SO YOU THINK YOU KNOW 'DRACULA' COMPETITION: SCRIPT, BLU RAY AND FANZINE PRIZES!

 

Along with 'The Curse of Frankenstein' in 1957, Hammer films 'DRACULA' made Peter Cushing and Christopher international stars. There have been many miles of print dedicated to this the first and maybe the best of Christopher Lee's performances of the Count. Here playing Dracula with a very powerful, almost feral energy, a terrifying portrayal of the undead monster. 'Dracula' also introduced Peter Cushing as Van Helsing, for the first time. Not as the dotty old Dutch professor of Stoker's book, but a 'Vampire Hunter'. Cushing brings a great deal of charm, grace, and incredible engery the role.

Here is the first of a series of 'So You Think You Know..' competitions, we'll be posting over the next few weeks. Peter Cushing's performnaces as Dr Who, Sherlock Holmes, Moff Tarkin and Baron Frankenstein, will all get the treatment!

The prizes featured in this competition will be awarded to TWO lucky winners. ALL question MUST be answered correctly.

THE PRIZES: ALL correct entries will be placed in a hat, ten minutes after the closing time. TWO Lucky winners, drawn out of the hat, will each win: 

ONE printed and bound COPY of the script of Hammer films 'DRACULA'. The script's index page is signed by Peter Cushing, Christopher Lee. Michael Gough has signed the page which contains his line 'It's Horrible'!. As this is a privately printed and bound copy, the signatures are the printed copies from the original privately printed book.

ONE Blu Ray / DVD combo release from 2013 of Hammer films 'DRACULA' .

ONE Vintage copy of Fandom's Film Gallery 'DRACULA' edition book from 1975.

Please send us your competition entries to the following email only: theblackboxclub@gmail.com.

So, let's test YOUR  knowledge... Good Luck!

THE QUESTIONS:

1: At the begining of Hammer films 1958 'DRACULA' the coach bringing Jonathan Harker to Castle Dracula, also contains other passengers, one of whom is a PREIST. NAME the actor who played the PRIEST.

2: When playing Count Dracula in Hammer films 1958 'DRACULA' Christopher Lee wears a ring. How many other Hammer DRACULA  films, did Lee wear this particular ring?

3: Apart from Jonathan Harker, how many people does Count Dracula actually speak to in Hammer films 1958 'DRACULA'?

4: According to Christopher Lee's autobiography, 'Lord of Misrule', how much was Christopher Lee actually paid for his role in 'DRACULA' 1958?

5: For it's U.S release, Hammer films 'DRACULA' was given a title change. What was the title and why was the title changed?

6: Hammer films 'DRACULA' commenced it's principal photography on what date?

7: At which UK London cinema did 'DRACULA' (1958) premier and on what date?

8: In the climax scene of 'DRACULA' (1958), Van Helsing takes a leap from a table top, to pull down the curtains, and destroy Dracula. A stuntman was used for the actual leap and run. TRUE OR FALSE?

9: Peter Cushing signed his contract to play Van Helsing in DRACULA (1958) on 9th October 1957. How much was Peter Cushing contractually paid to play Van Helsing?

10: Peter Cushing used his own personal fur collared coat when he played Van Helsing in  Hammer films 1958 'DRACULA'. TRUE or FALSE?

11: The crossing of the two candle sticks by Van Helsing, when killing Dracula was Peter Cushing's own suggestion. Cushing admits this idea was suggested by a film he had seen many years before. What is the title of that film?

COMPETITION CLOSES SUNDAY 15TH JUNE 2014 8PM GMT
GOOD LUCK EVERYONE!

THE AMICUS FILMS OF PETER CUSHING: PART ONE

The Amicus Films of Peter Cushing : Part One of a serial feature written by Troy Howarth with images and design by Marcus Brooks

When Max J. Rosenberg and Milton Subotsky partnered up to produce films, they initially had their eye aimed squarely at the youth market.  They scored early hits with rock and roll films like Rock, Rock, Rock! (1956) and the early Richard Lester film It’s Trad, Dad! (1962), but it was their moody black and white chiller City of the Dead (1960, aka Horror Hotel) which would point to their later fortunes.  City of the Dead had been produced under the name of Vulcan Productions, but by the time they revisited the genre in the middle of the decade, the credits would read “An Amicus Production.”  Amicus, incidentally, was the Latin word for “friend,” indicating that the company was established with the best of intentions.

Truth be told, the distribution of work at Amicus was pretty much split thusly: Rosenberg set up the deals and Subotsky focused on the creative end of the partnership.  It was Subotsky who had enthusiasm for horror, sci-fi and fantasy; Rosenberg would have been quite content producing anything that turned a profit.  As such, their working relationship would prove to be harmonious—for the most part.  Dissent and hard feelings would settle in over time, but in the beginning it was a match made in heaven, with the two New Yorkers feeding into each other’s strengths.

When they decided to turn their energy to making horror pictures, they were well aware of the success that Hammer Films were enjoying in the UK.  Subotsky, in fact, had approached Hammer's Anthony Hinds with the idea of doing a remake of James Whale’s Frankenstein (1931) in the mid-50s. When Hammer went off and did a very different take on Mary Shelley’s original novel, Subotsky felt cheated and would often vocalize a critical attitude towards Hammer’s output in interviews. 

Subotsky preferred his horror with a bit of subtlety; to his thinking, Hammer’s shockers were too garish, too gory, too needlessly sexy.  Thus, it came as no surprise that the horror films he oversaw were comparatively “old fashioned” in their approach. Still, Subotsky and Rosenberg knew that they needed star power to help sell their films and they wasted no time in courting Hammer’s two biggest names, Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee.

Lee would top-line City of the Dead and would be brought back to star in Dr. Terror’s House of Horrors (1965), the first of the Amicus anthology films.  To play the fortune-telling Dr. Schreck, they would enlist the services of Peter Cushing.  The combination of Cushing and Lee was good for box office and with Hammer veteran Freddie Francis also in tow to direct, some viewers may well have thought that they were seeing a new Hammer film!

Dr. Terror would establish a very different approach, however, one which would distinguish the Amicus product from that of Hammer.  Hammer’s films were typically period pieces.  They reveled in lurid scenes of gore and sensual sexuality.  And above all else, they were always single narrative pieces.  Amicus’ films, on the other hand, would be contemporary.  They would avoid explicit gore and seldom so much as touched on the subject of sex or sexuality.  And they would often embrace the anthology format which had so impressed the young Subotsky when he saw Ealing Studios’ seminal Dead of Night (1945).

The formula would prove to be successful.  Dr. Terror’s House of Horrors was a box office hit and it even snagged some favorable notices from the critics, many of whom were put off by the excesses found in Hammer’s films.  If Subotsky and Rosenberg were taking “the high road” in some respects, it was due entirely to Subotsky’s own feelings on the matter; if Rosenberg had produced such a film on his own, there’s little doubt that he would have hewed closer to Hammer’s example.  No matter how one views it, Dr. Terror’s House of Horrors made an impact and it remains one of their most purely enjoyable confections. Freddie Francis directs with style and energy, Alan Hume’s widescreen color photography is properly colorful and atmospheric, Elisabeth Lutyens contributes a spare, but chilling, soundtrack.

If it has a failing it’s in the script, written by Subotsky himself.  The stories are a pretty routine lot and at least one of them (the Voodoo segment with Roy Castle) is basically an uncredited rip-off of Cornel Woolrich’s story Papa Benjamin, which had been adapted as an episode of the popular Boris Karloff-hosted TV series, Thriller, in 1961. Even so, the stylish execution and generally excellent performances help to elevate it and result in a generally enjoyable film.  Like most anthologies, it’s uneven—one good story here, one so-so one there—but when it works, it works very well indeed. They would continue to refine the formula in later films.

The experience of making Dr. Terror would prove satisfying for Peter Cushing. He enjoyed getting to play a real character role, with makeup and an accent to boot, and he responded to Subotsky’s almost childlike enthusiasm. Indeed, the two men would find in each other kindred spirits. Much has been written about Cushing down through the years, but little of it touches on the complexity of the man. He had his faults, like anybody else, but one of his great strengths was an unerring sense of loyalty to his friends. In Subotsky, he found a producer whose love for creating mirrored his own.



If Cushing had issues with his writing, as he had with that of Hammer’s Jimmy Sangster, for example, he kept his concerns to himself—or at the very least broached the topic in gentle terms that didn’t ruffle any feathers on Subotsky’s part. Much like the “marriage” of Subotsky and Rosenberg, the union of Amicus and Cushing would prove to be a productive and happy one; it would also enjoy a happier resolution in the long run.

For their next collaboration, The Skull, Cushing would return to play the lead, with Lee along for the ride in the capacity of “guest star.” Freddie Francis was again brought on board to direct and he would deliver what was for all intents and purposes his masterpiece as a director.



The slight screenplay, adapted by Subotsky from Robert Bloch’s story “The Skull of the Marquis de Sade”, served as an ideal framework for the director to indulge in his love of mobile camerawork and artfully composed compositions. It may well be a case of style over substance, but so what?

As a mood piece, The Skull is remarkable well done. It’s even a little eerie in spots, as Cushing’s character, an obsessive collector of occult memorabilia, succumbs to the malefic influence of de Sade’s skull. Subotsky managed to assemble a top notch cast for the film: in addition to Cushing and Lee, it featured the likes of Patrick Wymark, Nigel Green, Patrick Magee, Jill Bennett, George Coulouris and Michael Gough.

This reflects a key strength of Subotsky as a producer—his unerring ability to entice top drawer talent to appear in genre films by offering them roles that could be filmed quickly, thus enabling them to earn a little extra money in between more “important” film and theatrical commitments.



Cushing was given an opportunity to carry the film, appearing in almost every scene and helping to ground it in reality.  He’s splendid in the role, which is in some respects one of his most under-appreciated performances.  He is relaxed and commanding when needed, but gradually conveys panic and fear as the character’s life begins to spiral out of control.

It’s a marvelous, low-key, naturalistic performance from an actor who could sometimes fall back on mannerisms when he didn’t have something more substantial to work from.  It, too, would prove to be a hit for the company and Subotsky would waste no time in continuing the association. Their next venture(s), however, would prove to be controversial among fans and sci-fi buffs in general, with many viewing the end result as something of a low point for both the studio—and the actor …

Written By Troy Howarth
Images and Design: Marcus Brooks

VOTING BALLOT HERE

A TALENT TO TERRIFY: PART THREE: FLAMES, TRAINS AND AUTOMATONS BY TROY HOWARTH

The year 1964, would see Hammer Films spread their wings by going for a mini-“epic.”  She, adapted from the novel by H. Rider Haggard, told of a hidden city presided over by the beautiful and ageless She Who Must Be Obeyed, aka Ayesha, here played by former Bond girl Ursula Andress.  Producer Michael Carreras had long grown bored with Hammer’s stage bound Gothics and pushed his collaborators into going for something bigger and more ambitious.  As was usually the case with Hammer, however, they tended to fall down a bit when they strove for more than their tight budgets could adequately supply. 'She' was an ambitious production by Hammer’s standards but even the increased budget and schedule could only accommodate so much.  Hammer’s veteran FX wizard Les Bowie worked hard to provide the illusion of depth and splendor, but it simply came off as a lot of matte work.

Director Robert Day failed to capture the mystery, the magic and the romanticism; perhaps Terence Fisher might have proved a better fit.  The film was very much a showcase for Andress and she is certainly beautiful, but she doesn’t convey the character’s dignity or fearsome power very convincingly.  The film is further hamstrung by a weak performance by John Richardson as her reincarnated lover.  Richardson rose to prominence in Italian films, including Mario Bava’s splendid Black Sunday, but he was never more than a pretty face and his stiff emoting hurt many a film, including this one.  On the upside, the film allowed a reunion of sorts for Cushing and Lee.  Cushing is terrific as the intrepid adventurer, Major Holly, while Lee adds tremendous dignity and gravitas to the role of Ayesha’s jilted high priest, Bilali.  One of the film’s best moments is a quiet one, wherein Major Holly interrupts Bilali’s devotions and engages in a conversation on the nature of faith.  Both actors are at the top of their game here, as Holly slyly goads Bilali into self-righteous indignation.  If only the rest of the film measured up to this sequence.

 

 

From this point on, a subtle shift in power would begin to occur.  Cushing’s star, so prominent in the UK, never really translated across the globe; he was a well-known and admired actor, but his association with genre films would gradually impair his ability to get roles in other types of pictures.  Lee’s name, however, would continue to grow – his star on the assent, he would gradually begin to attract the attention of producers for “higher prestige” pictures, and his name would overcome that as the genre’s major superstar….

 

In 1964, the two would unite for their first film together at Amicus – the production company established by New Yorkers Max Rosenberg and Milton Subotsky to act as a competitor to Hammer Films.  Subotsky was the company’s main creative force and it was his passion for the genre that prompted them to go into the horror business.  He also felt compelled to settle an old score regarding Hammer, as he had submitted a proposed remake of Frankenstein to Hammer in the mid-50s.  When the studio hit pay dirt with The Curse of Frankenstein, they did so via a brand new screenplay by Jimmy Sangster and didn’t make use of Subotsky’s script, which, according to producer Anthony Hinds, was a “tired rehash” of the 1931 James Whale classic.  In any event, Subotsky felt a bit slighted and would often vocalize his opinion that Hammer’s films were too gory and exploitative for his tastes.  Thus, Dr. Terror’s House of Horrors would harken back to the classic Ealing Studios’ chiller Dead of Night (1945), which had made a profound impression on the writer/producer at a young age.  Hammer had never explored the anthology format and had made their name in period-set Gothic fare; Amicus would therefore corner the market in anthologies and would typically set their films in the current day.

 

The screenplay for Dr. Terror, written by Subotsky, is weak and heavy on cliché, but in the hands of director Freddie Francis and cinematographer Alan Hume (who had just photographed the elegant Kiss of the Vampire for Hammer) it would overcome this hurdle to become a brisk and stylish picture.  The casting was crucial to the film’s success; Subotsky may have frowned upon Hammer’s style, but he recognized that Lee and Cushing were actors of talent and was only too happy to borrow them to give his film added name value.  For the first time, Lee would claim top billing – though Cushing’s special “with Peter Cushing as Dr. Terror” credit may be seen as a way of suggesting that he was still the star attraction; Cushing would be billed first on posters in the UK, while Lee would get preferential treatment in the US – in time, the scales would tip completely in Lee’s favor.  Both actors are in great form here.  Cushing is memorably seedy and spooky as the German-accented fortuneteller, replete with bushy eyebrows and a beard, while Lee gets one of the best roles of his career as the unbearably pompous art critic who is reduced to a hysterical wreck when the severed hand of the artist (a marvelous, low key Michael Gough – world’s away from his mannered performance in Dracula) he compelled into committing suicide comes to exact vengeance.  The cast also includes an early role for Canadian actor Donald Sutherland, who would become a major star in the 70s thanks to such hits as M*A*S*H (1970), Klute (1971) and Don’t Look Now (1973).  The stories range from the engaging to the ridiculous, establishing the uneven tone which would dog so many horror anthologies in later years.  It would also prove to be a big hit for Amicus, who would waste little time in reuniting Cushing and Lee for another film.

The Skull (1965) was adapted by Subotsky from a short story by Robert Bloch.  It deals with an occult scholar (Cushing) who becomes fascinated by the skull of the Marquis De Sade.  The skull exerts an evil influence, compelling Cushing to commit murder.  This was every inch the star vehicle for Cushing, who is in virtually every scene, and who would claim top billing over Lee (here given “guest star” billing for his small supporting role) for the final time.  Cushing is marvelous in the film; indeed, he pretty much carries the slim story on his shoulders.

Director Freddie Francis was inspired to ad lib many stylish scenes of “pure cinema,” even inventing a “skull point of view” gimmick which proved to be uncommonly effective; he would reuse the gag later in The Creeping Flesh.  Some critics complained that the film was long on style and slim on story – which is valid as far as it goes -- but the film also offers up plenty of atmosphere and some excellent performances, to say nothing of an absolutely brilliant soundtrack by Elisabeth Lutyens.  It’s Cushing’s show all the way, but Lee impresses as the tight-lipped but nervous fellow collector who warns Cushing off of meddling with the skull.  Nigel Green, Patrick Wymark, Patrick Magee, Jill Bennett and other fine actors add a sense of class to the production, which is arguably the best thing Francis ever directed.

Unless we count a reprise of the finale of Dracula, which Hammer grafted to the beginning of Dracula Prince of Darkness (1965) to bring the film up to its contractually obliged running time, “the boys” would not have another go-around until 1967, when they were brought in to add some much needed conviction to the sci-fi thriller Night of the Big Heat.  Terence Fisher was finding work a little scarce at Hammer, who were exploring the talents of other directors like Francis and John Gilling, and was obliged to undertake some sci-fi films around this time – a genre with which he had zero enthusiasm.  Fisher’s indifference was writ large over Island of Terror (1966), but the character interactions and suspense afforded by the screenplay of Night of the Big Heat appear to have whetted his appetite.  It therefore emerges as an above-average offering which only collapses at the very end, when the monsters from outer space are finally unveiled.  Lee would later recall that they looked like fried eggs, which is a fair analysis; no doubt the title Night of the Fried Eggs was bandied about on set, but the film itself is played straight, without any trace of camp.

 

Lee top-lines the cast as the mysterious scientist who lurks about trying to avert the alien invasion, while “guest star” Cushing does what he can with his scenes as a well-meaning GP who sweats a ton as the heat rises – yet never sees fit to remove his stained jacket!  Stiff upper lip and all that… Fisher manages a few nice set pieces and the performances help to elevate the material, but the final reveal and general boredom which accompanies the sci-fi angle help to keep it in the “minor” category.

In 1969, Amicus joined forces with American International Picture to produce Scream and Scream Again, a paranoid sci-fi thriller with horror overtones.  It was an uneasy alliance, with Subotsky running afoul of director Gordon Hessler, who had the support of AIP all the way.  Subotsky’s original screenplay was deemed unusable and Hessler brought in his friend, screenwriter Christopher Wicking, to write a completely new adaptation of Peter Saxon’s book The Disoriented Man. Subotsky felt slighted and tried making his presence felt on set by objecting to Hessler’s decision to include some then-graphic touches of sex and violence – but he would soon find himself barred from the set and the editing room.  The film made a ton of money at the box office, but Subotsky said he had no idea why – he thought it was a terrible film; doubtless, his complicated role on the film colored his feelings just a hair. The film’s success was largely attributable, however, to the decision to unite the “big three” genre stars of the day on the same playbill: Vincent Price, Christopher Lee and Peter Cushing.  Price and Lee would get the title billing, while Cushing would earn another “guest star” credit.  Arguably, only Price would get a role really deserving of his talents, though Lee does a fine job as the shifty government official who may or may not play a major role in the plot.

The deliberately fragmented storytelling and energetic direction help to make the film an enjoyable one, with John Coquillon’s stylish cinematography and David Whitaker’s pulsing jazz score adding to the fun.  Even so, many fans felt a bit cheated that the three stars didn’t even get a scene together – and Cushing was relegated to a role that any day player could have managed quite well; he couldn’t have filmed for more than a day… and a short day at that.  Regardless, the star power, eye-catching title and lurid ad campaign made it a winner at the box office, even if it remains a controversial entry among fans to this day.

 

Next Time: Part Four: 'Bloch, Stevenson and a little help from Sammy...'  

'A Talent To Terrify: The Twenty Two Films

of Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee' is written by Troy Howarth

with Images and artwork by Marcus Brooks.