Who?
Director: Steven Soderbergh
Producer: Laura Bickford
Screenplay: Peter Buchman
Cast: Benicio Del Toro, Julia Ormond, Oscar Isaac, Rodrigo Santoro, Demian Bichir, Ramon Fernandez, Yul Vazquez, Jsu Garcia, Santiago Cabrera, Marisé Alvarez, Elvira Mínguez, Unax Ugalde, Miguel Ángel Suárez, Alfredo De Quesada, Roberto Urbina, Io Bottoms

So?

Ambitious and never one to be pigeon-holed, Soderbergh's latest film(s) finds the indie-schooled, mainstream dabbling, digital connoisseur, art-house toe-dipper in fine, if yet, less than scintillating form. Che: Part One; originally a full epic piece, shown at Cannes in it's entirety, lasting a colossal four hours plus, now 'Miramaxed' up in to two digestible parts, is Soderbergh's take on the bio-pic chronicling the feats of the Argentine born doctor turned revolutionary guerrilla, Ernesto 'Che' Guevara, who became one of the most recognised, and replicated, people on the planet, his face adorning t-shirts, bedroom wall posters, key chains, you name it, there's he is forever tattooed, burned into the very fabric, on the world collective brain.

In Benito Del Toro, we have a renowned actor of weight and gravitas, a fitting bill for a figure as large and as intimidating as 'Che'; hero to millions, murderer to as many, cult iconoclast, mythical being; bringer of a new hope. Del Toro, like Gael Garcia Bernal before him; playing the younger Che in Walter Salles' 'The Motorcycle Diaries (2004), would be forgiven for being overwhelmed at the thought of playing such a figure, yet Del Toro needn't have worried. Soderbergh's Che isn't interested in the man as much as it is the history, the minutiae of soldiering, the moments in-between the facts; the camera follows Che as he treks through jungles, New York City and Santa Clara in faux-documentary style, keeping the camera distant and looming, as if we're witnessing history unfold. This is not an exercise in method acting, Che is an ordinary man who took an extraordinary path, nothing more.


Soderburgh has neatly divided the film in two segments, darting back and forth in time, from the jungles of Cuba in the mid 50's, at the origins of the guerrilla movement, to Che addressing the UN in New York in 1964, with the latter helping to explain the events of the former through an interview with a journalist. The decision to shoot the events of the 50's in colour and 60's in black and white is equally as effective; Cuba radiates and sparkles, the jungle is alive with deep greens and browns, Santa Clara is a spectre of colour and light, whilst New York is crisp, shot with a free hold camera, stylised, helping puncture the political air of hypocrisy and bureaucracy; one brilliant scene witnesses Che meeting Senator McCarthy at a swanky reception, politely thanking the senator for the Bay of Pigs as it helped bring the people together as one.

It's to Soderbergh's credit that Che: Part One is far removed from the conventional bio-pic, deciding to, once again, take his own path rather than down the familiar road of the warts and all, piecemeal tragi-drama; Che: Part One is so far removed from the constraints of the formulaic bio-pic that it shouldn't even be mentioned in the same sentence. Soderburgh is pre-occupied by the method rather than by the man, Che becomes a by-product of his own film, rather we witness how the man is part of the mechanism, how Che the myth becomes integral to the movement and how Che the man becomes a leading figure in the revolution.


We're never allowed 'into' the mind of Che, he's not a man to believe, or for that matter disbelieve, in, instead we're kept at a distant, watching, as it were, the events unfold, peeking over the fence. It's this stance that's ultimately problematic, with no one to root for, no cause or narrative to get behind, Che: Part One can quickly become frustrating and alienating. Del Toro's Che is a studious, serious and thoughtful figure; his regular problems with asthma highlighting Soderbergh's point that this is was ordinary man driven to these events, rather than portraying him as a super-human, dignified and effective in his portrayal but it's the limitation of the structure of the film that we never get any deeper than the surface; he still remains that steely eyed face on those tee-shirts by the films end.

By keeping us at a distance as spectator rather than getting us emotionally involved with the characters, of whom we know very little, we're forced to make our own way through the film, not really knowing if we should be caring, rallying or fending for anyone. Those constant distant shots, Che forever trapped in the master shot never in close up, disengage the viewer and consequently those beautifully captured action scenes; the battle of Santa Clara in particular, feel flat and, possibly, deliberately so, all of which adds to an increasingly frustrating spectacle

However, there is so much to admire here; the depth of information about the revolution, the film maker's determination, stunning cinematography and Soderburgh's absolute, resolute, stubbornness to pander and his anti-audience stance. It takes a certain arrogance and belief to make a film like this, purposely taking your audience somewhere new, even if the results are as patchy, it should still be applauded. Despite my problems with Che: Part One, I look forward to the concluding part, mostly in hope that it will clear up the agonising and frustrating estrangement I felt with the first chapter.

 

THE CURSE OF THE WEREWOLF (1961)

THE CURSE OF THE WEREWOLF (1961) Review

Who?
Director: Terence Fisher
Producer: Anthony Hinds
Screenplay: Anthony Hinds
Cast: Clifford Evans, Oliver Reed, Yvonne Romain, Catherine Feller, Anthony Dawson, Josephine Llewellyn, Richard Wordsworth, Hira Talfrey, Justin Walters, John Gabriel, Warren Mitchell

So?
I really can't properly remember what had been my very first proper Hammer movie. If I'd hazard a guess I would say it's a tie between The Curse of the Werewolf and The Two Faces of Dr. Jekyll (another worthy contender for a Top 10 Hammer list).

From all the classic horror myths, the Werewolf legend is perhaps the most humane and tragic with its plots of innocent men accidentally being turned into creatures of the night and needing to fight their urges every month for a few days while for all intends and purposes remaining utterly normal all the days in between the full moon.

No wonder that the Werewolf myth has long been one of my favourite sub-genres. And Curse of the Werewolf is classic Hammer Horror at its best. The scenes of aristocratic debauchery and the rape of the young girl (Yvonne Romain) by a disgusting looking beggar (played by Richard Wordsworth) remain as potent and memorable as when the film was first screened. And who could forget Oliver Reed's tragic performance that turned him into a star from that moment on? I can't! No wonder this movie has remained a favourite of mine from the very first moment I had managed to put my eyes on it.

 

BATMAN: THE DARK KNIGHT (2008)

The Dark Knight (2008) - Review

Who?
Director: Christopher Nolan
Producer: Christopher Nolan
Screenplay: Jonathan Nolan , Christopher Nolan
Cast: Christian Bale, Heath Ledger, Aaron Eckhart, Michael Caine, Maggie Gyllenhaal, Gary Oldman, Morgan Freeman, Monique Gabriela Curnen, Ron Dean, Cillian Murphy, Chin Han, Nestor Carbonell, Eric Roberts, Ritchie Coster

So?
Following on from the international success that was Batman Begins, British director Christopher Nolan continues his revision of the caped vigilante Batman with The Dark Knight. Unlike the microcosm of Nolan's first foray, which worked basically as an origins story, filling in the background as to why and how Bruce Wayne, Batman's alter ego, choose a life of fighting crime from the shadows', The Dark Knight casts its net wider to implicate the ramifications of a society in decay.

Long gone are the campy musings of Joel Schumacher, or the cartoonesque romanticism of Tim Burton, no room for nipple accommodated bat-suits or Prince soundtracks here. Batman now reflects the dark, brooding presence often associated in the graphic novel adaptations of Jeph Loeb, Frank Miller and Alan Moore, amongst others. Ambitious and epic, The Dark Knight is something of an opus, the 'Godfather' of superhero adaptations, a musing of the darker side of human nature, of how close a man must skirt the boundary of good and evil for the 'greater good', of duality, of what constitutes a good man.


Large themes indeed in what should be, by summer season standards, an open invitation for popcorn fodder, the brainless blockbuster and the family film, all of which The Dark Knight was (over) marketed at but doesn't neatly fall into any one of these cosy demographics. Large themes call for a large palette and The Dark Knight has that in spades, Gotham for instance, our heroes home and, without doubt, as luminary and significant as Batman himself, has never looked this grandiose, the city's landscape, filmed on IMAX technology, filling the screen with chrome, glass and smog.

Set some time after the events of the previous film, we join The Dark Knight at a crossroads , having helped clear Gotham city of it's criminal element with the remaining mobsters being forced underground, Batman (Christian Bale) continues in the vain hope that he's making a difference but in reality the city needs more than a masked vigilante; something the opening scene does well to address with it's array of copy-cat crusaders.


On opposing forces, two new bucks stride into town, one a white knight of hope and change, Harvey Dent (Aaron Eckhart), a young, clean cut council man running for town mayor, the other, a sociopath, amoral and demonic, a man with no background or agenda, other than 'to watch the world burn', called 'The Joker' (Heath Ledger); both of whom want to challenge and shake up the status quo, one for the good of the city, for the good of the people, the other, just to cause as much mayhem and madness as he possibly can.

Nolan, along with his brother Jonathan Nolan, once again take up the writing reins and have delievered a dark and complex film, successfully transporting the theatrical comical elements in to a real world template. It's this 'realism' that really sets The Dark Knight, and Batman Begins, apart from it's contemporary 'comic book adaptations' that seem to litter the cinema screens these days. By setting Batman in a world we, almost, recognise it becomes all the more threatening and disturbing, The Joker, despite his OTT attire, outlandish, fiendish plans and make-up, becomes an everyday evil that we, unfortunately, relate to.


How depressing it is then to relate to a film that paints our society with broad nihilistic brush strokes, full of casual violence, polluted by an apathetic, fearful society ready to put one over the next guy. It's a damning portrait of society today but The Dark Knight does have it's bright side, apart from Batman's constant stab at vigilante justice, Harvey Dent is attempting to put the entire mob behind bars whilst cleaning up the city, Lt. Jim Gordon (Gary Oldham) is his man on the front line, a fine upstanding family man trying to do the right thing and Rachael Dawes (Maggie Gyllenhaal) a bombastic, feisty young district attorney, torn between her love for Wayne and Dent, attempts to fight the mob in court.

It's against this backdrop, that 'The Joker', a criminal mastermind, makes his move, willing to take out these forces of good, for a price and for the sheer pleasure it will bring him. For 'The Joker' is an agent of chaos, willfully destroying and testing those around him, forcing all involved to make moral decisions, pushing their resolve and their limits of empathy. The Joker acts as a barometer, a measure,a symbol, to what depths society would reduce itself to in order to serve their own selfish needs, wants and desires, if chaos was allowed to rule. It's a repeated motif throughout The Dark Knight and one that serves the main narrative, tough decisions and morally questionable actions are constantly having to be made, giving the audience tough, unrelenting answers in the process.


So dark then? And some. However, the relentless regurgitation of these underlying themes, the senseless, endless, brooding (Christian Bale has mastered the pout) and pontificating, felt extremely heavy-handed, as if I was being repeatedly bashed over the head by it all. At two and a half hours this can begin to feel rather laboured, I shifted uncomfortably in my seat actually willing for the ending, not because I was no longer enjoying it but rather that I had seen enough, someone should have been strong enough to omit several unnecessary drawn out scenes and given it a tighter edit.

Overall, not your average run of the mill, normal summer blockbuster, although it still delivers the obligatory thrills and spills with some nice set pieces; you can't help feeling that action scenes aren't exactly Nolan's forte, but still an extravaganza all the same. Doom ladened, nihilistic and morose; Heath Ledgers untimely death helps to lend the film a sinister and fateful air, The Dark Knight, despite the flaws, is something of a success. It's by no means the masterpiece that fan boys, across the globe, will have you believe, but it's still a very welcome addition to a season generally bristling with mediocrity and pap. Although, I feel I should question one of it's tag lines in asking 'Why so serious?'

THE GRAPES OF WRATH (1940) Review

THE GRAPES OF WRATH (1940)

Who?
Director: John Ford
Producer: Darryl F. Zanuck
Screenplay: Nunnally Johnson
Cast: Henry Fonda, Jane Darwell, John Carradine, Charley Grapewin, Dorris Bowdon, Russell Simpson, O.Z. Whitehead, John Qualen, Eddie Quillan, Zeffie Tilbury, Frank Sully, Frank Darien

So?
'If there was a law, they was workin' with maybe we could take it, but it ain't the law. They're workin' away our spirits, tryin' to make us cringe and crawl, takin' away our decency.' (Tom Joad)

When I read 'The Grapes of Wrath' by John Steinbeck some years back I was emotionally stunned and unable to get over what I had read, about the plight of the Joad family during the Great Depression, I went on to read more about this time period just to make sure it was all real.

Being born in England and raised in our school system we have enough of our own history to plow through before looking to America but I did know from documentaries, film stock and literature what happened during that time yet it wasn't until this book that the full horror hit home. The poetic prose of Steinbeck's epic novel stamped this tragic era forever on my brain, it left such a haunting and lasting memory that I came to this adaptation by John Ford with slight dread in my heart. At best I'm not one for adaptations, I believe it's either a book or a film, not both. Of course this is a blog about film and I should leave comparisons with the novel aside, which isn't going to be easy I know but I'll try, however any one wanting to compare the two should look here, where these lovely people have done the thinking for us.

John Ford is a giant of a director and has left such a lasting catalogue of great films that he has more films on this list than any other. The turnaround of the fabled studio system enhanced Ford's technique and he was able to stamp his authority, authorship and style on his pictures the longer his career went on. It was this quick turnaround that saw Steinbeck's classic novel come to the screen only one year after it was published, something that's not totally unthinkable today, think Harry Potter, but that a book was so critical and analytical about the contradictions and inequalities of the American Dream was made at all does take some beating. Hollywood producer Daryl F. Zanuck knew that it had to be made and purchased the rights for the novel within one month of publication for a whopping $75, 000.

The Grapes of Wrath focuses on the Joad family during the Great Depression that swept America in the late twenties which lasted right up until the second world war. I believe the film captures the period honestly and realistically, recreating the socio-economic impact, as well as the mid 30's drought, through one representative family, the Joads. Thrown of their own land the Joads, along with thousands of families, take to the road in search for work, food, shelter and their dignity. The hollowness of the American Dream is laid bare by the oppression the family meets along the way, from being turfed out of their home by a faceless bank to being forced to work for next to nothing by a plethora of unscrupulous employers taking advantage of the migrants desperation.

The style in which The Grapes of Wrath is filmed, quasi-documentary, only adds to the seriousness and accuracy that Ford was attempting to achieve in adapting Steinbeck's Pulitzer winning novel. Playing the story straight and by not pulling too many punches (accept for the novel's famous ending) Ford achieved a rare and beautiful thing with this adaptation by capturing the personal and the political in one swift and linear moment. The Grapes of Wrath is played to perfection, the performances by the excellent cast is almost reduced to a side note, and it remains a film that each new generation should watch, hopefully taking a lesson or two from it's sorry tale and applying them to the modern day.

THE HOUND OF THE BASKERVILLES (1959)

THE HOUND OF THE BASKERVILLES (1959) Review

Who?
Director: Terence Fisher
Producer: Anthony Hinds
Screenplay: Peter Bryan
Cast: Peter Cushing, André Morell, Christopher Lee, Marla Landi, David Oxley, Francis De Wolff, Miles Malleson, Ewen Solon, John Le Mesurier, Helen Goss, Sam Kydd, Michael Hawkins, Judi Moyens,  Michael Mulcaster, David Birks

So?
I love Hammer movies and I love Sherlock Holmes. So needless to say I absolutely adore Hammer's Hound adaptation that successfully walks a wonderful tightrope between the more typical Gothic Horror scenes of the flashbacks and the Whodunnit of the actual Holmes tale. Peter Cushing is an excellent Holmes but more importantly Andre Morell is one of the first cinematic Watsons (or even THE first?) who doesn't come across like a bumbling idiot. The rest of the cast is first rate as well with a special mention to Christopher Lee who actually plays quite a dashing romantic hero role for a nice change. Not continuing this movie with a proper series of Holmes adaptations will for me always be one of  Hammer's most tragically wasted opportunities.

MOON ZERO TWO (1969) Review

MOON ZERO TWO (1969)

Who?
Director: Roy Ward Baker
Producer: Michael Carreras
Screenplay: Michael Carreras
Cast: James Olson, Catherina Von Schell, Warren Mitchell, Adrienne Corri, Ori Levy, Dudley Foster, Bernard Bresslaw, Neil McCallum, Joby Blanshard, Michael Ripper, Robert Tayman, Sam Kydd, Keith Bonnard, Leo Britt, Carol Cleveland, Roy Evans

How?
In 1967 Gavin Lyall, Frank Hardman and Martin Davison submitted a story to Hammer which was basically a Western set in space. Western fan Michael Carreras took to it, but it took well into 1968 before Hammer were able to secure financing from Warners for what was to be one of their biggest budgeted projects - although not big enough as was to become apparent. While Jimmy Sangster was the preferred writer and producer it eventually fell to Michael Carreras, who brought in Roy Ward Baker to direct after the wonderful job he'd done on Quatermass and the Pit (1967). American actor James Olson, known mainly for his TV work, was brought in to star (presumably to give it a Western flavour) as well as the little-known Hungarian actress Catherina von Schell (who would go on to TV fame in Space: 1999), Adrienne Cori (later in Vampire Circus (1972)), Bernard Bresslaw (who had last appeared for Hammer  in the flop The Ugly Duckling (1959)) and Warren Mitchell (another return to Hammer following his last appearance in Curse of the Werewolf (1961)). Shooting took place at Elstree, apart from the special effects, which were shot at Les Bowie's facility.

What?
In the year 2021 the Moon has been colonised and much of it leased to prospectors. It's only large colony, Moon City, has the feel of a Wild West frontier town. Bill Kemp (Olson), a former commercial space pilot, now flies a beaten-up shuttle, Moon Zero Two, on salvage trips from Moon City. Faced with being grounded by the local police (Corri) because of the dangerous state of his ship, Kemp agrees to fly an illegal mission for wealthy J.J. Hubbard (Mitchell) - to intercept a passing asteroid composed entirely of sapphire and crash land it on the moon. In return he will receive a new ship. Meanwhile he encounters newly-arrived Clementine (Schell) who has come to the moon in search of her missing brother Wally, a prospector on the far side. Kemp agrees to fly her to her brother's claim to discover what has happened to him. Unknown to them, however, is that Hubbard is connected to Wally's disappearance, a fact he will do all in his power to prevent Kemp and Clementine from finding out; and he will make sure at all costs that Kemp completes his side of the deal.

So?
Moon Zero Two, Hammer's only attempt at a space opera, is another unfortunate example of a film that could have been very good, if only they'd had the right money to spend on it. But they didn't. And it shows. Michael Carreras once again had grand, epic ideas that the company simply couldn't pull off. Released in the wake of 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968) and the Apollo moon landing, Moon failed to match either the excitement of reality, or the grandeur of Kubrick's epic (and the UK poster art did it no favours - promising much more than it could possibly deliver). However, Moon should not be judged too harshly - it is by no means a bad film, and over time an affection has grown for this campy classic. Conceived, and marketed, as a 'space Western' Moon has many of the attributes of that particular genre - the wild frontier town, the prospecters, the sherriff, the rich evil landowner, the saloon, the gunfights, the dancing girls...the list goes on. Transfer it all into space and Bob's your uncle. An inspired idea, and one that would surface again in aspects of Star Wars (1977). And in fact, the basic plotline is not a bad one at all; it just in it's execution where Moon falls down.

But since SF films are often (unfortunately) judged primarily on the quality of their special effects, let's get that out of the way, shall we? Are they any good? Well...no. But if we bear in mind the miniscule budget Moon had to spend on them, then I have no qualms in saying that Moon's effects are actually not that bad. Les Bowie basically performed wonders with the money that he had. Yes they look like models, but they look like good models. And in a perverse way the effects actually add to the appeal of Moon. And the costumes (groovy!). And the sets (cosmic!). And the...well, you get my drift. For Moon is a film you simply cannot take seriously. If you do, you won't enjoy it. Moon is fun because it takes itself so seriously! Carreras' screenplay attempts to be epic on a Western scale, but is so po-faced, leaden and riddled with plot holes that it just brings a smile to your face seeing the actors struggling through, and losing the will to live en route. Baker, a good director, just doesn't have the lightness of touch here to play along with the audience. He must have known it was a poor film, and yet his direction matches the screenplay - po-faced and leaden. Indeed 'po-faced and leaden' just about covers the entire cast as well! The only one with a spark of life in the whole affair is Olson's sidekick, a porn-mustachioed Ori Levy.

The bar dancers (the Go-Jos!) give it their best shot in a variety of outfits (groovy!) but their heart really isn't in it, bless 'em. Olson and Schell are on autopilot, Corri's not far behind, Mitchell's the most unthreatening baddie in the history of threatening baddies, and Bresslaw - well, the casting director must have been on something that day!  Now, all this might make you wonder if I really do like Moon? Well, yes, I do. For all its tacky, plastic, wooden, ubsurd, silliness - I love it! Indeed, it's because of that that I love it. How can you not love a film where zero gravity means walking verrry...slooowly. Where Schell gets to show off the weirdest space undies ever invented? Where a 'futuristic' vending machine is actually a step backwards?! Where... I could go on, but I won't spoil the delights of Moon for those yet to experience it. From its opening cartoon titles (which must have eaten a wodge of the budget and are totally at odds with what the film intended to be!) to its annoyingly catchy theme song, Moon is a joyous 1960s vision of what the future would hold - glittery wigs, stupid hats, and games of Moonopoly. And no, that's not a spelling mistake. Bring it on!

NEVER TAKE SWEETS FROM A STRANGER (1960)

NEVER TAKE SWEETS FROM A STRANGER (1960) Review

Who?
Director: Cyril Frankel
Producer: Anthony Hinds
Screenplay: John Hunter
Cast: Gwen Watford, Patrick Allen, Felix Aylmer, Niall MacGinnis, Alison Leggatt, Bill Nagy, MacDonald Parke, Michael Gwynne, Janina Faye, Frances Green, Estelle Brody, James Dyrenforth, Robert Arden, Vera Cook, Budd Knapp

How?
The Pony Cart was a US play about child abuse written by Roger Garis, which had caused mild controversy when it was first proposed to be staged as a one-off in London's West End, mainly due to the fact of an 11 year old Janina Faye being chosen to appear in a 'sex play' (she was later withdrawn). John Hunter adapted the play for the screen, this screenplay eventually ending up being read by Anthony Hinds, who saw its potential for Hammer. Cyril Frankel, a newcomer to Hammer, was chosen to direct. Indeed most of the cast were also new to the company, only Felix Aylmer, Michael Gwynn and Janina Faye herself having featured in previous pictures. It was by pure coincidence that Faye was chosen from auditions to play the little girl in the film. A lengthy battle with the censors ensued before shooting could begin, particularly over the picture's courtroom scene, where they were keen to omit all references to a medical examination of the child. Eventually shooting began at Bray Studios and Black Park with most of Hammer's regular crew, except that a new cinematographer was hired - one Freddie Francis.

What?
Recently arrived from England, Peter Carter (Allen) has been appointed headmaster of the local high school in Jamestown, a Canadian town founded by the Olderberry family, who are still highly respected figures amongst the community. Whilst playing with her friend Lucille (Green) Carter's daughter Jean (Faye) goes with her to the Olderberry house, where Lucille tells her they can get free candy. Jean later tells her parents that old Mr Olderberry was there alone and asked them to take their clothes off and dance for him, which they did in return for sweets. The Carters make a formal complaint to the police, who are reluctant to do anything, given the Olderberry's stature in the town, and advise them to drop it since no physical harm came to Jean. It transpires that the town is aware of Olderberry's proclivities, but choose to turn a blind eye. Adamant that the town's children need protecting the Carters insist on taking the case to court, a decision that ends up having devastating consequences...

So?
There are certain Hammer films that, in a sense, fly under the radar. Known to most as purveyors of Gothic horror, Hammer in fact produced films in a number of genres, and many of these films are among the best the company ever released. Never Take Sweets From a Stranger is one such film - not a Gothic horror, but as horrifying in its own way as any, indeed more so. Sweets has for too long been unjustly neglected in Hammer's canon, a fact which is now changing given the wider availability of the film. Never setting out to be a 'message' film, Sweets is however as relevant today as it was prescient at the time of its release, despite the storm of controversy that swirled around it and which ultimately prevented it from receiving a proper US distribution. While not without fault, Sweets is a little gem of a film, one which fully deserves being sought out. A tight script, well directed by Frankel with some memorable scenes and shots, beautiful b&w cinematography from Francis, but above all a wonderful performance by Felix Aylmer as Olderberry, made all the more unnerving given our unfamiliarity with Aylmer in such a role (mirroring perhaps the inability of those in the film the face the dark side of those they know).

Olderberry is one of the most horrific characters Hammer ever committed to celluloid. In spite of the fact that he has relatively little screen time and never once utters a word, Olderberry is ever present, a  shadowy figure throughout the picture. From his first appearance watching through a telescope the girls play (are his hands shaking through excitement or old age?), to his courtroom presence greedily staring at Jean, to the climactic chase through the forest where his shambling zombie-like gait conveys a man driven by an urge he cannot control, to the truly horrifying finale where he reels the boatbound girls in like an angler landing a prize catch, Olderberry is a masterpiece in characterisation. Marred slightly perhaps by the implications of senility (as if a man with all his faculties could not commit such crimes) nevertheless Felix Aylmer's performance is truly chilling. Credit must also be given to Janina Faye and Frances Green as the girls. Faye in particular gives a sterling performance in her journey from innocence to true fear of the evils that lurk in the world. Niall MacGinnis should also be noted in his merciless role as Oldenberry's defence attorney.

Sweets' use of black and white cinematography only helps to heighten the dark nature of the tale, and Freddie Francis (a master of the medium) excels himself here. Never has Black Park looked so threatening and claustrophobic in all of its appearances in Hammer pictures. Individual scenes stand out like ugly jewels of lighting and direction - the 'reeling in' scene with Olderberry's leering face in close-up, the girls cowering in a rowboat on the light-dappled water; the shadowy murder scene in a decrepit cabin with Olderberry standing over the splayed body. Images that stay with one long after the film is over. The central court scene is  difficult viewing, Olderberry's attorney picking Jean's story apart, traumatising her in the process. In all, Sweets is a film that was way ahead of its time in exploring the subject matter, indeed in facing child rape and murder head on. It is not, as some accused it at the time, in the least bit exploitative, never seeking to shock or titillate for the sake of it. Nevertheless, Sweets does not shy away, and raises questions not only as regards child abuse but also as regards power, control and the collusion of the fearful in covering up evil. It is deeply unfortunate that Sweets received the reception it did among some sections of the media and, in America, censors - despite being supported by child protection groups. Hammer, because of their reputation, were accused of cashing in merely for entertainment. Stung, it was, as a result, the last time Hammer ever attempted a picture along these lines.

THE SNORKEL (1958)

THE SNORKEL (1958) Review

Who?
Director: Guy Green
Producer: Michael Carreras
Screenplay: Peter Myers & Jimmy Sangster
Cast: Peter Van Eyck, Betta St John, Mandy Miller, Gregoire Aslan, William Franklyn, Henry Vidon, Marie Burke, Irene Prador, Robert Rietty, Armand Guinie, David Ritch

How?
The Snorkel was Jimmy Sangster's third feature screenplay for Hammer, following X the Unknown (1956) and The Curse of Frankenstein (1957). Michael Carreras took on the production but this time, rather than a Hammer regular, a new director was hired - ex-cinematographer and up-coming director Guy Green.  Similarly, most of the cast were not Hammer regulars - German Peter Van Eyck, American Betta St John, and child actor Mandy Miller. Only William Franklyn had a previous Hammer connection, having appeared in Quatermass 2 (1957); (he wouldn't appear again for Hammer until 1973's Satanic Rites of Dracula). The film almost didn't get made, Eliot Hyman having backed out of a distribution deal. Hammer were forced to finance the film themselves and, to defray costs, then make acceptance of it a condition for any company who wanted the sequel to Curse of Frankenstein. Columbia duly snapped it up, although they trimmed it by 16 minutes for the US market. It is a notable picture in that, although locations were shot on the Italian Riviera, interiors were shot on the new soundstage at Bray Studios - the first Hammer film to use the facility.

What?
In a villa on the Italian Riviera, Paul Decker (Van Eyck) drugs his wealthy wife, locks the door, tapes the windows, and then proceeds to kill her by turning on the gas - protecting himself with a breathing apparatus he has constructed. When the maid comes in the morning and finds the door locked he hides beneath the floorboards while the door is forced, the body found and the police called. To the police it is a clear case of suicide. When all is clear he makes his escape, and 'returns' from a supposed trip to France. His stepdaughter Candy (Miller) has also returned from school in England and believes Paul killed her mother, just as she believes he drowned her father. No one will believe her, least of all the police, and so she sets out to discover just how her stepfather accomplished it. As she begins to piece together how he committed the murder Paul realises that to protect himself he will have to dispose of her too, while at the same time romancing her governess Jean (St John) and planting in her mind the idea that Candy is mentally ill...

So?
The late 1950s and early 1960s were a creative period for Hammer, where alongside their Gothic horrors the company experimented with other, sometimes quirkier, pictures. The Snorkel is one such film and, in a way, was a foretaste of the psychological thrillers that Hammer would produce in the 1960s, such as Taste of Fear (1961), Paranoiac (1963), and Nightmare (1964). In common with those, Snorkel also came from the pen of Jimmy Sangster, this time co-writing with Peter Myers, who would later pen Cliff Richard films. Also in common with Sangster's later films is the theme of madness - here the attempt to convince others that the child Candy is mad. But at heart Snorkel is both a rehash of the familiar 'locked room mystery' and also a 'gimmick' film - as the US poster all but acknowledged. This is not to say Snorkel is a poor or derivative film, quite the contrary. For the 'locked room mystery' is given a twist, in that we know from the beginning who the killer is and how he did it - the task is not for us to solve a mystery but for us to follow Candy as she attempts to, and Decker as he seeks to thwart her.

In fact, the film would not work half as well as it does if the method of murder were not revealed early on, for the 'gimmick' needs to be seen in action, and a flashback later on would not have the impact the precredits sequence of Snorkel has. For Snorkel's gimmick is a good one - made all the more effective by Peter Van Eyck's callous use of it. Paul Decker is truly a cold-hearted psychopath and Eyck plays him to perfection. The intricate opening sequence as the rubber-gloved Eyck carefully prepares the murder room and then sits impassively behind his mask as the gas does its work is a chilling one. Equally chilling is Eyck's dispassionate offing of the dog, and attempted drowning of Candy, and complete calm after the event, with just a trace of a smile flickering around his mouth. Not so impressive, unfortunately, are the performances of Miller and St John. Miller is a great little actress but, as the director later acknowledged, simply too mannered and mature for her age to convincingly play the young girl Candy is. And St John simply comes across as callous and simpering. Indeed a major weakness of the film is the lack of real reaction to the death of Candy's mother - the gardner and his wife appear more distraught than Miller and St John.

What makes Snorkel a particularly refreshing Hammer film is its use of locations - the film was genuinely shot on the Italian Riviera. That, and its use of 'non-Hammer' actors, gives it an 'exotic' quality that we don't often get in a Hammer production. The location work is helped immensely by Jack Asher's wonderful b&w cinematograpy, helped no doubt by director Guy Green, himself an Oscar-winning cinematographer for the b&w Great Expectations (1946). The attempted drowning scene is particularly effective as Eyck purposefully pursues Miller through the water. Green produced a cracking little thriller in The Snorkel and it's unfortunate that it proved to be his first and last Hammer film - it would have been interesting to see how he had handled later Sangster thrillers. While not one of Hammer's best Snorkel is an effective and innovative thriller, with a memorable villain in Eyck. While the story is plainly built around the central gimmick (the result, no doubt of pondering on the locked room scenario), and as such is a tad obvious and predicatable (with a few looming plot holes), nevertheless Snorkel is a worthy addition to Hammer's 1957 production schedule, which included such classics as The Abominable Snowman, Camp on Blood Island and, of course, Dracula. Now if only Hammer had gone with Sangster's original ending and allowed Candy to leave Decker to die - that would have put a nasty little sting in the tail of The Snorkel.

TEN SECONDS TO HELL (1959)

TEN SECONDS TO HELL (1959) Review

Who?
Director: Robert Aldrich
Producer: Michael Carreras
Screenplay: Robert Aldrich & Teddi Sherman
Cast: Jack Palance, Jeff Chandler, Martine Carol, Robert Cornthwaite, Virginia Baker, Robert Wattis, Lesley Addy, Dave Willcock, James Goodwin, Nancy Lee, Charles Nolte

How?
The rights to Lawrence Bachmann's novel The Phoenix were bought by Hammer in 1955, and Bachmann himself submitted a screenplay.  The film was planned by producer Michael Carreras as a prestige production for Hammer, with  top director Robert Aldrich (who was at the time blacklisted in Hollywood), US stars Jack Palance and Jeff Chandler, and French bombshell Martine Carol. In addition, as it was set in post-war Berlin, it was to be shot there on location and at the famous UFA Studios. The film, however, soon turned into a nightmare. Aldrich proceeded to rewrite the screenplay, replaced key Hammer staff members with his own men, antagonised the German film crew, had Michael Carreras removed from the picture and, most significantly, lost the confidence of star Palance, who felt Aldrich was making the picture too talky and philosophical. The resulting 130 minute film was eventually shorn of 40 minutes by the distributer and released to generally poor reviews.

What?
Six German POWs return to a shattered Berlin following the end of the war and are employed by the British as a bomb disposal team - work they had been previously been forced to do by the German army after losing favour with the Nazis. The work is so dangerous that the six agree on a pact - each will put up half his salary and at the end of three months whoever survives gets to keep it. They will tackle bombs on an alphabetical rota. The leader of the team Koertner (Palance), who had been a renowned architect before the war, feels the self-sacrificing work somehow strikes a blow at the self-serving mentality that led to war. Wirtz (Chandler) is only concerned with the money...and self-preservation. He means to win at all costs. As members of the team are gradually lost the others try to persuade Wirtz to abandon the pact and give the money away - he refuses, and the others cannot let him win, so the work continues until only Koertner and Wirtz remain, each aware that they must see this through to the end.

So?
Director Robert Aldrich has openly referred to Ten Seconds to Hell as a bad film - one that even if he had a chance to reshoot he wouldn't know how to improve. Now, while I'd agree that Ten is not a great picture, it's not one totally without merit. It is, in fact, a tantalisingly frustrating example of what could have been. The film was, I'm sure, intended by Michael Carreras as another attempt by Hammer to enter the 'mainstream' of British cinema - an attempt to shed Hammer's reputation as merely a purveyor of populist exploitation pictures and light comedies, and become a serious player. It, of course, failed (like other attempts) to do that, but Ten was still a worthy effort, and provides an interesting meditation on war, desolation, hope, courage and the human capacity to rise from the ashes. It's also interesting in that it provides a less 'insuler-feeling' picture from Hammer, with its American director, stars and key staff, and German crew and locations. While one can only speculate on how it would have turned out using Bachmann's original screenplay, the film does attempt to delve a little deeper philosophically than one normally would expect from Hammer (although there are notable exceptions). Unfortunately, it simply fails to work - hampered by said crude philosophical musings and, unfortunately, by two of its leads.

Palance and Aldrich didn't see eye-to-eye in the picture, Aldrich admitting that he lost control of his star, and unfortunately it shows. Palance gives a most unusual performance; obviously seeking to portray a deeply tormented man he does so in the most blatant and ham-fisted way, contorting his face into a rictus of despair at every available opportunity, interspersed with long periods of stony-faced sullenness. Deep into Method acting at the time he became virtually unapproachable off-screen, punctuated with antagonistic drinking sessions with Aldrich. The result is a mess - although a tormented mess. Combined with Martine Carol's eye-swiveling dramatics and Aldrich's, at times, cod-philosophical dialogue makes for some truly bizarre scenes together, between bouts of bomb disposal. Thankfully, some good performances by others soften the histrionics somewhat. Jeff Chandler's coldy self-serving Wirtz provides a pleasing foil to Palance, their scenes together carrying genuine tension, while Richard Wattis' Major Haven is a sterling example of a good-hearted officer who fails to appreciate the irony of using Koertner's squad exactly as the Nazi's had.

A saving feature of the picture are the locations and their wonderfully atmospheric capture by Aldrich's regular director of photography, the Oscar-winning Ernest Laszlo. His b&w photography simply oozes charisma, and the use of a still-devastated Berlin for location lends the film an air of authenticity it might not otherwise have had. But at root Ten fails simply because it cannot marry its philosophical ambitions with its post-war thriller scenario in a satisfactory way. The periods between (genuinely tension-filled and accurately detailed) bomb-disposal are too often filled with Palance and Carol musing on life, love and the nature of humanity. This is not to say that Ten has nothing to say - it does pose questions about what can and should rise from the ashes of human conflict, about the battle between self-sacrifice and self-service, about hope and despair, about the value of human life. However, it too often simply becomes an exercise in self-indulgence, whether on the part of Palance or Aldrich. Perhaps Aldrich's 130m cut would have revealed a different and much better picture? I'm inclined to believe Aldrich himself, and doubt it.

THE ABOMINABLE SNOWMAN (1957)

THE ABOMINABLE SNOWMAN (1957) Review

Who?
Director: Val Guest
Producer: Aubrey Baring
Screenplay: Nigel Kneale
Cast: Forrest Tucker, Peter Cushing, Maureen Cannell, Richard Wattis, Robert Brown, Michael Brill, Wolfe Morris, Arnold Marle, Anthony Chin

How?
In 1955 the BBC screened Nigel Kneale's drama The Creature, starring Peter Cushing. Hammer, as ever, were quick to snap up the rights - as they had done previously with Kneale's Quatermass serials. Val Guest was the obvious choice to direct, given his success  in directing the Quatermass films. Kneale adapted his teleplay (although Guest rewrote it further), and Cushing was brought back, fresh from shooting The Curse of Frankenstein, to reprise his television role, as were Arnold Marle and Wolfe Morris. As was often the case an American actor was cast to appease the US distributer - in this case Forrest Tucker, who had previously worked  with Hammer on Break in the Circle (1954). Shooting took place on location in the French Pyrenees (using doubles for the actors) and at Bray and Pinewood Studios, in black-and-white using a widescreen process which wonderfully captures the mountain landscape.

What?
John Rollason (Cushing) is an English botanist studying in a remote Himalayan monastery, accompanied by his wife Helen (Connell) and assistant (Wattis). Although due to shortly depart Rollason is secretly aware that an expedition will soon be arriving  at the monastery to search for the Yeti - an expedition he plans on joining. By some mysterious power the monastery's Lama  (Marle) is also aware of their imminent arrival. And arrive they presently do, led by the brash Ed Shelley (Tucker). Despite protestations from Helen and the Lama Cushing joins the expedition. The party slowly make their way up into the high mountains, but following an accident they make camp, and as the weather closes in they realise they are not alone. Eventually a crazed member departs the camp only to fall to his death, quickly followed by the desertion of the sherpa. When those remaining shoot a massive creature, they soon realise that its companions are out for revenge and decide to use the body and an ice-cave as a trap. But as the mysterious creatures close in, who will survive, and what will be left of them!

So?
Cards on the table - I love The Abominable Snowman, so it's difficult to be objective when reviewing it now. Reasons? Well, its atmospheric black-and-white cinematography, amazing location shots, a restrained but effective Cushing performance, good supporting cast, the sense of claustrophobia and impending doom...like I said, I just love it. Snowman is one of Hammer's forgotten gems. Released just after Quatermass II and The Curse of Frankenstein it perhaps got lost in the crowd, but for all that Snowman holds its own. It was Val Guest's third time directing a Nigel Kneale story and the combination just seems to 'work'. But, unusually for Guest, Snowman does not have quite the breakneck pace that we perhaps associate with other of his works. Instead, Guest controls the story well, drawing out the tension and sense of doom to its maximum, both in the period leading up to the expedition and during it. And in the vast open space of the Himalayas he manages to create an atmosphere of pure claustrophobia as darkness falls, the blizzard descends...and something is out there.

Aiding Guest immensely in this creation of atmosphere is the cinematography of Hammer regular Arthur Grant. In a world of snow and rock the use of black-and-white only aids in conveying the bleakness and otherness of the world into which we are conveyed. Shot in anamorphic widescreen the mountains and snowscapes take on a majestic grandeur, seeming to swallow up the characters. Even though much was shot on interior sets designed by Bernard Robinson they never stand out as obviously so, but through masterful editing blend pretty seamlessly with the location footage to create a coherent and convincing whole. Into such a setting the characters portrayed by Cushing and Tucker are well matched - one the quiet, thoughtful and moral scientist, the other the brash, overconfident, single-minded showman. Conned, perhaps not so unwillingly, into believing the expedition is purely scientific we gradually preceive the growing tension between the two as Cushing realises Tucker is in it for the money and fame. And it is in this growing conflict that we perceive Kneales's ecological thread running throughout the film - the conflict between the care and nurture of the denizens of earth, and their exploitation for greed and profit.

The other cast members provide strong support as the story whirls around these two conflicting characters, particularly Marle's Lama , all-knowing but revealing little. Phil Leakey's makeup effects are used with restraint, which only adds to their efficacy in hinting at the creatures. But it is a mistake to go into Snowman expecting a 'monster movie'. Yes, there are 'monsters' but everything is conveyed through sound, shadow, brief glimpses and, above all, through the fear and paranoia of the protagonists. What is left unseen can be all the more frightening, and Guest applies this to maintain and accentuate the feeling of dread and sheer creepiness. Until, that is, the denouement. Some have felt it was a mistake to show what it does - that it perhaps lessens the mystique of the creatures. However, if Guest was to convey something of their nature then such a revelation was perhaps necessary, even though it may now illicit chuckles from CGI hardened filmgoers. For the rest of us, Snowman remains a little gem; an eerie piece of work that also manages to carry a serious and, for the time, innovative message - though not too obviously on its sleeve. Give The Abominable Snowman a chance and it won't disappoint.

THE VAMPIRE LOVERS (1970)

THE VAMPIRE LOVERS (1970) Review

Who?
Director: Roy Ward Baker
Producers: Harry Fine & Michael Style
Screenplay: Tudor Gates
Cast: Ingrid Pitt, Pippa Steele, Peter Cushing, George Cole, Kate O'Mara, Ferdy Mayne, Douglas Wilmer, Madeline Smith, Dawn Addams, Jon Finch, Harvey Hall, John Forbes-Robertson, Kirsten Betts, Charles Farrell, Janet Key, Shelagh Wilcocks

How?
In 1969 producer Harry Fine conceived the idea of adapting Sheridan Le Fanu's vampire story Carmilla for the screen - in particular emphasising the implicit lesbianism within it. He suggested his partner in Fantale Films Tudor Gates write a story line, and with it they and third partner Michael Styles approached Hammer's James Carreras. Carreras was enthusiastic and a deal was struck, with American AIP being persuaded to finance - attracted it appears by the explicit lesbianism of Gates' story, although they would later have second thoughts. Carreras brought in Ingrid Pitt to lead, who was known from Where Eagles Dare, along with a strong supporting cast of Brtitish actors. Roy Ward Baker was hired to direct, having previously directed three times for Hammer, in particular Quatermass and the Pit. AIP's demand for a star name led to Peter Cushing's involvement. Shooting began at Elstree Studios in 1970 despite ongoing wrangling over the screenplay with both AIP and the British censors.

What?
Baron von Hartog (Wilmer) waits in the mist-shrouded ruins of Karnstein castle, having avenged the death of his family from the Karnstein vampirism. A dreamlike female vampire soon arises and Hartog almost succumbs to her charms, recovering himself  sufficiently to swiftly decapitate her. Forward in time we encounter young 'Mircilla' and her mother, Mircilla being left in the care of General von Spielsdorf (Cushing) and his daughter Laura (Steele) when her mother is suddenly called away. Mircilla quickly befriends Laura, who soon shows signs of sickness, suffering horrific nightmares and growing steadily weaker until she eventually dies. 'Mircilla' disappears, only to appear again as 'Carmilla' when her mother again leaves her with a family, Mr Morton (Cole) and his daughter Emma (Smith). When Morton has to leave, Carmilla and Emma grow closer, Carmilla eventually seducing her while also feeding on her. As Carmilla is torn between love and hunger, and Emma grows steadily weaker, can the governess, the butler and the doctor prevent her death, or will they too succumb to Carmilla? Meanwhile, Laura's father and fiance are out for revenge...and a mysterious man in black looks on...

So?
Those viewing The Vampire Lovers expecting to see a piece of pure exploitation cinema will, no doubt, be disappointed. That's not to say Lovers doesn't have its fair share of sex and violence, but it is also much more. No doubt Hammer and AIP backed it based on its lesbian theme, hoping to cash in on a general loosening of censorship and to tap in to the mood of the times. And without doubt writer Tudor Gates plays up the theme in his screenplay - indeed, even with revisions, he went further than AIP were expecting and the film was to mark the end of their relationship with Hammer. The British censors also reacted strongly to aspects of the screenplay and urged Hammer to tone it down. But it would be a mistake to judge Lovers purely on these grounds - its 'sex' scenes are tame by today's standards. Where Lovers retains its power is in its pure eroticism - the film is suffused with it, thanks mainly to the presence of Ingrid Pitt. Her portrayal of the conflicted Carmilla veers between the monstrous and the pitiful and throughout she exudes an animal-like presence as she stalks the confused, doe-eyed Madeline Smith both for food and love (and indeed when she hunts the doctor through the woods). Kate O'Mara only adds to the mix as she falls under Carmilla's spell.

Much of the film is thus carried on this wave of barely-stifled eroticism, and the plot (such as it is) is thin. But Gates created some truly memorable characters and some wonderful set pieces, such as the spookily effective, dreamlike opening with its explosively violent conclusion. Kirsten Betts' small but significant role here has resulted in one of the iconic images for the film. From that opening Gates tones it down considerably, building tension again slowly, leaving you hanging there until the next explosive release - all building toward the finale as we return to that ruined castle for the final confrontation, an echo of the opening. Gates thus crafted a simple but effective screenplay that director Roy Ward Baker makes the most of. Baker's was a sure hand and he guides the film effectively - a lesser director would no doubt have played up the movie for cheap thrills. Baker, however, crafted a wonderfully atmospheric picture, verging at times on the surreal in its dreamlike Gothic quality, and never allowing it to become purely salacious. Moray Grant's lovingly lingering cinematography aids enormously in this process, and his crew produced some effective set-pieces  - the decapitations, Carmilla's vanishing, the animal nightmares. Of course, Hammer regular Bernard Robinson was a master in set design and his crumbling Karnstein castle stands as a testament to his work - this was to be his last picture.

Credit must be given to to the strong supporting cast, who orbit around Pitt's character. Cushing, while absent for much of the film, is on fine form when returning for the final confrontation. O'Mara's governess and Hall's butler provide an effective double-act as they circle one another warily, and Wilmer's weary but single-minded vampire killer Baron Hartog is memorable. Where the film perhaps falls down is John Forbes-Robertson's 'Man in Black', a mysterious character who pops up occasionally salaciously observing the goings-on. Originally intended to have a fuller role his appearances now are puzzling, but perhaps add to the surreal nature of the piece. Along with his scenes, others were to be trimmed at the behest of the British censors in what was quite a struggle as they coped with how best to implement new forthcoming censorship guidelines. The final film, however, can stand as evidence that Hammer entered the 1970s strongly, retaining the Gothicism for which it was known while adding a new sexuality and violence that had been restricted to it previously. In the hands of Gates and Baker this new cocktail was to prove highly effective. Sadly, Lovers' sequel, Lust for a Vampire, failed to do likewise.

THE OLD DARK HOUSE (1963)

THE OLD DARK HOUSE (1963) Review

Who?
Director: William Castle
Producers: William Castle & Anthony Hinds
Screenplay: Robert Dillon
Cast: Tom Poston, Robert Morley, Janette Scott, Joyce Grenfell, Mervyn Johns, Fenella Fielding, Peter Bull, Danny Green, John Harvey

How?
In 1961 Hammer had planned a remake for Universal of the original The Old Dark House (1932) but had to rethink when they discovered that American producer/director William Castle was also planning a version. The two, however, decided to collaborate on a version for Columbia, a black comedy, with Castle directing at Hammer's Bray Studios. US actor Tom Poston was brought in as lead, having just completed Castle's Zotz! (1962), and an array of English character actors were hired,  including Janette Scott, who would go on almost immediately into filming Hammer's Paranoiac, and Fenella Fielding, later famous as the vamp in Carry on Screaming (1966). Oakley Court doubled as the exterior of the Femm house. Shooting, however, did not go smoothly, being interrupted by a series of electricians' strikes and the picture ran over schedule.

What?
Tom Penderel, an American car salesman in England, delivers a client, Casper Femm's, new car to him at his gambling club. However, Casper insists that he must fly home to his familiy's estate that evening and so Tom must deliver the car there. The estate is a rambling, remote house in the middle of nowhere, letting in rain and falling to pieces. On arrival Tom discovers Casper has died in a mysterious fall and meets the rest of the strange Femm family, all of whom live there - Roderick (a gun collector), the beautiful Cecily, Joyce (a constant knitter), Potipher (who is building and stocking an ark), the man-eating Morgana, her mute, protective father Morgan, and Casper's brother Jasper. Since the car has suffered an accident Tom cannot leave, but nor can the others - each must be on the estate every night or they will lose their share of the inheritance. But someone is determined to get it all and is killing off the members of the family one by one...

So?
William Castle was a master showman and marketer, his films usually featuring a gimmick of some sort,e.g. wiring buzzers to cinema seats for The Tingler (1959) or special glasses with which to see the ghosts in 13 Ghosts (1960). Unfortunately, The Old Dark House had no such gimmick, other than being a teaming of Castle and Hammer, and in truth it could have done with one. Unsure as to what exactly it was meant to be, House is neither truly funny nor truly scary. Castle seemed to have lost his touch with this one. Perhaps it was due to the less than happy filming environment in which he was working at Bray. Or perhaps there was tension between what Hammer and what Castle were expecting. In any case, House never really satisfies. A very loose remake of the 1932 original, the script can be plodding, if at times witty, and Castle's direction too easily slips into slapstick and farce, and the 'twist' can be seen coming a mile off

That being said, House does have some engaging performances from its cast of character actors - Robert Morley makes a suitably eccentric head of the house, Joyce Grenfell is wonderful as the scatterbrained Joyce, and Janette Scott is a very endearing 'heroine' (the actress herself being very relieved to finally have a role wasn't all sweetness and light). The star turn, however, is Fennella Fielding's Morgana, a truly unnerving frustrated man-eater! Unfortunately, Tom Posten's performance is so over-the-top as to eventually become annoying, having a bumbling Abbott and Costello quality to it that doesn't sit well with the rest of the cast or film, Castle obviously being influential in that casting decision. One ends up hoping that Morgana's father would finally get his hands on him. Similarly, Mervyn Johns is simply trying a little too hard at eccentric with his Potipher. Peter Bull is actually one of the genuinely creepy characters with his bug eyes and unearthly manner.

On the plus side, Bernard Robinson's and Don Mingaye's set design is, as expected, excellent. His house has an eccentric, decayed look and feel that one wishes more could have been made of. And the film does have both moments that are quite creepy and others that do raise a laugh. Unfortuntely these are few and far between. That's not to say House is a bad movie. It is innocuous entertainment that easily passes a wet afternoon, and is enjoyably amusing if not outright funny. As a showcase of British character actors of the time it is hard to beat. But it has a feeling of being neither fish nor fowl, and seems to sit uncomfortably in Hammer's catalogue. It just doesn't have that Hammer 'feel'. That sense of being unsure of who exactly it was aimed at carried over into its release. Released uncut in the US in 1963 (although in black and white for monetary reasons) it wasn't until 1966 that it got a UK release, Hammer having struggled with the British censors to get a child-friendly U certificate; a struggle they eventually abandoned and released a heavily cut A version, although in colour. In the end, however, House failed to live up to expectations. Billed as the dream pairing of Hammer and Castle it failed to ignite audiences on either side of the atlantic. As a harmless curiosity in Hammer's cabinet, however, it deserves a viewing.

TASTE THE BLOOD OF DRACULA (1970)

TASTE THE BLOOD OF DRACULA (1970) Review

Who?
Director: Peter Sasdy
Producer: Aida Young
Screenplay: John Elder
Cast: Christopher Lee, Linda Hayden, Anthony Corlan, Geoffrey Keen, John Carson, Peter Sallis, Ralph Bates, Isla Blair, Gwen Watford, Roy Kinnear, Michael Ripper, Martin Jarvis, Russell Hunter

How?
Hammer's 1968 Dracula Has Risen From the Grave was a huge success for the company and James Carreras was determined that they should produce a new Dracula film every year. However, Christopher Lee was becoming increasingly disenchanted with the role, and Hammer reluctant to pay his increasingly higher fee. It was eventually decided to go ahead with a film without Dracula in it and Anthony Hinds ('John Elder') was asked to produce a script. Hinds envisaged a film based on a group of  decadent gents, one of whom drinks the blood of Dracula in a Satanic ritual and thus becomes a vampire himself. Hammer's US partner Warner, however, were not happy and so Lee was reluctantly persuaded to return as the Count, and Hinds hastily fitted him in around the story - the devotee now becomes Dracula humself! Peter Sasdy, who had worked on Hammer's TV series Journey to the Unknown was hired to direct, and the film was shot at Elstree Studios. It was, however, to mark the beginning of the end for Anthony Hinds at Hammer. The film was accused by Kevin Francis of having plagiarised some of his scenes from a rejected script he'd submitted to Hammer, and money had to be paid out before Hammer could release it. Hinds had had enough and left the company a year later.

What?
Commencing where the previous film left off, an English antique dealer travelling through Europe encounters Dracula impaled on the cross and watches as he crumbles to dust. Scooping up some of his blood, and taking the ring and cape, he brings them to his shop in London. Meanwhile a group of respectable London gentlemen are anything but in private, bored and looking for 'extremes' in experience when they make their night outings together. On one of these they encounter a fellow seeker who persuades them to buy Dracula's remains and join him in a satanic ritual to raise the Count to life, which involves the drinking of his reconstituted blood. In the end they balk at this and only he drinks, falling, screaming in agony, to the ground. In terror the others kick him to death and flee. However, from his remains Dracula arises and vows revenge on the men. To do this he intends to feed on and corrupt the men's children and force them to kill their own fathers.

So?
Given the confusion over whether this was to be a Lee picture or not, and his last minute insertion into the screenplay, one might expect Taste to have suffered as a result. On the contrary Taste is one of the more interesting of Hammer's Dracula offerings. The main reason for this is that Anthony Hinds created what is in essence a morality play. The main focus of the story is not really Dracula but the exposing of Victorian hypocrisy and the consequences which flow from such hypocrisy. Hinds' screenplay revels in showing the face of gentlemanly respectability which the three main characters portray to the world, and the seedy flirtation with the forbidden and search for new experiences which they conduct in secret. This is made all the more stark by the puritan morality which they place upon their children. In Hinds' picture such hypocrisy must be punished, and that punishment comes in the form of Lee's Count. But it is not Dracula who punishes directly, it is through his attempted corruption of the three men's children that he fashions the tools for punishment.

Lee's Count, then, does not feature predominantly in the film, and it is all the better for that. When he does appear it is almost as a satanic figure, corrupting, goading, and urging his tools along on his mission of revenge. Lee, of course, had perfected his Dracula to the point where he could do it in his sleep. Here, however, he appears to be disinterested, almost on automatic pilot, which makes his infrequent appearances beneficial.  But the rest of the cast make a splendid job of carrying the story - Geoffrey Keen makes a particularly unsavoury character, with possible connotations of incest against his daughter (Linda Hayden). Peter Sallis' is equally distasteful, being weak, cowardly and ineffectual. John Carson, however, stands out in what becomes almost a heroic role as he realises what the men have done. Of the children, Isla Blair makes a pleasingly immoral vamp, and a young Linda Hayden also stands out, along with future Vampire Circus star Anthony Corlan. The two outstanding performances, however, must be Ralph Bates' corrupted Lord Courtley (who sadly exits much too soon) and Russell Hunter as Felix the brothel keeper - in which may be spied a young Madeline Smith  in her first Hammer role.

Where Taste particularly differs from previous Dracula outings is in the new attitude toward sex and violence being taken by the British censors. Although still cut before release, Taste was the first Hammer film released in the UK that was permitted to show nudity (the infamous brothel scene), and some of the scenes are less 'cartoonishly' violent that we might have been used to. The repulsive blood drinking ceremony would also, no doubt, have not made it through previously. In all, the film has a more 'adult' feel to it than previous pictures. Peter Sasdy keeps the story flowing briskly and there are some nice set pieces - e.g. the initial death of Dracula, the brothel scene, the satanic ceremony - and a generally creepy atmosphere, although the film is city-bound. James Bernard provides a really wonderful score, and the set design is excellent. Where the film does perhaps fall down is in its ending - almost as if Dracula suddenly realises he's been hiding in a church all this time and dies. But this is a minor point in an enjoyable film that is almost a hinge between the previous Draculas and what was to come in Scars, AD 1972 and Satanic Rites. A perhaps underrated member of the series, Taste is unusual and all the better for it.

THE STEEL BAYONET (1957) Review

THE STEEL BAYONET (1957)

Who?
Director: Michael Carreras
Producer: Michael Carreras
Screenplay: Howard Clewes
Cast: Leo Genn, Kieron Moore, Michael Medwin, Robert Brown, Michael Ripper

How?
In 1956 as Quatermass 2 was in post- and The Curse of Frankenstein in pre-production Michael Carreras approached Hammer with a request to film a war picture, Observation Post, written by action novelist and screenwriter Howard Clewes (who would later go on to write Mutiny on the Bounty (1962) and then have his name removed from it). This was to be the first of a small number of Hammer war pictures, and Carreras took on the roles of both producer and director (the first of a small number of features Carreras would  direct for Hammer). Leo Genn, Irish actor Kieron Moore, Michael Medwin and Hammer stalwart Michael Ripper took lead roles, and the film is notable in featuring an early, uncredited appearance by Michael Caine. Filmed entirely on location at the army training area in Aldershot, with British soldiers used as exras, The Steel Bayonet (as it became) is notable in that it was Jack Asher's first film as cinematographer for Hammer (he would go on to shoot the best of Hammer's gothics) and was Hammer's first feature to be shot in widescreen.

What?
In Tunisia in 1943 the decimated and exhausted remains of a British Army Infantry Company commanded by Major Gerrard (Genn) are expecting a period of rest and relaxation. Instead, they are assigned to set up a forward artillary observation post in an abondoned farm close to the German lines, from where they are to direct Allied shelling in advance of a last push for Tunis. They are told to fight to the last man and the last bullet, and Gerrard realises very few, if any, of them will be returning. They are joined by Captain Mead (Moore) who will direct the artillary fire. Finding the farmhouse deserted they set up base and the top of a tall water tower is decided as the location where Mead must spend all day radioing to the British gun crews. It is imperative they are not discovered, but a booby-trapped German body alerts a nearby patrol, who are silently bayoneted. They are missed, however, and soon the German forces are advancing on the farmhouse and Gerrard's men must hold them off for as long as possible.

So?
The Steel Bayonet slipped out almost unnoticed a few weeks after the release of The Curse of Frankenstein, the type of film for which Hammer would become more famous. However, Bayonet deserves a little notice in its own right. Part of a small group of Hammer war films and little known now, Bayonet has at least two claims to fame in the area of cinematography, in its debut of Jack Asher (although not yet in colour) and in its use of widescreen. And it is wonderfully shot, the scenes from the top of the water tower making the most of the widescreen process, and the battle scenes almost immersing one in the conflict. Although shot in England, the use of black and white is a distinct advantage in this regard, conveying the impression of a North African setting very convincingly - the judicious use of a few crickets noises only adding to the illusion. And unlike many war picutres of the period the men actually look as if they have been fighting for months in the desert heat.

Among the performances that of Leo Genn stands out in particular. His portrayal of the war-weary Gerrard, resigned to his fate and yet determined to follow his orders to the end is hugely touching. His love for his men, displayed in moments of kindness and concern within the claustrophic confines of the farm, and his obvious but hiddden distress that he is leading most of them to their deaths, stand at the heart of the film. Kieron Moore as the determined artillary observer gives strong support, as does Michael Ripper with moments of wry humour. The film is full of such moments as the men banter among themselves, attempting to take their minds off the conflict that is looming closer. Among them one is of note, where a hardened soldier, fed up and about to desert, is assigned a new young recruit to look after. After his initial disdain and contempt he gruffly takes him under his wing and teaches him how to survive, thus giving himself a sense of purpose again. Overall, the film features a fine ensemble performance, and the final close-fought battle comes somewhat as a shock, as characters one has grown attached to are coldly dispatched.

It is a feature of Hammer's war pictures that they do not take a gung-ho attitude, and Bayonet is no different. A thoughtful meditation on the themes of honour, friendship, bravery and duty, and yet at times a biting indictment of the savagery and senselessness of war and the cold efficiency of the 'men at the top' moving soldiers like chess pieces, Bayonet is probably Michael Carreras' best picture among his short list as a director for Hammer. In addition to it being their first widescreen picture, Carreras introduced what was probably another first among British war pictures. Rather than speaking English, the German troops speak German and are  subtitled - thus making them more than just an anonymous 'enemy' but individual human beings. Their commanding officer's obvious distress at the slaughter that takes place only helps to emphasise this 'humanising' feature of the film. Bayonet is among Hammer's neglected pictures and, while by no means a masterpiece, fully deserves a little more attention that it so far has received.

THE CURSE OF FRANKENSTEIN (1957)

THE CURSE OF FRANKENSTEIN (1957) Review

Who?
Director: Terence Fisher
Producer: Anthony Hinds
Screenplay: Jimmy Sangster
Cast: Peter Cushing, Christopher Lee, Hazel Court, Robert Urquhart, Valerie Gaunt, Melvyn Hayes, Paul Hardmuth, Fred Johnson, Noel Hood, Michael Mulcaster, Alex Gallier, Claude Kingston, Andrew Leigh, Ann Blake, Sally Walsh, Middleton Woods, Raymond Ray

How?
In 1956 Americans Milton Subotsky and Max Rosenberg, the team behind the future Hammer rivals Amicus, approached Eliot Hyman of Associated Artists Pictures with a screenplay for a film version of Frankenstein which Subtosky had written. Hyman, in turn, took it to Hammer, with whom he had just entered into partnership. Ultimately, Anthony Hinds  liked the concept but disliked the screenplay and so another by Hammer's Jimmy Sangster was accepted -  only Sangster's second such attempt after X the Unknown. Originally intended as a black and white 'quickie' Sangster's script instead inspired a larger colour project. Terence Fisher  was contracted to direct one more picture for Hammer and so got the job almost by default - although Hinds would later insist that he specifically asked for him. Hinds also assembled a fine production crew, the accomplished television actor Peter Cushing was hired to play Frankenstein, and the tall but relatively unknown Christopher Lee his monster. After a battle with the censors over the screenplay, and with the constant spectre of Universal Pictures' copyright lawyers hanging over them, shooting took place in the cramped confines of Bray Studios. Few knew the impact this production would have on the future of Hammer.

What?
While in prison awaiting execution for murder. Baron Victor Frankenstein (Cushing) desperately pleads his innocence to a visiting priest, recounting the story of how he had arrived there... Following the death of his parents, the young Frankenstein advertises for the post of a tutor. The successful candidate is Paul Krempe (Urquhart), and over the following years the two study science together, eventually becoming colleagues rather than teacher and pupil. Frankenstein is fascinated with the mystery of life and following successful experiments in reviving animals, he is intent on accomplishing the same with a human being. Initially unsure, Paul reluctantly helps Frankenstein to steal the body of a hanged man and thus the experiment begins. But growing uneasy with what they are doing, Paul eventually refuses to help Frankenstein any longer, and so he carries on alone - murdering, scheming, cheating and lying to see his creation live and his place in history secured. Meanwhile, Frankenstein's cousin Elizabeth (Court) has arrived to live in the house, their marriage long arranged. Paul, however, fears for her safety and desperately tries to convince her to leave.With his creation alive and murderous, his maid threatening blackmail, Paul seeking to stop him, and Elizabeth growing ever more curious Frankenstein has indeed created a monster, one that even he is powerless to stop...

So?
Any attempt to write on The Curse of Frankenstein does so under the weight of history. The film is a seminal picture both in terms of the history of Hammer and that of the genre in general. It marked a turning point for Hammer, a turn toward Gothic horror that would forever identify the company. For that reason alone Curse is an important film. But thankfully Curse is also a fine film in its own right, mainly due to the masterful crew assembled. Figures such as Terence Fisher (director), Anthony Hinds (producer), Jimmy Sangster (screenplay), Jack Asher (cinematography), Bernard Robinson (production design), and James Bernard (music) were to figure prominently in Hammer's future Gothic horrors, and Curse set the tone in each of these areas for what was to follow. Fisher has often be noted for his 'safe' direction, but in Curse that only plays to its advantage - it tells a story simply and it tells it well, allowing it to slowly unfold and the characters to develop. Through Fisher's direction Curse becomes a human story rather than a mere 'monster movie'. His direction never intrudes, but always gives the impression of an audience 'looking in' on the drama unfolding, which in Curse works perfectly, human drama that it is. And Fisher's love of detail and colour is given full reign here, creating some striking imagery such as the laboratory scenes, Frankenstein's graverobbing, and the creature's appearances in the autumnal woods.

And what a story the film tells. Sangsters script is sparkling, focusing not on Frankenstein's creation, but the on the creator himself, and the moral and philosophical questions his experiments raise, while at the same time ensuring the story is a damn good romp. There is no rush to introduce the creation, and so the creature, while central, does not dominate and overwhelm the film. And while there are holes in the plot, one is so carried along by the story as to not notice or not care. Jack Asher's cinematography here set the tone for future Hammer gothics - lush, vibrant and done with great skill and care (which ultimately lost Asher his place at Hammer as they sought a more time and cost conscious alternative). His concern with colour, and with a sense of the surreal, compliments Robinson's set designs perfectly, as they too revel in colour, lushness and vibrancy, not to mention the similar care and detail given to wardrobe by Molly Arbuthnot. The film, despite being shot on a relatively small budget, never looks cheap, a feature which Hammer became noted for and which others attempted, but too often failed to replicate. Nor does it sound so - after sterling work on the Quatermass films and X the Unknown James Bernard's score for Curse, created with very few musicians but sounding like twice as many, was to define the sound of 'Hammer horror' from then on. Rich, lush and capturing the mood and pace of the picture perfectly.

But what really raises Curse above the norm are the performances of its lead actors, in particular Peter Cushing.  The film truly belongs to him, for the utter seriousness with which he takes his role. Cushing laid the foundation for his portrayal of Baron Frankenstein in this picture - all the elements are there that would be developed in various ways in later films. His single-mindedness to the point of obsession; his utter, ruthless disregard for human life while at the same time trying to unravel its mysteries; his incredible energy; and above all his unique charm, allowing him to manipulate and cajole those around him to do his will. Cushing's portrayal of Frankenstein was fresh and innovative and has become iconic - a masterful study in character development. Cushing is ably supported by Urquhart, Court and Gaunt, and Lee's portrayal of the monster manages to be both frightening and pitiful, mainly through the use of his eyes and bodily movement. Phil Leakey's makeup necessitated this, and Leakey must be commended for creating  a whole new 'look' for the creature, one which owed nothing to Universal's block-headed creation. While publicity posters took some of the 'shock' of the unveiling away slightly, Fisher's direction and Asher's camerawork ensure it still packs a punch even now.

While Curse may not be the best in the series (that honour may arguably go to Frankenstein Must Be Destroyed) it did set the bar for what was to follow. Being the first British horror film, and the first treatment of Frankenstein, in colour, audiences loved it, having never seen anything quite like it before. The censors hated it and it marked the beginning of Hammer's constant battle with them. Rivals immediately rushed in to try and replicate its look and feel, never quite successfully. Most importantly for Hammer, it made money - ensuring that it would be but the first in a long line of gothic horrors, some more successful than others but all helping to create what Hammer became synonymous for, despite their rich productions in other areas. As such, The Curse of Frankenstein is a must-see Hammer production, but one which is also hugely enjoyable. And whether enjoyed as a study in human obsession, a meditation on the dangers of uncontrolled scientific experimentation, or just as a fun all-out monster romp, The Curse of Frankenstein, while patchy in places, will ultimately not disappoint.