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, April 30, 2025

Viewings: April 2025

How tragic is it that a film almost a century old, is still more creatively unique and entertaining than the current era sludge watched this month? Charles Brabin's pre-Code adventure The Mask of Fu Manchu may be a H.R. department's worst nightmare, but it's a dream discovery for this blogger.

Another major highlight was Diana Dors's brilliant performance in the compelling prison drama Yield to the Night. Best of my J. Lee Thompson triple bill.

 

Film:
The Mask of Fu Manchu (Charles Brabin, 1932)*
Mystery of the Wax Museum (Michael Curtiz, 1933)*
The Weak and the Wicked (J. Lee Thompson, 1954)*
Yield to the Night (J. Lee Thompson, 1956)*
Quatermass 2  (Val Guest, 1957)
No Trees in the Street (J. Lee Thompson, 1959)*
Black Sabbath (Mario Bava, 1963)
The Party’s Over (Guy Hamilton, 1965)
The Hellbenders (Sergio Corbucci, 1967)*
The Vengeance of She (Cliff Owen, 1968)
The Stone Tape (Peter Sasdy, 1972)*
The Wicker Man (Robin Hardy, 1973)
At the Earth’s Core (Kevin Connor, 1976)
Empire of the Ants (Bert I. Gordon, 1977)
The Long Good Friday (John Mackenzie, 1980)
The Monster Club (Roy Ward Baker, 1981)
Brimstone & Treacle (Richard Loncraine, 1982)*
Full Moon in Blue Water (Peter Masterson, 1988)*
The Bikini Carwash Company (Ed Hansen, 1992)*
The Bikini Carwash Company II (Gary Orona, 1993)*
Run Lola Run (Tom Tykwer, 1998)*
Open Range (Kevin Costner, 2003)
Timecrimes (Nacho Vigalondo, 2007)
Censor (Prano Bailey-Bond, 2021)
Black Bag (Steven Soderbergh, 2025)*
Havoc (Gareth Evans, 2025)*
Heart Eyes (Josh Ruben, 2025)*
Mickey 17 (Bong Joon-ho, 2025)*
The Monkey (Osgood Perkins, 2025)*
 
Television:
Doctor Who - Season 2, Episodes 1-3 (Peter Hoar, Amanda Brotchie, 2025)*
Mastermind - Episodes 27 & 28 (Bill Wright, 2024 / 2025)*
 
*First time viewings.

 

Dada Debaser Notes:

  • Preferred the 1953 remake with Vincent Price, but the two-strip Technicolour presentation and the German Expressionist shots from The Mystery of the Wax Museum were pure eye candy for me.
  • New Gareth Evans film starring Tom Hardy is a clumsy gun-fu actioner. Ought to have been better given Evans's past credentials.
  • Feels like I'm living in Bizarro World after seeing all the love for Steven Soderbergh's latest film. An utterly pretentious spy thriller that made me loathe its very core.
  • Timecrimes and Triangle (2009) would be excellent picks for a time paradox themed double bill. Great films.
  • Went into The Stone Tape with high expectations expecting another Nigel Kneale penned sci-fi horror gem and mostly got corporate bureaucracy and a bunch of boozed up, British blokes yelling all the time. Can definitely see its influence on John Carpenter's Prince of Darkness (1987), though.
  • All these films, and I still managed to blog about one of the best horror films of the 21st century this month.

Sunday, April 20, 2025

Doctor at Large

The Mask of Fu Manchu (Charles Brabin, 1932)

Came to the shocking discovery that I had not seen Boris Karloff's turn as the diabolical Dr. Fu Manchu before. It could be because I might have mixed Karloff with another of his roles where he's caked up in highly problematic, ethnic make-up, like his private dick Mr. Wong, or more worryingly, the shite I tend to watch has given me brainrot and given me early dementia. My earliest introduction to the character of Fu Manchu were the Harry Allan Towers productions, starring none other than the legendary Christopher Lee as the moustachioed fiend. Loved the first two entries, but they got increasingly worse afterwards. Now, after seeing Karloff's portrayal of the evil genius in Charles Brabin's The Mask of Fu Manchu (1932), I'm kicking myself even more for the confusion, as it's the most outrageous pre-Hays Code films I might have watched thus far.

"I'm a Doctor of Philosophy from Edingburgh. I'm a Doctor of Law from Christ's College. I'm a Doctor of Medicine from Harvard. My friends out of courtesy call me Doctor."

The character of Dr. Fu Manchu was the creation of English author Arthur Henry Ward, under the unfathomably badass pseudonym Sax Rohmer. 'The Yellow Peril', a racially charged example of fear-mongering propaganda from the early 20th century, which implied violent retribution towards Western Imperialism, would appoint Fu Manchu as the chief architect of an epic race war. The mastermind would become the archetypal Bond villain well before Ian Flemming even put pen to paper. The success and popularity of Rohmer's books would result in numerous adaptations, ranging from radio programmes, episodic serials, and prior features such as The Mysterious Doctor Fu Manchu (1929). Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer studios would deliver the biggest budget and most mainstream effort yet, and it would star the great Boris Karloff, hot from his iconic role in Frankenstein (1931).

"May the curse of the gods descend upon him and is forever who dares enter herein! I don't like to mar the beauty of these doors, but I have my orders, it's got to be done. Mack, give me the axe!

The plot to The Mask of Fu Manchu concerns a British archaeological expedition searching for the tomb of the legendary Genghis Khan. They aren't the only ones looking for the conqueror's final resting place, however. The diabolical doctor seeks to possess both the scimitar and mask of Genghis Khan in order to prove to the horde armies of the East that he is the reincarnation of the ancient ruler. With both these artifacts in his taloned grasps, he'll be able to wage an epic war against the white race. With the news of the dastardly villain abducting, the expedition's leader, Sir Lionel Barton (Lawrence Grant), by Fu Manchu's goons (disguised as Egyptian mummies), British Intelligence agent Nayland Smith (Lewis Stone), arch nemesis of the fiendish mastermind, is dispatched in finding the legendary artifacts with the team and stop Fu Manchu.

 "I have brought you here for great tidings. I am the most unfortunate of men; I have no son to follow me. Therefore, in shame, I ask you to receive a message from my ugly and insignificant daughter."

Not unlike Steven Spielberg's Indiana Jones films, Fu Manchu's devilish torture chambers bring a horror element to what's otherwise a straight laced adventure tale. From being tied to a seesaw above an alligator pit, and to being caught in the middle of metal spikes, these ingeniously sadistic sequences make up for some of the film's obvious plot holes. Sir Lionel Barton's refusal to reveal the location of Genghis Khan's tomb results in him being strapped beneath a giant bell. Karloff utters with sadistic glee to the unfortunate captive, "Seems harmless, doesn't it? Just a bell ringing. But the percussion and the repercussion of sound ringing against your eardrums will soften and destroy them until the sound is magnified a thousand times. You can't move, you can't sleep. You will be frantic with thirst. You will be unspeakably foul. But here you will lie, day after day, until you tell." After what feels like an eternity of torturous campanology to poor old Sir Lionel, the sadistic doctor offers water to the unfortunate archaeologist. It's filled with salt, however. The rotter!

"He is not entirely unhandsome, is he my father?"
"For a white man; no!"

A great rapport exists between Karloff's Fu Manchu and his daughter Fah Lo Suee (Myrna Loy). Both play complete sadists experiencing joy whilst their victims suffer in agonising pain. When the film's rugged hero Terrence Granville (Charles Starrett) presents a fake scimitar to Fu Manchu, he is stripped of his shirt, hung from the ceiling and whipped to orgasmic ecstasy of Fah Lo Suee. Both Karloff and Loy were constantly receiving new dialogue to learn, even whilst in the make-up chair. This would subsequently result in their performances coming across as tongue-in-cheek, attempting to outdo each other. Their shared scenes are some of the highlights of the film. After Terrence's torture, Fah Lo Suee is caught by her father going to kiss the unconscious do-gooder. His hilarious response to her question over Terrence's attractiveness, hints at Fu Manchu possibly being attracted to him too.

"You will think as I think! See as I see! And do as I command!"

Constantly, the film visually impresses with its copious eye catching sets and exotic costumes. Despite how much it reeks of a mere exploitation film, The Mask of Fu Manchu is a surprisingly breathtaking film to look at. Both Karloff and Loy seem to be dressed in a different, patterned silk robe in every scene they're in. At one point, Karloff wears a ridiculous fruit-looking hat that's more fitting for Carmen Miranda, whilst delivering a speech full of hate to an army of Asian and Middle -Eastern fanatics. Favourite set design is the room where Terrence is humiliatingly wearing an adult diaper and strapped to an operating table. It's a vast room with Fu Manchu in surgical garments, administering a mind control drug to him. Standing on pedestals are black subordinates in loincloths resembling Oscar awards. This looks like it belongs in a science fiction set in the future. The sci-fi aesthetic can also be witnessed in another sparse room, featuring the previously mentioned giant metallic spikes. Further evidence, is the room which houses a powerful death ray, turning out to be ever so handy for the final moments in the film.

"Kill the white man and take his women!"

Undoubtedly, the most glaring issue in The Mask of Fu Manchu is its racist content. Ninety years later, it's equally as uncomfortable for lefty pearl-clutchers as it once was for authoritarian conservatives in the past. Horseshoe Theory in full effect. For this humble blogger, one who's watched a veritable smorgasbord of depraved films, and frequented the metaphorical Wild West of early 2000s Rap message boards, The Mask of Fu Manchu is a treasure trove of derogatory stereotyping and blissful ignorance, which could never realistically be replicated today (in the First World at least). Sure, Karloff in garish prosthetic make-up looks like an offensive caricature of an Asian; and yes, both Asian and other non-white racial stereotypes are also featured in the film. However, there's also a strong anti-white sentiment in the film that would even have Netflix execs deeming it extreme, even for them, which at the very least, balances the scales for me. In true racial equality, it offends everyone equally. And even if it didn't, it still wouldn't compel me into spewing some obligatory defensive apology like some over on Letterboxd. I found The Mask of Fu Manchu entertaining and funny.

The Mask of Fu Manchu is an outrageous, yet amusing gem from the pre-Code era. Like one of Fu Manchu's concoctions, the fact that it's over ninety years old and still a potent mix of sex, sadism and racism, makes it cinematic gold for me. A very strong recommendation from me.

Sunday, April 13, 2025

Early Dors

Yield to the Night (J. Lee Thompson, 1956)

J. Lee Thompson's part crime noir, part prison drama Yield to the Night (1956)* would cause a stir (no pun intended) thanks to its mistaken association with a true crime event which occurred a year prior. Thompson's soon to be wife Joan Henry, an author with first hand experience of the the penal system, would author Yield to the Night only for it to have a striking resemblance to the case of Ruth Ellis, the last woman hanged in the United Kingdom. Ardently opposed to capital punishment, Thompson abandoned the safety net of British post-war film entertainment, and delivered a gut-wrenching, judicial tale for the masses. Thompson would produce a powerful piece of art staunchly opposed to Great Britain's death penalty (which would not be fully abolished until 1969).

With such a serious premise, Yield to the Night's biggest surprise would be in its casting of the blonde bombshell Diana Dors. Described as Britain’s Marilyn Monroe (she loathed the comparison), the actress wasn't given much variety to flex her acting chops and would often be typecast into playing superficial eye candy. Her ravishing beauty, platinum blonde hair and shapely hourglass figure had unexpectedly been something of a curse. Therefore, Yield to the Night was a rare opportunity for her to show off her acting skills, along with proving to Thompson he was right to cast her. Her portrayal of condemned Mary Hilton, committing murder in the first degree before the film's opening title's even commence, and to then turn herself into a convincingly sympathetic and utterly tragic figure, makes Diana Dors an underrated actress. Her performance is a genuine eye opener. Prior to Yield to the Night, both Thompson and Dors were involved with The Weak and the Wicked (1954), another prison drama also penned by Joan Henry and based on her first hand experience being a jailbird. Dors would play a supporting role. The Weak and the Wicked's light and optimistic tone would lack the stylish grit and emotional weight inherent in its successor. Call it a dress rehearsal!

Yield to the Night's cold opening sequence has Dors travelling through central London. It's largely shot in oblique low angles, framing a sense of purpose and intensity. Our lead reaches her destination and brutally guns down a mysterious woman outside her home. We don't know who the victim is, or the motive for her premeditated murder, but we do know that our shooter is without a shadow of a doubt guilty of homicide. From herein, Yield to the Night splits into timelines: Mary Hilton in the present day, locked inside a prison cell and awaiting her execution; the other, is a series of flashbacks recollecting how she went from working behind a perfume counter to behind bars. Interestingly, it's the prison scenes which are my favourite parts of the film, and perhaps Thomspson's too, as much of the film's real commentary stems from this section a bleak contrast to the melodrama told via flashbacks. 

Unpleasantly ghoulish are both the door with no handle in Mary's cell, which eventually opens to a room with gallows, along with a suicide watch light, continuously staying lit until it’s time for the prisoner's execution. With both of these elements being a constant reminder, it's little to wonder our film's lead undergoes so much mental anguish. Although confined alone in her cell, Mary is surrounded by a surprisingly friendly bunch of prison guards. They fuss over her constantly. A diversion of mindless chit chat, yarn spinning and card games to pass the time. It's akin to the locked up Medieval queen inside the Tower of London and with her loyal handmaidens. The dark irony of the staff keen to want Mary to be in a physically state before she's hung, is not lost in Thompson's satirical eye. Amongst these carers is MacFarlaine (Yvonne Mitchell), a sympathetic guard who finds Mary's plight all the more tragic as she befriends her. Mitchell's nuanced performance being another strong highlight.

Diana Dors undergoes an obvious physical transformation while locked in her cell. Her glamorous appearance and socially appealing persona from the outside world is replaced with the visage of a sullen woman in prison garms. Without any make-up, her face looks puffy with beads of sweat shining off her skin. Dark roots and unkempt replace her perfectly sculpted, blonde locks. Juxtaposing all this, is the process of hope turning into despair. A torturous scene is when the prison warden enters Mary's cells apparently holding a document. Much like Mary, the viewer is under the illusion this might be the urgent governmental reprieve required to save her. Alas, this is not to be. Yet, despite the oppressive doom and gloom, Mary's generally amiable persona remains unresolved. At one point she snatches a cigarette from one of the guards to avoid her getting into trouble when her superior walks in. Credit to Dors for displaying all this in her performance; proving that she really was an underrated actress in the long run.

The flashbacks aren't quite on the same level of quality as the prison scenes, sadly. They're perfectly adequate, of course, but the time jumps feel choppy in comparison to the torturously slow days inside the prison. Some unexpected humour comes from Hammer veteran Michael Ripper as a boisterous, drinking acquaintance admirably trying his best to score with Mary. More importantly, we meet Jim Lancaster (Michael Craig — for genre heads, better known as Charles Thatcher in the Ozploitation gem Turkey Shoot (1982) no less!!!) who wins over Mary's heart, and the incentive to walk out from a loveless marriage. And yet, Jim is utterly obsessed with Lucy (Mercia Shaw)   a downgrade, in my opinion. Are you blind, mate? When he's dumped by the socialite, he hits the skids, while Mary's affections for Jim, aren't appreciated. Thus, both Mary and Jim become two obsessed individuals. Comically, Thompson's depiction of unreciprocated love and obsession feels akin to Danny Boyle's Glaswegian heroine junkies from the overrated Trainspotting (1996). Jim can't go on living without Doris, which in turn leads to him taking his own life. Biggest insult of all, is Mary reading his suicide note left behind — and it was meant for Lucy. It's the final insult to Mary and answers the questions raised during the film's opening sequence.


Not sure if Yield to the Night would rank in any top twenty prison films list if I were ever bothered to compile one. [There are way too many definitive films  —  Brute Force (1947), Le Trou (1960) The Great Escape (1963), Female Prisoner #701: Scorpion (1972), Porridge (1979), Scum (1979), Chained Heat (1983), Riki-Oh: The Story of Ricky (1991), Starred Up (2013) and Brawl in Cell Block 99 (2017), would possibly be major candidates.] Regardless, Yield to the Night is still an unquestionably compelling prison drama that has earned my appreciation, along with an increased respect for its star, Diana Dors.

Caught the last half an hour of Yield to the Night around 3am on Talking Pictures TV not too long ago. Obviously made a mental note of it on account of Diana Dors playing the lead in a women's prison film, along with it being directed by the mighty J. Lee Thompson - responsible for numerous gems from each respective decade in his career — Ice Cold in Alex (1958), The Guns of Navarone (1961), Conquest of the Planet of the Apes (1972) and the fantastic Charles Bronson thriller 10 to Midnight (1983) are just a few worth mentioning. Hence, this film curiosity turned out to be the most rewarding bout of insomnia since seeing Max Von Sydow running around in his boxer shorts and murdering folk in The Night Visitor (1971), also late night via Talking Pictures TV. Dors claimed Yield to the Night to be one of her best films. It's hard to argue with this opinion, given how great she is it and how successfully it drives its message home. As a child of the Seventies, I'm more aware of her as a bit part actress in classic British horror films from this era, namely Theatre of Blood (1973) and From Beyond the Grave (1974) along with various comedies. More recently, however, it's been an entertaining trip seeing some of her much earlier films like Tread Softly Stranger (1958) and Passport to Shame (1958), despite only being in supporting roles. Yield to the Night is easily the biggest standout from this era I've watched thus far and proof Dors deserved to be a lead in plenty more films. A strong recommendation from me.

* No online trailer available.

Thursday, April 10, 2025

Diamonds Aren't Forever

Co-directors Hélène Cattet and Bruno Forzani, were two of the notable names who helped spearhead the neo-Giallo boom of the late 2000s and early 2010s. Admittedly, both Amer (2009) and The Strange Colour of Your Body's Tears (2013) were just as much surreal art house films as they were throwbacks to Italian thrillers of a bygone era. As a result, these two films were either lauded for their beautifully retro aesthetics by gif-making Tumblr bloggers, or heavily criticised for their incoherence by traditional purists. (For the record, I really enjoyed both of these films; despite making neither sense of them.) The duo expanded their appreciation for Italian genre cinema even further with Let the Corpses Tan (2017), which harkened to Spaghetti Westerns and Poliziotteschi films of the Sixties and Seventies.
 
Now they're back with another ode to the past with the bizarrely titled, Reflection in a Dead Diamond (2025). The synopsis reads:
When the mysterious woman in the room next door disappears, a debonair 70-year-old ex-spy living in a luxury hotel on the Côte d’Azur is confronted by the demons and darlings of a lurid past in which moviemaking, memories and madness collide.
Euro-spy films flourished after the success of the Bond franchise, so it's kind of a win for Cattet and Forzani in casting none other than Italy's very own Sean Connery, Fabio Testi, for their latest movie.
 
Reflection in a Dead Diamond | Trailer
Hélène Cattet & Bruno Forzani | 2025

The trailer looks suitably cinematic and stylish. I'm all in after seeing the rear projected driving scene featuring a masked latex person in a sports car. An obvious homage to Mario Bava's classic comic book caper Danger: Diabolik (1968).

Whether or not Reflection in a Dead Diamond is any good remains to be seen, but given all the awful slop around right now, this is definitely the potential gem to offer some respite.

Monday, April 7, 2025

In Darkness

The Descent (Neil Marshall, 2005)

The first real sign of a British horror renaissance came with Neil Marshall's action horror comedy Dog Soldiers (2002). It turned out to be one of the few lycanthrope themed movies post An American Werewolf in London (1981) that was actually any good. The low budget gem would serve as an appetiser to the Danny Boyle main course that was 28 Days Later essentially the game changer which gave new life to zombie films. Marshall avoided the dreaded sophomore jinx by delivering his own masterpiece, with the subterranean horror The Descent (2005).

Dog Soldiers had trained men fending against a pack of werewolves; The Descent would follow a similar formula with chicks an all girl, extreme sports collective pitted against the horrors beneath the surface of the earth. Chicks with picks! Ingeniously, Marshall would utilise the dark horrors of a huge underground cave system as a metaphor for trauma, loss and grief. These elements would appear nuanced, initially, becoming increasingly evident throughout the progression of his film.

From The Descent's opening credits, showcasing three of its adventurous characters white water rafting, the audience is introduced to a secret affair. The scenes are short, but linger long enough to imply there is something going on between ultra sporty Juno (Natalie Mendoza) with the husband of Sara (Shauna MacDonald), our protagonist. This is also witnessed by Beth (Alex Reid), Sara's closest friend. We're barely given time to process this situation when a tragic car accident results with the fatalities of Sara's husband and young daughter, Jessica. Sara wakes from her hospital bed, calling for Jessica as she wanders a liminal corridor. The harsh fluorescent lights swiftly turn off as she runs from the darkness. If this isn't a metaphor, I don't know what is.

A year after the tragedy. The three women are joined by three more adrenaline junkies; Holly (Nora-Jane Noone), Rebecca (Saskia Mulder) and Sam (MyAnna Burning), for the latest adventure organised by Juno. This time, it's cave exploration in the Appalachian mountains (it's really filmed in the UK). Call it reckless stupidity, but Juno tricks the clique by taking them to a completely different cave than they were meant to be exploring. Worst of all, she couldn't be bothered to notify any park ranger or a non-party individual of their actual location, either. Therefore, should anything go wrong, a search and rescue team would be sent looking for them in the wrong cave. Genius.

The situation turns serious once the claustrophobic tunnel they've just crawled through collapses, blocking their entrance and possibly, their only exit. Their only choice, is to go further into the cave and search for another way out. As one would predict, events go from bad to worse for the party. From having to traverse across a subterranean ravine, to Holly's succumbing to a broken leg after a fall, to the hundreds of animal carcasses they discover which are littered everywhere. Meanwhile, Sara has apparently gone doolally to everyone when she spies a distant man in the caverns. Worst case scenario is when she turns out to be right, but also, the added bonus of an entire clan of subterranean denizens, nowhere near as likeable as Wombles, holed up with them. Have a guess what their dietary preferences are?

Dubbed as Crawlers, there isn't much suggestion in the film as to what they really are, but the prehistoric cave art is an obvious clue. During the behind the scenes feature, Marshall reveals that the Crawlers are the evolutionary outcome of those human ancestors who had remained in the caves. The design of these feral creatures is first-class. The has made them blind. Also, the lack of any sunlight has made their skin alabaster white and clammy a bit like Scottish folk. Their hearing, is far more acute than ours; with almost bat-like ears. The creatures emit dolphin sounding clicks as a sonar to navigate, possibly to communicate with one another, too. Very reminiscent of the Predator species sound. Crawlers are also incredibly nimble and dexterous at clambering over the rock surfaces. The male species are bald and hairless, while the females Crawlers have long, black hair.

For a film that's set beneath our feet, The Descent has an immense amount of visual interest to soak in. For instance, there are a variety of different looking areas of all shapes and sizes within this cave system. From expansive areas full of stalactites and stalagmites, to frightfully claustrophobic enclosures. My favourite mise-en-scène is the gruesome pool of blood. These were of course produced in a studio, for obvious safety reasons. An additional benefit, is how atmospherically lit the film is, considering it's entirely set in dark caverns. The use of flares cast a red illuminating light to everything, making it literally look like Hell. Chemical light sticks provide a sickly green glow, while the aid of night vision from the digicam adds a layer of found footage horror, which was commonly part of the trend in the 2000s thanks to the worldwide commercial success of The Blair Witch Project (1999).

Considering the era it was produced, what's truly advantageous about The Descent is its writing. Marshall expertly balances the tight rope of giving enough information about his characters, without burdening them with unnecessary exposition which would drag and potentially suffocate his film. Also, given how its predominantly all female characters, it's a blessing they're not eye-rolling, invincible girl bosses, as is the norm today by lazy and uncreative screenwriters. Juno for instance, has all the hall marks of your typical girl boss, and yet, beneath her tough veneer, is a flawed individual, who serves the film as both a secondary antagonist as well as character being somewhat sympathetic whilst striving to redeem herself. In contrast, Sara develops from an unreliable protagonist and a possible detriment for the clique, to a fighter battling both her own personal demons as well as the very physical ones. This culminates in an intense, and personally speaking, a cruel resolution between Sara and Juno in the film. Making it all the more memorable in the film.

Perhaps the worst offence committed upon The Descent, is the US cut completely editing out Marshall's downbeat ending, ruining Sara's psychological plight which is both prominent and pivotal to the true ending of the film. In a swift and choppy sequence, Sara manages to burrow out from her hell hole and drives as far away as possible. The twist being, it was only a dream. Sara is still trapped down below in the cave. Envisioning her deceased daughter blowing out a birthday cake. Twisted respite before the Crawlers finally reach Sara. Unfortunately, the imaginary escape is seen as the official ending, as the inferior The Descent Part 2 (2009) adheres to the terribly American ending. It isn't enough that Sara escapes, but she foolishly returns to the same cave for the sequel!
 
As enjoyable as some of Neil Marshall's later films were  — I'm quite fond of his obvious Escape from New York, 28 Days Later and Mad Max mash-up, the ridiculous Doomsday (2008), he never hit the same high as The Descent before working on more TV orientated work. Therefore, it makes it all the more invaluable in proclaiming The Descent is one of the best horror films of the 21st century, which by default, makes it one of the best films in general for your genre biased host. Considering, Dog Soldiers already received some 4K UHD boutique love, is it too much to request the same treatment for Marshall's masterpiece? One would say, no!