He Was Such A Lovely Dear

I'm not sure quite why Hammer went so off piste on 'Rasputin, The Mad Monk', but I'm glad they did as it's a supremely entertaining diversion. I suppose that, fifty years after his murder, 'Russia's Greatest Love Machine' was still synonymous with sex and intrigue and violent death, so Hammer couldn't really resist.

Regular readers of this blog will know that I think Christopher Lee to be a pompous pain in the arse but, credit where credit's due, he turns in an excellent performance here, although, disappointingly, doesn't do his own dancing. It's a breathless, reckless gallop that takes in seduction, hypnosis, mind control, a severed hand, an acid damaged face, suicide, a drinking competition and a poisoned box of chocolates. It's impossible not to enjoy, but I wouldn't use it as revision for a Russian History exam.

It's worth pointing out that one of Rasputin's murderers, Prince Yusupov, had successfully sued MGM for an earlier telling of the story, 'Rasputin & The Empress' and that it is a direct result of his legal action that films have since carried the legend 'any similarity to any person, living or dead...', etc. The Hammer version doesn't really need it, it's quite obviously all made up.

The film was ably directed by Don Sharp, who died on December 14th last year. A reliable, steady craftsman, Don had a long career, also directing 'Island' favourites 'Psychomania', 'Kiss Of The Vampire' and 'Dark Places' as well as a couple of Fu Manchu flicks. RIP, Don.

Rasputin, The Mad Monk

The Return Of The Tall White Count

It took Hammer eight years to come up with a direct sequel to 'Dracula' (1958), mainly because star Christopher Lee decided that he didn't want to become typecast and refused to play the role again. Hammer went on making non-Dracula vampire films, of course, and Lee slowly realised that it was better to be a typecast starring actor than a non-typecast supporting actor and eventually decided to don the cape and the blood red contacts once again in the brilliantly titled 'Dracula, Prince Of Darkness'.  

The plot is simplicity itself. Dracula is dead, well, sort of, so his faithful servant Klove lures four British holiday makers to Carlsbad Castle where he immediately kills one of them, hangs him over a coffin full of Drac dust, and cuts his throat. The resulting transformation scene is superbly done, with bubbling blood turning into bone, then sinew, then flesh, then...well, have a look for yourself...

From here on in, it all kicks off: shrewish, frumpy Barbara Shelley is bitten and transformed into a slinky bite happy bat lady; crazy Thorley Walters starts hearing theremin music and receiving long distance transmissions from the Count, and shouty monk and beardy vampire hunter Father Shandor (Andrew Keir) loads his gun, saddles up and rides to the rescue with Francis 'Captain Scarlet' Matthews. It's all very exciting and fast moving, which actually makes up for the creaky hour of exposition that preceded it.

Dracula doesn't say a word throughout, and Christopher Lee claims that this is because the dialogue was so bad he simply refused to lower himself to say it. According to script writer Jimmy Sangster, however, he didn't give him any lines in the first place. I know who I believe.

So, how does Dracula cop it in the end of this one? He drowns. Apparently, vampires can be killed by running water. Fancy that. Mind you, I bet he'll be back, he's nothing if not persistent.         

Dracula, Prince Of Darkness

Strawberry Fields Whatever

I'm not a huge Beatles fan, by any means, but as a kid starting to learn about music, I was fascinated by their transition from cheery moptops to hollow eyed dope fiends and the desolate sounding psychedelic records they made whilst under the influence. At the time, I associated hallucogenic drugs with madness and darkness and all those newspaper taxis and fish and finger pies presented a world that unsettled me - perhaps not a bad trip, but certainly a very bad dream.

From 1965 to 1967, the Fab Four had their very own American syndicated cartoon. Produced by the King Brothers, it was pure cash in trash, and the group had virtually nothing to do with it other than lending their music and likenesses - but obviously not their voices which, as presented here, are fundamentally wrong in every respect. Each show was  loosely and crassly based around a Beatles song, and also featured a 'sing-a-long' where random images acompanied a tune as the lyrics ran across the screen.

Despite the group's real life evolution over the show's two year run, the cartoon Beatles remained resolutely stuck in 1964/65 - mop topped, sharp suited and with the individual roles they had created when they still cared about stuff like that - John the acerbic leader, Paul the boyish charmer, George the deep one / mystic (he is given what sounds like an Indian accent) and Ringo the loveable lackwit.

When faced with the disparity between their mass market, cheapo product and the increasingly sophisticated image and odder and odder music of its inspiration, King Brothers did what any production company would do - they went quietly mental...
  

I've always thought that there was something dead at the centre of 'Strawberry Fields Forever', anyway - a sort of blank, burned out horror and, somehow, this garish, childish, baffling cartoon seems the perfect accompaniment.

As cartoon John says in the show in his stupid half toff, half cockney voice: 'it's all in the mind, you know'. Nothing is real. 

Strange...

Dr. Alison Carr: "Money isn't the answer to everything".

Tim Stanton: "Why don't you tell that to the ugly at the bar? He's after 162 pounds of flesh - all me".

Strange Paradise

Cockhead

Alvin Stardust takes time off from his declining pop career to dish out road safety advice. He always reminds me of the family friend who you avoid at a party, not because he's creepy, but because he's just so full of shit.

Blockhead

'Don't be a blockhead. I won't be there when you cross the road'.

The Art of Universal #1

It's not all British film and TV around here, you know, although it is mainly. I recently took advantage of a period of bad health to re-watch a load of Universal Horror films from the 1930s and 40s and it was like rediscovering an old flame, but without the resulting clandestine meetings and eventual marital break up.

I like everything about the Universal films, from their clunky plots to their increasing predilection for cramming every monster they can think of into a plot and hoping for the best. What I like best, however, is the craft that goes into these exploitation classics, where virtually every frame of every reel of every film is a visual treat, a mini masterpiece of framing: industrial Hollywood at its artistic best.

These frames are from 'The Ghost Of Frankenstein' (1942). Lon Chaney, Jr. plays the monster for the first time, Bela Lugosi returns as Ygor, and the super supercillious Lionel Atwill plays the villain, Dr. Theodore Bohmer.

This new occasional series will give me the excuse I need to post loads of snapshots from some of the most entertaining films ever made.  

F**** Me, It's Freddie

FMIF as cruel freak show owner Bytes in 'The Elephant Man'. It's one of the best things Freddie's ever done, but one of the hardest things to watch.

Freddie is a David Lynch regular, working with him on 'Dune' and 'Wild At Heart' and the TV show about a TV show 'On The Air'. Lynch, a man of impeccable taste, has said that Freddie is his favourite actor.

Electronics Without Tears

Regular readers will know of my affection for all things Radiophonic / Electronic / Concrete, as well as my admiration for previously unsung genius, F.C Judd. Public Information have put together the first official compilation of Fred's groundbreaking work and you can get it here along with all the details you need (I found out more about Judd's work on my first visit than I'd learned over the last ten years on my own).





This is apparently the first instalment of a major retrospective, which is excellent news. 

The Lord Of the Living Dead

'Plague Of The Zombies' is, quite simply, fantastic. Hammer's only zombie picture is fast moving, pretty surreal and rather kinky, and I love it. 

When Professor James Forbes receives a worrying letter about a mysterious epidemic from his favourite pupil, he and his daughter hot foot it down to his proteges practice in Cornwall just in time to see a funeral interrupted by a load of yahoos, the deceased unceremoniously dumped out of his coffin. A few nights later, the dead man is seen roaming around looking menacing and, when further investigations are made, his grave and many others are found to be empty...

But what does this have to do with the spate of mysterious deaths, or the arrogant Magistrate / Lord of the Manor and his obnoxious cabal of thuggish mates? And what about the incessant voodoo drums coming from the disused tin mine? As Toyah might say 'it's a mythtery'.

Part Gothic, part Scooby Doo, 'Plague of The Zombies' has a huge amount to recommend it, including probably the best nightmare sequence in Hammer history. Perfect as a double bill with 'The Reptile', not least because they were made back to back on the same sets, and it's fun to spot the similarities. Highly recommended.

  

Plague Of The Zombies