From Barcelona… to Tunbridge Wells (1999)

This fourth episode in a 12-part 1999 series covering Euro-horror and eroticism looks at the career of José Ramón Larraz. The title of this particular Eurotika! segment refers to Larraz’s place of birth – and place of residence at the time when he was interviewed for the piece.

As a primer for Larraz’ oeuvre, it gives a pretty good overview, even if it doesn’t go into enough detail to satisfy the most ardent fan. However, it features specially recorded interviews with the man himself, as well as friend and collaborator Brian Smedley-Aston and Marianne Morris (of Vampyres (1974) repute).

Marianne Morris as Fran in 1974’s Vampyres (with Murray Brown as Ted)

It’s these chats that form the bulk of the piece, supplemented by unobtrusive voice-over. And there are several clips, mostly from the aforementioned film and while it’s not exhaustive, From Barcelona… is a warm, informative look at a creator who describes himself (rather too modestly) as a “second-rate director”.

The series, by the way was made by Andy Starke and Pete Tombs who, among many other things, currently run the Mondo Macabro DVD/Blu-ray label.

I viewed this as one of the special features on the BFI’s excellent Blu-ray release of Symptoms (1974), probably his best-regarded film – but it’s also available (at the time of writing) here.

Memento Mori (1999)

The film starts with high-school student Shi-eun (Lee Young-jin) running around a track – and straightaway, I had a very good feeling about the movie. Why? Well, because the actress was really going for it, giving the impression she might actually be a genuine athlete. So often in movies, sporting prowess isn’t conveyed very well – oftentimes, quick cutting or a ringer used in long shots, etc. is the order of the day. This sequence demonstrated to me something that is apparent throughout the rest of Memento Mori – the cast and crew give a damn.

If you’ve seen the first entry in the themed Whispering Corridors series, you’ll kind of know what to expect: a bunch of teenaged schoolgirls, intense emotions, frustrations, betrayals and some supernatural stuff. However, Memento Mori is no mere retread of the previous year’s film; this sequel features a new team behind and in front of the camera and tells a different story.

And that story progresses in nonlinear fashion, which is quite appropriate for a film that partially shares the title of a Christopher Nolan film (which was at least a couple of months away from being released when this came out). Students Shi-eun and Hyo-shin (Park Ye-jin) are in love and they don’t mind hiding the fact from the rest of the school, thus casting themselves in the role of obvious outsiders. Shi-eun’s sportiness, her boyish hairdo and hearing problem only serve to alienate her further. Anyway, they decide to write a shared diary, which forms the basis of the film (and its title).

Said journal is found by another student (at a later time in the timeline but not in terms of how the film is presented), Min-ah (Kim Min-sun). She quickly becomes obsessed by the lives of the two lovers, who have since split (again, in real time, not as we’re watching the movie).

What caused the breakup and what part, if any, does a teacher at the school – Mr Goh (Baek Jong-hak) – have to play in all if this? 

A major event causes things to unravel big time, leading to a final act that is orchestrated bedlam of the highest order.

I liked Whispering Corridors quite a bit but I loved Memento Mori. The acting is excellent, particularly from the three main leads. Really, though, there are a number of memorable performances by young actresses who bring their respective characters to life. Life in an all-girl Korean comes across authentically: the humour, the commotion, the noise, the cut and thrust and so on. (Not that I ever went to an all-girl Korean school, you understand.) There are some scuffles between some of the students that look like they could be potentially dangerous. These performers really commit!

The film is written and helmed by Kim Tae-yong and Min Kyu-dong, and they do a fine job of making the viewer feel invested in the characters, the mystery and the developing drama. Yes, this is a horror film but the emphasis is firmly on characterisation, relationships, secrets and all that good stuff. Adding an extra layer of class to the production is Jo Seong-woo’s score, which predominately consists of lyrical, ear-worming piano melodies and ominously beautiful choral singing.

Dracula’s Daughter (1936)

“What new piece of asininity is this?”

Dracula’s Daughter picks up straight after the climax of Dracula (1931), which saw Renfield strangled to death and Professor Van Helsing (Edward Van Sloan) driving a stake through the Count’s heart.

In the seconds since those events, the good professor appears to have undergone a minor name change (he’s now Von Helsing); perhaps this was a half-hearted attempt to distance himself from all those vampire shenanigans.

Renfield (Dwight Fry) – the poor chap’s now lost his life as well as his marbles. Van Helsing (Edward Van Sloan) – he’s undergone an emergency change of name. (Dracula – 1931)

It makes sense, then, that the start of the film takes place in Whitby, North Yorkshire, which, oddly enough, seems to be populated entirely by Cockneys, posh Londoners and Americans. It also appears to be within walking distance of England’s capital…

It’s quite odd, you know – when Von Helsing tells the head of Scotland Yard, Sir Basil Humphrey (Gilbert Emery) about things that have only just happened, he does so as if he’s describing incidents that occurred, say, five years ago. Hmmm… (*strokes chin thoughtfully*)

As Dracula’s cold, undead body grows even colder, the fruit of his loins, Countess Marya Zaleska (Gloria Holden), turns up, having hitherto never been seen nor mentioned. Zaleska, by the way, resembles a cross between Siouxsie Sioux (appropriately enough) and Meryl Streep.

Siouxsie Sioux + Meryl Streep = Gloria Holden. No? Well, I guess it’s just me, then…

Zaleska is an interesting character. She doesn’t share her dad’s lust for blood (although she does need it). Instead, she wants to quit the vampire life, get out of the bat race, if you will.

She identifies the perfect person to help her: psychologist Dr Jeffrey Garth (Otto Kruger) but he’s not so keen, despite an initial attraction to the Countess. In any case, he’s in a steady relationship with Janet (Marguerite Churchill), who looks not unlike Taylor Swift. It’s no surprise, then, given both females’ rock-and-pop-music analogues, that they do not and clearly never will get along.

Marguerite Churchill and Taylor Swift – okay, I’m reaching…

Dracula’s Daughter leans far more into vaudeville than its predecessor – right from the get-go, in fact, with EE Clive’s comedy copper. And there’s a lot more of that sort of thing throughout the movie but, happily, it’s all quite amusing (unlike some of the ‘humorous’ routines in the 1931 film). This sequel is also more of a mystery story than an outright horror film, and features some romantic overtones. Actually, it’s surprisingly sensual for a mainstream American film of the 1930s, especially the sexually charged scene featuring Zaleska and poor unfortunate Lili (Nan Grey) – and, later, the near-seduction of a hypnotised Jane by the Countess after the action has decamped to Transylvania. (The subtext of this scene is, as I choose to interpret it: Siouxsie, the goth, telling unconscious prisoner Taylor, the mainstream pop star: “Your brand of music goes against everything I hold sacred; therefore, I am going to take you, body and soul.”

Countess Marya Zaleska (Holden) has designs on Lili (Nan Grey)

I must say, this is a very decent sequel. I think I actually prefer it to the original, which I have quite a few issues with (one example: Bela Lugosi is fine enough but it always bugs me when he puts the emphasis on the word ‘they’ in, ”The children of the night what music they make.” Eh?)

Anyway, Dracula’s Daughter is very professionally made, quite imaginatively directed and features very effective lighting, particularly during the scenes in which Zaleska beguiles her first victim, and Garth hypnotises Lili. I also liked the montage sequence that is used as visual shorthand for a series of media broadcasts requesting information regarding the whereabouts of the abducted Janet.

Admittedly, quite a lot of the film is fairly wonky and I’ve already touched on some examples. Another is the speed with which our heroes get to Transylvania – a country that seems to be stuck in one hell of a time warp, by the way. I’m sure this film isn’t alone in its credulity-stretching depiction of relative cultures, though. Some 36 years later, Marvel Comics, for instance, does very much the same thing in its (rather good) Tomb of Dracula series.

Blacker Than the Night (1975)

A Mexican horror film that relies on mood rather than viscera. It concerns four young women who share the same apartment. One of their number, Ofelia (Claudia Islas), learns that she has inherited her recently deceased Aunt Susana (Tamara Garina)’s old house – but there’s one catch, she must look after Bécquer, the dead lady’s beloved cat.

Ofelia very magnanimously invites her three friends to live with her in this new (old) home but at least two of the girls aren’t happy that they have to share it with a cat.

Boo! Personally, I’d make it a stipulation that one or more cats be part of any inheritance.

Anyway, they check the house out; it’s looked after by a stern, somewhat suspicious housekeeper called Sofia (Alicia Palacios), who seems to come as part of the package.

Quite a lot of the film is spent watching nothing very much happening. It’s quite sometime before anything really weird starts occurring. However, if a film is sufficiently well made (which this Carlos Enrique Taboada-directed movie is), I’m more than happy to stick with it.

Things start to go tits-up when Bécquer kills Aurora (Susana Dosamentes)’s pet canary. It’s not long before the pussycat is found dead in the cellar and things start to go truly awry.

Librarian Aurora is stalked in her place of work by what looks like an old lady with a cane (Aunt Susana?). Ofelia later discovers her friend hanging upside down; apparently, her heart stopped (is no one even a little bit suspicious about the hanging upside down bit?). Later, Pilar (Helena Rojo) is pursued around the basement of their house but she manages to get out unscathed. She later falls from the top of the stairs after taking fright at the spectre of Aunt Susana. Marta (Lucía Méndez) is the last to die, stabbed through the chest with two knitting needles (at the start of the film, we see the old woman doing some knitting).

As it turns out, the three dead girls had taken part in beating Bécquer to death, which is why Ofelia survives. That was the deal: Bécquer came with the house and they should have paid him more attention. RIP, Bécquer.

I really liked Más negro que la noche; cats and the macabre always seem to go well together. The film’s well-designed, very atmospheric and assuredly paced. The direction is good, particularly the library scenes, and the gals’ mid-seventies’ outfits and hairstyles are always a joy to behold (the guys, not so much so).

There’s a strong sense of macabre morality at the heart of the screenplay; it’s a story of respect (or lack thereof). If the young ladies had been just a little more gracious in their dealings with Bécquer, they would probably still be alive. It’s kind of neat, too, that Sofia – although set up as some kind of malign presence – is actually a decent person who did try to warn the women at various times. I also liked that the first death took place some distance away from the house, which means that simply moving out wouldn’t have stopped the rest of the cat-murderers from escaping the curse.

One of the oddest things about the movie, though, is the reaction to each death. The surviving girls always seem to be quite unfazed and carry on as if nothing had happened. When only Ofelia and Marta are left, they excitedly decide to have a party!

I honestly think that Ofelia was more upset at the death of Bécquer (which I kind of understand).

Il Conte Dracula (1970) – anatomy of a seduction

Soledad Miranda and Christopher Lee in Jess Franco’s movie adaptation of Bram Stoker’s 1897 novel.

Lucy Westenra, shortly after opening her bedroom window.

 

Lucy wonders if that was such a good idea…

 

Hello, who’s this bad boy?

 

Men – always after the same thing!

 

Post-coital ecstasy?

 

You might say that the Count has made a new woman of Lucy.

Twins of Evil (1971)

By this point in his career, director John Hough had gained quite a bit of TV experience, most noticeably on episodes of The Avengers. On the strength of Twins of Evil alone, it’s easy to see why he went on to enjoy a good deal of success on the other side of the pond.

It’s 1971, though, and he’s working for Hammer – a studio known for doing a lot with very little. The studio made its name on the back of hard-working and inventive crew members, such as director of Terence Fisher; folk that had a canny knack for carefully disguising a lack of resources.

Hough is very much part of that lineage.

His shot selections, Dick Bush’s cinematography and Roy Stannard’s art direction all combine to great effect. It’s clear that a lot of care and attention has gone into the making of the film; just look at the crowd scenes, for instance, and you’ll see some nice little supporting artist vignettes that other directors simply wouldn’t have bothered with.

Kudos, too, to composer Harry Robinson (or Harry Robertson, which was his real name) for showing restraint where necessary yet providing a stirring main theme that genuinely wouldn’t be out of place in a spaghetti western.

Twins of Evil is also blessed with a fine cast. Peter Cushing is on sublime form (he plays a pious jerk who pokes his nose into everyone else’s business) but there’s also Kathleen Byron (who was so memorable in Black Narcissus) – although made to look dowdy and middle-aged (well, the last bit was true, I guess), she is still a very fine looking woman.

Although they are twin characters, the titular antagonists – played by Playboy models Madeline and Mary Collinson – have distinct personalities. As was Hammer’s wont, they are both dubbed but on the evidence of the visuals alone, they both do a fine job.

David Warbeck is noteworthy, too, as the film’s good guy. If indeed he was a serious contender to play James Bond after Connery/Lazenby, I can well imagine that he’d have made a good fist of it. He certainly has the bearing and looks and he can act. Factor in his twinkly personality and I think he would have provided that character with something a little different.

Oh, and one of the main puritans is played by an actor called Harvey Hall (he’s the one who looks a bit like Timothy West) – he has extraordinarily angular eyebrows!

While Hammer was ramping up the sexual content, along with the gore, at this juncture in its history, Hough manages to keep both to a minimum. The latter is ironic, perhaps, considering the Collinson sisters’ glamour-model background but I think the film’s all the better for it. Violence does erupt during the final act, however, including a rather spectacular beheading performed by Cushing’s puritan.

Essentially, Twins is comprised of a pair of story threads: the witch-hunters going around burning young women for kicks – and Count Karnstein (Damien Thomas)’s lustful perversity and desire to summon Satan. Both strands intertwine at times, before properly connecting during the film’s inevitable finale, which sees the self-righteous Christians march on Castle Karnstein.

Haunter (2013)

This was a really wonderful surprise. I happened upon it after listening to an episode of ScreamCast, and I always take note of what co-host Stephanie Crawford says (she’s more lucid talking about films on the fly than I could ever be given time to compose my thoughts). She remarked that she had enjoyed a particular movie, which I took to be this one. As it turns out, I appear not to have listened very intently because I ended up watching something else entirely: Haunter.

That title, by the way: rubbish. I mean, it’s pertinent to the movie but in and of itself it would almost certainly have never made me want to watch it.

Anyway…

Haunter is deliciously creepy and made me feel really quite tense at certain moments – and jump a couple of times – but it’s much more of a ‘ghost drama’ than a horror film. Honestly, I liked pretty much everything about it: the acting, the production design, the direction, the cinematography, the music… I found the story to be engaging and emotional. The basic premise is not unlike something that might occur in, say, a Twilight Zone or Sapphire and Steel episode. Basically, a family appears to be stuck in a time loop, some eerie things are going on – the mom, pop and young brother of Abigail Breslin’s 15-year-old Lisa, seem like nice people but something is not… quite… right.

The film soon becomes a kind of uncanny detective story, which I was really onboard with, as plucky Lisa tries to get to the bottom of things – and attempts to learn who the sinister character (played by Stephen McHattie) is.

I really enjoyed Haunter from start to finish. It’s a poignant, sometimes disturbing experience and the way it ended really got to me. Let’s put it this way, I was really in the mood for this film and really loved the empathetic central character that. Sure, she has her teenage angst but she fights hard to understand why her 16th birthday always seems to be just out of reach. The acting is very strong throughout, particularly from Breslin and mom and pop actors Peter Outerbridge and Michelle Nolden. Other, more ancillary, characters turn up much later but they are all played with conviction and a sense of reality that is so important to make something so fantastical work.

On the strength of Haunter, I feel I must go and check out director Vincenzo Natali’s other films.

By the by, I find that it’s really advantageous going into a movie with as little foreknowledge as possible. (Okay, I did have some expectations about this film. I thought that it was going to be about one of those extreme haunted house attractions. I was wrong, of course.) It’s rarely ever possible to do that, though, but armed with just enough information to pique one’s interest, and without spoiling any surprises, it can be a rewarding experience.

Backcountry (2014), another Canadian film, was one such experience – I knew nothing about that movie’s ‘big bad’ (which almost certainly would have been spoiled by trailers, press releases, reviews and the like) so I was genuinely surprised when he/she/it turned up.

Exorcist III (1990)

To my mind, the third film in the Exorcist film series is confirmation that any instalment that doesn’t have William Peter Blatty’s input is pretty much a waste of time. Sure, this direct sequel to the 1973 classic has its flaws but I still consider it to be a superior kind of horror movie. Blatty did a fine job on his 1980 movie The Ninth Configuration and he does remarkably well here, too.

I will say that this 1990 film is a little unbalanced by the force of nature that is George C Scott but, for the most part, the actor personifies Lt. Kinderman perfectly well. Also, the drollery is a little too forced in places (Kinderman’s carp-in-the-bathtub anecdote comes to mind – Blatty gets the balance right in the 1973 film and the aforementioned The Ninth Configuration).

Exorcist III, much like William Friedkin and Blatty’s seventies’ collaboration, covers some very dark subject matter but it’s in the spirit of the original – eschewing the blood-and-gore approach that a lesser creative would doubtless have employed. Here, the writer-director relies on mood, and a relatively leisurely pace, in order to administer a number of chilling moments, including one heart-stopping scare. I really admire Blatty for keeping all the nasty stuff off-screen. Think about the death of poor old Father Dyer (Ed Flanders) – one really doesn’t need to witness the act – and its immediate consequences – to be disturbed by it. Even a tacked-on exorcism can’t damage the film’s overall worth, despite it going against Blatty’s original intentions.

Not that you asked for it but here’s my advice: watch the original, skip right ahead to this one and don’t bother with the others. (Although, Exorcist II: The Heretic is a pretty fascinating failure.)

The House That Dripped Blood (1971)

This is the third of Amicus’ portmanteau movies and the first that the British studio released during the 1970s. Its individual stories are linked by John Bennett’s Detective Inspector Holloway – who is investigating the disappearance of horror-movie actor Paul Henderson (Jon Pertwee). The policeman’s inquiries ultimately lead him to the address at which Henderson was last known to reside – The House That Dripped Blood, if you will. Oh, and there’s a character called A J Stoker (John Bryans), an estate agent who, it could be argued, doesn’t do the best job of marketing his properties.

The first segment is Method for Murder and concerns a couple – writer Charles (Denholm Elliott) and his wife Alice (Joanna Dunham) – that moves into the isolated country home. Charles is a horror writer (I bet his work is published by Pan Books!) and he’s found the perfect place to churn out more tales of the macabre. The creepy-old-house environs inspire him to come up with an antagonist called Dominic, who starts to become more fact than fiction – or perhaps he’s just a figment of the writer’s increasingly febrile imagination.

On the face of it, it seems like an odd choice casting smoothie Tom Adams as Dominic, who looks like a character from Carry on Screaming that ended up on the cutting-room floor. (He’s not so much Oddbod – or Oddbod Jr – as, maybe, Oddbod’s slightly more handsome cousin.) Anyway, he’s quite creepy – certainly, the way director Peter Duffell shoots him, providing the audience (and Charles) with brief, unsettling glimpses that are never long enough to allow the viewer to get too much of a fix on him.

I’ve seen The House That Dripped Blood at least two times before but I still managed to forget the bloody twist. And there’s another one after that. Good stuff!

Waxworks is probably the least substantial of all four stories but it does provide the opportunity for viewers to see Peter Cushing and Joss Ackland act together; not something to be sniffed at. Ackland hasn’t quite gotten to the stage in his career where he’s in larger-than-life mode but there are inklings of the kind of unhinged intensity that he can and will bring to a role. As for Cushing, he could play the most boring person alive and still be compelling.

This one is about two men who loved and lost a lady they both knew. Cushing’s character then finds what looks like a facsimile of her head in a nearby house of wax…

Here, Duffel changes up the direction and there’s a quite modern style of editing going on in some sequences. However, this vignette doesn’t feel properly developed.

Next up is Sweets to the Sweet, which is possibly the best of the set. Chloe Franks plays Jane, the introverted young daughter to severe-yet-terrified John (Christopher Lee). Franks imbues the little girl with a natural, sweet charm while being unaccountably disturbing. Nyree Dawn Porter makes a welcome appearance, playing a kindly, concerned nanny who can’t understand John’s flinty relationship with his daughter. Of course, we learn his reasons in due course…

I’ve played a lot of vampires in my time but I’ve never actually bitten anyone before!”

Just one of the zingers that Pertwee’s petulant, pompous film actor delivers throughout The Cloak, which concerns the aforementioned Henderson, a staple of low-budget horror fare who is trying to acquire exactly the right kind of garment for his latest vampire flick – a cloak that will help him to get into the part. He picks up the titular item of clothing at a bric-à-brac store run by a chap played by Geoffrey Bayldon – who is an absolute delight in this. As it turns out, the cloak does more than put Henderson in the right frame of mind, it actually turns him into a vampire!

There’s much humour wrung from the tacky film set scenario, in which yet another tawdry British horror movie is being churned out, much to Mr Henderson’s chagrin. Ingrid Pitt co-stars as Henderson’s, erm, co-star and squeeze. She injects some nice humour into the part of Carla (which is presumably riffing on her Carmilla/Mircalla role in 1970’s Countess Dracula, made by rivals Hammer).

This last segment feeds – please excuse the pun – into the wrap-up, which sees Holloway discover the undead duo of vampiric actors in the house’s basement. In that sense, it follows the precedent established by Asylum. And, of course, we get another direct-to-camera address by one of the characters, in this case, Mr Stoker.

I don’t think that Amicus ever dropped the ball with any of its seven anthology films that spanned nearly a decade. (I can never quite figure out which is my favourite.) This, I believe, is because the studio changes the formula in subtle ways, without breaking it entirely. For instance, The House That Dripped Blood ends on an overtly comedic tale, while the last of the series, From Beyond the Grave – its final tale is a real outlier. Sometimes the film will feature a ‘host’, and sometimes it won’t – Holloway and (more pertinently) Stoker are the closest we get to that here. In this particular entry in the series, it’s the female characters that hold the upper hand in each story. Sometimes there’s a bit of sci-fi (see The Torture Garden). Sometimes we’re witnessing premonitions that could, in theory, be prevented – or the last days of lives that are played out continuously on some infernal loop.

Basically, Amicus never rested on its laurels, which is why From Beyond the Grave (1974) is as fresh and enjoyable as Dr Terror’s House of Horrors (1965). Actually, it could be argued that the films got better, which is pretty unusual, not to say remarkable, when it comes to a horror film series.

Night of the Demon (1958)

Night of the Demon clearly made an impression on many young minds when it was screened on BBC 2 in the summer of 1980. I was one of those viewers, and it was my mum who put me onto it. I can still recall her telling me that its star, Dana Andrews, was something of a heartthrob for her mother back in the day.

The titular creature’s physical manifestation has long been a source of disquietude, with director Jacques Tourneur and Andrews both lambasting its inclusion, stating that it was foisted on the film by thick-headed producer Hal E Chester. I think it’s the actual face of the demon that most annoys folk. When shown in long shot, preceded by some eerie smoke-like effects and a chirruping sound, the effect is very good. The extreme close-ups – not so much. It’s ironic, then, that the face of the creature has long been used to sell the film, adorning posters, magazine covers and Indicator’s most recent Blu-ray release. Personally, I don’t think it hurt or unbalances what is, for the most part, a low-key supernatural chiller.

Tourneur is perfect for this kind of material, having cut his teeth on Val Lewton’s psychological horror movies of the 1940s. He appears to relish translating M R James story to the screen – as repurposed by one-time Hitchcock collaborator Charles Bennett – by putting the emphasis on shadows, performances, mood and a tangible sense of dread.

It was a very shrewd move on (presumably) Tourneur’s part getting Andrews to portray the film’s implacable scientist Dr Holden and having him go head-to-head with the mercurial Niall McGinnis as Julian Karswell, a children’s entertainer-cum-Satanist. Andrews’ Holden might just as well be a film noir detective who finds himself in the world of the supernatural but can’t quite bring himself to believe that runes can be cast, causing people to die by unearthly means.

McGinnis is the film’s standout actor in a film packed with cherishable performances. His nuanced portrayal makes Karswell an urbane, threatening, likeable and pitiable character; someone that has enormous power at his fingertips but lives in terror should it be used against him.