Of all the actors, writers or directors associated with the horror
genre, arguably the most beloved and admired as a human being is Peter
Cushing. Much of this stems from the multiple accounts of his good
nature and professionalism. Unlike his frequent co-star and good friend
Christopher Lee, he seldom spoke ill of the films he appeared in. He
approached each role with dedication. Surviving documents show that his
preparation was remarkably detailed, right down to the choice of
costumes and hair pieces. He was, by all accounts, a class act. Like
so many people who have been enshrined, however, the reality is somewhat
more complex - yet it is seldom reported, let alone alluded to. A
number of writers have tried to come to grips with Cushing and
his legacy, but few have attempted anything beyond the most routine of
biographies, with an emphasis on the many films (91, in total) he
completed between 1939 and his death in 1994 at the age of 81. David
Miller's book Peter Cushing: A Life in Film would have seemed an ideal
opportunity to paint a proper portrait of the man himself, but it, too,
charts a safer course.
The book kicks off with a loving introduction by Cushing's co-star
from Frankenstein Must Be Destroyed and The Ghoul, Veronica Carlson.
Carlson was able to get to know Cushing before the death of his beloved
wife Helen, and she also saw how her passing affected him when he
appeared at his most forlorn in The Ghoul. She notes the change in his
character and recounts her time with him with genuine affection.
After that, Miller takes over with a bit of biographical
background. Miller's prose is engaging enough, but he fails to dig
beneath the surface or ask any probing questions about his subject.
Instead, we are subjected to the usual portrait of Cushing as a hale
fellow well met - a reputation which was undoubtedly well earned, but
which doesn't allow one to really understand him and what made him
tick. As a biography, the book doesn't really bring anything new to the
table - we hear much the same anecdotes that have cropped up in the
other books on Cushing, thus giving the book a sense of deja vu.
Miller is more successful at charting the films and Cushing's
meticulous work therein, though even here he resists the urge to buck
convention by towing the conventional line that the actor was always at
the top of his game. The closest he gets to being openly critical is in
his write up of the minor Vernon Sewell cold war thriller Some May
Live (1967), which does indeed feature Cushing in one of his less
memorable performances. Cushing's rather difficult-to-take "old duffer"
portrayals in the Dr. Who films and At The Earth's Core would appear to
be as accomplished as his iconic turns as Dr. Van Helsing and Baron
Frankenstein in this context, but ultimately it is very much a matter of
opinion.
Ultimately, one doesn't wish to be too hard on Miller or his
efforts. Writing about Cushing is a difficult task. He is so revered,
so beloved, that any attempt to cut through the cliché and find the
three-dimensional human being underneath is bound to be met with
suspicion, even hostility. Miller doesn't elect to take that approach
and one can't really fault him much for it - after all, he is a true
blue fan and his passion for the subject is evident on every page. The
end result may not be the definitive tome
on Cushing, but that's perfectly OK. It's an enjoyably breezy read,
beautifully illustrated, which allows one to take in the diversity of
Cushing's career - which went well beyond the confines of low budget
genre fare for Hammer and Amicus. The folks at Titan Press are to be
congratulated for making this such a polished and classy looking
production, one befitting the nature of its subject only too well.
Troy Howarth
