AT 91 SIR CHRISTOPHER LEE BECOMES OLDEST MUSICIAN TO CHART ON BILLBOARD

Sir Christopher Lee Becomes Oldest Musician to Chart 

on Billboard at 91 Years Old!

Read all about it HERE

FOSSILS, FINGERS AND THE COUNT IS BACK: A TALENT TO TERRIFY : PART FIVE

The year 1971 got off to a horrible start for Cushing: Helen finally succumbed after years of ever-worsening health.  For Cushing, the loss would prove unbearable.  Helen was everything to him: his most valued critic, his biggest fan, his best friend, his doting mother, his wife… It was not a loss that Cushing would rebound from easily; indeed, it would cast a pall over his remaining years.  The crestfallen actor considered suicide, but religious principles compelled him to tough it out.  His therapy would be work – non-stop, if at all possible.

One of Cushing’s first films following his tragic loss was Hammer’s first crack at updating the Dracula myth to the modern milieu.  Dracula AD 1972 would be Cushing’s first appearance as Van Helsing since The Brides of Dracula (1960), and the passage of time would be all the more obvious due to the actor’s precarious mental condition at the time of filming.

Cushing had always been a thin man, but after the loss of Helen he would become gaunt – he would also attain something of a haunted aura about him… The original screenplay by Don Houghton initially had Van Helsing as a modern-day father, trying to keep his flower child Jessica (Stephanie Beacham) in line, but Cushing had aged noticeably and a decision was made to make him into Jessica’s grandfather. Cushing’s frail appearance stands in stark contrast to the utter commitment and energy he brings to the role.  It is certainly my favorite of his several attempts at the character, and he has real chemistry with Beacham in their scenes together.

As for Lee, the actor had long vocalized a dissatisfaction with how Hammer had been treating his most iconic role.  He came to AD 1972 out of sheer desperation, as several projects he had signed on to had fallen through at the last minute.  It would seem that the presence of Cushing re-energized him, however, as he approaches the role of Dracula with a gusto that had been notably absent in Taste the Blood of Dracula (1969) and Scars of Dracula (1970).

The two stars cross path on screen at the beginning (in a wonderful, nineteenth century-set prologue) and again at the end, and their chemistry remains as palpable as ever. Fans would react with mixed emotions at the updated setting, however, and for some the film remains the nadir of the series. Even so, the Lee/Cushing dynamic remained untarnished, and more collaborations were ahead, in short order…

Late in 1971, Lee and Cushing flew to Madrid to make Horror Express.  For Lee, working in the Spanish film scene was nothing new – he had already done several films for Jess Franco, after all.  But for Cushing, leaving the confines of England was a different matter.  He had filmed in Spain and other locales in the 50s – but always with Helen tagging along for support.  Things were different now and with the Christmas holiday looming, he had a change of heart. Fortunately, Lee’s friendship and encouragement would prompt Cushing to stick with it – and thank goodness for it.  Horror Express (1972) would emerge as one of the most purely enjoyable films of either actor  career – and in many respects, it may remain the definitive Lee/Cushing movie.

The two actors are cast to type – Lee stuffy and imperious, Cushing impish and charming – but the characters allow them to grow in interesting ways.  Lee is particularly good as the pompous archaeologist who does an about-face when he realizes that his indifference towards the mayhem is monstrous in itself. He ends up as a swashbuckling hero, rescuing the damsel-in-distress (Silvia Tortosa) in the process.  Cushing is also in fine form as Lee’s scientific rival, and the two actors have some marvelous dialogue.  Cushing’s “Monsters?  We’re British, you know!” is rightly famous, but I always get a chuckle out of Lee’s impatient “What’s he raving about?!,” directed at guest star Telly Savalas, who shows up long enough to liven things up in the final act.

Director Eugenio Martin keeps the action moving at a terrific clip and for once, Lee and Cushing are afforded more-or-less equal screen time.  The supporting cast is marvelous as well, notably Alberto De Mendoza as the Rasputin-like Pujardov, a religious fanatic who crosses swords with Lee (who, of course, played Rasputin himself, for Hammer) and the afore-mentioned Savalas, who makes for an unlikely Cossack but is thoroughly delightful, just the same.

  

PCASUK Review and Gallery 'Horror Express' HERE 

After this, it was back to England – but The Creeping Flesh wouldn’t be produced by Hammer or Amicus.  Instead, the “other” major UK genre studio, Tigon, was responsible for this – their only Lee/Cushing vehicle.  In what could only be seen as an amazing coincidence, the story bore a strong resemblance to that of Horror Express: in both films, an ancient fossil is unearthed which contains a clue to the origin of Evil.

 

Horror Express had been a fast paced romp, while The Creeping Flesh was darker, slower and altogether more somber.  The film would mark a return to form for director Freddie Francis, who had spent much of the 70s hacking out one poor film after another – Tales from the Crypt (1972) to one side.  The literate and intriguing script for The Creeping Flesh inspired him to make a more committed job of it, and he responds with one of his most carefully crafted films.  Only a gratuitous subplot involving Kenneth J. Warren’s escaped convict drags the film down; it’s not that these scenes are bad, they’re simply pointless and scream “filler”.

Top-billed Lee isn’t in it as much as all that, but he’s in great form as the embittered half-brother to Cushing’s pampered scientist.  Lee conveys the hurt, resentment and burning anger that is quietly bubbling under the surface and manages to steal every scene he is in.  Cushing has the larger role, and the showier one, and he impresses as the slightly addle-brained researcher.  In what was becoming an obsessive trope, the actor plays a lonely widower who is assailed by memories of his late wife.  Cushing brings tremendous pathos to the role, making him instantly sympathetic, and the ambiguous fade-out makes it unclear whether the story really did happen or if it was just a paranoid delusion.  Lorna Heilbron steals the film from her stars as Cushing’s naïve daughter, who succumbs to the taint of evil.  Duncan Lamont, Michael Ripper and other stalwarts help to boost up the faux Hammer flavor, and Paul Ferris contributes a good, creepy soundtrack.

 PCASUK Review and Gallery of 'The Creeping Flesh' Here

The same year, Christopher Lee would launch his own production company, Charlemagne Productions; the name derived from his illustrious ancestor, the Emperor Charlemagne, and the intent was to create a company that could give Hammer and Amicus a run for their money by producing mature, “up market” horror films for the discerning viewer.  Sadly, Lee would lose control of the project early on and Nothing but the Night would become a problematic film on many levels.

 

The script was based on the novel of the same name by John Blackburn,.  There was a good story to be told there, and in a sense its tale of “possessed” children anticipated a certain Hollywood blockbuster by a year… but the film would be a rather listless and dreary affair, and Rank’s inability to do much with the film in the UK coupled with distribution woes in the US put an end to Lee’s dream of running his own company.

 

 

None of this should suggest that the film is a total loss, however.  Director Peter Sasdy had just directed three fine films for Hammer (one of which, Taste the Blood of Dracula, was among the better of Hammer’s Dracula series) but his stylistic verve is only evident in spurts here.  Too much of the narrative is given over to an unappealing love story between Keith Barron and Georgia Brown, while Lee and Cushing linger on the sidelines as a sort of modern-day Holmes and Watson team.  Lee comes into his own in the second half and gives a commanding performance, while Cushing struggles with a rather unusually bitchy characterization which requires him to snap a lot and shoot plenty of dark glances.

PCASUK Review and Gallery of Nothing but The Night Here

The film builds to a memorable, fiery finale which can’t help but remind viewers of another, much better Lee vehicle from the same period: The Wicker Man (1973).  Speaking of which, it has been rumored that Cushing was considered for the pivotal role of Sergeant Howie in that film – which would likely have made The Wicker Man the most artistically rewarding of their many films together… but the reality is, Cushing was much too old for the part and the man who eventually got the job, Edward Woodward, did a brilliant job with it. If Cushing ever had any particular feelings on nearly being a part of The Wicker Man, he never said so. In any event, his career would continue to move full steam ahead...

The final part of 'Talent To Terrify' will be posted this weekend: 'The Count's Last Stand..And The Gang 's Here Too!'

'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.

Click here for The UK Peter Cushing Appreciation Society Facebook Fan Page

BLOCH, STEVENSON AND A LITTLE HELP FROM SAMMY : 'A TALENT TO TERRIFY' PART FOUR

The appeal of Hammer horror extended across the globe, earning Lee and Cushing fans in all walks of life. One such fan was Sammy Davis, Jr., who pulled his weight on the set of One More Time (1970) by compelling director Jerry Lewis to bring the two actors in for a cameo appearance.

 

The loosely plotted and non-too-amusing sequel to Salt and Pepper (1968) focused on the continued adventures of nightclub owners Charles Salt (Davis, Jr.) and Christopher Pepper (Peter Lawford).  The addition of a sight gag involving the sudden – and poorly covered – appearance of Count Dracula (Lee) and Baron Frankenstein (Cushing) in a rather impoverished-looking “mad lab” set no doubt baffled the film’s target audience.  In any event, Lee and Cushing appear to have had fun filming their cameo and working with the gifted Davis, Jr. Next up, Lee and Cushing returned to Amicus for another anthology.  Lee had originally been slated to appear opposite Cushing in the “Man Who Collected Poe” segment of Torture Garden (1967), but Columbia wanted an American star – so Jack Palance got the gig instead.

Cinerama, the distributors of The House That Dripped Blood, were only too happy to have the reigning British kings of horror on board.  The screenplay was penned by Robert Bloch and dealt with a house with an unfortunate past, which is at the center of an investigation into the disappearance of ham horror star Paul Henderson (a terrific Jon Pertwee, playing a role originally ear-marked for Vincent Price).

Lee and Cushing would not share any screen time, as they occupied separate segments, but both actors were at the top of their game here.  Lee is by turns imposing, frightening, despicable and moving as the ice-cold father of an angelic little girl (Chloe Franks, who very nearly steals the show) who is not everything she appears to be.

 

Cushing brings an air of melancholy to his role as a retired stock broker who falls under the spell of a statue of Salome.  The sadness radiating from Cushing could be attributed to his ongoing panic over the deteriorating health of his beloved Helen.  The actor was reluctant to face facts, but she was not to be by his side for much longer.

The film was another hit for Amicus, thanks in large part to an admittedly tacky title which would prove to be the bane of director Peter Duffell’s existence; it wasn’t subtle (even if the film itself was – you’ll note, there isn’t a drop of blood in the film itself) but it helped to put people in the seats.

Lee and Cushing would round out 1970 by reteaming for another Amicus production.  On the face of it, I, Monster was more typical of Hammer than Amicus: it was period-set and would tell only one story.  The adaptation of Robert Louis Stevenson’s venerable “The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde” would remain true to the source material – and to Subotsky’s overall credo with regards to downplaying graphic shock effects.

Full Interview with Stephen Weeks Here

Sadly, the film would be overrun with bad luck.  Peter Duffell elected to pass on the picture, fearing becoming typecast as a genre director, and Lee would recommend the young (21 at the time of filming) filmmaker Stephen Weeks on the strength of his short film 1917 (1970), which had impressed the actor.  Weeks would prove ill-equipped to cope with Subotsky’s dialogue-heavy script or the additional baggage of a half-baked 3D process with which the producer decided to burden the production.  Thoughts of 3D exhibition dried up part of the way into filming, but the damage was already done – the material would prove awkward and difficult to cut together, and the film would pretty much just lie there… bereft of life, despite some interesting art direction and a brilliant central performance from Lee.

 

As Lee has often said, it makes very little sense that Subotsky saw fit to write the most faithful adaptation of Stevenson’s novella, only to change the names of the central character(s) while leaving all the other names intact.  Whatever the thinking was, the moniker I, Monster would prove to be off-putting for many viewers and the film would slide into relative obscurity.  This is to be regretted because, at the very least, the film is worth seeing for Lee’s performance.  He is tremendously effective as the repressed Dr. Marlowe, who transforms into the free-spirited and vicious Mr. Blake.  Lee seizes every opportunity available to him, making this one of his most memorable characterizations.

Cushing, sadly, is squandered in a dull supporting role.  His performance as the stuffy lawyer Utterson is professional, but the role gives him no opportunity for shading or nuance.  Worse still, he is forced to share several scenes with the amateurish Mike Raven, a disc jockey turned actor who was making an open bid for horror stardom at that time.  The film would prove to be a relatively minor footnote in the Amicus canon, but a life-changing event was in the works for Cushing – and from that point on, life, as he knew it, would hold precious little meaning.

Next Time: FOSSILS, FINGERS AND THE COUNT IS BACK! 

'A Talent To Terrify : The Twenty Two Films Of Peter Cushing And Christopher Lee' is written by Troy Howarth with Artwork and Images by Marcus Brooks. 

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.