VAMPIRES, TRAINS, DALEKS, A SKULL AND A MOTH: THE PETER CUSHING BLU RELEASES OF 2013

2013, as any self-respecting Peter Cushing fan is aware, marks what would have been the one hundredth birthday of the great man.  Those of us who grew up watching faded, often cut versions of his signature films on TV have become spoiled in recent years by the glut of DVD releases – and now, with the advent of Blu-ray and high definition, we’re becoming more spoiled still.  To date, only a comparatively small sample of Cushing’s films have hit the shiny new format. Inevitably, some of the bigger projects with which he was associated were among the first to garner Blu-ray releases.  Now that Christmas is right around the corner, it might be a good time to consider which Cushing titles are available in the new format – just in case you’re looking to treat yourself or a loved one to a bit of Cushing for the holidays.  The following list is not meant to be comprehensive, as a decision has been made to focus more on his horror output, but chances are good that the Star Wars buffs among you have already upgraded to Blu-ray, anyway….

The Curse of Frankenstein (Lionsgate; Region B/Region 2 Blu-ray/DVD combo) – The film that started it all, this has also been rather shabbily treated on home video.  VHS releases were badly faded, a DVD release from Warner Bros. was over-matted.  So how does the Blu-ray fare?  So-so, truth be told, but happily the good outweighs the bad.  On the downside, the materials are still a bit faded and the folks at Hammer elected to minimize the print damage by going for a softer-looking image.  The end result is frustrating: the restored eyeball footage is lovely to behold, but it doesn’t emerge looking nearly as good as the format might allow.  Even so, it’s a perfectly watchable transfer that will have to do until a proper (and expensive) restoration is undertaken… if ever.  The disc gives on the option of watching the film open matte/full frame or in the 1.66 aspect ratio; the former provides more visual information, inevitably, while the latter seems rather tight.  The disc is loaded with extras, including a touching tribute to Cushing and a marvelous audio commentary by Marcus Hearn and Jonathan Rigby.

Dracula (Lionsgate; Region B/Region 2 Blu-ray/DVD combo) – The most iconic of Hammer’s horror films, Dracula was fully restored in association with the British Film Institute and had some legendary “lost” footage reinstate… and yet it still became one of the most controversial home video releases of the year.  Viewers going by 50+ year old memories of seeing the film in 1958 swore up and down that the Blu-ray did a poor job of replicating Jack Asher’s color schemes, while others praised it for its increased detail and richness.  I fall into the latter camp, admittedly, and the disc emerged as one of my favorites of the year.  Viewing options include the original BFI restoration (which does not include the cut scenes, which were unearthed after the fact) and Hammer’s subsequent in-house restoration; the latter incited the wrath of many viewers for having a “modern” blue hue; the former seems to have been embraced by those who couldn’t tolerate the look of Hammer’s restoration.  Extras are again copious, with yet another informative audio commentary by Hearn and Rigby and the surviving reels of the legendary “Japanese print” which includes a bit of footage from Dracula’s demise which somehow didn’t make it back into the final restoration.

The Mummy (Icon; Region B/Region 2 Blu-ray/DVD combo)  – It doesn’t tend to get the same love as the first two Hammer Gothics, but there’s a persuasive case to be made that The Mummy was the film where director Terence Fisher and his crew finally nailed the formula down pat.  The film moves at a great clip, despite some awkward transitions in the screenplay, and it looks like it cost ten times as much as it really did.  The new restoration is a thing of beauty: detailed, sharp and colorful.  For once, the online critics had little to complain about here, making this the clear cut “winner” of the “vintage” Hammer Blu-ray releases.

 

The Brides of Dracula (Final Cut – Region FREE Blu-ray/DVD combo) – Final Cut’s release of Hammer’s most visually sumptuous Gothic took a lot of flak for its inaccurate aspect ratio.  Yes, the 2:1 ratio is off – and yes this deserves to be reported.  On the upside, however, the overzealous over-matting is at the bottom of the frame, making it – for all intents and purposes – negligible to the human eye.  The transfer is otherwise nicely detailed, with ample grain and robust colors.  There’s also a fun making of documentary narrated by Edward De Souza, but a commentary track would have been appreciated as well.  Still, nitpicks to one side, this is a handsome presentation of a gorgeous looking movie.

The Evil of Frankenstein (Final Cut Region FREE Blu-ray/DVD combo)  Aspect ratio issues do not bog down this release, as the film is presented in its intended 1.85 framing.  Colors are again vivid and the image is as detailed as John Wilcox’s sometimes (deliberately) hazy cinematography will allow. Extras are a little light, once again, but the film’s the thing – and it’s well served in this presentation.

 

The Skull (Paramount/Legend – Region A Blu-ray) – It’s a funny thing, but for years the only way to see The Skull was via pan and scan TV prints.  Paramount showed little interest in releasing it until the 1990s, at which point it was issued on VHS – in a pan and scan version.  Happily, things changed when they finally released the film in its full 2.35 glory to DVD – and then to Blu-ray, where it was paired with Terence Fisher’s The Man Who Could Cheat Death.  The Skull is far and away the better film of the two – and happily it gets the better transfer, to boot.  The full scope framing allows one to appreciate Freddie Francis’ most creative and stylish film as it was intended; the transfer is sharp and colorful, with the grain intact that one would expect from the Techniscope process.

Dr. Who and the Daleks/Daleks: Invasion Earth 2150 – (Studio Canal – Region B Blu-ray) – Cushing’s Dr. Who films are an acquired taste, much like his portrayal of the character himself.  Suffice it to say, I don’t count myself among the fans of either film (or performance) – but that’s no slag against the wonderful presentations of these films by Studio Canal.  The image looks terrific throughout on both films, and extras again allow one a glimpse into the making of these juvenile sci-fi adventures.

Corruption (Grindhouse – Region FREE Blu-ray/DVD combo) – Cushing’s most notorious film, this is a low budget/no class rip off of the Georges Franju masterpiece Eyes Without a Face, with Cushing in the role of the obsessive doctor trying to restore a loved one’s lost beauty.  The film is a mess, pure and simple, but Cushing elevates it with one of his finest performances.  Grindhouse deliver one of the best releases of the year with this truly comprehensive package: it includes not only the familiar release which played in the US and the UK, but a stronger “export” edit with some truly startling extra footage, including a scene of Cushing savagely beheading a topless prostitute and rubbing blood over the girl’s exposed breasts!  The film has its champions and it’s wonderful to finally have it presented in such a loving manner.  By this point it no doubt reads like I’m getting a bribe for every time I reference Jonathan Rigby’s commentary tracks, but they really are that good – and here he is paired with the equally knowledgeable and enthusiastic David Miller.  The two men give a tremendous insight into the making of the film and manage to convey real enthusiasm for it without coming off like brain dead fan boys.

The Blood Beast Terror (Odeon – Region B Blu-ray; Redemption – Region A Blu-ray) – Cushing once referred to this as the worst film he ever made; harsh words and not entirely deserved, as this admittedly daffy concoction involving a life size killer moth still has some entertainment value, especially compared to some of the other dogs he leant his name to.  Both Blu-ray releases look comparable in terms of image quality, but the Odeon release wins out by virtue of the bonus features: an interview with co-star Wanda Ventham and a lively and informative commentary track by Jonathan Rigby and David Miller.

 

The Vampire Lovers (Shout! Factory – Region A) – Shout! Factory have released some of the best “cult” Blu-ray releases of the past couple years, but they didn’t exactly set the world on fire with their release of The Vampire Lovers.  The film itself is a bit of a snooze, from my point of view, but it has some memorable moments and better production values than most of the other Hammer horrors shot at this time.  The transfer looks a little soft and doesn’t mark a truly significant upgrade from the old MGM DVD edition, but it is reportedly vastly superior to the Region B release from Shock in Australia.  Extras include the commentary with  director Roy Ward Baker and star Ingrid Pitt (both now sadly deceased) from the DVD release, and a new interview with co-star Madeline Smith, who seems a bit ashamed of the film. 

Twins of Evil (Synapse – Region A/Region 1 Blu-ray/DVD combo) – Synapse has established a reputation for doing meticulous work on their releases, so it came as a surprise when their release of Vampire Circus came under fire for being too dark and murky.  Fans were therefore cautiously optimistic when Twins of Evil was due to be released… and happily the end result was met with considerably more enthusiasm.  The film is one of Hammer’s best latter day features and offers Cushing at his most intense as the pious religious zealot, Gustave Weil.  Extra features include a feature-length making of retrospective, with feedback from many of the film’s surviving participants, including director John Hough.

Horror Express (Severin – Region B/Region 1 Blu-ray/DVD combo) – Horror Express, long consigned to the bargain bin of public domain releases, finally got something of an overhaul thanks to the good folks at Severin.  This most enthralling of the many films co-starring Christopher Lee and Peter Cushing evoked the Hammer aesthetic of being a low budget production with plenty of production gloss, and the two actors are clearly having a ball bouncing the many witty one-liners off of one another.  Severin’s transfer failed to utilize the full bit rate and resulted in some anomalies in the image, but truth be told – it’s still a pretty good looking transfer, and it certainly blows other editions out of the water.  Extras include interviews with the director and the composer.

Frankenstein and the Monster from Hell (Shock – Region B/Region 1 Blu-ray/DVD combo) – As alluded to above, it would seem that Shock rushed these last Hammer titles through – and the end result is a gorgeous looking and fully uncut version of Hammer’s most notorious Gothic… in PAL, which results in a higher pitch to the soundtrack and an abbreviated running time.  Is it a deal breaker?  It depends on how you look at it.  Until this was pointed out to me, I was championing this as a top notch release.  Now I’m aware of the problem and must dock it points accordingly… but it’s still the best I’ve ever seen the film look, and the restored gore is most welcome.  Extras include a featurette on director Terence Fisher (this was to be his last film) and a new commentary with Shane Briant, Madeline Smith and Marcus Hearn.  It may have been a licensing issue, but it would also seem likely that the commentary from the old Paramount DVD (with Smith and David Prowse, who plays the monster in the film) was dropped as it wouldn’t have been in synch with the PAL image. Cautiously recommended, nevertheless, as there is no announcement of a UK release on the horizon – and Paramount has shown zero interest in releasing it in the States.

And there you have it – an eclectic group of titles, to be sure.  There are some significant ones still missing in action, and one remains hopeful that the new year will see at least a few of them – ranging from The Revenge of Frankenstein and The Hound of the Baskervilles to The House That Dripped Blood and Dracula AD 1972 – popping up in newly remastered editions.

Written by Troy Howath

https://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Haunted-World-of-Mario-Bava/357391387737585?fref=ts#sthash.eS0uKTtx.dpuf 

Images Marcus Brooks

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'THE TRAILS OF VAN HELSING': PART TWO: HOT PANTS, PLAGUE AND KUNG FU

For Hammer Films, Dracula was something of a constant: it was one of the first horror franchises they launched, and it would be the last to expire as the company slowly went down the tubes in the 1970s.  When they started the series in 1958, Peter Cushing was their big star.  As the franchise unfolded in the 1960s, Christopher Lee became the more bankable name, worldwide, while Cushing was basically omitted from the sequels as he instead focused on the Frankenstein series.  By the time Hammer got around to the idea updating the Count to the modern time frame, in 1971, they finally decided that the time was right to bring Cushing back into the fold, as it were.  And so it came to be that Dracula AD 1972 would be the first Hammer Dracula film to cast Cushing since 1960 – and the first of any of the sequels to pit him against Christopher Lee’s Lord of the Undead.

1971 would prove to be a devastating year for Peter Cushing.  His beloved wife, Helen, finally passed away after a protracted illness.  Cushing contemplated suicide and fell into a deep despair but ultimately settled on throwing himself into non-stop work as a means of coping with the loss.  He therefore jumped at the chance of reprising the role of Van Helsing for Dracula AD 1972.  The first two films neglected to give the character a Christian name, so screenwriter Don Houghton elected to call the character Lawrence Van Helsing in the 1892 prologue – and Leyland in the modern day section.  Cushing would, of course, play both incarnations of the role.  The prologue was almost certainly the best scene in the film – a virtual mini-movie which allowed Hammer’s super stars to reprise their roles in “familiar” surroundings – but it gives Cushing little time to develop the character in any kind of meaningful way.  Even so, behind the scenes stills reveal that Cushing and Lee made the best of down time between shots, reminiscing over old times and sharing some laughs as they waited for the next set-up.

For the modern day action, Cushing was also given a daughter named Jessica (played by Stephanie Beacham), though by the time the cameras rolled, the relationship was changed to that of grandfather.  The reason for this was simple: the man had aged visibly overnight as a result of his non-stop grieving.  Cushing had always been a thin man, but he became gaunt, even haunted, in appearance.  Cushing seemed to be carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders and his new interpretation of the character would therefore stand in stark contrast to his swashbuckling turn in The Brides of Dracula.  On-set, Cushing would isolate himself from much of the cast and crew, sitting in his dressing room and losing himself in his grief.  His good friend Christopher Lee would try to cut through the misery, but Cushing was beyond consolation; these were the early days of grieving, and the normally jovial and outgoing performer was at his most insular.  Cushing would nevertheless make time to talk to anybody who came knocking at his door, including the British press… but his comments would obsessively return to Helen time and time again; the writing was on the wall, without Helen, Cushing felt his life was meaningless.

The film made a nice profit at the box office but is regularly criticized by fans as one of Hammer’s worst – and most addle-brained – movies.  I make no apologies for loving it, myself, but even if we were to agree that the film is crap (which we don’t), there’s no denying that Cushing gives everything he’s got.  His interactions with Beacham are warm and neatly sum up the feelings on both side of the “generation gap,” as the older man struggles to understand youth culture.  Cushing never plays down in his reactions to Beacham and her slangy (and inevitably dated) expressions, however.  It’s a bit foreign to him, but he doesn’t seem to be coming from the perspective that “kids today” have their head up their arse, either.  He’s every bit the grandfather we all wish we had.  By the same token, he has moments of melancholy as he sits in his conservative, book lined den – the picture of a woman (presumably his late wife – though at this stage in the game, Cushing had not  begun using Helen’s picture as a good luck charm in the set dressing of his films; maybe it was still a little too raw and open a wound at this point) looking on mournfully as he attempts to come to grips with the idea that Dracula has indeed risen from the grave.

When it comes to going up against the vampires, Cushing proves to be just as agile as ever.  Co-star Christopher Neame (who gives a wonderfully hammy performance as the Count’s disciple, Johnny Alucard… get it?) recalled that while Cushing looked frail, he was surprisingly fit and threw himself into the fights and stunts with real energy.  Cushing’s willingness to volunteer for stunts was nothing new – but while it may originally have been born of a desire to do as much of the job for himself that he could, it may at this point have been colored by a subliminal death wish.  The end result is a tour de force performance that unquestionably adds a tremendous amount of class and conviction to the proceedings.  Indeed, it gets my vote as Cushing’s best turn in the role: warm, slyly humorous, but still with that underlying sense of determination.  As for the film, it’s certainly a stylish and well-paced picture, even if it stumbles in its rather middle aged perception of what it was like to be a part of the counter-culture movement.

There’s also the rather mysterious decision to axe the death scene of key supporting player Bob (William Ellis), who is Jessica’s boyfriend in the scenario.  Poor Bob succumbs to the kiss of the vampire and is instrumental in helping Johnny abduct Jessica… and then we don’t see him again until his corpse is found at the very end of the film.  Stills exist which show the character meeting his demise, but for whatever reason director Alan Gibson elected not to include this footage… surely it would have been beneficial to trim that party scene towards the beginning to make room for it?  C’est la vie….

 

When the time came to make the inevitable follow-up, The Satanic Rites of Dracula (1973), screenwriter Don Houghton devised a scenario which had many clever ideas – but which committed the cardinal sin of sidelining not only the Count, but Van Helsing as well... except this time, he would be called Lorrimer: was Houghton really that lazy that he couldn’t bother to re-check his previous script?  Viewers who had a hard time accepting the admittedly anachronistic depiction of the youth culture in AD 1972 tend to prefer this more straight-faced outing.  It certainly has a number of great things going for it, and it’s well worth investing 90 minutes of your time, but it seems a great shame to see Cushing pushed aside for so much of the film as much of the action is undertaken by the returning character of Inspector Murray (Michael Coles, sporting a far less Scotland Yard-appropriate hairdo compared to AD 1972!) and a new character in the form of wryly amusing MI5 agent Torrance (William Franklyn).  Cushing is wheeled in when it becomes apparent that there are vampires in the mix, but much of the film confines him to his study as he dispenses sage wisdom to the other characters.  He gets to become more actively involved in the last act, however, when he squares off against Lee’s Dracula for what would become the last time.  Behind the scenes stills again reveal that the two actors enjoyed their time together, even if they weren’t put to their best use in the finished film.

Cushing approaches the role with the same conviction as ever, but the limited opportunities afforded to him paint him into a corner somewhat.  Less emphasis is placed on his relationship (played this time by Joanna Lumley) though they have a few nice scenes together.  The highlight is not the showdown between Van Helsing and the Count, however, but a marvelous sequence wherein Van Helsing visits an old colleague (Freddie Jones) who is implicated in the new plague of vampirism.  Jones acts the hell out of the scene, teetering on the edge of pure ham, but never quite succumbing to comic excess; he and Cushing have a terrific chemistry on screen, and it could be that their previous collaboration on Terence Fisher’s nihilistic masterpiece Frankenstein Must Be Destroyed (1969) gave them an edge in working out how to play the scene.  The end result was hardly on the same tier as Dracula (1958), but neither was it the disaster that some traditionalist viewers proclaimed it to be.

 

 

The strangest chapter in the Cushing-as-Van Helsing saga was yet to come, however… Hammer’s new managing director, Michael Carreras, struck a deal with Sir Run Run Shaw in Hong Kong, hoping to breathe some new life into Hammer’s box office takings by teaming to make a kung fu vampire movie.  The powers-that-be at Warner Brothers (who would distribute the film in the UK but dump it in the US, as had been the case with Satanic Rites) insisted on adding in Dracula to the mix.  By this time, Christopher Lee was ready to keep to his word: no more Dracula.  A new Dracula would be brought in in the form of character actor John Forbes Robertson; he would be given a ghastly makeup job and totally revoiced by David De Keyser by the time the film limped out to theatre screens.

The Legend of the 7 Golden Vampires – or as it was known in the US: The Seven Brothers Meet Dracula – told a far-fetched tale of Dracula taking possession of a Chinese occultist and then taking over his station as the high priest of a cult of vampires in a tiny Chinese village.  The return of the vampires prompts the interest of Van Helsing, who brings his son (Robin Stewart) along to help battle the pesky creatures.  That the film turned out as well as it did is a testimony to director Roy Ward Baker, who tried to breathe a bit of pulpy life into the ridiculous scenario.  Happily, Cushing was not expected to participate in any of the kung fu action, but he has more to do here than he did in Satanic Rites and gives a splendid performance, breathing life and conviction into one ridiculous line after another.

Seriously, you don’t really realize how silly some of the lines really are until you try to say them yourself.  Go ahead, try it: “The whispered word is vampire… and the horror is real and very close!”  Thank god for Peter Cushing!  The actor approaches the role with complete conviction and adds in some nice touches of sly humor in some of his reactions to his son’s blossoming romance with the lovely Shih Szu.  Houghton’s laziness surfaces again, in that the character of Lawrence Van Helsing – established as having been killed off in 1892 in Dracula AD 1972 – is alive and well and fighting vampires in 1904, when the bulk of this film’s action is set.  Once again: c’est la vie….

Cushing’s association with the role of Van Helsing would end with this film, though there were rumblings of another installment to be set in India… it never came to be, of course, and Hammer would effectively cease cinema production for nearly 30 years by the end of the 1970s.  Whether one tends to think of Cushing first as Baron Frankenstein, Sherlock Holmes or Dr. (or Professor, depending on the installment!) Van Helsing, there’s no denying that he made his mark on the role for all time.  When Cushing’s friend Laurence Olivier essayed the part in the 1979 version of Dracula, he perhaps would have done well to have looked back on Cushing’s performance for inspiration; the ailing thespian affected a Dutch accent which sounded suspiciously like his Jewish accent in The Jazz Singer and The Boys from Brazil, and many critics gave him a proper skewering… I still think he was pretty good in the part, even if he couldn’t compete with Cushing.

To date, the only actor who came close to stealing Cushing’s thunder was Frank Finlay, who gave a true-to-Stoker interpretation in the 1978 BBC telefilm Count Dracula.  Finlay was brilliant in the part and who knows – maybe if he had played the part more than once?  Anyway, as one-offs go, it was most impressive – and far preferable to Anthony Hopkins’ scenery-chewing in the considerably-less-faithful-to-Stoker Bram Stoker’s Dracula (1992), title be damned.  As of now, Cushing’s reputation as the finest screen Van Helsing remains assured – and there’s no reason to believe that things are likely to change on that front anytime soon.

Written by: Troy Howarth: 

Banner and Images: Marcus Brooks

Part one of The Trails of Van Helsing HERE:

The Trials of Van Helsing Part One 

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Written by: Troy Howarth: https://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Haunted-World-of-Mario-Bava/357391387737585?fref=ts

Banner and Images: Marcus Brooks

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Written by: Troy Howarth: https://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Haunted-World-of-Mario-Bava/357391387737585?fref=ts

Banner and Images: Marcus Brooks

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THE ALTERNATIVE THANKSGIVING DINNER : HAVE A GOOD ONE!

 

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MATTHEW CONIAM : HAMMER FILMS: MILES MALLESON: THE CHERUBIC KING OF THE HAMMER FILMS TWO MINUTE CAMEO

You know him, even if you think you don’t.........

If you’ve ever watched a British comedy film or a Hammer horror, chances are you’ll have come across this cherubic king of the two-minute cameo. He is never the star, though he appeared in nearly a hundred films. He leaves all the hard work to Peter Cushing or Peter Sellers and then, usually about half an hour in, he comes on, steals the show, and goes again.

Yet he was much more than a mere eccentric old man who wanders on in the middle of horror films. After abandoning his original plan to become a schoolteacher he achieved a considerable reputation as actor, playwright, screenwriter and translator. He worked for Hitchcock, Michael Powell, Michael Winner and Paul Rotha.

Neither was he the cosy pillar of the establishment that his image – and the generally imperialistic nature of his major screenwriting assignments – would suggest. Despite celebrating British history and values in such scripts as Nell Gwyn (1934), Rhodes of Africa (1936), Victoria the Great (1937) and The First of the Few (1942) he was a prominent member of the anti-conscription movement in the First World War, an outspoken pacifist and part of that band of woolly liberal intellectuals that surrounded Bertrand Russell. He sat on the advisory council of the Masses Stage and Film Guild, established by the Labour party in 1929 to bring great cultural works to the working classes.

He even sent his children to Russell’s appalling experimental school, where discipline was outlawed and children not obliged to attend lessons if they didn’t want to: barbarism and savagery soon held sway as the great sage watched placidly from his tower. Russell also, as was invariably his custom with close male friends, struck up a long-standing affair with Malleson’s first wife, actress Colette O’Neil. (The two had only married under pressure: they were both advocates of co-habitation and sexual freedom.

Yes, this is Miles Malleson I’m talking about.

My favourite Malleson anecdote is the one about him coming out of an early performance of Look Back In Anger, the worst play ever written, ruefully shaking his head and mumbling "But bad manners isn't social criticism..." Quite a few chickens came home that night. All of which surely points to a biography screaming to be written, yet for all of his achievements and the variety of his gifts, this is ultimately his greatest talent: when you’re watching a Hammer film and Miles Malleson comes on, you smile.

Malleson was Hammer’s jolly old man: a beaming, sweet natured, white-haired elf. His inimitable style and perfect timing made him an unlikely but definitive component of the studio's formula, and a bit of their magic died when he made his last appearance in 1962. (He retired from acting, due to failing eyesight, in 1965 and died, aged 80, in 1969.)

 

Luckily for us, Malleson was around when it was still felt that audiences needed occasional comic relief from the intense terror generated by the sight of Christopher Lee in a long cloak. His job in Hammer films, then, is to come on at half time like the gatekeeper in Macbeth, and lighten the mood. The early Hammer films are forever stopping off at inns to eavesdrop on the rustic chorus, and the studio kept a rotating pool of actors on its books solely to play this assortment of drunks, innkeepers, layabouts and poachers, men like Harold Goodwin, George Woodbridge, Michael Ripper and such occasional guest yokels as John Laurie and Lionel Jeffries. They were all superb but Malleson was king, and his little cameos of good cheer retain their charm even now when, like the songs in a Marx Brothers film, they no longer serve a necessary dramatic function.

VIDEO CLIP ADDITION MARCH 2016: Christopher Lee and Peter Cushing: The Last Meeting. Cushing and Lee talk about Hammer Films regular, character actor Miles Malleson and their time working with him during the making of Hammer films, 'Dracula' (1958) and 'The Hound of the Baskervilles' (1959)

Malleson was never to be found in disreputable taverns at Hammer, he is usually cast as a professional man, albeit one of considerable eccentricity. (His last Hammer appearance, as the cabbie in The Phantom of the Opera [1962], is as downmarket as he got.) In Dracula (1958) he is a top-hatted undertaker who does drum-rolls on the coffins and laughs as he tells the story of a mourner who slipped on his steps and died. (“He came to pay his last respects and he remained to share them – oh yes, very amusing it was.”) His face, a gift to any cartoonist, never relaxes its vast, contorted smile. When Malleson laughs his eyes disappear and his mouth outgrows his face.

If you’ve seen Dracula with a live audience you’ll have noticed that while much of the horror receives the de rigeur ignorant laughter now expected of sophisticated audiences, and later comic relief involving a blustering toll-gate keeper is met with impatience, when Malleson comes on the change in reaction is unmistakable. The sophistication of his playing leaps the years, and the laughter is warm and genuine.

His best role for Hammer (and his largest) was the befuddled Bishop Frankland in The Hound of the Baskervilles (1959). In his first scene (of two) he keeps mentioning sherry until the hint is taken and a glass proffered: he ends up having two. (“Now that you mention sherry, do you know I think I might like a glass.”) The plot would have us believe he is a world authority on spiders and insects, but it is hard to credit the man we see crawling about on a flight of stone steps trying to scoop a spider into his hat with the capacity for scholarly study. Dressed elegantly in a black tail coat and top hat, he audibly creaks when in motion. His second scene is a beautiful duet; he is matched perfectly with Peter Cushing’s Holmes, the one all business and laser focus, the other dancing pirouettes around him, offering sherry and drifting off on vague tangents.

First mistaking Holmes for the workman come to mend his immobile telescope, he is delighted when Holmes does the job himself and couldn’t be happier when the telescope’s sudden fluidity of movement causes him to swing it too forcefully, smashing a window. Unaware that Holmes has left the room while his attention is fixed on the comings and goings of his neighbours, director Terence Fisher cuts to a beautiful long shot as Malleson does a full 360 degree turn, extends both his arms at right angles from his body, pauses, looks at the camera and says “Well! He’s gone!”

One suspects Fisher had a particular fondness for Malleson, just as James Whale did for Una O’Connor. In Brides of Dracula (1960) he comes close to letting him shuffle off with the film’s proper atmosphere. Again paired delightfully with Cushing (here as arch vampire hunter Van Helsing) he is a hypochondriac doctor in a startling blonde toupee who dismisses vampirism as superstitious nonsense but is happy to immerse his head in a bowl of noxiously steaming quack remedies. Straight man Cushing does the seriousness and grim portent while Malleson makes inane suggestions and attributes the vampire’s bite marks to an over-fond pet dog.

His interplay with Cushing is especially amusing for the manner in which his character treats Van Helsing as his intellectual peer, while the latter is merely indulging an ally he clearly finds buffoonish and tiresome. Only Malleson is blind to the implications of Van Helsing’s attitude toward him, and continues to discuss matters of which he knows nothing in hushed professional tones. (“I might even put your specialist’s fee on my own little account!” he chirps delightedly.) While Cushing talks gravely of vampires to the headmaster of the girls’ school through which one is prowling, Malleson is clearly visible in the background, fumbling about at the headmaster’s desk, stealing our attention simply by picking things up and putting them down again, gazing distractedly at books and looking around the room. It is probably the humblest, most inadvertent bit of scene stealing in film history, but I challenge anyone to recall what Cushing is actually saying.

He pops up in one or two other interesting places, too, such as Michael Powell’s Peeping Tom (1960). Here he is the elderly porn enthusiast who enters his local tobacconist’s and asks to see some “views”. The proprietor produces an album of soft core photos from under the counter, Malleson makes approving noises as he leafs through briefly before asking “How much would the lot be?” And he brings just the right blend of eccentricity and eeriness to the role of the ominous hearse driver/bus conductor in Dead of Night (1945).

“Room for one inside, sir…”

Malleson is always exactly the right man for the job; his scenes are funny not because he is given funny lines but because he is a superb interpretive actor who has been given lines that are exactly what his character would say. That’s why it is easy to believe that these parts were written with him in mind, or even were largely improvised. That we no longer actually need him to lighten the mood in horror in films that now seem uniformly charming and innocent only adds to his appeal. Stripped of his actual function, his performances are pure indulgence. And still, when he appears, forty years after he made his last film, we smile.

Feature: Matthew Coniam

Images: Marcus Brooks