriousness, the feeling of a closed world, the highly dodgy treatment of animals and, yes, the clowns. I'm a little worried to see the treatment of a dwarf as "other" and therefore scary, and also the overtones of Gypsies being sinister ("Hey, woman! Gypsy woman!"), but circuses are well creepy. A circus like this would, I suppose, have been recognisable in 1972 but now, thankfully, it isn't.

The plot is wonderful and satisfying, although it's not at all clear why the townsfolk keep going to the circus if they all suspect it of extreme dodginess! There are some nice touches and some nice set pieces. I like the way the strongman (Dave Prowse, no less!) is unaffected by a crucifix as he's not a vampire, and that the quick-thinking (if wet!) Anton is able to use a crossbow as a crucifix. It all looks gorgeous (particularly the large quotient of beautiful young ladies!) and the direction, by Robert Young, is excellent, with lots of particularly brilliant shots. The film is let down by a lack of charismatic actors, however. The cast is mainly competent, or better, but there are no real lead actors to be seen. The exception is John Moulder-Brown, who is eye-poppingly awful and, unfortunately, in a very major role. With a better cast, this would have been a much better film.

Still, there's not a lot wrong with the script or the look of the film. I'm surprised that Robert Young doesn't seem to have done much else. The later Hammers certainly tend to be a lot more erotic, but there's some very good stuff.

The Hound of the Baskervilles (1959)

“I knew a Watson in Capri- a notorious white slaver. Nice fellow, though. A relation of yours?”

Yes, all right; it didn’t take me long to get back to Hammer. I can’t say there won’t be more in the near future, but there will be a diverse array of other films too, honest, guv.

We get the requisite lettering and weird, unsettling music as the film open with that familiar, Technicolor, stylised landscape which still manages to look unnatural in spite of the fact it was clearly filmed in your actual Dartmoor.

We open with Francis de Wolff narrating a tale of Sir Hugo Baskerville, presiding over a Hellfire Club-style decadent party during the eighteenth century. He’s evil, all right. Not only does he shove a bloke’s head into the fire for objecting to his daughter being kidnapped and abused, he also decides to have said daughter brought down to be gang-raped by all of his equally nasty mates. The girl has escaped, though, and Sir Hugo flies into a rage.

None of this detail is in the book; it’s clearly here to titillate, and makes uncomfortable viewing in our age. We may be less prudish now in 1959, but we’re far less comfortable with the use of implied sexual violence to titillate. Still, Sir Hugo is off hunting, with his sinister pack of hounds. In the dark, Dartmoor landscape we get a strong impression of the Wild Hunt, with its pagan associations of Woden or Herne the Hunter. In contrast to this, the girl takes sanctuary in a church, but this is no escape. Ultimately, though, Sir Hugo is killed by another, monstrous hound which is not quite of this world.

It is now revealed that all this has been narrated to Holmes and Watson by Dr. Mortimer, who seeks to engage Holmes on behalf of the new baronet, Sir Henry Baskerville. And here we meet Holmes (Peter Cushing) and Watson (Andre Morell). Oddly enough, the only real example of Homes’ deductive cleverness comes in his reasoning that Mortimer has really come about events on the previous Friday, glancing at a newspaper.

This film is very much in the house style of other early Hammers, although a little more faithful to the source material than most: the fast pace; the extra little moments of gore and excitement (the tense scene with the spider is a nice little addition!); and, most of all, the little digs at pre-1960s morality by the Angry Young Men generation who are making this film. It may be more deadpan and subtle than, say, the 1960s Batman TV series, but the same sort of humour is there, and Cushing is playing the part straight only in the sense that Adam West did.

Sir Henry is from South Africa, not Canada, presumably so that Lee doesn’t have to attempt a Canadian accent. He’s a rather arrogant, unlikeable, patrician sort. Then again, beneath the surface one suspects that he’s meant to be. Like The Mummy, this is conspicuously set in a world where country gentlemen hold all the power and can do whatever the hell they like. While The Mummy sees an absurdly deferential attitude on behalf of the police to the country gent hero, in this film the country gents decline to bother the pretty little heads of the constabulary at all, in spite of the numerous deaths and in contrast to Conan Doyle’s original novel. Holmes even takes it upon himself to ensure that Mrs Barrymore is not prosecuted. It’s hard not to see some class resentment in the script here; that Sir Henry is so unlikeable is, I suspect, no accident. On the way to Baskerville Hall he even expresses support for capital punishment, the bastard.

Holmes is, incidentally, very much one of these “gentlemen” here; she ostentatiously refuses Mortimer’s offer of a “generous” reward, insisting that his fees are “on a fixed scale, except where I remit them altogether”. Of course, he is in fact quite happy to accept a rather large sum at the end of the film, which rather undercuts this! This is very much the Sherlock Holmes film that Kingsley Amis’s Jim Dixon would have written.

Oh, and I love the way that everyone pronounces “Devonshire” as “Devonshaaah”!

It’s a joy to see John Le Mesurier as Barrymore but then, of course, it’s a joy to see John Le Mesurier in anything. And, much as Francis de Wolf may be playing Mortimer in a slightly red herring-ish sort of way, it’s obvious that Stapleton is a baddie as soon as we see him. Bishop Frankland, on the other hand, is a figure of pure comic relief, and reminds me very much of the sort of pomposity-puncturing absurd authority figure soon to be seen in the likes of Beyond the Fringe and the rest of the “satire boom”. There’s a particularly hilarious camp moment, played dead straight, where Holmes assures this bibulous, forgetful old dunderhead that he, Holmes, is “fighting evil, as surely as you do”.

The adventures of Watson and Sir Henry as they encounter the escaped convict on the moor leads Sir Henry to start having those heart palpitations that the plot occasionally requires. Watson, of course, prescribes the traditional Hammer remedy of brandy. What else? And, given the amount of alcohol we see being drunk, most of the characters in this film must spend a fair amount of the time half-cut.

I love Holmes’ absurdly dramatic behaviour here; threateningly brandishing a dagger around in front of Mortimer, casually announcing his survival from the collapsing mine, and being deliberately rude to Sir Henry just so he can use him as bait for his final trap for Stapleton.

The conclusion is dramatic, although there is an extra twist from the book; Stapleton’s daughter (as she is here), here named Cecile, is a deliberate conspirator who relishes taunting Sir Henry at the climax, and it is she, not Stapleton, who drowns in the mire.

Another enjoyable Hammer, this, although the format is now becoming amusingly familiar.

The Mummy (1959)

“He’s a foreigner!”

“Well, he can’t help that, poor chap.”

This will be my last Hammer horror film for a bit (there’ll be plenty more, but this blog needs a bit of variety- perhaps a Western next?). It already feels different, though; the specific areas in both Egypt and England (an area where all the working class people seem to be Irish) may be fictional, but this is a far cry from the vague Mittel-Europa settings we’ve seen thus far.

This is the first time I’ve seen a proper mummy movie, but it amuses me how many of the tropes I recognise from popular culture, and not least certain episodes of Doctor Who. It isn’t the best Hammer horror but it’s entertaining enough once it gets going. This takes some time, though. This is a no-frills journey through the standard tropes, played dead straight, sort of. Like other early Hammers, there’s definitely an element of camp ironic humour, but it’s as deadpan as deadpan can be.

We begin in colonial Egypt, in 1895. Archaeologist Stephen Banning, his brother Joseph, and John, his son with a gammy leg (Peter Cushing) have spent ages looking for the hidden tomb of Ananka, an ancient high priestess. An Egyptian chap in a fez (cool!) played by the splendid George Pastell delivers the sort of warning of dire consequences which are de rigeur for these sorts of films, but this doesn’t deter John. He enters the revealed tomb, and it’s completely undisturbed. The inside of the tomb, incidentally, looks magnificent.

It all happens very fast; we hear a scream, and suddenly we’re in England three years later. Stephen is in a mental institution, John has an even gammier leg and none of them seem remotely capable of going more than ten seconds without lighting a cigar or pouring a glass of whisky.

After years of being completely out of it, Stephen wakes up and warns John of “the mummy”. Other things are afoot, too; that Egyptian chap is nearby, and we discover that drinking and driving was rife in the 1890s. Tsk. This leads to their cargo, a mysterious Egyptian casket, falling into a conveniently placed swamp. This seems not to upset the Egyptian bloke, though. Look at his face. Is he bovvered?

Later, Egyptian bloke reads the scroll and brings the mummy to life. It’s rather muddy and visually engaging. It seems such a waste of Christopher Lee to just put him in bandages like this. Still, the following scene, a nice bit of exposition from John, quickly segues into an extended flashback where Christopher Lee gets to play Kharis, during life as an Egyptian priest, and not only gets a good few lines but ends up looking really rather cool. Still, it’s always a shock to see how small a role Lee tends to play in these early Hammers.

These scenes of Ananka’s death rites feature some genuinely horrifying scenes, and this is where the film starts to wake up. The scenes of the handmaidens calmly bowing their heads, awaiting decapitation and death so they can serve the princess in the afterlife, make quite an impression as the camera cuts away and instead we hear the swords strike. The horror grows as Kharis returns at night, blasphemously, to attempt the resurrection of the woman he secretly and illicitly loved. He is caught, and doomed to an awful fate. The scene where his tongue cut out is the most horrible thing I have ever seen- the camera cuts away as the sword hits the tongue, but the process up to this point is quite graphic.

Kharis is sentenced to be buried alive, ready to be brought back to life to avenge any desecration of his beloved’s tomb. And, the backstory now revealed, the mummy is sent forth by Egyptian Bloke to kill Uncle Joseph. John fails to stop him, but manages to let off a load of gunshots which, naturally, entirely fail to kill the mummy.

Then we get the really shocking bit: John casually admits to a police inspector (with an uncanny resemblance to Nicolas Sarkozy and an inexplicably North American accent) that he shot the murderer several times, and there’s absolutely no suggestion of any legal trouble whatsoever. Even more incredibly, he tells the inspector everything and, while the inspector is at least sceptical, you’re left with the impression that the police are extraordinarily deferential to country gents on Planet Hammer.

John knows the mummy is after him, though, and we’re not surprised to see the Egyptian Bloke send it to kill him. At this point John’s wife, Isobel, the only woman in the film, finally gets the first of what must be less than a dozen lines. The character is a complete doormat. John “orders” her to lock herself away while he waits for the mummy. It’s feminism gone mad.

Oh, and John’s wife is the very image of Ananka, it seems, and the mummy promptly buggers off for a bit. It there anyone who’s seen this film and didn’t immediately guess the entire rest of the plot at this point?

Conveniently, the inspector has been making enquiries which lead him now to believe John’s story. He tells John that under no circumstances whatsoever should he make contact with Egyptian Bloke so, naturally, he does exactly that. It seems his actual name is Mehemet Atkill, which sounds Turkish rather than Arabic, but never mind. It’s amusing to see John’s staggering lack of tact in scoffing at those who worship the god Karnak- in real life not a god at all but a temple complex near Thebes. I don’t think John realises that the man facing him worships this god; he’s just not very bright, is he?

Inevitably, Mehemet and the mummy come after John, but he’s expected. The mummy is about to kill John, but again he sees Isobel. When Mehemet tells him to kill Isobel, he is casually killed, and things start to go all King Kong as the mummy takes Isobel into the swamp. This is a bit of a weird love triangle- I wonder which of them Isobel prefers? Probably the mummy. I can’t imagine John would be much good in bed. Alas, he puts her down, and gets riddled with bullets.

It’s a film of two halves, really, this. But it’s probably short enough to be worth seeing.

Dracula (1958)

“Sleep well, Mr Harker…”

We get a statement of intent very early on, with some blood spattering on to a coffin- these early Hammer horror films certainly like their bright Technicolor red blood!

We're in some vague part of Horror Film Mittel-Europa in 1885. As with Curse of Frankenstein, this is a stylised and intentionally vague setting.  Jonathan Harker is heading to Castle Dracula and, in a slight nod to the epistolatory nature of the novel, this part of the plot is narrated through his diary. The inside of the castle is at the same time luxurious and bleak, with the large rooms marked by harsh straight lines and a total absence of carpets or any hint of softness.

After a brief and disturbing encounter with a woman whom Dracula is apparently taken prisoner, Harker finally meets Christopher Lee’s Count who, although sinister, appears polite enough, to the point of complimenting a picture of Harker’s fiancée, Lucy Holmwood. It seems Harker, a scholar, is to work as his librarian, but it soon becomes apparent that Dracula is only available during the hours of darkness, and that Harker’s door is locked during the night.

But Harker, we learn, has ulterior motives, and is here to kill the notorious Count, who from this point on ceases to be a character and just becomes a monster, never speaking another line for the rest of the film. But poor Harker is doomed; he agrees to help the temptress he met earlier, and gets bitten in the course of a vamp-fight between her and the, er, vampire. Both she and Drac look great, and there’s lots and lots of blood.

Harker, himself doomed to become undead, manages to make it to the crypt before sundown, but chooses to stake the woman before the Count himself. WHY?

The inevitable happens, and we cut to Peter Cushing in one of those Hammer inns where all the locals stop talking as soon as a stranger enters. Still, armed with Harker’s diary, he’s soon delivering the news of Harker’s death to Arthur Holmwood (played by Michael Gough, later to play the Celestial Toymaker in Doctor Who and Alfred in Tim Burton’s Batman), brother of Harker’s fiancée, and his wife Mina, future star of Alan Moore and Kevin O’Neill’s splendid The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen. He receives a frosty reception, however, and Lucy can’t be told the news as she’s very ill with anaemia.

We soon see the reasons for this, however; Lucy is delivering her windows open at night and removing her crucifix, allowing Dracula to come in and bite her, night after Night. The erotic charge is so electric here that I’d be tempted to say “get a room, you two” except… they have. For the first time in the film we have the obvious use of vampirism as a metaphor for sex, and as we’ll see this tells us quite a lot about the sexual mores of late Victorian times as opposed to the late 1950s. On the surface this is an unhealthily puritanical message about sex but I don’t think the film is quite playing this straight. Like Curse of Frankenstein there’s something camply humorous about this film, even if it’s played very, very deadpan.

It’s a bit jolting to see Van Helsing listening to audio recordings of himself, even if it is from an ancient-looking gramophone and even though his butler seems to be amazed. There are plenty of audio recordings from the 1880s on Youtube (look for Gladstone and a very drunk Robert Browning!) but none of them have anything approaching this sound quality.

Van Helsing uses this rather obvious expository device to inform us that vampire bites are addictive and that this eventually results in death through loss of blood. Consulted by Mina, he soon discovers that this is what is happening to Lucy. He orders the windows to be closed and Lucy’s bed to be surrounded by garlic, but this is not adhered to and the girl dies.

Van Helsing now has no choice but to let Arthur into his confidence, especially as the undead Lucy is now walking the grounds of the house, threatening their daughter Tania. Arthur catches the undead Lucy the following night, and is only saved from being bitten by Van Helsing. These scenes are atmospheric, effective, and really bring home how this film is set in a dreamlike, stylised world of cemeteries, castles, inns, sleepy border guards and nothing else, which feels culturally German, Slavic and Romanian all at once, and vaguely evokes the cultural mix of Habsburg Austria, yet is full of characters with English names.

Lucy is stakes, and Van Helsing and Arthur have a bit of a chat in some comfy chairs with some brandy, as gents in Hammer films are wont to do. It seems that vampires cannot in fact turn into bats; evidently the budget won’t stretch that far. But, just as our heroes are beginning to get a grip, Mina is lured to Dracula’s base of operations, and from that point onwards is under his spell. Again, there’s a sexual subtext here, and in this case it’s a rather emasculating one for poor old Arthur; apparently he’s not satisfying her. Actually, given the blatant eroticism of what can only be described as the sex scene between Dracula and Mina, I’m not sure the word “subtext” is entirely appropriate…

Arthur’s implied emasculation is even more tragic as he’s clearly a decent and loving husband, as we see him selflessly donating an alarming amount of blood to save his wife, who presumably shares the same blood group. Understandably, he’s a little sapped after this, but Van Helsing has some sound medical advice: “Now, you need plenty of fluid. Tea, coffee or, better still, wine.” Yes, that’s right, Van H. Wine isn’t in any way dehydrating, is it?

We finish with a chase, incorporating a bit of comic relief at the border, and Dracula’s final gruesome death by sunlight. An excellent film, this- atmospheric, just erotic enough, just gory enough and very well-acted indeed.

The Curse of Frankenstein (1957)

“Pass the marmalade, Elizabeth.”

Right then, here begin the movie reviews! And we start with, er, some text in a Gothic font. And then the credits, and the music, and the picture quality, and the vistas- definitely not TV! Interesting from the start that, although nominally set in Switzerland, this is a stylised and not necessarily realistic Mittel-European setting. The outdoor scenes seem to be sets at least some of the time, and any vistas of Alpine scenes are not really intended to look natural.

Peter Cushing is fantastic as Victor Frankenstein, and it’s interesting to see how straight he plays it, as he dominates the film such as to set the whole tone. Of course, the whole thing is, deep down, terribly camp, and feels as though it is intended as such, but it’s a very, very deadpan sort of camp.

The film is told in flashback, with the main narrative bookended by scenes of a desperate Frankenstein awaiting his execution. We then cut to scenes of him as an intelligent, enthusiastic but rather cold young man, who uses his vast inherited wealth to ensure that he gets the best scientific education money can buy, striking up a close friendship with his tutor, Paul.

But all this starts to fall apart as soon as the pair succeed in bring a dead dog back to life. The cracks immediately begin to appear in their relationship; Paul thinks only of the medical benefits this could bring, while Victor immediately shows signs of Evil Genius Syndrome, interested only in his own knowledge and personal glory. And the morally dodgy decisions start here; first he steals the body of a hanged man, then he buys a pair of eyes, and then he robs the grave of a celebrated sculptor for his hands! Interestingly, though, towards the end of the film Victor protests that all doctors rob graves, for the benefit of humanity, and Paul doesn’t demur. This is a rare moment of moral ambiguity.

The part played by Victor’s doormat of a cousin, Elizabeth, is disturbing. Firstly, because they plan an incestuous marriage (eurgh!). Secondly, this is the second quarter of the nineteenth century (going by the fashions), and yet no one raises an eyebrow at the two of them living together. But she is so naïve, not questioning Victor’s obsession with his experiments or his extreme neglect of her. The only one who genuinely seems to care about her is Paul.

Victor’s even worse than that, though; he’s having an affair with his maid, Justine, and has promised both women that he’ll marry them. From this point on, having established that he’s a cad and a bounder, the film shows him becoming more and more morally repulsive.

The visit from Professor Bernstein highlights an odd thing about this film; why is it that the main characters speak with Received Pronunciation while the minor characters all sound a bit German? Aren’t they all supposed to be speaking Swiss German? Also amusing is the scene where Elizabeth naively bemoans the time her fiancé spends in the laboratory,, and we pan to the two men with their brandy and cigars. The gender roles in this film are quite hilariously antediluvian at times.

Be that as it may, Victor’s casual and shocking murder of the Professor is a huge turning point. Of course, the Professor is then buried in Frankenstein’s family vault, from where he can cheerfully obtain the brain. This film’s version of Baron Frankenstein is much more villainous than is usually the case.

Paul, by now, has huge scruples and, in a scuffle between him and Victor, the brain is apparently damaged- although we only ever have Victor’s word for this. It isn’t long, though, until Paul is persuaded to help. But the monster has unexpectedly been brought to life, and it looks very effective indeed. Christopher Lee’s make-up looks nothing like the Universal version, for legal reasons, but this is a real strength.

The argument between Victor and Paul after the monster escapes is interesting. Paul wants it killed, but is it not a sentient being? This monster has nothing of the pathos of Karloff’s version, though. He simply terrifies the blind man and (implicitly) kills him, while the child by the lake (in this version a boy) apparently survives.

The scene where Paul shoots the monster is visibly shocking and horrible, with plenty of blood, but that’s it. The monster’s dead. Paul can now leave. Except--- has it not been foreshadowed that Frankenstein can bring the dead back to life.

Victor further demonstrates his utter caddishness in cruelly mocking the pregnant Justine, whom he had promised to marry with no intention of doing so. Now he simply dismisses her, very possibly to a very grim fate. The power imbalance between them, in terms of both class and gender, is huge. She looks for evidence in the lab with which to prove his crimes to the authorities, but he locks her in with the monster; his second murder.

Paul finally returns on the eve of the wedding to see the monster, resurrected and pathetic, reduced to spending its life on the end of a chain, obeying simple and pointless commands from its master. Paul, appalled, resolves to go to the authorities but, while they remonstrate, the monster escapes, heading to the roof for the climax. In the end it is Victor, threatened by his own creation, who shoots the monster.

We return to the cell, where Victor begs first the priest and then Paul to support his story that it was the monster, not he, who murdered Justine. But he is, of course, being disingenuous; it was he who locked her into the room with the monster, and in any case he was already a murderer by this point. A last scene between Pauil and Elizabeth strongly implies them to be a future couple, as our last shot lingers over the guillotine.

That was good, albeit with a lack of irony that would be impossible for such a film nowadays. The ethical dilemmas look a little different, too, in these days of stem cell research. A good start for Hammer horror, though. I’ll have to watch the Universal version soon…