Can The Earth Survive?

It has recently been announced that Louis Tussauds in Great Yarmouth may close, not because of falling visitor numbers but because the owners are now in their eighties and need to retire. The museum opened in the 1950’s, and I have visited it perhaps thirty times since my first trip round it in the early seventies. Its potential closure is something I am still trying to process, but it has made me assess my feelings towards the place, which are full of warmth, but also laced with contradiction.

Louis Tussauds is a place that succeeds brilliantly in its primary function, to interest and entertain, but is somewhat hit and miss in its secondary function, i.e. as a museum, even of wax figures. I have argued before that the majority of the exhibits are, facially at least, very good  likenesses, but they are let down by odd, slightly disproportionate bodies and low budget costumes and, in some cases, by a lack of maintenance. The contradiction is that this is a place that I hold incredibly dear and find fascinating, yet I also know is actually fairly ridiculous. My abiding feeling for this odd little corner of Britain is, overwhelmingly, of love – a love that accepts the imperfections and, indeed, is strengthened by these foibles. I’ll miss the place very much.

All of which brings me, eventually, to my main point: in the new issue of ‘Bedabbled!’, friend of the Island and Mounds and Circles contributor Fearlono makes a valid observation: why do people writing about British horror tend to focus on the negative, to disparage and dismiss, instead of celebrating its brilliance? As someone who writes about horror, and has been guilty of taking the piss quite a lot, this question gave me pause. British horror (and sci fi and almost all points inbetween) is very rarely flawless but, by Christ, it’s lovable.

I can’t in all honesty review a film and say that the script is a work of genius and the performances brilliant and the effects astounding if they’re not, and I won’t. It’s also in my nature to make a joke about almost everything, so I’ll carry on doing that, too. But please know this: ‘Island Of Terror’, and the work I put into it, is not driven by a desire to denigrate the subject matter, it exists to celebrate it and to share the deep admiration and enthusiasm I have for it. I couldn’t live without British horror films, they’re an absolutely integral part of my life and, if I occasionally point out the wires or a hole in the script or a scenery chewing performance, I do so because, for me, that’s part of the appeal. The fact that they exist is enough, if they are good then that’s a bonus. Like Louis Tussaud’s, the love is not sensible or rational, but it is enduring and unconditional.          

And so, finally, to ‘The Body Stealers’, a highly enjoyable sci fi romp about military parachutists disappearing mid jump, kidnapped by stranded aliens who need their expertise on their home planet. Done on the cheap, the film benefits from a distinguished cast (Maurice Evans, George Sanders, Robert Flemyng, Allan Cuthbertson) and a star turn from the chin and voice himself, Patrick ‘Barratt Homes’ Allen. Sean’s Connery sibling Neil is in it, too, and does a passable impression of his big brother, down to the toupee. Allen’s entrance is brilliant - laying under the wing of his private plane dressed in a pair of ball bag splitting slacks, he hungrily kisses a dolly bird before jumping up from their picnic to hop into a waiting helicopter on his way to save the world. The daft / brilliant contradiction in action.

Oh, in case you wondered about the connection between ‘The Blood Beast Terror’ and ‘The Body Stealers’ (I try to have the films in the  double bills complement or link with each other) it’s quite simple: both films were products of  Tigon, a company founded by Tony Tenser which, from 1966 to 1973 were responsible for a heady mix of horror and smut films, including a huge number of Island (and ‘Mounds & Circles’) favourites. Click on the link for more details of their amazing output. You won’t regret it

The Body Stealers

The Vampire Beast Craves Blood

I'm not a scientist, but a couple of things bother me about 'Blood Beast Terror'. I can can just about believe that a professor of entymology could create an enormous man, sorry, woman sized Death's Head Hawkmoth in his laboratory but why would it specifically crave human flesh and blood? That's one thing. The deal breaker is how the hell he could create a massive, murderous acherontia lachesis that, most of the time, is actually a pretty, if rather forward, young woman? It just doesn't make any sense - and even if you disengage the make sense meter before you press 'play' it still itches your udders, especially as the film makers make no attempt whatsoever to show us their workings out.

So, yep, fundamentally flawed, and that's before we take into account the numerous non sequiters and dead ends, the characters who are given elaborate back stories just to be killed five minutes later, and the scenes that go on just a fraction too long, or start about a minute too late. Oh, and Roy Hudd's in it, providing comic relief (it's certainly a relief when he stops). It's all a bit of a mess and, fatally, gives what it has away far too soon.

Wanda Ventham plays the deadly girl moth, and although she's in 'UFO' and is attractive and all that, she's just too arch and knowing for the role. The moment she sashays onscreen, all cleavage and cow eyes, you know she's a wrong 'un. The supporting cast is good, but not given much good to do. Even the super reliable and sharply intelligent Peter Cushing plays a policeman who, knowing he is on the trail of a killer beast, takes his daughter (pouty Vanessa Howard, from 'Girly') along as cover and then acts surprised when she disappears.

'Blood Beast Terror' is undeniably slow and slightly defective, but it carries its insane (il)logic through to the very end, when the psychotic half human furry thing catches fire after, yes, making the school moth error of flying too close to a flame. Priceless, absolutely priceless.

PS The title of this post comes from the re-named US version of the film, which makes even less sense.

The Blood Beast Terror

Valerie Leon, Zetan

The luminous Valerie Leon as Apropos in Michael Cort's mind boggling sci fi comedy smutter 'Zeta One' (1969). I think this is the most skimpily dressed I have ever seen her, hence the slightly worn out quality of the screen grabs. She's a fine figure of a woman, alien or otherwise.

I will review 'Zeta One' at some point, but I'll have to build up to it.

Saraband For Dead Lovers

'Neither The Sea Nor The Sand' is a very odd thing, a sort of Mills and Boon Gothic zombie fantasy. Written by newreader Gordon Honeycombe, and from the Tigon studio, it has its moments but is terribly uneven, although the scenery (it was filmed in Jersey) is quite incredible.

Annabel and Hugh are desperately in love. When he dies suddenly, she refuses to believe that he would ever leave her. He obviously can't take it either, so he comes back. Really. No pulse, mute, obviously decaying, he shuffles around, staring at Annabel as if she's the only thing that can keep him from the beyond. After a while, and once the reanimated Hugh has murdered his God botherer brother, it becomes clear that this situation can't go on indefinitely - Hugh will have to die again, and Annabel will have to decide whether to join him.

A sombre, sad little film, it has basic elements of a very creepy fairy tale, although this is undercut somewhat by some risible dialogue and some awful music. I only wish it was more experimental and dreamlike - it might have been something special rather than simply a difficult to classify curio.

Neither The Sea Nor The Sand

Chill Filled?

'The Beast In The Cellar' has a decent cast and some grisly murders, but it's really boring. I mean really, really, really boring, so monumentally talky and impossibly slow that no amount of hairy feral psychopaths could save it, let alone one rather unconvincing one. 

Here's the theme tune, written by legendary pop songwriter Tony Macauley. It's rather nice.

Please don't think that I don't like the film, because I like everything I post about, even if I don't rate it, but I have to be honest, so there you are, my honest assessment - it's boring, go and see it!

The Beast In The Cellar

The Mark Of Quality (Sort Of)

Turned On

‘The Sorcerers’ was Michael Reeves second film, and the first to have any kind of budget and distribution. Starring Boris Karloff and Reeves’ alter ego / fantasy figure Ian Olgilvy it tells of an elderly man who, aided and abetted by his even more cracked wife, invents a new form of hypnosis which allows the ageing and infirm couple to experience excitement and emotion through a much younger and more active subject (Olgilvy) who they manipulate like a lanky puppet. This being 1967, of course, there are many vicarious thrills to be had, including groovy dancing, making it with dolly birds, fast driving, drinking, drug taking, pushing girls off diving boards and, as kicks get harder to come by, violence and murder.  

It all ends badly, and Professor Marcus Montserrat (fantastic name) and his Missus soon learn that evil acts have consequences, even if you get a tall posh bloke to do them for you.

The Sorcerers

Evil Secret

‘The Haunted House of Horror’ is a 1969 proto slasher film from the under-rated Tigon Studios. Not a bad effort, it contrasts some fairly irritating scenes of actors in their mid-twenties pretending to be hip young teens with some quite satisfying scenes of the same actors being gorily murdered, or stabbed in the crotch. The cast is ‘mixed ability’ to say the least: teen idol who never was Mark Wynter, Richard O’Sullivan, Dennis Price and Frankie Avalon (the unlucky recipient of the groin focused cutlery).

The film was directed by Michael Armstrong, whose previous work had included a short called ‘The Image’ which provided David Bowie with his first screen role. Apparently, Dave was lined up to play the psychotic killer in this film, but was dropped before shooting started. Pity, as that would have been rather interesting.

Stop Press: This film is actually on TV tomorrow morning, BBC2 at 2.25am. I now think I may be a clairvoyant as I wrote the above post and scheduled it for today about three months ago.

The Haunted House of Horror