by Steve Habrat
Over the past four years, the once-glorious production company Hammer Films has been slowly trying re-establish itself in the horror genre. From the 1950s through the early-1970s, Hammer enjoyed financial and critical success with gothic horror films such as The Curse of Frankenstein, Horror of Dracula, and many more terrifying classics that have amassed legions of devoted fans over the years. By the late-1970s, Hammer’s popularity had started to diminish, and the company slowly faded from the public’s eye. After many years of silence, Hammer Films returned in 2010 with Let Me In, a spooky remake of the celebrated 2008 Swedish film, Let the Right One In. Between 2010 and 2012, Hammer released two smaller films before returning to the mainstream with The Woman in Black, another eerie release that suggested that the company still had a few terrifying ghouls kicking around in their cobwebbed crypts. After another two-year wait, Hammer continues its comeback campaign with The Quiet Ones, a stale haunted house thriller that clumsily attempts to run with the countless other “found-footage” horror movies that have been quickly churned out. Though The Quiet Ones may not be as scary as recent supernatural offerings like Insidious, The Innkeepers, The Conjuring, or Oculus, the film is executed with plenty of chiaroscuro elegance, and it reveals that star Jared Harris was born to be a member of the Hammer family—one that consisted of gentlemanly greats like Peter Cushing, Christopher Lee, and Oliver Reed.
The Quiet Ones picks up in Oxford, 1974, with Professor Joseph Coupland (played by Jared Harris) enlisting the help of a student cameraman by the name of Brian McNeil (played by Sam Claflin) to help with an unorthodox experiment being conducting on campus. The experiment involves a young girl named Jane Harper (played by Olivia Cooke), who believes that a nasty spirit by the name of Evey has possessed her. It turns out that Coupland rejects theories about the supernatural, and that he is convinced that he can cure Jane through advanced scientific methods. After the university unexpectedly cuts funding for the experiment, Brian, Coupland, and his two student assistants, Krissi (played by Erin Richards) and Harry (played by Rory Fleck-Byrne), travel to a secluded country mansion where the group can work without disruption. Things get off to a relatively uneventful start, but soon, Jane’s condition worsens as Coupland draws out the sinister forces within her. As the spirit of Evey grows more and more dangerous, Brian discovers a horrific secret about Jane’s past that will change the course of the experiment and threaten the lives of everyone involved.
With The Quiet Ones, Hammer reveals that they are well aware of the gimmicks that have been dominating the horror market for the past several years. Scattered about the film is Hammer’s trademark gothic set design and gloomy atmosphere weighing heavily on the action. Frankly, the film gets far flashing Hammer’s calling card, and you get the impression that if director John Pogue had solely committed to the gothic blueprint, The Quiet Ones would have been an old-fashioned success. After all, Hammer found an audience with a taste for undead ghouls, Frankenstein monsters, and gentlemanly vampires in the ‘50s, a time when atomic monsters, extraterrestrials, and giant bugs were the hot ticket at local movie palaces and drive-ins. What would prevent it from working in the smartphone age? Sadly, where The Quiet Ones drops the ball is with the application of the “found footage” approach that has been sweeping through American horror movies. While it is exciting to think that Hammer is attempting to modernize itself a bit, it quickly becomes obvious that it’s here simply to allow Hammer to run with the current big boys of horror. What is even more frustrating is the fact that the filmmakers are clearly experimenting with this technique and had absolutely no idea how to apply it properly. It’s painfully clumsy and only twice does the film milk any suspense from this approach. However, the impact of both sequences is softened by cheap jump scares that just come off as lazy and pathetic. You mean to tell us that Hammer—a company that made some seriously silly, low-budget junk work splendidly in their heyday—couldn’t devise any new or creative ways to make the audience tremble with fear?!
While the throwaway “found footage” gimmick and the jump scares keep The Quiet Ones from standing out in the crowd, the film does reveal that Jared Harris could very well be Hammer’s new Christopher Lee or Peter Cushing. He is charismatic and gentlemanly, yet he is capable of awakening an inner slumbering madman when poked hard enough. Late in the film there are hints of Cushing’s unhinged Dr. Frankenstein, as he resorts to extreme measures to carry out his sinister work. Harris really charges up the film even in its slower moments, and he is able to largely cover for the more amateurish performances from the rest of the fresh-faced cast. The Hunger Games: Catching Fire’s Sam Claflin is probably the best of the young talent as Brian, the group’s skeptical cameraman who slowly develops feelings for the tortured Jane Harper. He’s a vanilla hero—that no one can deny—but he succeeds in remaining watchable for the duration of the film. And then we have Olivia Cooke, who physically channels Christina Ricci’s Wednesday from The Addam’s Family. Her performance is a glob of clichés as she hovers over a creepy doll and plucks its hair out, or stares blankly through sleepy eyes and rambles on about Evey, the spirit who has called her body home. The weakest links are undoubtedly Erin Richards, who stumbles her way around the feisty hippie Krissi, and Rory Fleck-Byrne, who’s Harry is present only to add slight bits of exposition for the cutting-edge methods the group is experimenting with.
While Harris puts forth considerable effort to salvage The Quiet Ones, more damage is done through the film’s lackluster finale, which crashes and then literally burns right in front of our eyes. The script finds the team of screenwriters—which includes Pogue, Craig Rosenberg, Oren Moverman, and Tom de Ville—looking back and paying tribute to Hammer’s satanic/occult offerings from the mid-1970s. The ghosts of films such as The Devil Rides Out and To the Devil a Daughter clank and bang around in the darkness, but the climax can’t match the sleazier thrills of those memorable releases. One the positive side, the film’s cinematography looks fantastic, and the chiaroscuro wash keeps you from drifting off into the abyss of boredom. In true Hammer fashion, The Quiet Ones is also extremely tight and low budget, which allows the film to remain in the tradition of their early horror work. Overall, it’s a thrill to see Hammer’s name back on the big screen, but The Quiet Ones ends up being a step backwards for a company that had made considerable strides in re-establishing themselves. You can’t fault them for attempting to appeal to the new generation of horror fans, but they should be embarrassed that they didn’t attempt to bring anything new to this supernatural séance.
by Steve Habrat
After successfully resurrecting three of Universal Studios’ most renowned ghouls (Victor Frankenstein and his monster in The Curse of Frankenstein (1957), Count Dracula in Horror of Dracula (1958), and Kharis the Mummy in The Mummy (1959)), the increasingly popular Hammer Films then set their undead sights on the Wolf Man. In 1961, director Terence Fisher released The Curse of the Werewolf, which found Hammer revamping the howling menace with plenty of candle wax blood and more cleavage than you can shake a furry paw at. Based upon the novel The Werewolf of Paris by Guy Endor, Fisher and screenwriter Anthony Hinds (who penned the script under the name John Elder) craft an origin heavy tale that once again put a fresh spin on what Universal had already memorably done with Lon Chaney Jr. in 1941. Moving the action from Paris to Spain, The Curse of the Werewolf reinvents the werewolf lore before finally baring its fangs in the final twenty minutes. Make no mistake, both the origin tale and the characters are all handled with plenty of care, but The Curse of the Werewolf is dragged into mediocrity through a struggling performance from Oliver Reed, one of Hammer’s favored sons, who can’t quite seem to win over our empathy.
The Curse of the Werewolf opens in 18th century Spain, with a raggedy beggar (played by Richard Wordsworth) arriving in a village that seems to be abandoned. After stumbling upon a group of locals in a nearby pub, the beggar learns that the town is celebrating the marriage of Marques Siniestro (played by Anthony Dawson). The beggar decides to travel to the Marques’ castle in the hopes of finding some food left over from the celebration. After being humiliated by the Marques in front of a room full of guests, the beggar is tossed into jail where he befriends the jailer’s mute daughter (played by Yvonne Romain). Many years pass and the beggar, who is still behind bars, begins to slip into madness. After having a nasty encounter with the aging Marques, the mute girl is thrown into prison with the beggar, who proceeds to rape the poor girl. The mute girl manages to escape her torment and makes her way into the countryside where she is discovered by the kind Don Alfredo Coreldo (played by Clifford Evans), who takes the girl in and discovers that she is with child. Upon learning this new, Don Alfredo’s housekeeper, Teresa (played by Hira Talfrey), is appalled to learn that the baby will be born on Christmas day, something that is considered very unlucky by the locals. Several months later, the mute girl gives birth to a baby boy, Leon, on December 25th. All seems normal at first but Don Alfredo begins hearing rumors of an animal that prowls the night and attacks local livestock. After discovering that Leon suffered a nasty gunshot wound while he was “sleepwalking,” he decides to put bars on the boy’s windows, fearing that the boy has been cursed because of his birthdate. Once again the years pass and Leon (played by Oliver Reed) is all grown up and ready to leave home, but his old curse comes back to haunt him when the moon is full.
Like all of Hammer’s other monster rival offerings, The Curse of the Werewolf works hard in separating itself from what Universal Studios had done. Screenwriter Hinds reworks some of the werewolf mythology, suggesting that the werewolf curse is something that one is born with and that constant love and affection can keep lycanthrope at bay. It’s a nice change of pace, but Hinds and Fisher are relentless with their backstory. The origin tale itself takes up over half the film, allowing us very little time to actually empathize with adult Leon and his full-moon transformations. As far as the werewolf itself is concerned, Fisher is patient with his monster, keeping him largely off-screen until the last fifteen minutes of the film when we get to witness him prowling rooftops and scampering through town as villagers light torches and holler for his demise. In true Hammer fashion, the attack scenes in The Curse of the Werewolf are shockingly bloody and violent—the camera lingering on slashed faces and leaking claw marks. It is definitely not something that you would have seen in the Lon Chaney Jr. original from 1941.
While the heavy emphasis on the werewolf’s origin tale tripping the film up, The Curse of the Werewolf is also a bit flat due to the casting of the lead role. There is no Peter Cushing or Christopher Lee anywhere in sight, but rather there is Oliver Reed, an actor with leading man’s looks but none of the magnetism that Lee and Cushing radiated. Reed struggles to make his anguish look convincing, his shakes, shivers, and sweats never looking like they are coming from a dark and terrifying place. In the scenes where he isn’t asked to grapple with his transformation, he fares a bit better. He seems like a polite and pleasant young man when he finally departs home and his romance that he strikes up romance with Christina Fernando (played by Catherine Feller) has some deep and passionate moments, but it’s not enough to hold his performance together. The standout of the picture is without question Anthony Dawson as the vile Marques. He only shows up at the beginning but he sure is a nasty and disgusting piece of humanity. Yvonne Romain is sweet and strikingly beautiful as the mute girl who gives birth to Leon. Keller’s Christina is basically the worried girlfriend who strokes Leon’s hair when he falls into one of his sweating and shaking fits. Clifford Evans tackles a grim role with Don Alfredo Corledo, Leon’s father figure who slowly realizes what he must do to rid his adopted son of this awful curse.
Another fumble made by The Curse of the Werewolf is the make-up effects and a certain end transformation scene that features some seriously cheap effects. As far as the overall look of Leon’s hairy werewolf, he looks okay at a brief glance but there is nothing that really sticks with the viewer. It has a vague demonic look, especially when Reed shoots piercing stares your way, but it doesn’t leave the impression that Jack Pierce’s make-up still makes today. The other bumpy moment comes when Leon begins to transform into a werewolf. The viewer is treated to a close-up of the some of the fakest looking hands you have ever seen, the back of Reed’s head as he makes growling noises, and a brief mid-transformation glimpse of his face. On the one hand, it’s understandable considering the film was made in 1961, but there were transformation scenes that were infinitely more frightening that came before this. Overall, The Curse of the Werewolf packs plenty of moments that generate some heart pounding suspense and anticipation, but the story takes way too long to finally unleash full on terror. Then there is Reed, who frankly was miscast in the role of Leon. Despite its flaws, Fisher and Hinds never forget to explore the bestiality of man, even the one’s that seem extremely mild mannered.
The Curse of the Werewolf is available on DVD.
by Steve Habrat
With Hammer Films having their gothic claws around ghouls like vampires, Frankenstein monsters, mummies, werewolves, and psycho killers, it makes perfect sense that they’d also haunt the witch subgenre. In 1966, Hammer released director Cyril Frankel’s The Witches, a slow-burn effort that is based on the novel The Devil’s Own by Norah Lofts. Heavily lacking their trademark gothic atmosphere, The Witches doesn’t particularly feel like a Hammer horror film. If the credits didn’t tell you it was one of their releases, you’d have absolutely no idea they were even involved with it. With Hammer leaning so heavily on the atmosphere of their films, it is nice to find an effort that focused more on story rather than spooky graveyards and creaky old castles to really send a shiver. While the story driven approach is fine enough, The Witches suffers from a bit too much down time, resulting in a film that often times bores the viewer more than it entertains them. Despite the trudging pace and the laughable climax, the film does feature a strong performance from actress Joan Fontaine, who was the one who convinced Hammer to make the film in the first place.
The Witches introduces us to Gwen Mayfield (played by Joan Fontaine), a missionary working in Africa who has a traumatic encounter with a witch doctor. Three years after the traumatic experience, Gwen takes a job as a schoolteacher in the small English town of Heddaby. Gwen arrives in the tranquil village and slowly gets to know the locals, who all appear to be friendly enough. Life seems to be going great for Gwen until she notices a romance budding between two of her students, Ronnie (played by Martin Stephens) and Linda (played by Ingrid Boulting). The romance seems harmless enough until one day Ronnie reports that he saw Linda’s guardian, Granny Rigg (played by Gwen Ffrangcon-Davies), brutally punishing her. Gwen investigates the report but Linda and Granny dismiss the incident. As the days pass, Gwen begins to notice that the locals seem to treat Linda strangely, but things really get suspicious when Gwen finds a headless voodoo doll stuck in a tree and Ronnie mysteriously falls into a coma. After Ronnie’s father turns up dead and she has another voodoo-like encounter, Gwen is convinced that the seemingly cheery town is hiding something. To make things worse, she begins to suspect that there may be a sinister side to her wealthy employers, Alan (played by Alec McCowen) and Stephanie (played by Kay Walsh) Bax.
The Witches opens on a positive note, with an uneasy scare that leaves you wanting to see just what comes next. As voodoo drums bang on the soundtrack, Gwen and two petrified men quickly try to close up shop before a witch doctor and his followers can come bursting through the door to cast his awful spells. It’s intense enough and it leads you to believe that Frankel will be able to handle to the really creepy stuff with equal amounts of gusto. This sequence is grossly misleading. The Witches then switches over to mystery and suspicion as Gwen settles into her scenic new home. The scary stuff starts out small, with a strange occurrence here and there. There is Ronnie’s chilling story about Granny Rigg putting Linda’s hand in a clothes ringer and there is Granny Rigg encouraging a cat to follow Gwen home, all little things that suggest that there might be a sinister side to this seemingly happy community. Where Frankel really starts to botch it is when the bigger scares start to emerge. In one of the sillier moments, he zooms his camera in repeatedly on Gwen’s terrified expression, all while exaggerated music screams at us to react. This jolt doesn’t work, and it makes you wish that he had handled it with the same sort of casual style that he handled the first half.
Where The Witches really falls apart is during the ludicrous climax that has the villagers of Heddaby performing an unintentionally hilarious ritual that finds Stephanie, the head witch, hoping to literally get inside Linda’s skin. The climax finds Frankel working in the trademark gothic atmosphere we have all come to expect from Hammer, as the ritual takes place in a muddy tomb nestled in an overgrown graveyard. Despite the atmosphere, it can’t cover for the bizarre dance routines, the overacting, the fully clothed orgy that appears to take place, or the fact that the ritual can be stopped in the most nonsensical way possible. It’s not frightening by any stretch of the imagination and we certainly don’t fear for any of our protagonists. There is also the fact that it seems to be completely out of place when joined to the rest of the film, which worked hard to establish a subtler approach to the material. Had Frankel decided not to have the villagers hop around and rub up against each other like dogs, the ritual may have taken on a spookier vibe. He even could have cut a few of the lights he has shining down on the action to give the events taking place a bit of an ominous vibe. Sadly, he doesn’t and as a result he destroys his entire picture.
While the climax may shatter the entire film, the actors still manage to give some respectable performances before the project implodes on itself. Fonataine is strong and charismatic as Gwen, the blonde-haired detective of our witchy story. You will genuinely root for her to get to the bottom of all the suspicious events that are taking place within the community. You will also catch yourself fearing for her sanity when familiar voodoo dolls start popping up around her bedroom. Kay Walsh flaunts a sinister side as Stephanie, a seemingly skeptical individual who really is the head witch. It’s a shame that the silliness of the climax does her character in the way that it does. Stephens does a fine job with his small role as Ronnie, Linda’s concerned suitor who unknowingly gets in the way of evil, and Boulting oozes mystery as the seemingly sheltered Linda. Overall, while The Witches is beautifully shot and eerily composed early on, Frankel stumbles over the later scares and a climax that wouldn’t terrify a five-year-old. It’s a low point for Hammer, and it leaves you wishing that they had stuck to what they did best—vampires, Frankenstein monsters, mummies, werewolves, and psycho killers.
The Witches is available on DVD.
by Steve Habrat
By the late 60s and early 70s, Hammer Films was beginning to loose some of the popularity that the studio once enjoyed. They started trying to compete with the wave of exploitation horror that was beginning to emerge, which led to the studio cranking up the sleaziness in their pictures. In 1971, one of Hammer’s final triumphs would be director John Hough’s Twins of Evil, the third installment in the Karnstein Trilogy, which also featured 1970’s The Vampire Lovers and 1971’s Lust for a Vampire. Steamy, seedy, extravagant, and violent, Twins of Evil is a hugely entertaining horror film that retains Hammer’s gothic visual style while upping the amount of sex, nudity, and graphic violence for a crowd craving some exploitation insanity. Starring an aging yet wickedly sharp Peter Cushing and the beautiful former Playboy Playmates Mary and Madeleine Collinson (who also happened to be real life twins), Twins of Evil is a thrilling combination of the vampire film, satanic horror film, and witch-hunt thriller, all expertly balanced by screenwriter Tudor Gates. It’s also extremely atmospheric and loaded with Hammer’s beloved castles, heavy fog, crucifixes, tangled woods, and rotting cemeteries.
Twins of Evil introduces us to innocent Maria (played by Mary Collinson) and rebellious Frieda (played by Madeleine Collinson), two identical twins who have traveled to the town of Karenstein to live with their uncle, Gustav Weil (played by Peter Cushing). As it turns out, Weil is the leader of a local witch-hunting group called the Brotherhood, who tracks down young girls who have been accused of witchcraft and burns them at the stake. As the twins settle in to their new home, they happen to hear about a wealthy local by the name of Count Karnstein (played by Damien Thomas), who is well known for practicing the dark arts and coming from a family of Satanists. One evening, Count Karnstein plays host to a satanic cult, and through a barbaric ritual, they happen to contact the spirit of Countess Mircalla (played by Katya Wyeth), who proceeds to turn Karnstein into a vampire. The next day, Karnstein is travelling through town when he bumps into Frieda, who has become smitten with Karnstein’s evil reputation. That evening, Frieda accepts an invitation to Karnstein’s castle, where she gets turned into a vampire and tortures a young girl with Karnstein. After Frieda attacks a member of the Brotherhood, Weil captures his niece and is forced to lock her up until he can decide her fate. His plans change when a local schoolteacher by the name of Anton Hoffer (played by David Warbeck) approaches him about the possibility of vampirism running rampant through the town.
Easily ranking as one of the most fun horror films that Hammer Films ever released, Twins of Evil is an exotic breed of vampire film. The first half is a witch-hunting horror film ripe with hair-raising scenes of Cushing’s Weil ruthlessly running down young girls, tying them to a stake, and burning them to a crisp. Though the film has a heavy B-movie vibe, Hough doesn’t hold back exploring the senseless brutality of these witch-hunts. After finding a man dying in a foggy graveyard from a vampire bite, Weil and his Brotherhood attack the first girl they spot wandering through the woods and drag her off to face a cleansing fire. It really makes for some alarming glimpses of religious extremity at its absolute worst. For a stretch, Hough lays off some of the witch hunting in favor of a satanic horror film set to growling organs, hooded high priests, human sacrifice, and a cry for Satan that would make the climax of Rosemary’s Baby blush. Hough uses the satanic pit stop to glide straight into vampire mayhem that is simultaneously bloody and sexy. The true strength of the film is the way it seems to be able to switch subgenres on us in the blink of an eye.
Performance wise, the actors and actresses seem to have been encouraged to have as much fun with the material as humanly (or inhumanly) possible. Cushing is at his absolutely cheesiest (that is meant as a compliment) as the perpetually serious Weil, an antihero willing to burn an innocent victim at the stake just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. You’ll loathe him at first, but as the film progresses, you’ll be forced to admire the way he sticks to his beliefs. As far as the Collinson twins are concerned, they actually prove to be a pair of competent actresses for a pair of Playboy Playmates. The standout of the two would be Madeleine as the wicked Frieda, who enjoys flirting with the dark side. Hough seems pressured into showing off their bodies for the camera, something that I’m sure Hammer insisted on considering they have Playboy Playmates in the main roles, but the Collinsons don’t seem to mind too much. Damien Thomas gives a vile turn as the satanic Count Karnstein, who grins and snarls through a pair of vampire fangs and shrugs his shoulders in boredom over a satanic ritual that fails to impress him. He can pull off seductive, creepy, and charismatic like a real professional. David Warbeck also holds his own as the kindly schoolteacher Anton, who basically becomes the true hero of Twins of Evil.
While Hammer’s earlier horror films were stone-faced and relentlessly somber, Twins of Evil seems to have a sense of humor about itself. The soundtrack—while exceptional—is wildly over the top, resembling something you might have heard in an Italian spaghetti western. Its all mighty trumpets and ominous organs blasted for maximum effect. Visually, Hough sticks to Hammer’s gothic calling card, but at times he seems to be really laying it on thick, especially in the early scenes when stuffs a gigantic crucifix into a handful of shots. Then there are the overdramatics and the not-so-subtle symbolism that chew on the screen. Cushing screams and shakes his fists at the sky while yelling, “God has sent me TWINS OF EVIL!!,” and during a steamy make-out scene, one character suggestive strokes a nearby melting candle. These winking moments could have been a bit distracting, but Hough has a way of making them strangely charming. Overall, while it certainly drives a stake right through the heart of subtlety and its strongly self-aware, Twins of Evil is still a scrappy little horror movie with plenty of blood, sex, and nudity to go around. It’s a smooth blend of multiple subgenres that all compliment each other quite well in the end. Twins of Evil ranks as one of Hammer’s strongest films in their horror vault.
Twins of Evil is available on Blu-ray and DVD.
by Victor De Leon
Director John Gilling is not a name that usually comes to mind right away when one thinks of Hammer Films and the stand out entries they produced in the 50’s, 60’s and 70’s. He did write some fantastic stories like The Gorgon and The Mummy’s Shroud, but even though he wrote plenty of movies that go back as far as 1947 with Black Memory, he did have a deft command of the craft of directing genre pictures, some of which are very well renowned today. The Shadow of the Cat and The Night Caller being two very thrilling entries. With many films under his belt, Gilling, with a script by Peter Bryan (Hound of the Baskervilles and Brides of Dracula) put together the production of The Plague of the Zombies. It was one of Gilling’s last films before he passed away in 1975, a decade after his last picture, La Cruz Del Diablo.
Gilling started work on the movie at Bray Studios in England and he continued working straight through to The Gorgon, which he did with Terence Fisher. Distinguished actor Andre Morell (Ben Hur) plays Sir James Forbes, a Professor, who is called to a Cornish village in the mid 1800’s to help his former student, Dr. Peter Tompson (Brook Williams). It appears that Peter is overworked and stressed out trying to solve some mysterious deaths in his village and is not able to get the locals to co-operate with him as a result of a town ordinance that does not allow autopsies. Forbes and his daughter, Sylvia (Diane Clare of The Haunting 1963), go to Peter’s aid as Sylvia plans to reconcile with Peter’s wife, Alice (Jacqueline Pearce), since they were old school friends. As they arrive they inadvertently bump into some men on horseback during a foxhunt and afterwards in town the very same men overturn a coffin during a funeral procession. They seem to have some connection to a young and rich Squire who lives at a nearby Estate outside the Village.
Forbes and Sylvia find Peter and his wife in dire straits and try to convince the local police to help. Peter fills Forbes in about the recent deaths and the claims by some that recently deceased persons have been seen walking about in the dark on the moors. This prompts Peter and Forbes to disinter some townsfolk and when they find that the coffins are empty, they get Sgt. Swift (The versatile Michael Ripper) to help them since Swift himself had lost a young child to the “Plague.” They also attribute some strange goings on at Squire Hamilton’s mansion. Forbes suspects that Hamilton (John Carson of Doomsday and The Night Caller) has gone abroad to Haiti (Forbes pronounces it Hi-ate-te) and has learned to practice voodoo and black magic. All in order to control his townspeople, upon his return, by turning them into zombies to assist him with mines that run underneath the village. Furthermore, it appears that Hamilton is a bit smitten with Sylvia and he manages to get close to her, but appears to have deadly motives of his own.
The Plague of the Zombies is a different sort of creature for the famed House of Hammer. As far as I know it is the only attempt at a zombie movie they managed to produce. A film before Romero’s breakthrough zombie indie, Night of the Living Dead, which owed much to The Last Man On Earth. Gilling’s movie is a shadowy and dim movie with an air of mystery and dread that is established from the beginning when during the credits we are introduced to a ritual with a high priest and slaves banging on big drums. Gilling’s film unfolds like a nightmare with his camera exposing an ethereal otherworld that is dangerous and deadly. Gilling and Bryan make no mistake in projecting the movie as a genuine and realistic story. Actors Morell and Williams have a good rapport as the heroes and Clare does well as a doe eyed, intrepid and pure woman who is entangled in evil. Carson is menacing as Hamilton and Ripper is always the stoic presence as Sgt Swift. Gilling supplies some stand out sequences for this early zombie exercise like rising corpses, nightmares, out of control fires and dark funerals and rituals but it is the resurrection of Alice that has an incredible impact. Actress Pearce (Blake’s 7) manages to raise the hairs on my arms and neck with that incredibly chilling grin that is the stuff of nightmares. You must see it to believe it.
Furthermore we get a great score from James Bernard and even though many sets were re-used and re-dressed from other Hammer Productions (Like The Reptile, which was shooting back to back with Plague), Bernard Robinson makes the film look big and elegantly horrific. His mine sets are claustrophobic and dank. DP Arthur Grant’s camera is full of nice flourishes and flair. I particularly loved his reveal shot of a zombie carrying a woman’s body that reminded me of something from a Universal Classic Monster movie. Grant’s manipulation of the camera is best when in dark scenes and during reveals much to the credit of Gilling’s eye for composition and placement. Plague of the Zombies has gained quite a cult following that counters, somewhat, the huge popularity of the bigger cousins in the genre. Movies like Horror of Dracula and The Curse of Frankenstein are two that come to mind. I would put Plague of the Zombies in the company, easily, of films like Fisher’s The Gorgon or even The Devil Rides Out with Christopher Lee. Even among other zombie films this title can still remain elusive when it comes to notoriety. But, the movie on it’s own is quite chilling, original and full of the atmosphere, rich colors and mood we come to expect from a Hammer production.
Plague of the Zombies sports some gruesome make up fx, well placed terror, and a quickly paced horror story at it’s heart. It’s chilling and under-rated with fine performances and inventive direction from Gilling. It may even be Gilling’s best Hammer entry as a director and Bryan’s as a writer. It is a shame that Hammer did not make more zombie pictures since they covered other types of monsters multiple times. If they had then they would have added a bit of class and even elegance that most of today’s zombie flicks lack. Recommended!
Plague of the Zombies is available on DVD.
by Steve Habrat
In 1957, Hammer Films first made contact with American audiences with The Curse of Frankenstein, an autumn-fused retelling of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. Starring Peter Cushing as Frankenstein and Christopher Lee as the monster, The Curse of Frankenstein was a leaner and meaner film when compared to James Whale’s 1931 classic. It also contained a bleak psychological edge that appeared to be inspired by J. Searle Dawley’s 1910 short film Frankenstein. In 1958, Hammer followed up The Curse of Frankenstein with The Revenge of Frankenstein, which directly addressed events from the first film. After striking a distribution deal with Universal Studios, Hammer was allowed to directly copy from Universal’s Boris Karloff classic. Hammer quickly got to work on The Evil of Frankenstein, which found the studio modeling their monster after the iconic Karloff version. Directed by Freddie Francis, The Evil of Frankenstein breaks from the first two films in the series and attempts to almost restart itself, disregarding any continuity simply to capitalize on the look of the monster. The result is a sporadically entertaining but surprisingly sluggish horror film that is glaringly devoid of serious creativity.
Ten years after being banished from his hometown of Karlstaad due to his unorthodox experiments, Baron Victor Frankenstein (played by Peter Cushing) returns to his hometown with his assistant, Hans (played by Sandor Eles), to restart his experiments. Under the cover of a town festival, Frankenstein and Hans slip through the village unnoticed and return to Frankenstein’s ransacked mansion. After spotting the town Burgomeister (played by David Hutcheson) wearing one of his rings, Frankenstein causes a scene that draws the attention of the authorities. Forced into hiding, Frankenstein and Hans take shelter in a cave with a local deaf-mute beggar girl (played by Katy Wild), but while exploring, Frankenstein makes a shocking discovery—his creature (played by Kiwi Kingston) that wandered off ten years ago frozen in a chunk of ice. Frankenstein, Hans, and the beggar girl remove the creature from the ice and take it back to Frankenstein’s castle where he restores the creature’s life. Despite being reanimated, the creature refuses to respond to commands, so Frankenstein hires the help of Zoltan (played by Peter Woodthorpe), a disgraced sideshow hypnotist that is also being forced out of town. Zoltan agrees to try to hypnotize the creature and his attempt is an excess, but Zoltan begins using the creature behind Frankenstein’s back to carry out his own revenge on those who disgraced him.
Under the talents of Freddie Francis, The Evil of Frankenstein manages to hold on to Hammer’s level of quality. Despite the fact that most of their films were made on small budgets, they consistently produced A-level work as far as the set design and art direction was concerned. Francis makes sure that the sets looks great even if a few of them have been lifted from Whale’s film, the costume design is detailed, and that familiar gothic atmosphere is still allowed to poke its head in every now and again. As far as visual fumbles go, The Evil of Frankenstein drops the ball on the overall look of the dreaded creature. Modeled after the famous make-up work by Jack Pierce, the creature here has the same flattened forehead, sagging eyes, and frowning mouth that Karloff’s creature did, but it looks slapped together in a rush. Putty lines are clearly visible and the prosthetics appear as thought they were just stuck on in globs. As a B-movie monster goes, this creature is a winner, but when compared to the effects on Christopher Lee’s monster in The Curse of Frankenstein, he doesn’t even belong in the same series. To further keep him in the vein of the Karloff monster, they slap a gray suit on him that is reminiscent of what the creature wore in Universal’s Son of Frankenstein and they complete the look with platform boots that boost his size and slow to a shaky stomp. The only thing Hammer chose to omit from their creature were the famous bolts that jutted out from Karloff’s neck.
As if reworking the story wasn’t doing enough damage, Peter Cushing was also forced to rework the character of Victor Frankenstein. Gone is the putrid little man who had affairs with his maid and seethed at his mentors from trying to put a stop to his gruesome experiments. In that man’s place is a kinder soul, one who only shows his sinister side when he rips a heart from a dead man’s chest and deadpans, “he won’t be needing it!” It’s a bit of black humor that shows his disregard for the dead. Besides the one scene, Frankenstein is a sympathetic character, constantly tormented by those who just simply don’t understand. Cushing plays him as a misfit cast out of normal God-fearing society and forced to suffer for fascination with scientific progression. “Why can’t they ever just leave me alone!,” he sighs melodramatically as he takes a dejected look around his trashed manor. In a way it works and there isn’t anything particularly faulty with Cushing’s portrayal, but you will certainly be left longing for that weasel we were forced to follow around in the first two films. Pitted against Cushing’s misunderstood protagonist is Woodthorpe’s Zoltan, a smirking baddie who likes to pick on the deaf-mute beggar girl and manipulate the creature into carrying out his sadistic orders. Woodthorpe is up to the task of playing a villain and he certainly turns his Zoltan into a slimy one, but his storyline seems out of place, making you wish that Francis would have omitted him from the action entirely.
Considering that this film is trying to replicate some of the finer aspects of Whale’s Frankenstein, you would think that Francis and screenwriter John Elder would have attempted to make us sympathize with Kingston’s creature. While Kingston largely lets the make-up do most of the work, there isn’t any of creature’s child-like wonder that we saw in Whale’s film. There is no “flower picking” scene or torment from a hunchback. No, The Evil of Frankenstein becomes more about playing the tiny violin for Frankenstein and lingering on Zoltan’s scumbag behavior. In a sunny flashback, we get a brief little glimpse of society rejecting the creature, running him down and putting a bullet on him. It’s basically the only time we ever are invited to really feel anything for the creature. Overall, for those who were wondering what it would be like if Hammer replicated what Universal had already done to popular effect, then The Evil of Frankenstein is the film for you. It never musters any memorable scares and the viewer will have a hard time empathizing with the creature. You also can’t help but wonder what the creature would have been like had Lee possibly taken the role (they probably could have made him unrecognizable in that make-up). Still, the film holds up to Hammer’s level of quality and Cushing does his best with what he has to work with. If there is a lesson to be found here, it’s that Hammer shouldn’t have tampered in the realm of cinematic gods like Universal Studios, James Whale, Boris Karloff, and Jack Pierce.
The Evil of Frankenstein is available on DVD.
by Steve Habrat
Despite what you may believe, Hammer Films didn’t only fiddle with gothic horror films about vampires, werewolves, Frankenstein monsters, and mummys. In the wake of Alfred Hitchcock’s psychological horror film Psycho, studios began rushing to capitalize on the formula Hitchcock used to such shocking effect in 1960. Hammer was certainly no different, and among the Psycho-inspired films that they sent down the assembly line was the claustrophobic Nightmare, a spine-tingling psychological horror movie presented in noir-like black and white. Without an undead fiend to terrorize Peter Cushing or a busty woman in a low cut dress, many might be quick to dismiss Nightmare as a bit of a disappointment, especially since some of Hammer’s finest moments have been with Frankenstein or Dracula, but under the direction of studio regular Freddie Francis, Nightmare is an arresting exercise in spectral spooks and slasher brutality. It also happens to be an extremely gorgeous looking horror movie, one that features undeniably pristine cinematography and expert lighting effects to give the film quite a bit more bite than it already has.
Nightmare introduces us to Janet (played by Jennie Linden), a young woman who suffers from terrible nightmares that send her from her bed screaming bloody murder every single night. As a young girl, Janet accidentally witnessed her deranged mother stabbing her father to death, laughing all the while she plunged the knife into his chest. Now all grown up, Janet is enrolled in a boarding school, but her nightmares have grown so severe that one of her teachers, Mrs. Lewis (played by Brenda Bruce), convinces the school to send her home to her guardian, attorney Henry Baxter (played by David Knight). Upon arriving home, Janet meets her new nurse, Grace Maddox (played by Moira Redmond), chauffeur John (played by George A. Cooper), and housekeeper Mrs. Gibbs (played by Irene Richmond), but shortly after settling in, her nightmares begin and it also appears that she is suffering from disturbing hallucinations. She constantly sees a corpse with a bloody knife protruding from its chest and she catches glimpses of a ghostly woman wandering the halls in a trance. Day after day, Janet is convinced that she has inherited her mother’s insanity, but after a brutal attack, she is shipped off to a hospital for serious treatment. Shortly after Janet is gone, certain members of the house begin to suspect that Janet may not have been suffering from terrible hallucinations after all.
In true Hammer fashion, Francis puts plenty of emphasis on the film’s setting and atmosphere. The film opens in a darkened sanitarium as a woman’s voice calls out to a terrified Janet, who is wandering these threatening halls unaccompanied. This journey culminates with Janet stepping into a padded cell and staring her unhinged mother right in the face. Francis quickly steps in and reminds us that it’s just a nightmare, but judging from the screams of the poor Janet, these dreams are pushing her fragile state to the breaking point. It should be noted that anytime anyone screams in Nightmare, the sound work on the shrieks will have you frozen in horror. The screams that the characters emit could shatter concrete. After we emerge from the sanitarium of terror, Francis gives us a small break before he drops us into another house of horror. Cramped with lavish furniture and engulfed by heavy shadows cast down hallways and in bedrooms just down the hall, there seems to be no escape for poor Janet. Every night before she settles in for bed, she hears a faint noise that lures her away from her bed. She bumps into a woman wearing a white gown and sporting a nasty scar on her cheek and she discovers a corpse that has been hacked and slashed to death. Each scare is executed with precision and the claustrophobic goth that wraps around us makes Nightmare unshakeable.
While Nightmare doesn’t enjoy the presence of Peter Cushing, Christopher Lee, or even Oliver Reed, Francis still manages to capture some rock-solid performances that are sure to keep you entertained. Linden is perfect as the young, sympathetic Janet who just wants her night terrors to cease. Her final push into violence is made all the more disturbing through the fact that she had so much innocence in her heart. Redmond puts on a kindly face as Janet’s new nurse, Grace, but as the horror progresses, we realize that there is a dark side lurking deep down within her just waiting to emerge. Knight is charismatic as Janet’s guardian, Henry Baxter, who perks the young girl up just by walking into her bedroom. Irene Richmond and George A. Cooper is in supporting roles as John and Mrs. Gibbs, but in the end, Francis and screenwriter Jimmy Sangster give them the opportunity to play hero to the violence and madness overtaking the mansion. Brenda Bruce is another warm and caring force as Mary Lewis, Janet’s concerned teacher who thinks it’s best if she spends some time at home. Probably the strongest performance in Nightmare Isla Cameron as Mother (that sounds very Psycho to me…), who smiles as she waves a knife around and seems to find enjoyment in her daughters horrified screams for help.
Considering that Nightmare was riding the wave of Psycho’s popularity, there are a few little similarities that the viewer just can’t turn a blind eye to. First is the twist that is pulled at the end, something that won’t be revealed here, but that is indeed strikingly similar to some parts of Hitchcock’s slasher. There is also the fact that our main character, Janet, disappears halfway through the movie, something that is glaringly similar to Janet Leigh’s Marion Crane (luckily, Hammer didn’t decide to stab her to death in a shower). This lift could have been disastrous, but luckily, Sangster writes up supporting characters that can carry the film when Janet steps out. Overall, if you have had your fill of watching Van Helsing drive stakes through the heart of Dracula, or you need to break from watching Victor Frankenstein reanimating lifeless flesh, Nightmare offers a nice change of pace for Hammer fans. It doesn’t push the limits of the horror of personality subgenre (Hitchcock still remains the master) and it has been unfairly overshadowed by the studio’s color monster movies, but it does give the psychological horror film a heavy gothic makeover, throws in some “ghosts,” and petrifies anyone who hates creepy old dolls. Bonus points for the rich use of black and white film.
Nightmare is available on DVD.
by Steve Habrat
In 1958, Hammer Films revived the gothic vampire film with Horror of Dracula, which is arguably considered one of the finest films the studio ever produced. Hammer would follow up Horror of Dracula with 1960’s The Brides of Dracula, a sequel that boasted the presence of Christopher Lee’s overlord vampire, but didn’t actually include a cameo from the head bloodsucker. In 1963, Hammer would release director Don Sharp’s Kiss of the Vampire, their second vampire film released before Lee returned in 1966’s Dracula: Prince of Darkness. Featuring an immensely strong opening sequence and presenting its vampires as a cult, the little-known Kiss of the Vampire is a unique entry within the vampire genre. It’s gracefully acted, stuffed with Hammer’s trademark gothic set design, and plenty eerie enough to entertain viewers when they have exhausted the Dracula series. Sadly, Kiss of the Vampire isn’t without its flaws, as the head vampire Ravna finds himself lost in Lee’s shadow, and the climax falls victim to some ludicrous special effects. It’s a shame to see the climax trip as badly as it does considering that Hammer consistently delivered strong finishes to their horror films.
Kiss of the Vampire begins with newlyweds Gerald (played by Edward de Souza) and Marianne (played by Jennifer Daniel) setting off on their honeymoon. They are traveling by car through the countryside when they run out of gas near a remote village. Unable to find fuel, the couple makes their way to a nearby inn and starts settling in for the evening. As they unpack, the owners, Bruno (played by Peter Madden) and Anna (played by Vera Cook), deliver an invitation to the couple from Dr. Ravna (played by Noel Willman), a wealthy local who wishes to have the couple dine with him in his lavish castle. Gerald and Marianne graciously accept the invitation and head up to meet Dr. Ravna and his two children, Carl (played by Barry Warren) and Sabena (played by Jacquie Wallis). After dinner, Dr. Ravna encourages Carl to demonstrate his talents as a pianist, but as he plays, Marianne seems to be falling into a trance. Convinced that all the action of the day his worn his wife out, Gerald decides to call it evening. Before he leaves, Dr. Ravna agrees to track down fuel for the happy couple. The next day, Carl and Sabena visit Gerald and Marianne to invite them to a masked ball they are throwing that weekend, but shortly after their arrival, they are scared off when the town drunk Professor Zimmer (played by Clifford Evans) approaches them. Ignoring Professor Zimmer’s warnings about the Ravnas, the couple attends the party, but as they mingle with the guests, they begin to suspect that there may be a wicked side to the seemingly polite family.
Before Sharp even rolls the credits on Kiss of the Vampire, he delivers the strongest and bloodiest scene of the entire film. He begins on a procession of mourners as they file through a graveyard under an overcast sky. At the head of the pack is a priest chanting in Latin over the sobs of loved ones. As they arrive at the grave, two mourners notice a man standing off in the distance. They whisper amongst themselves about how he is probably drunk when he suddenly starts making his way into the graveyard. As he approaches the coffin with fire in his eyes, he grabs a shovel and drives it straight through the wood. Sharp zooms in on the splintered wood as candle wax blood oozes through the gaping hole. Over the soundtrack, a piercing cry sends the mourners and the priest running for their lives as the coffin turns transparent and reveals a dying vampire. From here, Sharp and screenwriter Anthony Hinds allow the action to slowly build. We know there are sinister forces at play, but we’re unsure when they will make themselves known. After a number of teases, Sharp and Hinds let the evil run rampant at a masked ball where he finally lets us glimpse the undead cult.
With its slower pacing, Kiss of the Vampire allows the audience to really get to know the characters, which are all splendidly brought to life by the cast. Edward de Souza and Jennifer Daniel capture the friskiness and optimism of a young married couple ready to take on the world. They playfully tease each other and when they embrace for a kiss, the dinner table they agreed to sit down to in ten minutes is forced to wait another five minutes. When the undead wedge is driven between them, we root for de Souza to find a way to reunite with his hypnotized lover before her soul is consumed by the vampire cult. Noel Willman is gentlemanly early on as the suspicious Dr. Ravna, but at times his performance is on the dry side. There is no flair to his performance and there are only hints of menace that show through when he stands in front of his devoted followers. Just like David Peel’s head vampire in The Brides of Dracula, he is forever lost in Lee’s vampire bat shadow. Clifford Evans rounds out the cast as the drunken vampire slayer Professor Zimmer, a no-nonsense protagonist who makes Peter Cushing’s Van Helsing look like a softie. His disgust for the vampire sect he is hunting is white hot and he will make sure he finishes off his prey by any means necessary. It’s a shame that Willman wasn’t eager to get a bit darker with his role to really ramp up the battle between good and evil.
If there is one thing that Hammer Films could do, it’s end their horror films in the most satisfying manner possible. While there have been some truly classic finales (Horror of Dracula’s final showdown comes to mind), Kiss of the Vampire ends in the most lackluster way possible, a low for the studio. Our gruff vampire hunter conjures up a pack of bats to come flying to the rescue and it looks as cheap as special effects come. They bob through shattering stained glass windows and swoop down to feast on the flesh of the undead cult members, their white robes turning red with each new bite. The deaths are over dramatic and poorly timed as they shriek out through the rubber bats glued to their faces. Overall, Kiss of the Vampire begins with plenty of vigor as vampires are brutally slain right in front of horrified bystanders. From there it opts for a slow burn, but Sharp just can’t muster a fitting climax for what we have just seen. Extra credit is given for the solid performances, (especially from Evans), the cult angle given to the vampires, the bloody cross used to repel Ravna and his children, and the gothic set design that is turned up to eleven.
Kiss of the Vampire is available on DVD.
by Steve Habrat
In 1957, British film production company Hammer Films crossed the pond and spooked American audiences with The Curse of Frankenstein, a bloodier and far less buttoned-up interpretation of Mary Shelley’s classic novel. A year later, Hammer would follow up that Peter Cushing/Christopher Lee vehicle with another Cushing/Lee horror outing in the form of Horror of Dracula, arguably one of the finest vampire films ever made. Many have argued that the ultra-gothic Horror of Dracula is a much better film than The Curse of Frankenstein, mostly due to Lee’s commanding performance as Dracula. Despite what side you fall on, these films are the reason that Hammer Films became as popular as they did. In 1960, the company decided to make a sequel to Horror of Dracula. While Lee wasn’t game to come back for seconds (he wouldn’t return until Dracula: Prince of Darkness), the studio moved forward with The Brides of Dracula, another horror film that is perfect for a crisp October evening. Sexually charged, gory, and packing one hell of a satisfying finale, The Brides of Dracula only slips due to Lee’s absence. In the wake of his performance in Horror of Dracula, there was no way that the blonde baby-faced David Peel was going to be able to match his evil.
The Brides of Dracula begins with a young French schoolteacher by the name of Marianne Danielle (played by Yvonne Monlaur) traveling to Transylvania to take a new job at the Lady’s Academy of Bachstadt. After being left in a pub by her carriage driver, Marianne is invited to stay with Baroness Meinster (played by Martita Hunt), a wealthy local that the villagers seem very uneasy about. Upon arriving at Baroness Meinster’s castle, Marianne catches a glimpse of her son, Baron Meinster (played by David Peel), who is in chains and said to be insane. Marianne soon meets the Baron, who pleads with Marianne to unlock the chains around his ankle and let him go free. Marianne finds the key and frees the Baron, who then proceeds to confront his mother. All the action scares the innocent Marianne and she dashes off into the night, only to be discovered the next day by the kindly Dr. Van Helsing (played by Peter Cushing). Marianne attempts to recount her story, but she has a difficult time remembering all the details. Van Helsing agrees to escort Marianne to her new school, but on their way they make a pit stop to investigate the body of a young dead girl. Van Helsing discovers that she has two bite marks on her neck, which he immediately recognizes as the mark of the vampire. After Van Helsing witnesses the young girl claw out of her grave at night, he begins racing to track down and dispatch any vampires in the area. His quest leads him to the Baron Meinster, who is determined to find Marianne and make her his bride.
With a title like The Brides of Dracula, you’d immediately assume that ol’ Drac would make an appearance somewhere in the picture. For those who are getting their hopes up of catching a glimpse of Lee’s iconic vampire, you’re about to be very disappointed. Heck, the head vampire is barely even mentioned, only coming up twice throughout the entire film. With the role of head vampire vacant, Hammer recruited David Peel, who seems to be having plenty of fun in the role of the Baron, but he just can’t quite rise to the level of the baritone Lee. He swishes his cape around like a kid looking at his new Dracula costume in the mirror and he curls his lips to reveal his plastic fangs, but he’s almost too good-looking to really make your knees knock together. In an attempt to capture Lee’s crazed, bloodshot look, director Terence Fisher cuts to close-ups of Peel’s bulging eyes, but it’s just not the same. Far more memorable are the brides, who basically only watch as Van Helsing tussles around a windmill with the Baron. They may not be all that threatening, but just their ghostly appearance alone certainly sticks with the viewer. They call to mind the three terrors that snuck around Bela Lugosi’s castle and stalked Renfield in Universal’s Dracula.
While Peel’s performance may not have the impact that Lee’s did, Cushing and Monlaur certainly don’t disappoint as the heroes. Monlaur does most of the heavy lifting early on as Marianne, the beautiful schoolteacher who tries to do the right thing, but unleashes evil in the process. Her innocence and kindness makes us root for her when the Baron starts closing in to make her his bride. Cushing reprises his role as the relentless vampire hunter Van Helsing, a hero who seems capable of slipping out of the nastiest situations imaginable. He becomes almost a fatherly figure to the young Marianne, who enthusiastically tells him about her marriage. Like a proud father, he beams with delight—only to slowly become more horrified as she reveals who the man is that will be taking her hand. There is plenty of warmth in Cushing’s performance and you will find yourself holding your breath when Peel’s fangs bear down on his neck. Hunt’s Baroness Meinster is a mysterious piece of work as the Baron’s mother, who doesn’t seem too alarmed when he son finally comes calling. Also on board here is Andree Melly as Gina, Marianne’s jealous roommate who gets turned into one of the dreaded vampire brides.
In true Hammer fashion, The Brides of Dracula is heavy with misty forests, gothic castles, and moonlit graveyards—all things we have come to expect from the studio that successfully revived the classic monsters. Even the opening credits appear as bloody scribbled with a desolate castle looming ominously in the background. Director Fisher, who was the man behind Horror of Dracula and The Curse of Frankenstein, seemed to be getting more and more comfortable with the gothic aesthetic, as his frames are almost overflowing with crosses, coffins, knotted trees, and withered late falls leaves. In addition to the Halloween-heavy mood of the film, The Brides of Dracula also features a sequence in which Van Helsing shows off an extremely painfully way to treat and get rid of a vampire bite. Using a hot poker and some holy water, it really shows the fight that lies deep within our hero. Overall, with the ever-game Cushing at the wheel and Fisher working double time to make sure each and every scene is as atmospheric as it can be, The Brides of Dracula turns out to be an entertaining and solidly spooky sequel from Hammer. Come to catch a glimpse of the brides and stay for the thrilling windmill face-off.
The Brides of Dracula is available on DVD.