The Curse of Frankenstein

 

The Curse of Frankenstein

Director ~ Terence Fisher

Writers ~ Jimmy Sangster

1957 ~ UK

Stars ~ Peter Cushing, Hazel Court, Robert Urquhart, Christopher Lee

Although Hammer had taken the success of ‘The Quatermass Experiment’ as a hint that they should move into horror as a moneymaker, ‘The Curse of Frankenstein’ set the agenda. Peter Cushing, Christopher Lee, updating Universal monsters, Terence Fisher directing and Jimmy Sangster writing, sumptuous set design by Bernard Robinson, Jack Asher’s cinematography, salaciousness and a lash of gore all went to make up Bray Studio’s Hammer Horror brand. Although it sounds like a sequel, ‘The Curse of Frankenstein’ is Hammer’s first Gothic Monster, the first British horror film in colour and Fisher makes sure you know it, whether it’s Cushing blue eyes, the multi-coloured liquids in the lab or a somewhat unnecessary close-up of a luxurious dressing gown. 

Mary Shelly’s novel is the landmark in the creation of the genres of horror and science-fiction, teen fiction and body horror, written when she was nineteen. Famously, it was the result of a writing competition between her, Lord Byron and Percy Shelley in the Summer of 1816. Its themes are of existential angst, societal rejection, ambition and responsibility, ego and empathy, running from parental obligation, victimhood and revenge, male ego, the patriarchy’s fear/disgust/misunderstanding of a woman’s ability to give birth (seeing it as a challenge to usurp), and others. All the earliest adaptations forgo the eloquence of the creature if not the suffering, and in this adaption, Jimmy Sangster takes full-blown liberties with Shelley’s seminal novel as others have. He makes it not about the whimpering, cruel rejection of your creation, but abusing it into sublimation, robbing it of agency, humiliating and tampering with it at your whim. Rather than an odyssey, this is a chamber piece about a narcissistic baron, his laboratory, his disapproving best friend and his unaware fiancé – in that order.

The first pairing of life-long friends Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee. Cushing is fantastic, able to exude charm even through his selfishness and mercenariness. Cushing’s ability to treat the fantastical and tosh with sincerity cannot be undervalued. The step into confrontational colour gore is nicely declared with Cushing smearing blood on his jacket (and a find symbol for his bloody obsessive nature). Unlike his co-star Paul Krempe, Cushing thoroughly embraced this in Hammer, seeing it as a fairy-tale world. Cinematographer Jack Asher can be greatly credited with the whole look of Hammer, and certainly the precise colour from the startling close-up bright blue of Cushing’s eyes to that jacket bloodstain turning pink over time. But this is not to forget production designer Bernard Robinson, whose laboratory set is surely as iconic as Whale’s 1931 version. 

Lee’s performance is perhaps a revelation, forgoing the charisma and elegance that would later give him such presence for the clumsy, lumbering coordination of the monster. There is a pathetic uncoordinated physicality that he was not called upon to deliver or necessary after the malevolent baritone elegance of his ‘Dracula’. To avoid being prosecuted by Universal, Le’s creature make-up designed by Phil Leakey is a world away from the iconic, brilliant and cartoonish Jack Pierce designed Karloff visage: Leakey’s make-up is true to the report of being taken from a hanged man whose been ravaged by the birds. It is a performance that dominates despite its comparatively brief screentime due to that nasty make-up and Lee’s natural commanding aura.

Otherwise, Krempe gives a solid but uninspired performance as Victor’s mentor, there is a young Melvyn Hayes, a sultry Valerie Gaunt and a charming Hazel Court, exuding warmth and turning what little she has as Victor’s cousin-fiancé into a sympathetic character. It is through her that the era’s repression of female autonomy and patriarchy’s dominance come through.

Hammer’s novelty was to highlight that, make no mistake, Victor Frankenstein is the true villain with the creature the jigsaw manifestation of his ugliness, forced into life. And despite the presumed finality of the ending, it is Cushing’s Frankenstein that made for a franchise. From a reported budget of £65,000 ‘The Curse of Frankenstein’ made a box office of $8 million, a success that led to Hammer’s Gothic Horror agenda and seven Frankenstein sequels. Jack Asher said that Fisher only did two takes due to Hammer’s demanding scheduling. When taken into consideration, this conveys just how punk, professional and talented this team was to produce such performances, elegance and influential horror.

The Legend of the 7 Golden Vampires

The Legend of the Seven Golden Vampires

七金屍

Directors – Roy Ward Baker & Cheh Chang

Writers – Don Houghton, Bram Stoker

1974, UK-Hong Kong

Stars – Peter Cushing, David Chiang, Julie Ege

 

From the moment that Dracula decides to possess the form of the minion that has awoken him from his tomb (Huh?), it’s evident that logic – internal or otherwise – won’t be Hammer’s last Dracula’s strong point. Then Peter Cushing is Van Helsing, teaching vampire history to a Chinese university class. They aren’t impressed (a moment that asks more than one question: he’s been invited to whitesplain? They walk out, but why did they choose and attend the lecture in the first place? Van Helsing doesn’t have any evidence but believes it anyway? How on earth would he know the details? So he battled Dracul a hundred years ago? What kind of university is this?). And it’s true that Van Helsing really isn’t needed on the following vampire-killing mission, although he is convinced to join a Chinese student and his siblings on a mission to rid the student’s village of the curse of golden vampires - one of the seven is already destroyed/dead, which kind of crimps the title from the start. And also these vampires and minions are pretty easy to kill.

John Forbes-Robertson makes for an unimposing Dracula (again: who can apparently body-swap-possess now?) and Robin Stewart is a little embarrassing as Van Helsing’s son when fighting alongside serious martial artists. Speaking of which: none of the kick-ass brothers get anything to say, although as a girl and therefore a love interest, the sister does.

 

Rather, it’s the Shaw Brothers studio Hong Kong Kung-fu half that wins out in this mash-up as the Hammer Horror side is lazy and weak. However, the mass fights are fun if dated, the weapons look plastic (especially those axes… oh, and the ridiculous bat-medallion thingies), and the traditional Chinese hopping vampires don’t seem to be really trying. More successful are the vampires that ride at night, raiding villages for female victims and gratuitous exploitation toplessness, giving off a decidedly ‘Blind Dead’ vibe; and even better are the zombie minions rising from the graves. Otherwise, It’s up to Cushing to reliably deliver the exposition and bad dialogue with a gravitas it doesn’t deserve, and the charm of David Chiang and Julie Ege to carry it all (although she does nothing). It’s all very comic-booky, with the primary colours, occasional vista and Asian setting as bonuses. A curio it may be, but it doesn’t really deliver much more than a “Wha…?!” Doesn’t make a lick of sense: goofy fun but not good.

 

The Devil Rides Out

 

Terence Fisher

UK, 1968

Screenplay: Richard Matheson

A Hammer highpoint, from its vivid opening credits ‘The Devil Rides Out’ hits the ground running and careens along with the pacing of a tense thriller. Richard Matheson – always a reliable voice – streamlines and improves on Dennis Wheatley’s original tale of the diabolical (he even sent Matheson a thank you note). 

Christopher Lee as Duc de Richleau presides over all, such a mammoth presence that they have to send him off for research just to let the other characters do their thing. Lee’s air of superiority and arrogance remain, as with any of his villainous roles, but here every “You fool!” is offset with a little doubt and vulnerability too. There’s the aura of a repressed warmth. It’s there from the first scene where he smiles to himself when watching his friend fly in, or the simple fact that he does all this to save his friend. Whereas Peter Cushing’s earnestness is casually convincing and brings gravitas and credibility to the absurdities, Lee seems like he would slap it into you. He is hellbent that you take this seriously, even as some of the dialogue, out of context, could be unintentionally funny; even when a shocking reveal is chickens in a basket, or trying to stave off the apparition of a black man, and even when the effects are less than stellar. For every telling delivery of a line about how his friend should take any of his cars, there’s Lee barking when answering the phone.

To counterpoint, Charles Gray is great casting as Mocata, Richleau’s flipside who oozes privilege and arrogance and carves his place as Lee’s superior effortlessly, as sinister as Lee is brash.

The classism and patriarchy are deeply ingrained in everything. Every man speaks to the women with a certain condescension. The accent of the English gentry is good for that. This is about two men of a certain age and class playing out their games of Good and Evil on the younger generation (Youth: don’t meddle with adult things you can’t hope to understand). But it’s the innocence of childhood that thwarts the forces of darkness, however much the adults flounder about. However, Sarah Lawson does get a central celebrated scene, dealing with a visit from Mocata, and Nike Arrighi as Tanith has all the mystery as a seeming conduit for Morcata. It’s decidedly old-fashioned and as Patrick Mower says (in the Studio Canal release’s extras) they felt it was so at the time, but he now sees it as aging well. It’s become a cult classic.

 

It has several memorable set pieces: the rescue from the Black Mass; the car chase in antique vehicles; Mocata’s hypnotism attack on Marie Eaton in a plush lounge;, and, of course, a night spent in a protective circle enduring a supernatural assault. And of course, the reputation of ‘The Devil Rides Out’ is that the effects let it down, but the strength of the story and execution makes the imagination compensation for what’s lacking. For my money, The Goat of Mendes hits the mark: simple but eerie.

And it has an ending that kind of ignores all the bad that’s gone on so that things can be idyllic again, which certainly seems in keeping with religious denialism. It’s a bit of an anti-climax: Richleau really doesn’t do anything, and the devil worshippers just wait for the recital that’ll bring about their demise to finish. But it’s true that the Hammer Horror feel, which Terence Fisher established from the start with ‘The Curse of Frankenstein’, is that the excellent production and art design by Bernard Robinson, James Bernard bombastic score, some old-fashioned Englishness and the pure insistence of moodiness overcomes any obvious weaknesses. (I like the observatory.) With a swift pace and consistently dispensing with memorable set pieces, ‘The Devil Rides Out’ is great occult entertainment.