Hammer Film fans across the globe were saddened yesterday by the news that Anthony Hinds had passed away at the grand age of 91. Hinds is seldom discussed as much as Peter Cushing. Or Christopher Lee. Or Terence Fisher. Or Jimmy Sangster. Or Jack Asher. Or Bernard Robinson. But the fact remains, it was Hinds who assembled these gifted men, thus creating “Hammer Horror.”
Hinds was born in Middlesex, England, on September 19th, 1922. After
a stint in the Royal Air Force, he accepted an invitation from his
father, Will Hammer, to come and join the ranks at Exclusive Films. In 1948, he produced his first picture, a modest potboiler named Who Killed Van Loon?. Hinds
displayed an ability to bring his films in on time and on budget and
also showed a genuine concern for quality, which was something of a rare
quality for men in his position in the lower echelons of British film
production. In 1954, Hinds produced The Quatermass
Xperiment – in essence the first of Hammer (as the studio had by then
been rechristened) Films’ major commercial successes. A
tight, well-paced adaptation of a hit TV serial by Nigel Kneale, the
film disappointed its original writer, but proved to be a hit with
audiences. The film’s success prompted Hinds to push his
friends and coworkers at the studio to develop an idea for a follow-up
in a similar style. Production manager Jimmy Sangster won
the friendly competition by suggesting a story of radioactive mud which
has undesirable effects on those who come into contact with it, and
Sangster was then catapulted into a new career as a writer; Sangster
always remembered Hinds for having the faith in him to allow him to
write his first screenplay. The success of these early
black and white sci-fi/horror hybrids eventually lead Hammer, and
Anthony Hinds, into a new direction…
American writer/producer Milton Subotsky
approached Hinds with the idea of remaking James Whale’s Frankenstein
(1931), but Hinds wasn’t exactly wild about the idea. After
considering his options, however, Hinds decided that a brand new
approach to the Mary Shelley novel might prove rewarding – and he
proceeded to assemble an ace team of artisans and technicians to make
the picture. It was Hinds who also decided to push for
filming in color – a costly addition, in a sense, but one which the
producer wisely realized would pay off in dividends. The end result, The Curse of Frankenstein, would prove to be a watershed “event” in the evolution of the horror genre. With
its deceptively rich production
values and then-scandalous dashes of blood and gore, the film would go
on to become a box office triumph, revitalizing the popularity of Gothic
horror films at the box office and putting Hammer on the map as a major
player in the UK film production scene. Hinds decided to
reassemble the same team – director Terence Fisher, screenwriter Jimmy
Sangster, cinematographer Jack Asher, production designer Bernard
Robinson, composer James Bernard, and stars Peter Cushing and
Christopher Lee – for Dracula (1958), and the resulting film was met
with critical consternation and tremendous box office numbers. From this point on, Hammer was, as the saying goes, a force to be reckoned with.
Quite apart from being savvy enough to
assemble the people who made these films so special, Hinds was also a
rare producer who had genuine passion for film. He took pride in his work, and expected others to do the same. Hinds
was by all accounts a humble, laid back individual – not exactly the
kind of cigar chomping “mover and groover” one normally associates with
producers. His thoughtful disposition prompted him to push his collaborators to take their work seriously. He
knew the value of a pound, and saw to it that the films he produced
were executed with a glossy veneer which hid their humble origins. It was an attitude that he did his best to implement on
every picture he ever produced.
In time, Hinds branched out yet again, this time becoming a screenwriter. The
story goes that Hammer’s planned historical epic, The Rape of Sabena,
fell afoul of the British Board of Film Censors (BBFC), thus leaving
Hinds in a bit of a predicament. He had already authorized
Bernard Robinson to build some imposing “Spanish” sets, and now that
this particular property was dead in the water, he had to find a way to
utilize these sets. Hinds turned his attention to Guy
Endore’s novel The Werewolf of Paris – realizing that Hammer had yet to
make their own werewolf film, he decided to change the setting from
Paris to Spain, thus enabling the studio to make use of these
troublesome sets. Looking to save a
buck, Hinds elected to write the script himself – and he found that he
preferred the process of creating scenarios to dealing with the
bureaucratic nightmares associated with producing. Hinds
would continue to produce throughout the better part of the 1960s, but
when he found himself working “under” American producer Joan Harrison on
Hammer’s ill-fated venture into anthology television, Journey into the
Unknown, he decided to call it a day. Hinds would later
recall working with Harrison (or as often was the case, being at
loggerheads with her) on this problematic production to be a dispiriting
affair which he was in no great hurry to relive. And thus
it came to be that producer/writer Anthony Hinds became “plain old”
writer Anthony Hinds… or John Elder, as the self-effacing scribe decided
that having his
name plastered all over the credits might look a bit conceited. As
a writer, Hinds’ credits include Kiss of the Vampire (1962), Phantom of
the Opera (1962), The Reptile (1966), Frankenstein Created Woman
(1966), Taste the Blood of Dracula (1969), and Frankenstein and the
Monster from Hell (1972). He eventually left Hammer for a time, going to work for rival company Tyburn Productions. For them, he scripted The Ghoul and Legend of the Werewolf in 1974. His
final credits would include an episode of Hammer House of Horror,
titled Visitor from the Grave, and a “story by” credit on Tyburn’s made
for TV Sherlock Holmes adventure, The Masks of Death (1984), starring
Peter Cushing and John Mills.
Hinds went into retirement in the 80s,
granting the occasional interview, but basically content to enjoy his
“golden years” on his own terms. A quiet, humble and
unpretentious individual, he reacted with genuine surprise (and pride)
when his many classic Hammer productions were dredged up and celebrated
as classics of their kind. True to form, Hinds never seemed to take himself too seriously – but his passion for the work itself was obvious. With his passing on September 30th (a mere 11 days after his birthday), the key architect of Hammer horror passed to the great beyond. Indeed, of the key creative personnel who created this world that we fans know and revere so much, only one remains
standing: Christopher Lee, himself a mere four months Hinds’ senior. Hinds’
passing may not signal the end of an era, but it does put one in a
reflective mood as we look back and celebrate the many wonderful
achievements of one of the British film industry’s unsung treasures.
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