Wednesday 15 February 2012

THE STORY BEHIND PETER CUSHING AND 'CORRUPTION': COMMENTARY AND GALLERY


After the end of the second world war, Robert Hartford-Davis worked in a variety of capacities at numerous British studios before making his own short films and episodes of TV shows like Police Surgeon (1960). In mid-1962 he won the contract to make films for Compton-Cameo, who ran profitable cinema clubs specialising in risqué films and now wanted to branch out into film production.

So successful were the 1963 pictures That Kind of Girl (which Hartford-Davis produced), and The Yellow Teddybears (which he produced and directed), that a year later he was appointed 'executive in charge of all production'.


Director of Photography on these films was Peter Newbrook, who had previously worked on such prestigious pictures as The Sound Barrier (1952), Lawrence of Arabia (1962) and In The Cool of the Day (1963). In August 1964, Hartford-Davis and Newbrook formed Titan Productions, immediately making the bizarre pop musical, Gonks Go Beat (1965). Their biggest budgeted film followed in 1966: The Sandwich Man was a comedy produced with money from the National Film Finance Corporation, a funding organisation set up to initiate new independent British film productions.



Not even cameos from numerous top British comic stars could prevent it from being only a modest success, and with none of the other NFK-funded films succeeding, Titan had to look elsewhere for capital. It came in January 1967 from independent American company, Oakshire Films, with whom Titan signed to make three films, all to be distributed through Columbia. The first two announced - The Mask of Innocence, a story of a child's obsessive love for her father, and We, the Guilty, concerning the nationwide pursuit of two prison escapees - both went unmade. The third was Corruption.



Hartford-Davis came up with the original idea and brought in Donald and Derek Ford to write the script. The Fords had written all of Hartford-Davis's Compton-Cameo releases, and had stayed with the company to author the classic Sherlock Holmes versus Jack the Ripper film, A Study In Scarlet (1965).
Peter Cushing was the obvious choice for the top-billed part in any British horror film. Discussing Corruption with Eamonn Andrews on television, he remarked that he was looking forward to his next picture; a horror film in modern dress, for a change.

Receiving equal billing was Sue Lloyd, who had previously appeared as Michael Caine's girlfriend in The Ipcress File (1965) and had a recurring role in The Baron (1966). Hartford-Davis would be so impressed with her work on Corruption that he'd present her with an antique cup inscribed, "To my actress of the year, from your corrupted director." At the end of shooting, Cushing presented her with a special script holder. "I did rather well out of that film!" she now laughs. Kate O'Mara, a relative newcomer to film, was cast as Lynn's sister, and Anthony Booth - then popular as Alf Garnett's son-in-law in Til Death Us Do Part (1966) - played groovy photographer Mike.



When making movies, Hartford-Davis apparently considered actor David Lodge his "lucky charm"; a part, therefore, had to be found for him. Lodge remembers: "I said, 'There's nothing in here for me.' He said, 'There's got to be something. I tell you what, what about one of the hippies?' I said, 'They're kids!' - and I was well into my forties. He said, 'We'll make one of them a big idiot with the mental age of about 12. He's retarded.'" So was born Groper, the strongman of Terry's beatnik gang, blindly obedient to leader Georgie.
Saving money where they could, Titan used Isleworth Studios in south-west London, not far from Hartford-Davis's home. Primarily use for making adverts in the year prior to the Corruption shoot only one other film had been made there.


The film's four-week schedule commenced on 10th July 1967, and most scenes were completed quickly. One exception was the discovery of the head in the fridge by Sandy, a female gang member. Actress Alexandra Dane was so shocked by the sight of an apparently decapitated head that she became quite distressed on the first take. The crewmen who had the job of stuffing the head with various offals referred to it as 'the laughing Japanese shot'. Far East audiences enjoyed a lot of gore, apparently.


The finale - in which the laser disposes of most of the leading characters - was achieved by stringing up lengths of wire around the set, which were then lit, and burned brightly where the laser was supposedly striking. Sue Lloyd remembers that the actors had to be wary of their positions if they were to avoid being injured.



Care also had to be taken in the scene in which Groper holds a brandy glass over Lynn's mouth in order to get information out of her. John Lodge remembers being cautious to leave a small gap so she could still take in air. Location shooting took place at Seaford, between London and Brighton. The scene where Lynn lures Terry's husband, Rik, to the edge of the cliff and forces him over was especially arduous for Sue Lloyd: "I suffer from terrible vertigo and that cliff was a sheer drop. I just couldn't do it. I just froze and in the end they had to get a double in. If you look, you never see my face when she pushes him off."



The murder in the train was also shot on location. This disturbing sequence was shot by Newbrook through a fish-eye lens, lending it a delirious quality. Another murder - that of the prostitute in the flat - was shot twice. In the version seen in Scandanavia, South America, and the Far East, a bare-breasted Marianne Morris, replacing the negligee clad Jan Waters in the regular edition, is attacked quite graphically by a manic Cushing. Again, Newbrook used a distorting fish-eye lens in the scene.



Over a year after its completion, the film premiered at London's Metropole on 21st November 1968, but was replaced after a week by Carry On Up the Khyber (1968). On general release from 8th December, Corruption was paired with an Alex Cord spaghetti western, Un minuto per pregare, un instante per morire / Dead or Alive (1968).


David Lodge recalls going to see an early screening of Corruption with Peter Cushing and them both chuckling all the way through. Cushing later remarked: "I felt it was a great idea, but the only thing I felt about the picture was that it was repetitive within itself - and it had to be, I suppose, because of what the story was about ... I think with a little more time it could have been more subtle, but even so it was an incredible success in America."


Corruption is still fondly remembered by those who saw it on its initial release but - possibly because of its reputation as a violent film - it has not been transmitted on television since 1977 or ever released on video in this country.

After filming ended, Peter Cushing went immediately into The Blood Beast Terror (1968) (then known as The Deathshead Vampire) at Goldhawk Studios. Sue Lloyd eventually became a regular on the television soap opera Crossroads (1964 - 1988), and later recreated her Ipcress File role in a new Harry Palmer film shot in Russia, Bullet to Beijing (1997). David Lodge continued to appear in many British films (in The Railway Children (1970), his Bandmaster can be seen wearing Groper's pebble-lensed spectacles).


After two more movies, the partnership of Hartford-Davis and Newbrook broke up. Newbrook formed Glendale Productions, responsible for both Crucible of Terror (1971) and The Asphyx (1973). Robert Hartford-Davis formed World Arts and made two further pictures in England before relocating to Hollywood for two more, and some television. In 1977, he was just starting work on the TV movie Murder at Peyton Place when he died, aged 54, of a massive heart attack

CHRISTOPHER LEE 'MOULIN ROGUE' BEHIND THE SCENES


LOOK CAREFULLY AND YOU'LL SPOT A YOUNG CHRISTOPHER LEE RELAXING ON THE SET OF THE 1952 PRODUCTION OF 'MOULIN ROGUE'. THOUGH THEY NEVER SHARED SCENES TOGETHER, 'MOULIN ROGUE' STARRING JOSE FERRER  IS THOUGHT TO BE THE SECOND TIME..... IF YOU COUNT CHRISTOPHER LEE'S  APPEARANCE IN 'HAMLET'... WHERE CHRISTOPHER LEE AND PETER CUSHING PATHS CROSSED...EVEN IF THEY DIDN'T KNOW IT!

PAUL MCNAMEE'S PETER CUSHING MARATHON: LAP TWO: A SNOWMAN. SNAKES. HOUNDS AND MORE!


Welcome back pals. Let's waste not a second longer in cracking onwards with another lap of my marathon to view all 91 films featuring the late, great Peter Cushing!

NINETEEN EIGHTY-FOUR (1954)


Definitely one of the harder Cushing outings to track down (the DVD is unavailable on these English shores), Nineteen Eighty-Four is Nigel Kneale’s adaptation of George Orwell’s ludicrously influential novel/ sermon and serves as a solid launchpad for Cushing’s megastardom alongside Donald “annihilation” Pleasance (I’ve yet to popularise this nickname but am working on it), Andre Morell and Yvonne Mitchell. As a work of fiction it’s astounding still, in spite of the foundation anachronism of a potential (possible, even) future so steeped in past technology it almost renders it rather silly.


At its best it’s outright terrifying (as in the near totality of Big Brother’s scope and the level of control what his abilities MIGHT include exudes over his populace) and at its worst merely circumstantial (the film’s dystopia is never explained and as such feels less rooted in the present than even the worst of today’s myriad imitators). Cushing is offered ample opportunity to impress in Winston Smith’s growth from wimp (let’s be fair) to a hero whose heroics are without effect and swept aside. Of those trends I’ve noticed in most other Cushing films, none appear here: his gentlemanry (expect plenty of fabricated verbiage, friends) could sooner be termed total repression, and not once does he get embroiled in a great bloody Cushing Ruckuss, though by the end of the film he’s missing a tooth and his poor shirt is in tatters.


To be honest I’d not watch the film again, though. Its status as a primitive recording of a live play from the 1950s does it no favours and at times the dialogue was barely audible. Sure, it’s nice to have seen after years of failure to find a copy but it wasn’t an auspicious start to the evening. On the Rambleast Ratings-O-Meter, I’d rank it somewhere between a must-see (for considerable historical significance) and an avoid (for its actual merit as a good thing).

Somewhat wiped out after its relentless grimmery, it was with open arms (and eyes and ears and brain) that I welcomed:

THE ABOMINABLE SNOWMAN (1957)



Now, The Abominable Snowman is a Hammer film, as were the rest for this initial session, but perhaps a Hammer in name only. Made in 1957 (the same year a single gush of garishly coloured vein claret in The Curse Of Frankenstein would change horror forevermore), the film rarely feels like an offering from The Studio That Dripped Blood thanks to a cast of unregulars and its staunch refusal to tick any box marked ‘horror film’. It is, essentially, a great big boy’s adventure film.


Cushing opens the picture in a Himalayan village, making plans to embark on an expedition to find the fabled Yeti against the wishes of the village elder, his typically passive and subservient wife (named Helen after Cushing’s own and on his insistence) before a gaggle of big, smoking Americans show up and the jolly lot of them set off across some very convincingly shot snowy wastes. This is helped tremendously by Val Guest’s direction (in black and white), and no doubt by a handsome budget which facilitates the abundance of aerial shots and an absolutely gorgeous set for the village (later reused for Christopher Lee’s Fu Manchu films).



Cushing makes mention of sacrificing his climbing career after a stupid accident (unexplained, but given his reference-quality civility it probably involved tea-making) which explains why the expedition is so poorly received by his lady love (and his companion Foxy, played by The Bookworm from Batman and possibly by an actual actor also).


Nigel Kneale returns to script the film and provides a typically thoughtful work in which the nature of monstrosity is questioned. Indeed, Kneale is clever not to paint the Yeti (who is not glimpsed in full and only appears significantly in the final five minutes of the film) as a monster: those deaths they are responsible for can be attributed to fear and insanity (not unrealistic reactions to humongous snowbeasts from hell, one should think). The film moves along at a brisk pace and the tensions between the Englishmen and the great big Americans (led by Forrest Tucker who receives top billing to placate Hammer’s US backers and wind the rest of us up, frankly) provide much of the entertainment, so much so in fact that when the beast’s disembodied hand first appears it damn near derails the picture, not unlike the first time Dave Prowse is glimpse in Hammer’s largely unloved Horror Of Frankenstein.


As I discovered later (again and again), for all the studio’s qualities they had a real weakness for underwhelming monster makeup. Anyway, there’s not much more to say about it other than that Michael Brill (whose name is self-descriptive) plays a character that seems very much like the male equivalent of those unfortunate ladies whose sultry charms fell victim to The Count’s incisors in the studio’s Dracula films, and that the whole thing is hardly memorable but a really effective way to pass an hour and a half. Recommended.

THE HOUND OF THE BASKERVILLES (1959)


And now, the confession: BBC’s Sherlock has been to date my only experience with Mr. Holmes outside of this Hammer offering from 1959. Given how much I enjoyed both (and the opportunity to compare versions of a story so vastly different as those from each version) I imagine I’ll make up for it in the future. For now, though, it is only fit to wax verbal on that moor-bound mutt, his misdeeds, and Cushing’s debut as the deerstalker-bedecked ‘tec who was reportedly first done justice regarding his general jerkery in this adaptation of Conan Doyle’s famous (seriously, it’s like rilly rilly famous guys) novel.


What I love about Peter Cushing is the extent to which I’ll compare his performances when watching him, which is TO ZERO EXTENT. I can readily accept him as two generations of Van Helsing, Moff Tarkin and Sherlock Holmes without ever thinking of another of his often iconic roles. To see an established actor slip so easily into an already occupied role and both play it on his own terms and not let it define his career is a treat, a small joy. If I’ve not made it clear already, I LOVE Peter Cushing. When he says “I’ve hurt my leg, I’m cold and I’m hungry” after appearing perched atop a carriage near the end of this film I actually whooped. I made a sound not unlike that of a wild animal in appreciation of his gentle talent. He’s a winner at everything.


So, gush dealt, how fared the film? Well, for a story so famous (as we’ve covered) I was surprised to see how Hammerised it was. I mean, this film has one of the most brazenly Hammer openings possible: big brass music, an unconvincing backdrop and a roll call of the usual suspects (Asher, Keys, Hinds, Bernard, Lee, Morell and Sir Peter, of course). The first scene presents Sir Hugo Baskerville (or ‘of the Baskervilles’, as I always want to type) and he’s a real scumbag, a truly delicious screen villain courtesy of David Oxley. Indeed, he’s such a royal prick that I was sorry to see him go (but not before delivering one of the most dramatic stabbings in film history, unleashing his own pack of cute little Beaglehounds and responding to a twice-dubbed scream that nearly steals the film- it’s THAT good) though his death is fairly pivotal to the story so I can scarcely complain.

Still, for all its Hammer fluster it quickly becomes a rather fusty, talky picture where old, nice men devote a LOT of screen time to saying clever things, being civil and getting murdered. Cushing, who was reportedly fond of props (or ‘prop-fond’, as I’ll be saying from here on out) is well served in 221b Baker Street and just about every other new location he visits, fiddling with pictures and his oft’ present pipe. One wonders just what he was off fondling for the majority of the middle third of the film during which he is absent as Watson (Morell again, this time praising Cushing rather than subjecting him to torture) traipses about Dartmoor, and his Holmes is such a commanding screen jerk (an endearing jerk but a jerk unquestionably) that the film nearly stalls without him.


When he reappears though it only heightened my appreciation, and before long he’s embroiled in some action (I’m telling you, Cushing just loves wrecking about the place), shooting at the world’s biggest dog with the world’s tiniest gun (but such a gentlemanly weapon). The dog’s mask is a bit of a stumbling block, as is Lee’s performance which is oddly stiff, despite his all-commanding presence, and forgive the apparent blasphemy of that statement as I’m sure his decision to play Henry (Of The Baskervilles) was entirely justified.



Anywhat, if it’s a Cushing Ruckuss, an engaging lead role and a film which boasts the phrase “a two-pipe problem”, Baskerhounds is for you.

THE GORGON (1964)


Right, let’s be explosive: The Gorgon is AWESOME. Juvenile as that may sound, it truly is an awesome film, and I enjoyed every moment of it. Joining Mr. Cushing is the atypical Hammer Girl Barbara Shelley, arguably my favourite actress and a sure-fire presence to ground a film in a sense of decency.


As always, Sir Pete is introduced with little fanfare but sports the greatest facial hair of his career. He’s involved in local shenanigans and a good few Hammer Staples crop up – there’s a Paul AND a Bruno, as well as typically jerky locals and a pervading communal fear. The Gorgon herself lives in a matte painting of a castle and spends her nights turning the locals into stone in action lifted straight from Greek mythology, something that fits surprisingly well within Hammer’s Eurocentric literary canon.


Cushing gets involved in a love triangle and adds jealousy and loathing to his bow, but as soon as mustachioed Christopher Lee shows up it’s hard to take your eyes off him in one of his most scenery-wolfing performances. Terence Fisher directs with style, dropping his usual tricks throughout the picture as well as often subtly forecasting events for the benefit of the eagle-eyed. The Gorgon was released on DVD in 2010 and is available for next to nothing- you have no excuse. Own it.


THE LEGEND OF THE SEVEN GOLDEN VAMPIRES (1974)


What does it say about this movie that in describing it to friends I’ve called it all manner of things from Legend Of The Seven Jumping Vampires to Legend Of The Seven Dancing Vampires, bringing with it as it does such a state of confusion because, frankly, it. Is. Bonkers.


It messed with me so much that that opening sentence began as a question and ended as a paragraph. I can’t even write coherently about a movie in which common sense and a respect for the human mind are banished to sunny China so’s some terribly designed vampires (dancing, jumping, golden) can feast on them. That’s right, Cushettes (that’s your new nickname, readers – you’re the Cushettes) – the vampires in this brain-drain feed on CONCEPTS. This is one wacky film, a collaboration between Hammer and the Shaw Brothers in which Sir Pete, lecturing IN ENGLISH in China is recruited by one of seven brothers (though not the same seven brothers for whom the courting of seven wives was, oh, you see where I’m going with that...) to hunt down the aforementioned crap, high-kicking kung-fu fangbangers thanks to the promise that good old Count D is involved and he can give him a jolly good wooden stabbing, as he is so very happy to do picture after picture (and indeed, upon continent after continent).


“Dracula” in this film is played with zero credibility for a couple minutes by John-Forbes Robinson, whose take on the famous bloodsucker is so unbearably (but not out-of-place-ingly) hammy that it is no small relief when, for no reason, he infuses his spirit into that of the Asian vamps’ leader, though he does reappear in the last reel to get his just desserts and a smiting from our Van Helsing. Forbes-Robinson’s brevity of screentime is a blessing because his very presence feels out of place, even in this film starring a 61-year old monster hunter in turn of the century China.


Cushing cannot be faulted. I know I’m writing for a Peter Cushing fan site but such comments need never go unstated. Even here, his exposition is easy to swallow, and as ever he makes that extra effort to best serve the local pronunciation whenever he can. He’s fighting not just vampires but disbelief, as he often does, but metaphysical commentary aside and in spite of his age, the Cushing Ruckuss is present and accounted for, and he can be spotted duelling and dealing death when he’s not DIVING INTO FIRE amidst nigh-on endless scenes of gushing blood, scrapping swordsmen and some of the very best dubbing of screams I’ve ever heard. You’ll also get to see a vampire melt like at the end of 1958’s Dracula, but it’s nowhere as effective and as special effects go, laughably transparent.


Roy Ward Baker (of Quatermass And The Pit) handles his portion of the direction capably (though James Bernard’s use of his Dracula score during Forbes-Robinson’s scenes is wholly unforgivable), but to be honest this is not a film that deserves (or invites) such stoic criticism. It’s great fun, and in that, it deserves viewing....

I’m not sure what I’ll be watching for next Friday, but I’ll be limiting myself to three films as like any partwork magazine you only get twice as much for the first two instalments. I’ve no idea how that applies to this, but it seems a decent enough reason not to burn myself out on Cushing pics. If you missed last week's piece, you can find it  HERE!   'Til next time , Cushettes.

REVIEWS: PAUL MCNAMEE
PAUL'S BLOG: CLICK HERE!
IMAGES: MARCUS BROOKS

Tuesday 14 February 2012

PETER AND HELEN CUSHING'S SECRET GARDEN: A FEATURE FOR VALENTINES DAY!


      John Harman, British Columbia
                                     Canada remembers Peter and Helen Cushing'sWalled Garden

                           "All through the '30s, my Dad had a large allotment garden down the
     Lower Island (Island Wall). This was located between Island Wall
         and the back of the cottages at the far end of Wave Crest..
        He had a tool shed on it and various things to scare the birds....
      but they did more to frighten me as I was young in the late 1930s.
     My brothers George and Ray, who are quite a bit older than me,
     well remember playing on the mountains of sawdust at the adjacent
 yard of the Whitstable Shipping Co."

                                  
 "In 1963, when I took my wife, Anne, home to Whitstable to meet
my family, we stayed with mom and dad. Dad told me that a film star,
Peter Cushing, now lived at the Lower Island and had acquired
the allotment. By now, Peter and dad had become quite well
 acquainted and dad suggested that I should take Anne to
see what his allotment had become. I understand that Helen Cushing
was ailing at that time and the actor had arranged for the land to be turned
 into a beautiful 'walled garden' for her and other local seniors to share!"


"This garden of tranquility was enclosed by a lovely masonry wall.
On seeing it, it was truly beautiful and we took a couple of photographs.
Within the wall were grass lawns, rosebeds and what really
caught my eye...a 'Dovecot'!"



"When I made a further visit to Whitstable in the '70s,
I took a walk past the garden with my brother Ray
and his son, Geoff. The photo below shows them outside
 the wall and the 'dovecote' can be clearly seen above the wall."

"When last home in 2005, I was so sad to see that the
 garden no longer existed and that it had been replaced
 by infill - with a house in its place. What a shame
 that this tranquil garden that he created could not have
 been preserved in his honour for all to enjoy."

John Harman, British Columbia
Canada




This is a cutting from The Garden News Section of the UK
Daily Express Newspaper, dated Friday 30th September 1966 featuring
Peter and Helen Cushing's walled garden. It was this cutting amongst others
that Linda king too with her when PCASUK met Peter Cushing for the
last time an caused peter to whisper 'My Dear, how terribly kind
of you...to keep this and show it to me today!' Such a sweet gesture
from a very sweet and kind man.... with the greenest of fingers!      
                               



Mary Thomas from Whitstable remembers:

"Over the decades and even the centuries, Whitstable has
been home to a number of famous people. But I doubt
that any earned the affection of local people quite as much
as the actor Peter Cushing. After visiting the town in the
early 1950's, Peter and his actress wife Helen Beck,
became local residents when they purchased a seafront house
in Wave Crest during 1959.

"News swept town and it wasn't long before we could all identify
the attractive but perhaps unremarkable property that edhged the West
Beach shingle and backed onto the Lower Island Wall roadway at
the rear. Within in a few years, the Island Wall aspect had changed
quite dramatically as Peter expanded the rear garden and surrounded
it with a high stone wall. Behind the privacy of that wall, he
created a small oasis - one that we kids could only dream about!'


From the outside on the Island Wall, the stone work was very
tastefull done, with rhe wall rounded into the entrance of the garage.


This is the house that sits in the space where Peter Cushing's
 Walled Garden once stood. The wall is still standing, though
 a little lower. The back entrance to Peter's home, faces this view.


This is the rear of the house that now stands on the area.


 Left side of the house. The rear of
Peter and Helen's home can be seen in the middle background.

Fortunately, not everything disappeared. In furnishing the garden,
 Peter commissioned a garden seat that reflected
both his romantic nature and deep love for wife Helen.
The seat was designed to accommodate two people
 and the carved "back" represented the entwined arms
of two lovers. This complemented the dovecote which
also provided a symbol of love and peace.



Sadly, Helen died in 1971. In 1990, Peter donated the
seat to the people of Whitstable when the town opened
 a new viewing platform overlooking the sea at
 Keams Yard (Horsebridge). The platform (or, perhaps
 more accurately, the scene that it afforded users)
was named "Cushing's View" in his honour and
 the seat has occupied pride of place on the structure ever since.


The message on the plaque is simple and poignant.....
Peter died just four years later and, for his funeral,
 the town centre came to halt in tribute.
Peter and Helen's "View", of course, lives on.
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