PLAGUE OF THE ZOMBIES (John Gilling, 1966)

 

A gang of ruffians and a rash of mysterious deaths frighten villagers into a malignant malaise, fearing bubonic consequences and bombastic recriminations. Hammer’s foray into the territory of the walking dead is a tale of majestic magic defeated by stoic science.

Sir James Forbes (Andre Morell) is a world-renowned doctor who receives a disturbing postcard from his star pupil, now serving in a small village. He and his daughter Sylvia (Diane Clare) pay a surprise visit to the young doctor Peter Tompson (Brook Williams) and discover a town infested with a deadly plague. But this plague is caused not by bacteria but witchcraft, and it doesn’t destroy human tissue but reanimate it. Though the zombies aren’t revealed en-force until the denouement, the film contains a very disturbing plot twist: when Dr. Tompson’s wife dies, he must battle his emotions and perform an autopsy upon her! With the help of his esteemed colleague, science must eclipse human nature in search of the cause and effect.

The nemesis is revealed early in the film, Squire Hamilton (John Carson) a despicable man with the charm of a dictator, so when the final conflict arises, we expect him to receive his comeuppance. But his foolproof plan proves to be foolhardy, killing innocents and raising them as zombies to work in his tin mine. The undead are barely coordinated enough to walk, let alone utilize tools at a significant pace. The zombies are motivated by the savage whip but it’s difficult to understand the effect with creatures who feel no pain, who only work from electrical impulses that shock their lifeless muscles. The Baron could have hired itinerant laborers at minimum wage without healthcare and been much more successful!

Final Grade: (B)

TO THE DEVIL...A DAUGHTER (Peter Sykes, 1976)

 

Sister Catherine is a victim of her own innocence: raised in an isolated conclave, she is deceived into worshipping the Lord of Lies, a Lovecraftian horror whose fate is attached like an umbilical vein full of brackish hemoglobin. Director Peter Sykes deftly evokes the eerie specter of Roman Polanski’s classic ROSEMARY’S BABY while inflicting the narrative with the devilishness of William Friedkan’s THE EXORCIST: unfortunately, Sykes loses focus, and the tense drama devolves into hysterical theatrics.

Richard Widmark is the occult writer John Verney who attempts to save Catherine from the hellish Cult; led by a wonderfully one-dimensional Christopher Lee as the excommunicated priest Michael Rayner, whose leering close-ups and searing eyes reflect the Elder horror that awaits the naïve teenager. Nastassja Kinski is the waifish nun soon to be claimed by her fiery mentor, her womb filled with the creeping flesh of nightmare, her pallid beauty corrupted by Astaroth, a Prince of Hell. Sykes is able to sustain the suspense for most of the film as Catherine is subdued and secreted away by Verney while Rayner’s black magic seeks his god’s puerile bride.

The film opens with a splash of colors upon a church floor, like Yahweh’s rainbow promise prismed through the stained-glass windows, then cutting to Rayner’s demented soliloquy as he’s diminished by the wooden cross: this beautifully forebodes a supernatural dread of lustful and selfish deeds. Sykes’s use of crosscutting, especially during the birthing scene, as a bloody fetus carves itself unseen from its mother’s womb to Catherine thrashing about in pain (ecstasy?) in her unknown dreamworld. But two scenes in particular are riotously faulty and one occurs shortly after this episode, as Verney attempts to calm her: we are shown a demonic presence haunting a broken mirror…but it looks like a grinning Elmo. The other scene ruins the final act as the aforementioned infant is sacrificed for Astaroth, so the blood can summon the Hell child to crawl into Catherine’s womb, creating an infernal pregnancy…but it again looks like a sinister Elmo slathered in ketchup.

What could have been a despicable scenario of dark magic turns gut-wrenchingly laughable. Finally, Verney defeats the diabolical Rayner having discovered the Grimoire of Astaroth, and with blood and stone saves the nubile Catherine from certain damnation.

Final Grade: (B-)

BLOOD FROM THE MUMMY'S TOMB (Seth Holt, 1971)

 

An archeological expedition collects a buxom queen frozen in time, a nameless evil set free by a scientist’s thirst for knowledge…and power. Though Hammer promotes this as a classic Mummy flick, it eschews genre conventions and reveals the beautiful Valerie Leon in a dual role as the busty inhabitant of the Egyptian tomb and the nubile yet inquisitive daughter of Prof. Fuchs, who is repossessed by the seven deadly sins. Director Seth Holt’s formulaic production is ripe with interesting compositions, dramatic acting, rubbery special effects, and the inspiring cleavage of his leading lady: everything that makes a Hammer film rise above the typical genre dreck.

Prof. Fuchs (Andrew Keir) gives his daughter an ancient ring for her birthday, taken from the severed hand of the perfectly preserved “mummy” who sleeps the sleep of undeath in his locked chambers: a mere scientific anomaly requiring his analytical skills or something more? Sexual obsession? Or is he a pawn to supernatural powers, kinetic forces beyond his understanding? Margaret (Valerie Leon) discovers her father’s deadly secret and soon the other members of the expedition are being systematically murdered, each in possession of one of three familiars originally housed in Queen Tara’s tomb. Margaret is soon responsible for collecting these items, haunted by the baying of ghostly hounds, herself a fatal premonition. She gains power as the Queen comes closer to life, subsumed by the rise of the Egyptian Matriarch who seeks vengeance for those who disturbed her final rest.

Hammer’s set designs are wonderfully authentic for a genre flick, utilizing its low budget to great effect. Though the action remains indoors with few establishing shots, this helps create a claustrophobic tension that builds the story to a rather mundane climax. The use of close-ups of shredded throats and hands fulfills expectations but fortunately isn’t the focus: in other words, suspense is the main course while the gore remains a delectable dessert. It’s also nice to see homage to the great horror director Tod Browning with an evil character “borrowing” his name!

Finally, the roar of the Great Bear creates a mystical nexus that allows the Egyptian Princess to rise once again to dominate this modern world, but the love of a crippled father and the inner strength of his daughter silence this despicable overture.

Final Grade: (C)

THE MUMMY (Terence Fisher, 1959)

 

Karnak is a nearly forgotten Egyptian deity, his murderous worshipper fueling the vengeful god’s wrath: a shambling and forlorn Priest relegated to undeath for a forbidden love. Hammer brings another Universal icon back from the dead, as Terence Fisher’s practical direction propels this adventurous tale into a suspenseful second act and explodes with a frightening denouement that is surprisingly compassionate.

The film begins in the scorching desert heat of Egypt amid the burning passion of obsession, as Stephen Banning and son John, sidelined with a broken leg, uncover that obscure object of archeological desire: the tomb of Princess Ananka. But a local mystic Mehemet Bey who still carries the torch for this anachronistic god warns them of their folly. Soon, science must accept and combat the paranormal, as a four-thousand-year-old creature lurks from its secret doom to destroy those responsible for disturbing the sacred burial tomb of its lover.

The set designs and costumes are wonderful: the Princess’ tomb is aglow with green mood lighting, walls etched with meaningless but artful hieroglyphics, her sarcophagus a prop that is a work of art itself, and the colorful garments that may not be historically accurate but pop off the screen in urgent primary colors. Even John Banning’s folder is laden with beautiful sketches that capture the sculptured visage of leading lady Yvonne Ferneaux, whose physical duplicity transcends the centuries. Peter Cushing’s stoically intellectual persona imbues his character with scientific heroism, and George Pastell is gleefully evil as the Egyptian magician. But the real star is Christopher Lee, who is revisited through flashbacks but is able to impart a tortured compassion through those big brown eyes, swathed in mangled bandages, a human being now cursed by the god he once worshipped…a victim of love.

As the mummy sinks to its watery grave grasping the well-preserved Scroll of Life, it’s the power of Lee’s mostly obscured performance that allows the audience to feel pity for its cruel fate.

Final Grade: (B+)

FRANKENSTEIN CREATED WOMAN (Terence Fisher, 1967)

 

Two lovers become victims of their physical and emotional deformities; their souls united in a vengeful desire. Terence Fisher resurrects the egoistic Baron Victor Frankenstein whose search for immortality results in a crisis of morality.

Frankenstein (Peter Cushing) is the subject of his own experiment, trapping the soul inside the body for an hour after his death. He is shocked back to life by his bewildered assistant Dr. Hertz (Thorley Walters) and his youthful handyman Hans (Robert Morris). The young man is in love with the tormented Christina (Susan Denberg), her physical deformity resulting in humiliation and rejection in the cloistered community. Through a series of violent events, Hans is unjustly convicted of the murder of Christina’s father and beheaded: she commits suicide in remorse. Of course, Frankenstein gets hold of both corpses and captures their souls, combining them in the physically altered body of Christina, who is now a smokin’ hot babe. Hans has now penetrated her once again, this time deep into her soul, and their combined memory seeks to balance the scales of Justice.

Fisher’s narrative economy sets the film in motion from the first scene, as the child Hans witnesses his father’s execution. He then cuts to the present tense where Dr. Hertz and the older Hans complete Baron’s grand experiment. The set designs are vintage Hammer with giant electrodes spewing electricity, steam belching forth from pipes and growling from infernal machinery. The film’s 88-minute run time cuts too many corners, never explaining how Hans/Christina discovered the identity of the murderer and becomes mired in the perplexing accoutrement of Han’s severed head (and why it wouldn’t be decomposed months later!). Instead of an emotional journey of self-discovery amid the mystery of human identity, the film evolves into a mere revenge thriller. The premise is very fascinating, and it would have been interesting to ponder Hans’ predicament, forever enshrined in the body he recently seduced. But this is a Hammer film concerned with genre (not gender) conventions. Peter Cushing’s performance is exceptional, imbuing the Baron with a condescending and impatient attitude, belittling the impudent citizens who stand in the way of science! The dissociative protagonist finally completes their three tasks and seeks the final rest denied them, plunging into troubled waters.

Final Grade: (B+)

THE EVIL OF FRANKENSTEIN (Freddie Francis, 1963)

 

A mute outcast’s silent scream thaws the Baron’s heart and his frozen mass of patchwork flesh. Freddie Francis neglects the original chapter in the Frankenstein oeuvre and reinvents the creature’s origin and its creator’s apparent demise, even reconfiguring the monster’s visage to resemble the iconic Universal avatar.

Baron Frankenstein (Peter Cushing) and his assistant Hans (Sandor Eles) rebuild the fractured laboratory in the now forsaken castle, spurned by locals and cursed by their immoral oaths. They are chased into the mountains and find solace with another outcast Rena (Katy Wild), a beautiful young lady who is bullied because of her physical handicap: she is deaf and mute. By chance (or just poor writing) her cave is next to the spot where the creature was frozen in time, held in stasis in a timeless glacier. Once thawed, the damaged brain cannot function and the baron seeks out the help of Zoltan (Peter Woodthorpe), to hypnotize and ignite the spark of life in the fractured convolutions of its brain. But Zoltan retains control of the hulking harbinger and utilizes its strength and stealth to get rich quickly. The film’s title becomes a misnomer because it’s Zoltan’s intentions that are corrupt, while the Baron only wishes to heal his monstrous child. I suppose THE EVIL INTENTIONS OF ZOLTAN just doesn’t quite fit the Frankenstein cannon.

The Baron’s ethical dilemma is to put science above faith, to mold and create instead of kowtowing to an imaginary and facetious god: therefore, the Baron himself (and Homo Sapiens) is a malignant conglomeration of disparate biology assembled by a deranged mind of an omnipotent child. Zoltan remains the one culpable for the deaths though it is the protagonist who is held responsible, whereas the creature is only a construct seemingly without original sin.

Freddie Francis’ directs the film but his influence upon the cinematography is dramatic, utilizing deep focus that juggles multiple characters and actions in Scope compositions. Francis propels the story along with few establishing shots and expunges exposition for the sake of pacing. The laboratory design is prototypical, with large Tesla coils vomiting electricity and giant globes full of blue energy, becoming a place where another kind of Arc brings life to a lifeless void.

Final Grade: (B)

THE CURSE OF FRANKENSTEIN (Terence Fisher, 1957)

 

The thirst for knowledge is slaked with blood, as science unleashes the power of creation without morality, the deadly chemistry of human nature set ablaze by the fire from the gods. Hammer Films resurrects Mary Shelley’s creation in vivid color, a story whose half-life is as modern as the fallout from the Atomic Age, a prescient parable that spans time: though set in Victorian England, its message looms as large as the disfigured victims of Oppenheimer’s folly.

Terence Fisher directs this exciting and Technicolor nightmare, pitting Baron Victor Frankenstein 9Peter Cushing) against his mentor Paul Krempe (Robert Urquhart), their conflict not only an ethical dilemma but an undercurrent of unrequited obsession. Once Victor crosses the line by murdering to achieve his goals, Paul distances himself from his cohort but remains attached in emotional bondage to the lovely Elizabeth (Hazel Court), whom he wishes to spare from her husband’s moral cruelty. Paul is ever the gentleman, never crossing social boundaries himself, the scientist who reveres the selflessness of his work, opposed to the selfishness of Victor, whose Promethean egoism is his eventual downfall.

The film begins in a dungeon cell where the walls weep viscous tears, a raving Victor averring his innocence of the crime for which he was convicted. The story then becomes a flashback, and like every criminal tale it becomes exculpatory, unbelievable, and desperate. His punishment carries a conspiratorial sense of Justice: he pleads his innocence for Justine’s murder and it’s true that the creature (which has conveniently dissolved) strangler her to death, yet he sent her to this gruesome end. But Victor is too blinded by science to believe his own guilt, blaming instead his damaged creation, intellectually crippled by Paul’s interference. The story becomes a pretext for mankind’s toying in the clockwork of heavenly conception, unwinding the springs of electric impulse and restarting our tick-tock hearts. But it can also be seen as a Cold War parable of unleashing the atom, a power now beyond control, feared knowledge now spread like a virus among political psychopaths.

Christopher Lee projects a deep sadness and self-loathing as the nameless creature, his madness beyond control and deserving of compassion. When the creature is first revealed, Fisher trucks the camera in quickly for a startling close-up, recreating a demented version of John Ford’s dramatic introduction of John Wayne in the classic STAGECOACH! In another unnerving scene, Victor excitedly shares his success with Paul (who believed the experiment destroyed) and the creature, collapsed like an abused animal, suddenly hides its face in shame, revealing intelligence and self-enlightenment. Then Victor begins his dehumanization by barking orders, treating it worse than the dog he revived earlier in the story. Finally, Victor’s ultimate search for a head results in the loss of his own. Or does it?

Final Grade: (A)

DRACULA HAS RISEN FROM THE GRAVE (Freddie Francis, 1968)

 

Two men must discard the nihilistic pantheon of the void and grasp the sharp edge of true faith because their very souls are at stake. Director Freddie Francis focuses his cinematic talent upon the seductive Count and his virginal bloodletting, telling a tale of ravenous sexuality and revenge.

The story begins with blood-soaked hemp that rings the chimes at midnight, when death rattles it last breath upon a frightened village. The nameless Priest is lost in the shadow of doubt, consumed by Dracula’s castle that still looms above the town like a deadly sentinel, a beacon of evil in the starless night. When the regional Monsignor visits, he must put the fear to final rest, and he and the Priest hike towards the malignant edifice with a cross to bear. The Priest can go no further and succumbs to his sickening fear, while the Monsignor claims the unhallowed ground in the name of The Lord with a giant crucifix. A storm causes the Priest to stumble upon his rocky descent, both spiritual and physical, and spills his faithless blood (by chance) into the mouth of Dracula, held in a frozen stasis.

Dracula has now risen not so much from the grave (he wasn’t buried) but from a frozen pond, with the Priest as his human lackey. The fanged antagonist seeks revenge on the Monsignor for consecrating the isolated castle and tracks him down to raise Hell. A subplot involves the Monsignor’s daughter Maria and her affair with a baker’s son Paul, an avowed atheist who worships upon the altar of scientific method, creating a religious melodrama. Dracula easily seduces and infects the buxom tavern wench Zena who has a crush on Paul and uses her to lure Maria to her everlasting doom.

The story is infused with lascivious humor, such as the scene when a drunken Paul is helped into bed by Zena, who begins to kiss and unzip his pants when Maria appears unannounced. The look of sexual frustration upon Zena’s face is priceless, and she makes no apologies about her libidinous intentions. The film is ripe with sexuality as Dracula sucks the life from Zena and seduces Maria, taking her virginity and tainting her body. Paul still doesn’t believe in the Almighty so when he drives a wooden stake through Dracula’s heart, it has no effect. Together, he and the Priest must make amends (and amens!) with their god to destroy him once and for all. That is, until the next movie.

Final Grade: (B)

DRACULA: PRINCE OF DARKNESS (Terence Fisher, 1966)

 

Four travelers spurn the advice of locals and seek refuge in the nameless castle, its corridors haunted by a mysterious ronin. Director Terrance Fisher relies on cliché and trite characterizations utilizing typical genre gestures without aplomb. Unfortunately, Dracula descends towards hilarity instead of horror.

The two couples are ignorant bourgeoisie on a vacation from England, their personalities abrasive and condescending creating no emotional fission to power the narrative. Andrew Keir as Father Sandoval is the only interesting character, a mad monk who derides the villagers for their crass heresy but jumps at the chance of staking his holy claim. Keir infuses the priest with a Shakespearean megalomania, teetering on the brink of camp and cantankerousness. Christopher Lee as the undead Prince remains silent in his unholy role, his bloodshot eyes and Cheshire grin full of malice. He stalks each character with a dramatic intensity, his visage often hidden behind his caped appendage. Thorley Walters as Ludwig, the Renfield-like assistant, offers a crazed performance more comedic than tragic but is colorful, nonetheless.

The plot is full of more holes than the protagonist’s necks, and the editing choppy and confusing. The couples act so stupidly that they deserve their fate, and when they sit down to a strange dinner served by a gruesome servant it is funny when he plaintively states that he still serves his master, Dracula. The castle sports the worst secret door ever, “hidden” behind a hanging tapestry that flaps easily in the breeze. There is a neat murder scene where a man’s blood is used to raise the demon Prince, his throat slashed and drained into a Christopher Lee-sized mold. But the awful SPFX makes the congealing vampire look like a ball of silly putty.

The final act is a morass, employing a static chase across the fields of Transylvania that is supposed to push the heroes towards exhaustion but only takes a few moments of screen time. They arrive at the castle’s moat and corner the Count (I suppose daylight doesn’t bother him?). I'm not sure how water freezes in the summer so here the ending really skates upon thin ice.

Final Grade: (C-)

THE BRIDES OF DRACULA (Terence Fisher, 1960)

A mother feeds voluptuous vixens to her insatiable progeny; a son kept in bondage, forever young, and unable to fly the coup…so to speak. Terence Fisher’s sequel to Hammer’s DRACULA is an adventurous tale of vampirism masquerading as sexual addiction, ripe with a homoerotic and incestuous riptide, where feminism suffers a crushing defeat at the hands of a seductive man.

Marianne is a teacher sidetracked on her journey to a private school, her fiery tresses and alluring accent arousing the libidos of nearly every man…and the jealousies of women. She accepts an offer to spend the night in a foreboding castle and out of pity, releases a venereal disease upon the local community. But Dr. Van Helsing arrives secure in his science and faith to cure this rampant infection. The bloodthirsty Baron turns on his own mother, and in one touching scene Helsing releases her from damnation so she can finally rest in peace, her sins forgiven by a higher authority.

The Baron surrounds himself with ashen faced vixens and his human servant Greta, who doesn’t suffer the aversion to the cross. One creepy scene involves padlocks falling off the coffin of the newly deceased Gina, who rises and apologizes to Marianne for having kissed her fiancé the Baron, then advances upon her for her own delightful foreplay. Helsing’s momentary victory leads them all to a windmill, where he is tainted by the vampire and cauterizes the wound, washing away the curse with holy water. Why doesn’t he die (and rise) immediately like the others?

The confrontation in the ghostly windmill is a tour-de-force ending, as Van Helsing’s faith overpowers any shadow of a doubt.

Final Grade: (B+)