Peter Saxon’s book The Disoriented Man was
published in 1966, and were it not for the fact that it inspired the
first-ever (and highly contentious) pairing of Vincent Price,
Christopher Lee and Peter Cushing, it may well have disappeared into
obscurity long ago. As a piece of pulp fiction, it offers up some
energetic plotting, but by the time it made its way on to the screen,
little enough of the original material was left in place. Amicus
co-head Milton Subotsky saw great potential in the book however, and
after snatching up the rights, he proceeded to adapt it to screenplay
form himself. The picture wasn’t intended to be a vehicle for the
genre’s biggest super stars, but when Amicus struck a deal with American
International Pictures to secure added financing, the project took on a
life of its own…
The story deals with an apparent government
conspiracy involving a string of grisly murders and even stranger
abductions. Intrepid Detective Superintendant Bellaver (Alfred Marks)
is on the case, with the assistance of brash pathologist David Sorel
(Christopher Matthews). Sorel discovers a link between the strange
goings-on and the experiments of the mysterious Dr. Browning (Vincent
Price), but the intervention of shadowy government official Freemont
(Christopher Lee) throws the investigation into jeopardy…
An ardent fan of science fiction, fantasy and
genteel horror, Milton Subotsky was a staunch believer in the “less is
more” school of genre film making. He was a derivative screenwriter, and
directors who found themselves in charge of filming his scripts
frequently found themselves struggling to overcome their deficiencies.
Subotsky was also fond of taking over his productions in the editing
room, thus creating further friction with his filmmakers. More than
once, he would claim to have “salvaged” one of Freddie Francis’ pictures
in the editing room, an allegation that made the pragmatic
cinematographer-turned-director get a little hot under the collar.
In short, Subotsky saw himself as a hands-on, creative producer - a la
Val Lewton. In the case of Scream And Scream Again, however, his
control was virtually non-existent. Having enlisted AIP to provide
financial assistance, he sat by helplessly as they took control of the
picture.
They brought in Gordon Hessler to direct, based on his work on their
previous Edgar Allan Poe adaptation, The Oblong Box (the first film to
co-star Price and Lee, with the latter reduced to a cameo appearance).
Hessler didn’t like Subotsky’s script one bit and brought in his favored
screenwriter, Christopher Wicking, to do a complete rewrite.
Subotsky
was furious, but AIP put their faith in the more youthful and innovative
approach of their writer and director and backed the decision. When
filming commenced, Subotsky started coming on to the set, as was his
wont; Hessler found him meddling and obtrusive, though he liked him on a
personal level, and eventually asked line producer Louis M. Heyward to
intercede. Never one to mince words, Heyward blocked Subotsky from the
set - a very strong move indeed, when one considers that he was still
credited as the film’s producer. Hessler favored a non-linear approach
to the editing and storytelling,
which sat in contrast with Subotsky’s more conservative approach -
thus, he was also blocked from tinkering with the film in editing, and
he surely had kittens when he saw the deliberately obtuse, even
confusing film unspooling for the first time. Hessler also brought a
matter of fact quality to the blood letting, resulting in a film with a
bit more blood (and nudity) than was the norm for Amicus. At the end of
the day, the film grossed a ton of money - its takings no doubt
improved by the impressive roster of stars. Subotsky, for his part,
claimed to be baffled; he didn’t think much of the finished film, though
inevitably his feelings were colored by his unpleasant behind the
scenes battles with the AIP brass.
As a film, Scream and Scream Again is too often
under appreciated for what it ISN’T, as opposed to being embraced for
what it IS. In many respects, it can be seen as a forerunner to the X
Files TV show, with Sorel and his female assistant (Judy Bloom)
functioning as a sort of “flower power” era version of Mulder and
Scully. The overall theme of paranoia and distrust also links it into
the more overtly political sci-fi films of the past, including Fritz
Lang’s Dr. Mabuse thrillers and Don Siegel’s Invasion of the Body
Snatchers. Hessler and Wicking were outspoken admirers of Siegel in
fact, and sought to deliver a combination of Body Snatchers-style sci-fi
and the two fisted approach of the director’s crime thrillers, such as
Madigan and Coogan’s Bluff.
The end result is a work of brazen style
and energy, vacillating between various plot strands, all of which pull
together at the end of the picture. Viewers accustomed to a
more linear, coherent approach have long described the film as
incoherent - a view shared by Vincent Price, for what it’s worth - but
more patient, open minded viewers are likely to disagree. While the
film is definitely difficult to follow the first time around, it is
never boring - and by the end it all pulls together in a satisfactory
manner. Typical of the film’s “everything but the kitchen sink”
approach, it can be classified as a horror film, a thriller, a sci-fi
film, a police procedural, even a political allegory. Whether it is
successful in blending these strands is open to debate, but it marks a
welcome departure from the more staid product that was typical of Amicus
and AIP at that stage in the game; compared to Hessler’s previous
picture, the stillborn Oblong Box, it is a real breath of fresh air:
stylish, engaging and inventive, where the previous film was staid,
tedious and predictable.
Where the film really loses points, for many fans,
is in the use of its three stars. As noted previously, the film was
not specifically designed as a starring vehicle for Price, Lee and
Cushing. Indeed, when Subotsky first optioned the material and wrote
the script, Price wouldn’t have been a realistic prospect, given his
contractual ties to AIP. It was Sam Arkoff who realized that, working
in tandem, they could finally engage the three big “titans of terror” on
the same poster - and sooner than find a way of accommodating them all
properly, the urge was simply to sign them on and shoehorn them in
wherever possible. It could have been a budgetary restriction, but it’s
clear that they could have cast all three actors in suitable, meaty
roles.
Lee would have seemed a natural for the role of the steely and
villainous Konratz, while Cushing would have been quite at home as
Bellaver. Price, for his part, was perfect casting for Dr.
Browning - and indeed, he would be cast in the part. Instead of making
the best of this “dream team,” however, the decision was made to put
Cushing in a small cameo appearance, while putting Lee in an important
but still-smallish part as the shadowy government agent who may be
playing both sides of the equation.
While this is regrettable, in a
way, one is hard pressed to criticize the performances as they stand.
Alfred Marks, best known in the UK as a comic, gives a terrific, scene
stealing account of himself as the harried and sardonic Bellaver.
“Copper” roles in British horror are frequently of the plodding variety -
see Cushing as Inspector Quennell in The Blood Beast Terror for another
noteworthy exception - but Marks invests the role with much shading,
nuance and credibility. He comes off as a perfectly efficient and
intelligent professional, albeit one who has been rendered a tad callous
by the nature of his profession. Marks
delighted Hessler by improvising many scenes - just look at the
marvelous scene wherein Hessler’s camera follows him through the squad
room as he fires off one great ad lib after another, as when he picks up
a sandwich, sniffs it and says “Smells like cheese, looks like ham”
(takes a bite) “Not far off - it’s chicken!”. Marks’ dynamic
performance breathes life into scenes that are typically the bane of
many horror films and thrillers of the era: the police procedural bits.
As the ice cold villain, Konratz, Marshall Jones is truly imposing.
Jones made plenty of appearances on British TV in the 60s and 70s,
nabbing guest bits on City Beneath the Sea and Division 4, but his film
work is spotty - he did, however, play three roles for Hessler: as
Konratz in this film, a sympathetic priest in The Cry of the Banshee,
and an actor with a shady past in Murders in the Rue Morgue. This is
certainly his best role, not to mention his most
substantial one, and he clearly relishes the chance to dominate so many
scenes. The part requires him to play it completely devoid of pity and
emotion, and Jones never disappoints.
As for the three stars, Price
gets the showiest part, and he plays it with a bit more sincerity than
usual at this stage in the game - though he does mug it up a bit during
the fight scene with Jones towards the end. Price had risen to
prominence on the stage, and his background in the theatre put him out
of fashion in the 1950s, with the rise of “Actors Studio” almuni such as
Montogomery Clift and Marlon Brando. Price found himself typed as a
heavy in horror films due to such popular hits as Andre De Toth’s House
of Wax and William Castle’s The House on Haunted Hill, and he embraced
his image with tongue in cheek glee. By the late 60s, however, Price
was growing discontent with the quality of the films he was being
offered. Scream and Scream Again would prove
to be a highlight during this period, but apart from continuing his
friendship with Lee (they bonded over laughs during the making of The
Oblong Box) and making a new friend in Cushing, he didn’t appear to
recognize the film’s merits when the topic was raised in interviews.
Lee’s part is smaller, though of equal import in the narrative, and he
does a very good job with what he has to work with. The role affords
him a chance to play it “straight,” without any hint of anything
supernatural, and if it doesn’t give him any real challenges, he still
approaches it seriously and without condescension. Cushing fares the
worst of the three, in so far as screen time is concerned. He plays a
senior officer, part of the vaguely Nazi-esque military organization
that employs Jones, and he’s basically required to chew out Jones before
being offed in his first scene. True to form, Cushing performs with
fire and intensity, but it’s a minor
appearance and doesn’t give him a chance to really shine. The
remainder of the cast performs quite capably, as well, especially the
late Michael Gothard. Gothard, later to appear in Ken Russell’s
notorious The Devils, as the crooked exorcist Father Barre, plays a
so-called “vampire” who drinks blood from the slashed wrists of various
female victims.
The film moves like a house on fire, and it also
looks terrific thanks to the contribution of the gifted cinematographer
John Coquillon. Coquillon had previously shot Michael Reeves’ brilliant
Witchfinder General (featuring arguably Vincent Price’s finest genre
work) and would soon become Sam Peckinpah’s cinematographer of choice on
such pictures as Straw Dogs and Cross of Iron. Like Hessler and
Wicking, he was a young, energetic and innovative talent - and the
enthusiasm that these men brought to the picture gave it a life and
energy that was far removed from so many other, more disposable British
“B” pictures of the period. Special note also has to be made of the
electrifying jazz score, provided by David Whittaker.
Whittaker would
go on to score Vampire Circus and Dr. Jekyll & Sister Hyde for
Hammer, and his work here is crucial to the film’s impact. Sadly, for
many years, his music was erased on home video due to
rights issues - it was only in the mid-90s, when the film was released
by Orion as part of a series of Vincent Price movies on VHS, that the
score was quietly reinstated; prior to that, the film lumbered under the
limp and uninspired electronic doodling of Kendall Schmidt, who
performed similar duties on the early VHS and laser disc editions of
Witchfinder General and Mario Bava’s Planet of the Vampires.
It may not be the “star vehicle” some had in mind,
but Scream and Scream Again remains one of the most thrilling British
genre films of its era. It’s a feather in the cap for both AIP and
Amicus, even if Milton Subotsky remained immune to its charms.
