Showing posts with label christopher lee. Show all posts
Showing posts with label christopher lee. Show all posts

Thursday, May 1, 2025

King for a Day

The Wicker Man (Robin Hardy, 1973)

Christopher Lee's chilling line, "Come, it is time to keep your appointment with the Wicker Man," to the doomed Edward Woodward, never rang more true for your host. That's because, for one reason or another, I've delayed a dedicated write-up on Robin Hardy's masterpiece The Wicker Man (1973); even missing its 50th anniversary. Here's my attempt at making amends, by reviewing it on the most apt day of the year for the film — on May Day — and discuss this triumph of British cinema in an ungodly length. Come say, "How do?" to The Wicker Man.

David Batholomew famously described it as "The Citizen Kane of Horror films," in a dedicated issue of Cinemafantisque. This low budget indie film is often mentioned in various Greatest Ever Films list (albeit, much lower down the ladder from Citizen Kane). It's also credited as being the granddaddy of folk horror, despite earlier examples Witchfinder General (1968) and The Blood of Satan's Claw (1971) preceding it by a few years. However, those films haven't sewn the same cultural influence like The Wicker Man. It's hard coded into various other media and not just other films. From  television, music, video games and numerous other forms of entertainment, Hardy's classic film has left an indelible mark.

What initially began as a film treatment for a potential Michael Winner film, which related to a murder investigation involving Cornish pagans, author Andrew Pinner, would go it alone and turn it his 1967 novel Ritual  The book would eventually fall into the hands of play writer Anthony Shaffer, who, along with fellow writer and business partner, Robin Hardy, were interested in producing it into a horror film. The pair were both disillusioned with the current state of horror films, and were looking to try something more uniquely serious. With the aid of the legendary actor Christopher Lee, who also shared a similar sentiment with them regarding the state of horror films, and producer Peter Snell, they obtained the rights to Pinner's book for the princely sum of £15,000. With major refining and tinkering, Shaffer's screenplay would wind up being almost entirely different to its original source material. 

Various pagan rituals featured in Shaffer's screenplay were sourced from Scottish anthropologist, Sir James George Frazer's 1890 book The Golden Bough. A famous compendium dedicated to detailing various ancient religions, rituals and practices. Eagle-eyed viewers who have seen Apocalypse Now (1979) might have spotted the book on Colonel Kurtz's desk. Shaffer was particularly influenced by fertility rites and human sacrifices which were chronicled in the Frazer's tome. These elements played an integral part in The Wicker Man's mystery plot. The screenwriter was no stranger, in this department, having written both Frenzy (1972) and Sleuth (1972).

Devout Christian, Sergeant Neil Howie (Edward Woodward) of the West Highlands Police, receives an anonymous letter regarding the disappearance of Rowan Morrison, a young girl from the remote Scottish island of Summerisle. The island is famed for its bountiful produce, notably its luscious apples, but seldom visited by outsiders. Piloting his sea plane, the bobby heads to Summerisle. The locals appear unwelcoming at first. Showing a photo of the missing child, the locals don't recognise her. The harbour master denies ever seeing the young girl before, yet knows her mother May Morrison.

Although, not Robin Hardy's first choice to play the Sgt. Howie — he wanted actor Michael York, originally — Edward Woodward would prove to be an excellent choice with his superb performance as the pious and uptight investigator. According to Woodward, he wore a police uniform a size too small to give him his an authoritarian like composure and stance. This physical restriction would affect how he would deliver his lines as well. As such, he would play the straight man to the various jesters on Summerisle, before the turning of the tables.

Sgt. Howie's first port of call is the local post office/sweet shop run by May. Aside from the strange confectionery on display, what's more peculiar, is May Morrison denying ever having a daughter called Rowan. Furthermore, she leads the policeman to the back of her shop where her daughter Myrtle doing a painting of a March hare. Briefly alone with the child, Sgt. Howie is told by Myrtle that Rowan does indeed exist, but she is in the fields and she is a March hare, like her painting.

Tired from his trip to the island and questioning the batshit locals, Sgt. Howie rents a room at the boisterously loud, Green Man Inn. Without a shadow of a doubt, one of the greatest boozers ever featured in film. It's run by pub landlord Alder MacGregor (Lindsey Kemp) and his barmaid daughter Willow (Britt Ekland). The drunk and rowdy locals are the icing on the proverbial cake singing some utter filth regarding Willow's appeal, that would make Luther Campbell blush. The policeman is more intrigued by the obvious absence of last year's Harvest Festival photograph not being amongst all the other prior ones adorning the wall. He also isn't too pleased with the pub meal he's been served as it's mostly from a tin. Considering Summerisle's bountiful produce, it's an oddity for him to be served preserved beans and potatoes along with the miniscule lamb chop on his plate.

You would be forgiven for thinking The Wicker Man is just as much a musical as it is a horror film. Music plays an important part in the film. American songwriter Paul Giovanni wrote and scored new songs with acid folk band Magnet. These tracks perfectly complimented medieval melodies, Robert Burns ditties, and traditional nursery rhymes. Much of the music evokes a pre-Christian Britain  —  Pagan times. Hence, a private Scottish island, secluded from the rest of the world, worshipping the God of the Sun and Goddess of the Orchard, might even be somewhat believable in the late 20th century. Giovanni's score really impresses when it signals the sinister tone of the film in the third act; when Sgt. Howie realises he can't get back to the mainland after his plane has been sabotaged. It's complimented with sinister sounding strings while masked figures peer at the lawman from behind a stone wall.

Depending on which cut of the film you watch, Lord Summerisle (Christopher Lee) the local landowner, makes his first appearance outside of Willow's bedroom. His purpose is to present Ash Buchanan, a young lad who has come of age to lose his cherry with the local slosh pot. Whilst the folk band (consisting of the film's composer Paul Giovanni and his group Magnet) play the slow and risqué number, Gently Johnny, to the pair's orgasmic moans, Lord Summerisle admires two snails also rutting like his Sir David Attenborough. 

Lord Summerisle: I think I could turn and live with animals. They are so placid and self-contained. They do not lie awake in the dark and weep for their sins. They do not make me sick discussing their duty to God. Not one of them kneels to another or to his own kind that lived thousands of years ago. Not one of them is respectable or unhappy, all over the earth.

Robin Hardy perfectly drives home The Wicker Man's themes of sex and fertility. As such, the Summerisle community's openly permissive attitudes come across as immoral, indecent and corruptive to the pious Sgt. Howie's moral beliefs.

An early and pivotal scene is set inside Miss Rose's (Diane Cilento) classroom. Sgt. Howie presumes the empty desk is Rowan's. Opening it, he finds a beetle tied to a thread and nail. Daisy Pringle (Lesley Mackie), the world's oldest looking school girl, mischievously grins, "The little old beetle goes 'round and 'round. Always the same way, you see, until it ends up right up tight to the nail. Poor old thing!" It serves as metaphoric foreshadowing to what befalls our film's protagonist.

Australian actress Diane Cilento, who had split from her husband Sean Connery in 1971, was cast after Shaffer had seen her perform in a stage play. Not knowing her name at the time, Shaffer managed to track her down and convinced the actress to be in the film, despite her being retired from acting at the time. Of all the three lead actresses in the film, Cilento seems the most skilled, in my opinion. She would even choreograph the young maiden's fire dance. During the film shoot, Cilento and Shaffer would become involved in a relationship. They would eventually tie the knot in 1985.

Perhaps the most shocking revelation for the Christian copper, is the desecrated church on Summerisle.  It shows his devout faith being abandoned on the island. Passing a woman breastfeeding her baby (while also holding an egg ), Sgt. Howie finds an empty apple crate and fashions a crucifix with it. He places it on the abandoned church altar. A vain attempt by at restoring some semblance of all that is dear to him back to the island.

Sgt. Howie runs into an old gardener (played by the recognisable Aubrey Morris) who tends to the graves. It turns out, he plants trees on the graves. Asking about one specific tree growing from an unmarked grave, Sgt. Howie learns it's a rowan tree growing from Rowan Morrison's grave. Realising this, the policeman asks when Rowan died. "Oh, six or seven months," says the gardener "they're just a wee bit late with the headstone." Sgt. Howie is intrigued with a bizarre strip, resembling what could be skin, hanging from the small rowan tree. Puzzled, he asks what it is, "the poor wee lassie's navel string, of course," replies the gardener. "Where else should it be, but hung on her own little tree?" One must ask, where are all the umbilical cords stored before they're hung on trees when the citizens die?

Returning to the May Morrison's shop, Sgt. Howie walks in to see sympathetic magic taking place, as Rowan's younger sister, Myrtle, is suffering from a sore throat. To cure it, May places a frog in the Myrtle's mouth. This is in order to transfer the young girl's sore throat to the frog instead. Myrtle's facial reaction is priceless (and exactly replicates my own upon first seeing the horrendous remake). The frog scene is just another wonderful moment in the alternative and bizarre methodologies adhered by the Summerisle residents. This is what makes The Wicker Man such as a deeply fascinating film, even when scenes like Myrtle's soar throat aren't really crucial to the main plot of the film.

Sgt. Howie then meets island's keeper of records, credited as The Librarian (none other than Hammer's very own Ingrid Pitt). Whilst interrupting her lunch of tinned peaches, the lawman checks the deaths registry and discovers there is no death certificate for Rowan Morrison. Despite the Librarian knowing Rowan, she can not answer how the girl died.

The casting of Pitt is a bizarre choice, as she still talks in her strong Polish accent, which makes little sense considering she's meant to be a resident of an isolated Scottish island. In any case, it doesn't hinder the film, as her dialogue is minimal, but it is noticeable. What might have been detrimental, however, was what she was up to during the film's shooting. Allegedly, Pitt was having an affair with the film's producer Peter Snell. This was all rather awkward since she was married to George Pinches at the time, the chief booker for the Rank Organisation cinema chain; which could one explain the film performing poorly, originally.

With no death certificate issued for Rowan, and the absence of photo in the Green Man, Sgt. Howie's next stop is T.H. Lennox (Donald Eccles), the local chemist and photo developer. Lennox also happens to be the events photographer for Summerisle. Much like Pitt's character, the elderly proprietor proves to be equally unhelpful when it comes to the subject of the Rowan Morrison. When shown a photograph of the missing girl, Sgt. Howie asks if Lennox is she was last year's Harvest Queen. The photographer appears dumbfounded and can not answer.

It's a minor scene in the film, but it's another great example of the strangeness of Summerisle. The character may be lying to Sgt. Howie, but there's more to unpack with the odd products on sale in Lennox's shop and what their uses are. From jars full of hearts, brains and even foreskins, it's not exactly Boots. For the life of me, I have no idea what pickled animals are in the tank next on the shop counter. At first I thought they were piglets, but their legs are too long. Might possibly be lambs. I honestly have no idea what these mutant looking dead creatures are.

With all the locals questioned, all roads lead to meeting Lord Summerisle himself in getting permission to exhume Rowan Morrison's grave, to find out once and for all is she is dead or not. On his way there, Sgt. Howie observes Miss Rose and a troupe of naked young girls fire dancing in a stone circle. 

Christopher Lee has often cited his role as the Lord Summerisle to be the greatest part he ever played. It's not hard to see why given considering he's a natural at playing iconic villains; and his character from The Wicker Man is a strong contender for being one his best. Lord Summerisle was tailor made for Christopher Lee in mind, which makes common sense given his extremely early involvement in its pre-production. Lee delivers heaps of charm, humour and personality to the mad lord of the island. Making him a mesmerising individual, yet a very dangerous one.

Lord Summerisle has loads of stellar lines, clever comebacks and stinging barbs. His entertaining dialogue  is a delight to listen to. The exchange between Sgt. Howie and Lord Summerisle during their first meeting is a particular favourite:

Sgt. Howie: What religion can they possibly be learning jumping over bonfires?
Lord Summerisle: Parthenogenesis.
Sgt. Howie: What?
Lord Summerisle: Literally, as Miss Rose would doubtless say in her assiduous way, reproduction without sexual union.
Sgt. Howie: Oh, what is all this? I mean, you've got fake biology, fake religion... Sir, have these children never heard of Jesus?
Lord Summerisle: Himself the son of a virgin, impregnated, I believe, by a ghost. Do sit down sergeant. Shocks are so much better absorbed with the knees bent. Please. Now those children out there, they're jumping through the flames in the hope that the God of Fire would make them fruitful. Really, you could hardly blame them. After all, what girl would not prefer the child of a god than to that of some acne-scarred artisan?
Sgt. Howie: And you encourage them in all this?
Lord Summerisle: Actively. It's most important that each new generation born on Summerisle be aware that the Old Gods aren't dead.
Sgt. Howie: But what of the true God to whose glory churches and monasteries have been built on these islands for generations past? Now, Sir, what of him?
Lord Summerisle: He's dead. He can't complain. He had his chance, and in the modern parlance, he blew it.
 
After their meeting, Lord Summerisle's off-screen farewell to Sgt. Howie is hilarious. "It's been a great pleasure meeting a Christian copper." Hard to hate on a villain with a line like that.

The exhumation of Rowan's grave proves to be another dead end for our protagonist. Rowan's corpse is not in her coffin. Instead, it's that of a dead hare. Understandably angered, Sgt. Howie confronts Lord Summerisle again and tells his lordship he'll depart from the island in the morning and request an inquiry to his superiors. 

Before retiring for the night back, the lawman sneaks into Lennox's pharmacy and finds the negatives to last years Harvest Festival. With the aid of the store's dark room, he develops a photograph; it's Rowan, standing amongst a meagre collection of apples. This leads to the copper believing the young girl may still be alive, but she may be in danger of being sacrificed after the previous year's poor collection. It would also explain why so many of the locals are keen for Sgt. Howie to leave the island before the May Day festivities.

Back in his room, Sgt. Howie is ready to call it a night, but Willow has other plans. What follows is the film's unforgettable seduction scene. Lying naked on her bed, the buxom barmaid serenades Sgt. Howie in the other room. The band in the tavern below provide the music to her singing. Again, if you pay close attention to the lyrics in Willow's Song, it contains some pure filth in there: How a maid can milk a bull/ And every stroke a bucketful. The seduction scene is a significant moment in the film, that becomes more apparent in the finale of the film.

Although agreeing to go topless for Willow's infamous scene, Britt Ekland would not go completely in the buff. As a result, the scenes where she's dancing naked and slapping her arse, were performed by a body double. In an interview with the Daily Express, Ekland revealed, "For me anything below the waist is private so I was prepared to be topless on film but I would not show my bottom and my agent made that very clear...They brought in a body double one day when I was away from the set. No one told me, neither before nor after it happened. The first I knew about it was when the film came out and then I was in a state of shock. Her bottom was much bigger than mine and she wore a blonde wig that was longer than my own hair. It was ridiculous and I was very upset." In desperation, Hardy used a Glaswegian stripper for Willow's nude scenes. Ekland was also two months pregnant at the time, which might have been another reason why she was uncomfortable being in the nude.

The Swedish actress's voice was dubbed over with that of Scottish/American singer and actress Annie Ross. Hammer fans might know her for appearing in the highly underrated thriller Straight On Till Morning (1972), although Ross is best remembered for playing Robert Vaughn's sister turned cyborg in the shark-jumping Superman III (1983) and the high school principal Creswood in Pump Up the Volume (1990). However, Rachel Verney is the actual singer heard on Willow's Song in the film.

Before departing from Summerisle, Sgt. Howie makes a quick stop at the public library where he reads a passage from a book detailing May Day celebrations:

Sgt. Howie (narration): Primitive man lived and died by his harvest. The purpose of his spring ceremonies was to ensure a plentiful autumn. Relics of these fertility dramas are to be found all over Europe. In Great Britain, for example, one can still see harmless versions of them danced in obscure villages on May Day. Their cast includes many alarming characters: a man-animal, or hobbyhorse, who canters at the head of the procession, charging at the girls; a manwoman, the sinister teaser, played by the community leader or priest; and a man-fool, Punch, most complex of all the symbolic figures. The privileged simpleton and king for a day. Six swordsmen follow these figures, and at the climax of the ceremony, lock their swords together in a clear symbol of the sun. In Pagan times, however, these dancers were not simply picturesque jigs, they were frenzied rites ending in a sacrifice by which the dancers hoped desperately to win over the goddess of the fields. In good times, they offered produce to the gods and slaughtered animals, but in bad years, when the harvest had been poor... the sacrifice was a human being.

This is all further evidence of James George Frazer's The Golden Bough laying out the final act of the film, along with letting our protagonist still believe Rowan Morrison is still alive.

His return to the mainland is put on hold once he enters the cockpit of his plane. It won't start, scuppering his plans to get more help. And so begins a frantic search in every house looking for Rowan before it's too late. During this sequence, you see all the islander preparing for their big May Day celebrations.

With Rowan yet to be found, Sgt. Howie takes a wee breather back at the Green Man. Willow and her father aren't shy with their annoyances of the copper still being about on May Day. While pretending to be asleep, the barmaid places a gruesome severed hand, with fingers set alight like candles, on the protagonist's bedside table. Called the 'Hand of Glory', its supposedly put there for the snooping copper to sleep for the remainder of the day. Sgt. Howie knocks the 'Hand of Glory' over and stealthily creeps into the pub landlord's room and incapacitates him. He disguises himself with MacGregor's May Day costume — The Fool.

Dressed in MacGregor's costume, Sgt. Howie joins the May Day procession. Everything he read in the library about the festivities seems to have been faithfully followed by the Summerilse locals; including the hobby horse (or 'obby 'oss) and Lord Summerisle dressed as the aforementioned 'manwoman'.

Christopher Lee wearing a long dark wig and a purple dress whilst covered in white make-up, looks even more terrifying than some of his other famous horror characters. When he's wielding an axe and smashing ale barrels on the beach to appease the God of the Sea, I can't help but think how cool he would have been as the maniac killer in a slasher film. Of course, that would have been entirely beneath him.

"And now for our more dreadful sacrifice", Lord Summerisle menacingly says, "For those who command the fruits of the earth", he continues. From a nearby cave entrance is Rowan Morrison in a ceremonial gown, with her hands tied. Sgt. Howie rushes over, knocks out one of her captors and frees her. The both make their hasty escape through the cave entrance. Giovanni's folksy music is replaced with an uptempo acid rock number during this scene, and it's one the better tracks off the soundtrack, titled Horn At Cave - Cave Chase.

Rowan guides Sgt. Howie to an exit above the cave. They're greeted by Lord Summerisle and the rest of the islanders waiting for them. Rowan drops all pretences and reveals she was really in league with her fellow pagan community.

Finally, the film's mystery comes to an end. It was all an elaborate conspiracy, orchestrated by Lord Summerisle. Sgt. Howie would be their human sacrifice and enrich their harvest once more after last year's failure. Perhaps the greatest movie twist since Charlton Heston finally realised he was home in the  personal classic, The Planet of the Apes (1968).

Lord Summerisle: Welcome, fool. You have come of your own free will to the appointed place. The game is over.
Sergeant Howie: Game? What game?
Lord Summerisle: The game of the hunted leading the hunter. You came here to find Rowan Morrison, but it is we who have found you and brought you here and controlled your every thought and action since you arrived. Principally, we persuaded you to think that Rowan Morrison was being held as a sacrifice because our crops failed last year.
Sergeant Howie: I know your crops failed. I saw the harvest photograph.
Lord Summerisle: Oh, yes. They failed, all right. Disastrously so. For the first time since my grandfather came here. The blossom came, but the fruit withered and died on the bough. That must not happen again this year. It is our most earnest belief that the best way of preventing this is to offer to our God of the Sun and to the Goddess of our Orchards the most acceptable sacrifice that lies in our power. Animals are fine, but their acceptability is limited. A little child is even better, but not nearly as effective as the right kind of adult.

Unfortunately, Sgt. Howie is the right kind of adult. Cops for crops. Like the beetle under Rowan's school desk, there's nowhere left to go for our protagonist. It's over. And to think, if he wasn't faithful to his fiancée on the mainland (nowhere near a stunner, in my opinion) and succumbed to his lustful temptation like every other man, the night before, when Willow was writhing naked and gagging for it, he would have ruined their whole May Day plan while getting his end away. That's what you get for still being a virgin so late, I suppose.

Willow MacGregor: A man who would come here of his own free will.
The Librarian: A man who has come here with the power of a king by representing the law.
Willow MacGregor: A man who would come here as a virgin.
The Librarian: A man who has come here as a fool 

Despite Sgt. Howie imminently becoming barbecued pork, what I love about the last few minutes of the film, is how he sows the seed of doubt upon Lord Summerisle and the islanders. Should the crops fail once again, regardless of the copper being a cropper, then Lord Summerisle would ultimately be next year's big sacrifice. The face of the lord looking shaken, says it all. Hence, despite how downbeat the ending considering the bad guys win in the end, our protagonist may actually have had the last laugh; albeit, in post-film ambiguity.

Back to The Wicker Man's iconic ending. Sgt. Howie is carried to the gigantic wicker effigy where he's caged inside with various beasts. For the record, the goat above Edward Woodward, called Touchwood, got a bit scared and pissed all over the actor. As the giant wicker man is set ablaze, the disturbing sounds of the livestock in peril and understandable distress is heard whilst the islanders gleefully sing the oldest English song know, Sumer Is Icumen In (which was also incorporated in The Mending Song from the children's television show Bagpuss (1974) if you didn't know). For your humble host, the chilling finale of Sgt. Howie's desperate prayers turning into his death screams, whilst Lord Summerisle and his fellow resident sing with delight, would be one of the best examples of daylight horror done right. Cut! Print! Classic!

Sadly, The Wicker Man had serious post-production woes; notably, its studio, British Lion Films, undergoing new management at the time. This resulted in Peter Snell being given the heave-ho, probably because of his involvement with Ingrid Pitt, and the state of the finished product being in jeopardy. According to Christopher Lee, the newly appointed managing director, Michael Deeley, absolutely hated The Wicker Man; going as far as describing it as one of the worst films he had ever watched. It would also end up being butchered in the editing suite, supposedly to make it more marketable. The new heads at British Lion were absolutely clueless about the future classics they had that year. Little did they know that both The Wicker Man and Don't Look Now (1973) would be revered years later. Instead, they were screened as a double bill the year of their release.

The Wicker Man did of course become a cult film later, of course. Thanks to Roger Corman having a longer print of the film, some scenes were salvaged. What wasn't, was bizarrely buried beneath an English motorway. The Wicker Man would be the debut feature presentation on the legendary film show, Moviedrome (1988-2000) and would attract a new generation of fans. Today. we know it as one of the greatest horror films ever. Its influence in the genre can be seen far and wide with other notable folk horror films such as Ari Aster's Midsommer (2018), and what I consider the best horror film of the 2010s and a trendsetter in its own right, Robert Eggers's The Witch (2015). The more recent  When Evil Lurks (2023) also proves folk horror can still be a provocative subgenre in horror even now. The Wicker Man was also given the horrible remake treatment, which is only really memorable for Nicolas Cage's O.T.T performance, whilst Hardy would knock out the ill conceived sequel The Wicker Tree (2011) — makes absolutely no sense having Lord Summerisle in it. The original will always be unsurpassed. The ultimate stranger-in-a-strange-land film.

One of the greatest horror films of all time.

Wednesday, October 5, 2022

Murder on the Trans-Siberian Express

Horror Express (Eugenio Martin, 1972)

Considering how much of a washout the majority of  last month's film were, it was an utmost necessity for this blog to seek out the comfort blanket of the safe and familiar. Eugenio Martin's 1972 Spanish monster romp, Horror Express is the cinematic equivalent of chicken soup for the soul; or sopa de pollo for the sake of the inclined.

Loosely based on Joseph Campbell's 1938 science fiction novella, Who Goes There? Horror Express shares common DNA with both Christian Nyby's The Thing From Another World (1951) and John Carpenter's remake, The Thing (1982). Actually, both Martin and Carpenter's films are much closer to the creature's literal depicition in certain respects. Christopher Lee's paleontologist character, with the bad ass name of Alexander Saxton, discovers the frozen remains of what's presumably the missing link. It's being transported in a crate, en route to Moscow via the Trans-Siberian Express. Things don't exactly go smoothly however, as while at the train station a thief attempting to rob the crate winds up dead on the platform with hemorrhaged blood exiting his orifices (ooh, er missus!) and his eyes missing  pupils. The body count escalates even further once the train departs to Moscow. Hilariously, in typical British aristocratic swagger, Lee isn't too bothered that his scientific discovery of the century might be behind the deaths of a baggage man and a theif; they're only common riff-raff, innit? Set in the early twentieth century, Horror Express has the air of Hammer and Amicus about it which instantly has me attached to it like an intravenous drip.

The casting choices are phenomenally good, and it goes without saying that having both Christopher Lee and Peter Cushing; for me - the illest acting combo of all time, automatically give the film a sense of prestige, regardless of how ridiculous events might get. Really ought to take a brief detour here and add that The Cush was in a raw state since his wife had recently passed away at the time. This in turn made him want to pull out of the film which had already begun shooting a week earlier. Lee being a true friend managed to persuade him to stay on and give him a necessary positive distraction during his time of grief. The result is some of the best on-screen chemistry exhibited between the pair of legendary actors and one of those rare times where they're working together as a team as opposed to being bitter enemies The rest of the cast aren't slouches either, as they're a recognisable bunch of Euro genre veterans littered throughout the film; including Helga Liné, George Rigaud, Julio Peña and Silvia Tortosa as the flirty Polish countess trying it on with Lee (get in there!). Big fan of Alberto de Mendoza as the Rasputin-style mad monk, Father Pujardov. If that's not enough then the icing on the cake is undoubtedly Telly Savalas memorably ab-libbing his way as Captain Kazan, a maniacal cossack leader introduced in the film's third act. 

What's amazing about Horror Express is how it escalates into such a grand scale of spectacle. It's a gothic adventure which features: a creature that drains brains, slasher style set-ups; Quatermass worthy  science fiction; and a psionically controlled army of zombies. All of this and the fate of the entire human race being fought on an old fashioned steam train hurtling through the Russian frozen wastes. Bizarrely, the with all those factors, the films doesn't go off the rails like one would presume. It works, because the film is delivered with such earnest passion from the cast and crew, that it's too enthralling to remain completely cynical. It also helps that both Cushing and Lee are such veritable masters in their craft at churning the most outlandish and fantastical scenarios, including schlocky dialogue, into convincing realisim; making it all the more a rollicking adventure. They're also in charge of the levity quota; when a policeman accuses that either Lee and Cushing could be the deadly creature, The Cush responds with the best line in the film, "Murder? We're British, you know!". Cut! Print! Classic!

Mark this one up as one of those long lost gems wallowing in public domain hell that rarely gets the props it deserves. Way too good to be some best kept secret by aging horror film boomers; and way too ancient to be appreciated by youngsters with the inability to watch any film over a few years old. A real shame then.

In the same year, Eugenio Martin helmed Pancho Villa (1972) with Telly Savalas playing the titular Mexican revolutionary. Other than using the same model train set featured in Horror Express, the film doesn't interest me in the slightest; what does though, is another Brit abroad themed Spanish horror helmed by Martin in the following year, A Candle For the Devil (1973). That film starred cult British actress Judy Geeson; in what I personally consider, a very prolific career streak at the time. A Candle For the Devil takes the template of Horror Express' Father Pujardov and his religious fanaticism into very engrossing type chiller.


Dada Debaser Bonus:

Mind blown that John Cacavas, the film's soundtrack composer, was an American and not a Spanish bloke like I originally thought. Other than composing that highly catchy eerie whistle motif which played a big part in the film (and subsequently made it onto my Bork Funk Soundtracks list), he was also a friend of Telly Savalas. Mind blown even further that he produced Savalas' debut album, This is Telly Savalas... kicking off his crooner singing phase. Considering we've had a Peter Cushing rave song and a ninety-something Christopher Lee pumping out metal music, I'm not too fussed over actors' musical careers; unless it's J Lo and her beat jackin' of The Beatnuts - she can burn for that travesty. Not masochistic enough to bother checking Telly's music out, but I do find it freaking hilarious that the album cover is a mugshot of him in his cossack uniform from Horror Express while brandishing a gun and a cigarillo, especially since my lasting memory of him in the film is his horrific demise.

Thursday, January 6, 2022

Juvenile Hell

Beat Girl (Edmond T. Gréville, 1959)

What we're gonna do right here is go back, way back, back into time. When the only people that existed were beatniks and squares. Edmond T. Gréville's British morality tale centred around spoilt, little, Kensington girl Jennifer (Gillian Hills) Linden, is a fascinating time capsule into the proto-hippies of the late fifties and early sixties. Jennifer's routine mostly consists of cotchin' in a greasy spoon with her dosser mates and listening to popstar teen idol Adam Faith strum his guitar in between rounds of milk. Jen isn't too happy with her father, since Daddy-O returned home after a long absence with his twenty-four year old, brand-spanking new French bride, Nichole. Described as "ancient", by Jen and her chums, she's livid that she now has a new stepmother and is determined to give her a tough time. She comes up trumps as she discovers mère dukes, was a "peeler" (stripper) back in the day. From there, the film switches up a gear as our right little tearaways go raving at her swanky crib and in subterranean caves. Remarkably, it's actually way cooler than that veritable crustyfest like in Matrix Reloaded (2003). Jen and chums also take time out to play "chicken the rail", by placing their noggins on a train track before an oncoming train. Splendid.

The supporting cast are a recognisable bunch of British actors from past and present. Shirley Anne Field and that bloke who was in The Mark of Satan; one of the better episodes of Hammer House of Horror, complete Jen's teen cypher. The legendary Oliver Reed has a very minor role as a rival beatnik. The always excellent, Nigel Green plays a marvellously entertaining master of ceremonies, and then you have the G.O.A.T, Christopher Lee as the sleazy club owner of Les Girls, with the most British sounding name ever - Kenny King. Edgar Wright's Last Night In Soho was amongst my favourite films from last year, so it's worth noting that the strip club featured in it took obvious inspiration from Les Girls, in both the exterior and interior scenes. 

Got to admit, I was a little uncomfortable seeing Christopher Lee playing a character trying it on with Jailbait Jennifer. The man was practically like a grandfather to me during my childhood, so it comes as a shock to the system seeing him perform a scene like that. Can't honestly say the same for his acting peers, with the notable exception of the gentleman of horror, Peter Cushing; the ying to Lee's yang. The Cush however, did stray from his moniker at times, like that time he offscreen raped Veronica Carlson in Frankenstein Must Be Destroyed (1969), and then there was his out-of-turn lead role in the utterly depraved Eyes Without A Face (1960) rip-off, Corruption (1968). Edmond T. Gréville and Christopher Lee teamed up a year later with a remake of The Hands of Orlac. That's not the only occurrence of Beat Girl's cast and crew working in other film's, since Shirley Anne Field and Oliver Reed appeared together in Hammer's 1963 sci-fi chiller The Damned. It was a much smaller network back then.

The one character that rubs me the wrong way is Jennifer's dad. Poppa Linden should have taken a page from Tony Soprano's book when laying down the rules to his daughter, and he is the major reason Jennifer turned out to be such an annoying brat. Being a successful busy architect, he seems to be away a lot, so he's either chasing French women with tattooed-looking eyebrows, or trying to realise his life's work - a post-modern city that reminds me of the ghetto flats in Highbury & Islington from my youth. The 3D model of his passion project always gets the loudest laugh from me in this film, since Dad's ego is far too big to see through the urban shithole it would be by the seventies. Jennifer calling him out on this project might be her biggest saving grace in sympathy I have for her. She deserved better from him. Money can't buy love and all that.

Admittedly, Beat Girl was not a film that grabbed me initially, but I found it an interesting curiousity over the years and became a fan after repeated viewings. It serves as an amazing look into an era of Britain that's always appealed to me; since my earliest Gen X memories of London were never transferred accurately to screen until witnessing John Landis' classic An American Werewolf in London (1981) and Dio's Rainbow in the Dark music video. Beat Girl predates all that and that's its major draw; accurate, or not. The portrayal and representation of rebellious youth in film has always been a major interest to me, largely because they are prime visual examples of the generational divide in modern human history. Obviously, Beat Girl is an exploitative example, tapping into juvenile deliquency and titalation, but I still find it a fascinating introspective into the teen angst of the Post-War generation (before they veered off into insufferable hippies); a generation that tended to berate and look down on Gen X'ers, like myself. We get to see some of that Baby Boomer psyche, and even if they're jive-talkin' beatniks, that's still a worthy reason to dig this movie out.

Gillian Hills went on to have minor appearances in Michelangelo Antonioni's Blow-Up (1966) and Stanley Kubrick's A Clockwork Orange (1971), but she eventually landed a major role in the Spanish giallo (should be called amarillo, am I right?) The Killer Wore Gloves (1974). Kind of kicking myself, since I used to have a bootleg DVD of it back in the day and lost it. Barely remember much of it, but I think it's the film where you hilariously see mountains in the backdrop for a film supposedly set in London. Here's hoping one of the boutique labels release a quality print of it, instead of it being only available via age-restricted blurry YouTube videos.

Finally, there seems to be a bit of confusion with Beat Girl's release date. The BFI state it as a 1959 film, while the likes of IMDb and every other resource site have it up as 1960. Based on the Gillian Hills supplemental interview on the BFI blu-ray, she states she was around fourtheen at the time of filming, which falls in line with the BFI date. From what I can gather, the film was submitted to the BBFC in 1959, but didn't gain a national release until 1960, without major cuts made to it. Opted to categorise it as a product of the fifties, otherwise I would have had to include Rocky IV: Rocky vs. Drago as a 2021 movie if I didn't stick to this same principle. Anyhow, who am I to argue with the British Film Institute over the release date of a Brit flick? Wouldn't be cool, Daddy-O.

Beat Girl (Chicken scene)
(Edmond T. Gréville, 1959)