strange_complex: (Dracula 1958 cloak)
I did something I've been meaning to do for a while today: grabbed Wikipedia's list of Hammer films and went thought it bolding all the ones I'd seen and additionally noting those I've seen in the cinema (well - on a big screen, not always in a traditional cinema). The answers are that I've seen 68 out of 175, mainly but not exclusively gothic horrors, of which 16 on the big screen. I am not going to try to link from this list to the other posts where I have reviewed many of them here. That's too big a task. But I will keep updating this post as I go along!

Complete list under here )
strange_complex: (ITV digital Monkey popcorn)
A full list of the 102 films which I watched in 2024, mainly with Joel. Includes 24 films with Christopher Lee in them and 21 Hammer films. My most-watched director was Terence Fisher with 5, while Freddie Francis, Mario Bava and Roger Corman are equal second place with 3 each. There's at least one film on the list for every decade since the 1910s, peaking at 21 each for the 1960s and '70s.

1. Le Frisson des Vampires (1971), dir. Jean Rollin - amazing lesbian vampire film executed with the trippy crushed-velvet excess only possible c. 1970.
2. Daughter of Darkness (1990), dir. Stuart Gordon - not to be confused with Daughters of Darkness (1971). An American woman goes to Romania in search of her father, who turns out to be a vampire.
3. Transylvania (2006), dir. Tony Gatlif - a portrait of the region, focused especially on the Romani people there, seen through the eyes of a Romani-Italian girl who goes there in pursuit of a lost boyfriend. Very rich and human.
4. Il mostro dell'opera / The Vampire of the Opera (1964), dir. Renato Polselli - a vampire haunts a neglected old theatre in which an opera troupe are rehearsing a new production. Not particularly good.
5. Nandor Fodor and the Talking Mongoose (2023), dir. Adam Sigal - about this case. Trying to do something about the reasons why people are drawn to belief in the supernatural, including a personal character arc from scepticism to a desperate desire to believe on the part of Fodor, but somehow a bit flat in the delivery and not really that profound in the end. Good to spot location footage in the Victoria pub, Leeds and Whitby harbour, though.
6. The Woman in Black (1989), dir. Herbert Wise - the ITV version, which now has quite the status of a cult classic in vintage horror circles. Very good, and delivering sustained creepy, squirm-inducing scares in a way that modern jump scares can't really match.
7. Blade II (2002), dir. Guillermo del Toro - I didn't think I'd seen this, but it turned out I had. I just knew I'd only seen one Blade film and assumed it had been the first. Good cyber fun, very of its era.
8. Once Upon a Spy (1980), dir. Ivan Nagy - terrible American wannabe James Bond movie with Christopher Lee as a mega-villain threatening the world with a shrink-ray!
9. The Woman in Black (2012), dir. James Watkins - the revived Hammer version, which I saw in the cinema when it came out. Doesn't have the same atmosphere as the 1989 version, and even the jump scares weren't as effective at home as in the cinema. Still, had a good cast and looks nice.
10. Dark Places (1973), dir. Don Sharp - little-known contemporary-set horror film in which a man inherits a house with money hidden somewhere within it, but is haunted by the tragic legacy of the previous owner, with Christopher Lee in a minor role. Pretty solid psychological horror, better than we were expecting.
92 more films under here )
strange_complex: (Daria star)
So help me, it's a list of every single film I watched in 2023. I've put notes where I could remember anything particular about the film or the viewing circumstances, but haven't tried to do that consistently. This is more about record-keeping than reviewing now.

1. Dracula (1958), dir. Terence Fisher - deliberately chosen as our first film of the New Year so we'd be starting it out right!

2. Fright Night 2 (1988), dir. Tommy Lee Wallace

3. Dracula Has Risen From The Grave (1968), dir. Freddie Francis

4. Hellboy II (2008), dir. Guillermo del Toro

5. The Vampire Bat (1933), dir. Frank R. Strayer

6. Vampire in Venice / Nosferatu a Venezia (1988), dir. Augusto Caminito - would be an amazing film about decay and ageing, if it didn't also have Klaus Kinski being actively peedy in it.

7. Caligula (1979), dir. Tinto Brass, Giancarlo Lui and Bob Guccione - the fullest, unexpurgated version, seen at Wharf Chambers as a Pervert Pictures screening, complete with a contextualising introduction. It's the logical extreme of the decadent Rome trope.

8. The Company of Wolves (1984), dir. Neil Jordan

9. Dracula Bloodline (2013), dir. Jon Keeyes

10. The Curse of the Mummy's Tomb (1964), dir. Michael Carreras

There's another 94 under here )
strange_complex: (ITV digital Monkey popcorn)
Well, happy New Year LJ / DW! I hope anyone reading this had a lovely celebration last night and is starting 2024 in good spirits.

As recently as April 2023 (LJ / DW), I was still trying to catch up on writing anything at all about a massive backlog of films I'd watched, mainly with Joel. But I still had 30 films outstanding from 2022 at that point, and have now watched 104 in 2023.

There is no way on this earth I'm going to manage to write anything coherent or meaningful about all of those 134 movies now, so it is just going to have to be lists at this point. Maybe with the occasional explanatory note if there was something special about the viewing experience or I wrote something down at the time. Here we go:

Thirty films watched in 2022 )
strange_complex: (ITV digital Monkey popcorn)
Having managed to get back up to date with Things I've Been Up To, I can now attempt some of the other catch-ups I said I was going to do in this entry in February: LJ / DW. Today, I will have a crack at catching up on films I've watched, including links to Twitter threads if they exist but not full cross-posts of their content, and otherwise just a sentence or two per item.

41. Night of the Living Dead (1968), dir. George A. Romero, broadcast 16 September 2022 - a Cellar Club screening, which I live-tweeted at the time. It's a perfect example of people's personalities disintegrating and being brought into conflict with one another under extreme stress in an enclosed setting, much like The Thing.

42. Dracula AD 1972 (1972), dir. Alan Gibson - watched with Joel in a disused church in Morley on the 50th anniversary of Dracula's resurrection (i.e. 18 September), which I wrote about separately. An amazing experience! We watched it on my tablet, but also connected it to Joel's sound-bar using Bluetooth, which meant really impressive sound quality. I heard some background dialogue as they're all gathering in the church which I don't think I'd ever really picked up before, about the shrouds Johnny had brought and what sizes were available. Joel also wrote this very funny in-universe blog post based on it afterwards.

43. The Satanic Rites of Dracula (1973), dir. Alan Gibson - I think we came straight home and watched this afterwards, as the obvious follow-up viewing? I know we talked about it and exchanged thoughts and views as we watched, and I know I enjoyed it, but I've seen it so many times I don't think I can remember and specific thoughts that were unique to this viewing now.

44. Never Take Sweets From A Stranger (1961), dir. Cyril Frankel, broadcast 23 September 2022 - another Cellar Club screening which I tweeted along to at the time. It's a b/w Hammer film, but not a Gothic horror. Rather, it's a surprisingly progressive and thought-provoking treatment of the topic of child sexual abuse. What's depressing is that it sets out quite unequivocally all of the factors which help abusers to get away with their activity, such as members of the community rallying round when the children and then their parents try to speak out to dismiss their claims and defend and protect the abuser, basically out of fear of even admitting to themselves that such a thing could be happening. And here we are, 60+ years later, still regularly watching the same patterns play out. :-(

45. Faust (1926), dir. F.W. Murnau - a fairy-taleish version of Faust, in which he does a lot of terrible things, but is redeemed by love at the finale rather than being dragged off to hell. It comes four years after Nosferatu, and is very definitely both more lavish and more technically developed, reflecting the evolution of the film industry and Murnau's career between the two. It did perhaps drag a bit towards the end, though.

46. I Sell The Dead (2008), dir. Glenn McQuaid - a horror comedy about resurrectionists who begin specialising in dealing with the undead. Quite fun, definitely a lot of unexpected turns, and a nice gothic horror aesthetic to it.

47. Ed Wood (1994), dir. Tim Burton - I hadn't seen this one since the mid-nineties, so it was quite the revisit. I'm not wild about the Tim Burton / Johnny Depp machine these days, but this is really a classic, with very sympathetic and moving portrayals of everyone involved.

48. Return of the Vampire (1943), dir. Lew Landers - an obvious follow-up watch to Ed Wood, as it features Bela Lugosi as Dracula in all but name (he's actually called Armand Tesla), appearing to trouble a particular group of characters first during the First World War and then again during the Second. I'd seen it before, but I think Joel hadn't. I remember noting down various ways in which it had clearly influenced later Hammer films on my first watch, such as the disintegration scene in the ruined church at the end of the movie, and I may have noted this one already anyway. But just in case I didn't, the staking scene in the crypt which is shown via a silhouette on the wall must also surely have fed into Hammer's portrayal of Van Helsing staking Jonathan Harker in Dracula (1958).

49. The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen (2003), dir. Stephen Norrington - very silly fin-de-siècle crossover action movie, brought round by Joel as escapist distraction on the evening of the day when my Dad texted to say that cancer had been identified in one of the polyps in his bowel. It required no intelligence of any kind to follow the plot, which was telegraphed throughout in six-foot-high letters, and of course I enjoyed spotting all the different characters from a range of Gothic and crime fiction of the era, so it definitely helped.

50.The Mutations (1974), dir. Jack Cardiff, broadcast 7 October 2022 - another Cellar Club tweet-along. It was very accomplished both visually and aurally, had some superb seventies fashions, and generally hit a sound moral note about the mutated characters it depicted (in a similar and I think directly referential manner to Freaks), but did get a little bit silly towards the end.

51. Gods and Monsters (1998), dir. Bill Condon - a biopic about James Whale in later life, and thus a fairly natural follow-up to us watching Ed Wood a couple of weeks earlier. It stars Ian McKellen and Brendan Fraser, both putting in excellent performances, and deals with Whale's homosexuality and his sense of lost opportunities and the loss of his health as he approaches the end of his life. Moving, well made and definitely recommended.

Hmm, that's got us reasonably far, but that feels like all I can manage for today, and there are still a lot to do. I watched 81 films in 2022 in the end, and have kept up a similar rate in 2023 so far. I might have to resort to simple lists of titles yet, but let's leave that decision for another day.
strange_complex: (ITV digital Monkey popcorn)
In September 2021, Talking Pictures TV launched the Cellar Club, a Friday-night horror / SF triple-bill introduced and hosted by Caroline Munro. Usually they start with a good solid classic, followed up by two more films which are - shall we say? - usually more deservedly obscure. For the first three weeks, the top-billed movies were Hammer's Golden Trinity: The Mummy, Dracula and Curse of Frankenstein (working through them in backwards chronological order of production for some reason). Combined with Caroline Munro hosting them, of course I was going to make the effort to watch those live. And, as I could see that lots of my friends were also talking about them excitedly on Twitter, somehow it felt right to live-tweet them during broadcast.

I don't usually live-tweet films. It's not really a great way to watch a film you haven't seen before, because half the time your eyes are on your device rather than the TV, so you miss visual details and quite often plot points too as you write about the last thing which happened. But I gradually realised there was a whole community of people watching and live-tweeting the top-billed Cellar Club film each week, led by the [twitter.com profile] TheFilmCrowd account. Soon I was not just tweeting my own thoughts into the void, but engaging with other people's and getting feedback on mine. So, although it's still not how I would watch a film I really wanted to engage with deeply, I've come to consider it a different but fun way of watching in its own right. I've also made a bunch of new Twitter friends that way and really enjoyed interacting with them, including between the live-tweets.

The whole thing has posed a problem for the way I record my film viewing in this journal, though. I've been writing at least something here for every film I've watched since 2007. It's a double-edged sword. On the one hand, it absolutely definitely means I don't watch as many films as I might if I didn't do it, because the 'cost' of watching any film is that I have to write an LJ / DW post about it. Although I tried to set a rule at the beginning that they didn't have to be extensive reviews, and just a record and quick reaction would be fine, that simply isn't what I'm like. I always have a lot of thoughts I want to record, which in turn becomes a burden. On the other hand, though, the knowledge that I'll need to write something down after watching has definitely made me more attentive to what I see, and the regular practice of articulating my thoughts has probably made me a better film critic. I'm pretty sure it's the reason why my Cellar Club live-tweets ended up getting me invited onto a live webcast to discuss Hammer films on Sunday.

But I've been struggling with what to do about the fact that I've been gaily watching all these films, and without yet 'writing up' a single one here. Initially I told myself these views 'didn't count', because I wasn't watching 'properly' (due to looking at my device half the time), and at least initially had seen the films before so had written up 'proper' reviews here on earlier occasions anyway. But increasingly as the Cellar Club moved onto films I hadn't seen before, including some I'd been meaning to watch for a while, that position has become unsatisfactory. And in any case, the very nature of the whole thing means that I do have a written record of each film anyway. That's what the live-tweets are! They just aren't here.

So, all this is by way of saying that I'm now going to perform the rather tedious (probably for both me and my subscribers) task of importing the content of these threads here, so that I can integrate them into the record of my other LJ / DW write-ups. Thankfully, every live-tweet is neatly threaded - something I did in the first place mainly to avoid swamping followers who weren't interested with a barrage of tweets about a movie they weren't watching. So my plan in each case is to link directly to the first tweet in the thread, which will mean I can see them again easily in their original context in future. But I'm also (this is the most tedious bit for me) going to copy and paste the content of each individual thread into the body of an LJ / DW entry, so that I don't have to go to Twitter for the details, and indeed I have an independent record in case some day Twitter ceases to exist. (More likely for LJ at the moment, but that's why I also use DW.)

Some of the individual tweets won't make sense any more out of context, even to me, but that's the nature of the thing. I reserve the right to quietly correct typos, break hashtags which I don't want LJ to replicate or insert editorial comments where I can remember the context and want to clarify it, and indeed to include a paragraph of prelude or commentary where I want to say a bit more here than was included in the original thread. It'll take a few entries over a few weeks, so sorry for the spamminess while that's happening. Each thread will always be under a cut anyway, so hopefully not too annoying. And then once I've brought things up to date, I can just keep up the habit on a weekly-or-less-frequent basis, and I'll be back to business as usual but with a better record of my film viewing. Phew!

12. The Mummy (1959), dir. Terence Fisher, broadcast 3 September )

13. Dracula (1958), dir. Terence Fisher, broadcast 10 September )

14. The Curse of Frankenstein (1957), dir. Terence Fisher, broadcast 17 September )

OK, that wasn't too bad actually. I think I can catch up in this way reasonably quickly. Probably not this week, as I'm going to Oxford on Thursday and need to pack for that tomorrow evening. But judging by this first experiment, it seems feasible and a reasonable compromise for the sake of my record-keeping. Cool.
strange_complex: (Dracula 1958 cloak)
As mentioned last weekend (LJ / DW), I'm going to be a guest on a live webcast next Sunday. I spent last weekend rewatching the Hammer vampire films we'll be talking about, and noting down things to discuss about gender, sexuality and subtext in them. But these are films which I've already spent more time than is really healthy geekily over-thinking, so obviously I spotted loads of other things while watching which won't be relevant to our webcast. This post is a place to get those down on (electronic) paper. I wouldn't call what follows 'reviews' as such - more just a record of spots and comments.

Dracula (1958) )

Brides of Dracula (1960) )

Kiss of the Vampire (1963) )

Dracula, Prince of Darkness (1966) )

OK, that's it, I am done!
strange_complex: (Vampira)
This is the American / British Hammer Productions remake of the Swedish film Let The Right One In (2008), which I watched last night on the Horror Channel. I've seen the Swedish version twice: once while travelling in Australia in 2017 (LJ / DW) and once at the Hyde Park Picture House in 2019 (LJ / DW). My previous experience of such remakes had led me to assume it would be crass and unsubtle, but for once that isn't a fair accusation at all. According to the film's Wikipedia entry, the producers aimed to stay true to the original novel and film, while making it accessible to a wider audience. I'd say they very much succeeded - though it's a pity for many reasons that the additional people this version will have reached won't normally contemplate stepping beyond their cultural bubble and watching a 'foreign' film.

The setting is transposed to New Mexico, which I did not know gets such a lot of snowy weather, but apparently it does, allowing the snowy setting of the Swedish original to be retained. The names are of course changed, so that Eli (the vampire) becomes Abby, her 12-year-old friend Oskar becomes Owen, and her previous servant Håkan becomes Thomas. Some of the special effects are slightly shonkier, like Abby's eyes when she is in full vampire mode, which definitely lack the subtlety of the original. But the general emotive power of the original is well matched, and so is the quality of cinematography and editing. Largely speaking, the story, the scenes used to convey it and the dialogue are unchanged except for being culturally Americanised: e.g. through more emphasis on religious belief in good and evil, more use of cars including a high-speed accident, and a more jockish feel to the high school bullies.

That said, there are various minor differences of detail - or at least I think these are differences, though I may be mistaken due to an imperfect memory of the original. We start with the capture, hospitalisation and suicide of Abby's previous servant, Thomas, from the point of view of the police and hospital staff, and then go back in time a couple of weeks to the two of them arriving at the apartment complex, before working our way back later on to the same events from his and Abby's perspectives. There's also more emphasis than I remember on the police officer as a character, I supposed again fitting American cultural expectations arising from the ubiquity of cop shows and movies. By contrast, Owen's father is largely removed from the narrative - Owen doesn't go and stay with him, and he appears only as an inadequately-supportive voice on the end of a phone-line. The cat-lady who gets bitten by Eli in the Swedish version and survives but begins turning into a vampire here has one dog instead of many cats, isn't as fully developed as a character, and bursts into flames because a nurse innocently opens the hospital blinds in her room, rather than because she has realised what's happening and asks for the blinds to be opened as a way of stopping it.

The questions which the Swedish version raised around gender were also pushed a little further here. Eli's statement about not being a girl is repeated verbatim by Abby, though Abby follows it up a bit further when Owen pushes her (them?) on it by saying she is 'no-one'. Meanwhile, on Owen's side, one of the main ways in which his bullies torment him is by calling him 'little girl' and referring to him using female pronouns. I'm 90% sure this isn't matched for the Oskar character in the Swedish version, so it becomes another thing they have in common in the remake: that both occupy a space outside of gender norms, whether willingly or unwillingly.

This version also seemed to make it more explicit to the viewer that Owen will become Abby's next servant, ending up like Thomas. This isn't to say that wasn't a suggested by the Swedish version - I noted exactly that in my first review of it (LJ / DW). I may also have been more alert to the pointers in this version, having already seen the other twice. But I felt there were two specific cues pointing fairly explicitly towards the parallel, and although the first may have been in the Swedish version too, I'm close to certain the second wasn't. One was a scene of Abby knocking on Thomas' hospital window and asking to be let in so she can kill him, followed immediately by another of her knocking on Owen's window and asking to be let in so she can snuggle up with him - i.e. the editing established a strong parallel between the two characters. The second was Owen finding passport photo booth pictures of Abby with Thomas when he was much younger in their apartment, looking just as nerdy as Owen and confirming for us the path that Thomas has been on. For me, this greater clarity made the developing relationship between Abby and Owen look rather less charming and a lot more like her grooming him, although again that may also be because I'm pretty familiar with the overall story by now.

Overall, definitely worth watching if you enjoyed the Swedish version, although the clearer delineation of Owen's future fate made the ending a little less bittersweet and more simply icky.
strange_complex: (Cyberman from beneath)
I recorded this off the Horror Channel relatively recently, and watched it last weekend. The story is more or less what you would assume from the title and the time, involving a group of white western explorers who go searching after the 'Yeti' in the Himalayas, and the local monastery community and guides with whom they interact. The Hammer film is based on an earlier now-lost teleplay by Nigel Kneale, and having built up a picture of his style from various iterations of the Quatermass stories and The Stone Tape, I certainly recognised various signature characteristics here. There is a sensitive soul who is particularly susceptible to the calls of the Yeti up in the mountains, who isn't a woman because no women go on the expedition in the first place but is rather a Scotsman, perhaps telling us something about how Kneale perceived them. Later on, the one woman in the film also demonstrates her great sensitivity by doing a mad dash up the mountain to rescue her husband because she can tell from the monastery that he's in danger. There is also the idea that the Yeti are primeval beings who are / were perhaps superior in wisdom and intelligence to homo sapiens, though for once they don't also turn out to have been aliens all along. The story ends with the main identification-character and only survivor of the expedition (John Rollason, a scientist played by Peter Cushing) insisting that he never saw any Yeti up in the mountains in order to cover up their existence and protect them from further human interference.

The whole set-up of the story is colonialistic. Quite apart from the pursuit of the Yeti, the western characters treat the locals as mere servants (at best) or superstitious savages (at worst). But there is some effort at least to portray the people at the monastery (who I assume are meant to be Tibetan, as they are headed by a Lama, though it's never specified) as having a real and valuable culture of their own, e.g. via early establishing scenes in which their Lama shows a local knowledge of plants unknown to John Rollason's science. There is also certainly a fully developed critical contrast between Rollason's scientific curiosity, driven by the desire to achieve a greater understanding of humanity, and capitalistic greed encapsulated by an American member of the expedition, Tom Friend. Friend in some ways appears ahead of Rollason in recognising the capacity of media like television for opening up mass access to knowledge. But ultimately he just wants to show the Yeti on TV for his own benefit, as we realise when he turns out to be happy to claim that a monkey they've trapped is the real Yeti, and then also causes death of another expedition member by giving him blank ammunition so he can't harm a real Yeti in the process of trapping it.

Cushing is of course everything you'd hope for as Rollason. There is a lovely example of his famous facility with props early on, when he is presented with a purported Yeti tooth while still in the monastery, and rather than just turning it over in his hand while delivering his dialogue, he immediately whips a tape measure out of his pocket and takes its dimensions. This is followed by a very interesting editorial cut directly from a close-up of the tooth to the mask of some kind of mythical being with one tooth missing being shaken in the air during a religious ceremony in the monastery courtyard, perhaps designed to suggest that the circumspect locals know of and venerate the Yeti. Though Cushing had already done The Curse of Frankenstein by this time, Hammer were still using colour only for their horror pictures. This one is more in the line of fantasy / action, so it remains in black and white, but conveys its Himalayan setting via some very impressive location footage filmed with stunt doubles at La Mongie, a ski resort in the French Pyrenees. Combined with sets at Bray (the monastery) and Pinewood (the mountain top locations) for the actors and a matte painting for long shots of the monastery by Les Bowie, it does a pretty decent visual job by the standards of its time.
strange_complex: (Vampira)
It's the time of year when, after a demanding term, I traditionally attempt to reconnect with LJ / DW - except, of course, with pandemic-sized bells on. There is so much going on in my own life and all around me which I could and probably should write about, but even in a normal year that usually feels like an overwhelming task, and as for now... well. Instead, I shall write about this film which I watched in parallel with [personal profile] lady_lugosi1313 a couple of weeks ago.

It was produced by Columbia Pictures and features Bela Lugosi as 'I Can't Believe It's Not Dracula' - strictly speaking, a Romanian scientist named Armand Tesla who died in 1744 and became a vampire. The 'return' bit in the title refers not to his return after the action of a previous film, but rather from part one of this film, set in WWI, to part two set during WWII. In the WWI sequence, he is detected, tracked to his mausoleum and staked by a Professor Walter Saunders of King's College, Oxford, with the help of his physician friend Lady Jane Ainsley. But then in the 1940s the stake is removed from his chest after an air-strike on the cemetery where his body lies by two well-meaning air-raid wardens who think it's a piece of shrapnel. Though Saunders has died in the meantime (Tesla claims because he cursed him), Lady Jane, her son John and Saunders' granddaughter Nikki are all still very much alive, so Tesla comes after them in search of vengeance.

It's a bit of an average film overall, but it has some interesting features. One is that the WWI sequence is introduced as being based on notes compiled by Professor Saunders, which then also have an important role to play within the story of the WWII part, as a source of in-story information for the characters on Tesla and how he operates. The device of introducing a story about the supernatural by saying it's based on some documentary evidence (common to Le Fanu, Stoker and M.R. James) has been catching my eye a lot this year, and I might try to tease out my thoughts about it a little more coherently in other reviews, but for now I just want to note the combination of having the documents attest to the story but also feature within the story, and look out for how often that is or isn't the case with other examples.

Lady Jane Ainsley is of course also a big plus. She is shown throughout as a fully competent medical professional, who plays the role of The Sceptic Who Becomes Convinced alongside Prof Saunders, the more Van Helsingish figure who already believes in vampires from the start. She is also beautiful, elegantly dressed, an accomplished organ player and an attentive mother to her son, John - so very much the 1940s image of the woman who has it all. In the 1940s sequence, she is even helping to receive prisoners smuggled in the UK out of Nazi camps, not to mention leading the response against Tesla once she realises he is back from the grave. Perhaps all a response to the greater recognition of women's capabilities which had come about because of the roles they were playing within the war effort, though it's noticeable that she still apparently has to be from the aristocracy for any of this to be plausible.

Tesla's vampirism is much in line with previous screen portrayals of Dracula, though rather more use is made of him appearing and disappearing out of mist than I think was the case in any of the Universal pictures. He even does the same drawing-room charm act as the 1931 Dracula, this time by stealing the identity of a prisoner rescued from the Nazi camps so that he can come to Nikki's engagement party, kiss ladies' hands and talk science with Lady Jane. One device I can't remember ever seeing in any other vampire film, although it seems obvious once demonstrated, is that when Prof Saunders and Lady Jane find Tesla in his coffin during the WWI sequence, he proves to her that Tesla is a vampire by simply holding up a mirror to the body - which of course reflects nothing. There are some effective visual devices, like when a single pane of glass in a child's bedroom window pops out, allowing the mist to enter, followed by an image of his shadow looming ominously over her bed; scenes of Nikki under Tesla's spell wandering through a graveyard in a long white nightie; or the use of what must surely have been an actual bombed-out church for the climactic scenes at the end of the film.

Other interesting bits and bobs include Andreas, Tesla's werewolf servant, whose werewolfism turns out to be a manifestation of Tesla's power over him which disappears on Tesla's death, but then returns once he is revived. Andreas ends up playing quite a similar role to Sandor in Dracula's Daughter (1936) at the end, when he turns against Tesla after he refuses to help Andreas when he has been shot. There was also an example of a doublethink about crosses which occurs pretty commonly in vampire films of this era - Tesla repelled by a cross in one scene, only to be shown standing in a graveyard full of cross-shaped headstones which apparently don't bother him in the least bit in the next. And the film ends with a breaking of the fourth wall, as the sceptical Scotland Yard inspector who still doesn't believe in vampires despite everything which has happened turns to ask the audience whether we do.

I suspect some members of the Hammer team had seen this film, as would be no great surprise given that they made their Dracula only 15 years later. Some familiar devices which I spotted included:
  • Visually confirming for us that a patient with suspected anaemia (actually a victim of Tesla of course) has died in Lady Jane's clinic by pulling a sheet over her face, much like Lucy in Hammer's Dracula.
  • Using a silhouette to convey Professor Saunders staking Tesla, like Jonathan Harker early on in Dracula.
  • Autumn leaves blowing in through the French window and across the floor of Nikki's bedroom, much like Lucy's.
  • Tesla saying explicitly that he will get revenge on Jane for her role in destroying him in the WWI sequence by working through those she loves, which is a bit there in Dracula, but really comes out in Risen, Taste, AD 1972 and Satanic Rites.
  • The attempt to show Tesla's face melting through special effects after he is destroyed by a combination of sunlight and staking at the end - not as effective as Hammers, but a good effort nevertheless.
strange_complex: (Dracula Risen hearse smile)
I watched this as a nice treat on the evening of my birthday, because it is one of my favourite of the Hammer Dracula films, and I hadn't seen it for six years. I have reviewed it in these pages twice before: in 2013 (LJ / DW), when I talked about the contrast between the cheerful inn scenes and the dark Gothic threat drawing in on them, Dracula's delicious lurking manipulativeness, and the central conflict between faith and atheism; and in 2014 (LJ / DW) when I discussed the direction and the character of the priest. But I still have more to say about it!

To begin with, it is very nicely structured with a lot of attention to small details. In the opening scenes, when the priest finds Dracula's latest victim suspended inside his church bell, my eye is always drawn to the dusty bottles dotted around the inside of the bell tower, on the ledge behind the victim and on the windowsill.

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This would be a nice bit of set-dressing in any film, giving a feeling of lived-in realism, but here it specifically prefigures the priest's alcoholism which will be such a major driver of the plot. We can imagine him sitting up here many a time, well before the action of the film begins, secretly indulging. Indeed, it's not even just about the priest. Paul too has his brushes with the dark side of alcohol in this film, first getting beer spilt all over him in a bar-room game, and then downing enough schnapps to end up legless and vulnerable after he has inadvertently insulted Maria's stern uncle.

There are other clever visual comments and echoes which I haven't mentioned before in previous reviews too. Like the streams of blood which we see running, first from the bell to the bell-rope and then from the priest's head-wound to Dracula's mouth; or indeed the similarity between the priest's head-wound (which awakens Dracula) and the one he himself later inflicts on the Monsignor at Dracula's command. There is also a well-selected poster showing the silhouette of a man in a cloak and top hat on a red background next to the door into the Café Johann. Presumably it's a period drinks advertisement, but the silhouetted man resembles Dracula enough to remind us of his looming menace, and it's noticeable that it is given particular screen prominence when Zena is heading out of the door, about to encounter him in the woods.

I have some really great books about Hammer's set design and locations by Peveril Publishing, but frustratingly this particular film doesn't get much coverage from them, despite its careful attention to visual detail. There are some production stills of the roof-top sets in the set design book and (to be fair) a good section on the use of Black Park in the locations book. But what about the church, the village exteriors, the town exteriors, the cafe interiors etc.? I know nothing about how they were designed and built, whether they were re-used from other films (or later re-used themselves), and so much more detail which seems readily available now for most Hammer films. It's an omission.

Meanwhile, even now watching this film for the Nth time, I am somehow still figuring out little details about it. For example, the morning after Dracula bites Zena in the woods, the priest comes into the cafe, and she makes eye contact with him and nods as he comes in. I'd always assumed this simply represented two servants of Dracula recognising each other as such, but I've realised now that it may be conveying a bit more than that. I suspect it's also supposed to reflect some unscreened action during the night, involving Zena helping the priest to install Dracula and his coffin in the bakery cellar after he has bitten her. Certainly, that would help to explain not only how Dracula got there, but also why she is still there in the bakery basement when Paul arrives the next morning and why the priest already knows her and nods to her when he arrives as a customer seeking a room. That is, Zena is not merely a convenient source of blood but also a route into the bakery and thus a safe and convenient hiding-place in the middle of Keinenburg - much as Mina likewise helped smuggle Dracula into the Holmwood's cellar (again off-screen) in the first film. Nonetheless, even Zena doesn't seem to know exactly where Dracula is. When the priest nods to her in the bar to indicate that she has been summoned, she knows to go down into the basement, but he has to gesture to show her exactly where.

I also wondered on this watch whether the priest doesn't actually die at the end. I'd always read him as simply slumping forward with exhaustion before, after the monumental effort of recovering his faith and reciting the Lord's prayer to ensure a final victory over Dracula. But on this watch it seemed to me like a very terminal-looking slump. So I think now that the cost of defeating Dracula for him is his life.

Finally, despite the careful attention to visual details which I've described above, I also picked up a weird mis-match over the question of who knows the Monsignor on this watch. When the priest first arrives at the Café Johann, he says he is in Keinenburg on church business, and asks Paul whether he knows the Monsignor. Paul replies that he knows his niece (Maria) better, which should in turn mean that Paul knows the priest doesn't know the Monsignor personally, and indeed needs help trying to find him. But later, when Paul wants to get a message to Maria, he presses it into the priest's hand asking him to take it to the house of the Monsignor and saying "You must know him". I mean, maybe Paul just has a really strong faith in the priest's ability to have got to know the Monsignor in the intervening couple of days - or maybe Anthony Hinds (the script-writer) had forgotten that if the priest did know the Monsignor, it would be a very new acquaintance and one which Paul himself might have facilitated.

Ah well, it's a small slip in a film I will always love and want to revisit.
strange_complex: (Figure on the sea shore)
This was both a Christopher Lee and a Hammer film which I hadn't seen before, which is always going to be a pleasure. I've been meaning to watch it for a while, and then Talking Pictures helped by screening it, so I synchro-watched it with [personal profile] lady_lugosi1313 and we had a grand old time. It's appropriate that it should have been the thirteenth film I watched this year, too, as it rather goes to town in that sort of direction. The eponymous Man of the title (Dr. Georges Bonnet, played by a slightly hammy Anton Diffring) is a doctor and sculptor living at no. 13, Rue Noire in a smoggy Paris, where we first encounter him giving a party for a crowd of swanky Parisian art-lovers.

The story is a pretty transparent effort to repeat the success of The Curse of Frankenstein (1957), with Diffring engaged in dubious experiments in his attempts to cheat death, and having much the same kind of arguments with his (ostensibly) older mentor about their morality. There's quite a touch of Jekyll and Hyde to it too, which Hammer hadn't yet released an adaptation of, but given that they did in 1960 it must have been already in the works. Certainly, Dr. Bonnet turns very nasty, and indeed green, when he doesn't get his special potion.

This was the first of two Hammer films in which Lee played a character called Dr. Pierre Gerrard (the other being Taste of Fear), which must have made life easy for him. The character and his performance bear a lot of resemblance to his Paul Allen in The Two Faces of Dr. Jekyll, too - which is to say rather wooden and affrontedly bourgeois. [personal profile] lady_lugosi1313 will attest that I did not approve of his moustache - I rarely approve of facial hair on Lee, but this one was particularly bad, and as she noted, not even symmetrically stuck on. He appears to be fully on board with Diffring's immoral experiments, but in a twist reveal it turns out that he did not actually perform the operation he wanted. As he puts it, "I made the incision but did not perform the operation." This is probably for the best, because both of them seem to have a distinctly sketchy grasp of the thyroid gland's location.

Many other familiar faces were on board, including Roger Lloyd Pack, Hazel Court and Francis de Wolff. In the visual department, Jack Asher was hard at work on the cinematography, and everyone had exquisite period costumes. We also recognised the same doors with panels made of glass roundels as we had seen recently in The Snorkel and were used also in Revenge of Frankenstein, a blue chafing dish which gets around rather a lot in Hammer films of this era, Bonnet's fireplace, and the stairs down into his cellar, which had been reworked from both Curse of Frankenstein and Dracula. Presumably he was also using a lot of Frankenstein's science equipment and Dracula's books, too.

By the standards of Hammer's other classics in this era, it's a bit disappointing, being hide-bound in particular by an almost total absence of any exterior location footage. But everything ended with Diffring getting his comeuppance and the horrible legacy of his experiments being consumed in a flaming inferno, which is always satisfying.
strange_complex: (Howie disapproving)
This is another Hammer film, this time a straightforward murder mystery. I wanted to watch it primarily because Bernard Robinson's set designs for Dracula's castle in the 1958 film, as made available in Peveril Publishing's book Hammer's Grand Designs, show that one of the windows in the main hall set (also reconfigured as the library) was taken from The Snorkel. This is the set design in question (in full and then closer up to show the label), as well as the window itself, as shown after being reconfigured into the library set complete with stained glass designs of people in chains and bones.

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Even purely on a Dracula set design geekery level, the watch very much paid off. I did it as a synchro-watch with [personal profile] lady_lugosi1313, who is as much of a Hammer geek as me, and between us we quickly realised that far more than the window had been reused. The film includes substantial scenes set inside an Italian villa, where the murder around which the main plot revolves takes place, and almost everything within this villa had either already appeared in The Curse of Frankenstein (1957) and / or was about to do so in Dracula (1958). We recognised not only the window but all of the doors, the fireplace and much of the furniture.

But The Snorkel had much more to offer beyond set design details. I am not going to try to claim it is revolutionary or a work of high cinematic art, but it is a really nicely plotted and paced murder mystery which achieves plenty of tension and atmosphere including one scene which genuinely made us both jump. It was also shot on a pretty high budget for Hammer in this era (£100,000), using it to deliver on-location Italian settings for all of the exterior footage, lovely late 1950s dresses, and excellent lighting and cinematography by Jack Asher which brought everything off to good effect. Even its day-for-night footage was easily forgivable in the black and white medium, while there was some lovely atmospheric use of creepy statuary looming in a darkened villa garden.

Probably the film's biggest flaw is Mandy Miller, then fourteen years old, playing the role of Candy (short for Candace) Brown. Candy is central to the plot, since we see her step-father murdering her mother in a manner designed to look like suicide in the opening scenes, but she is the only one who suspects foul play. We also learn over the course of the film that this is largely because she already saw him drowning her father some years earlier, while he meanwhile goes on to kill Candy's dog and attempt to kill her. This means she has a lot of trauma, frustration and fear to convey in the film, both in response to these terrible events and in response to none of the adults around her believing her when she tries to tell them what is going on. Unfortunately, her acting skills weren't really up to this, so that she either under- or over-reacted to almost everything, rather undermining the story. We agreed early on that she needed a metaphorical slap, and also noted that Hammer being Hammer, she might well literally get one. Indeed, much later, she did.

This was all rather a pity, as the character of Candy and her narrative arc throughout the film was actually very powerfully thought out. She is not only disbelieved but actively gaslit and pathologised by the adults around her throughout, including her step-father Paul who is busy trying to divert suspicion, but also her governess / companion, the police and the local consul. They all tell her she is being over-dramatic and imaginative, implicitly threatening her with being committed to a 'mental institution' if she doesn't stop saying Paul has murdered her father, mother and dog and is trying to murder her. Ultimately, of course, Paul decides she needs to be silenced altogether, so arranges to murder her in the same manner as her mother - drugging her, sealing her and himself into a locked room, fitting himself with a snorkel connected to tubes allowing him to breathe external air, turning on all the gas and then hiding under the floorboards.

Luckily for her, the police chief and her governess prevent the murder this time by breaking into the room looking for her, but they still believe she was trying to take her own life, and only agree to search the room for Paul in order to 'prove' to her that he isn't there. In the process, they move a heavy cupboard over the trapdoor he has used to get under the floorboards, and then leave it there when they all go, with Candy having admitted that Paul is nowhere to be found. We then see Paul discovering he is trapped, followed by Candy insisting on going back to the room just one more time to double-check Paul isn't there. This time she hears him calling out for help, but in response merely knits her brows and declares, "It's just my imagination".

What's really nice about how this is set up is that as a viewer we can't be sure whether she has finally accepted the message which every adult in the film has been giving her throughout, and really believes this (so that Paul is about to die as a direct result of his contribution to gaslighting and pathologising her), or knows full well that it really is Paul and that he's trapped, and is saying it as a way of mocking him and letting him know that she is damn well going to leave him there to die. Either way, it is a grim and bleak place for the plot to have taken us to, and I would quite have liked the film to end there for that reason. Maybe that wasn't considered acceptable for 1958 audiences, though, as we next see Candy asking her governess and the consul to stop the car as they drive away through the local Italian town, so that she can go into the police station and tell them to go and look under the floorboards in the villa, where they will see that she was right. The police chief reacts by getting up and putting on his hat, so I guess Paul will be rescued after all, but it's still a pretty good ending as Candy's emphasis on the police finding out she was right tells us one more thing about her character - that what she really wanted all along was to be believed, rather than to salve her conscience about Paul.

An honourable mention in all this should go to Toto, Candy's dog, who was played by a very well trained canine actor. Toto is onto Paul from the start, pulling at the carpet above the trap-door where he is hiding when his wife's body is discovered, and then later picking the snorkel mask which he used out of Paul's wardrobe and dropping it at Candy's feet. Sadly, she doesn't catch on, but Paul does, leading to Toto's untimely demise and presumably a listing for this film somewhere on the Does The Dog Die? website. But we enjoyed him while he lasted.
strange_complex: (Metropolis False Maria)
I'm planning to synchro-watch another Hammer film with the lovely [personal profile] lady_lugosi1313 this evening, so had better get the last couple written up first!

This one is a black and white Hammer mystery / SF film which I recorded off TPTV ages ago (and which they coincidentally broadcast again recently anyway). What I knew about it when I started was that it starred Oliver Reed as the ringleader of a Teddy Boy gang, and that it had been strongly recommended to me by a member of the Dracula Society several years ago as being very 'ahead of its time'. But that was all, and that was probably the best way to watch it. It does indeed start off with Oliver and his chums in a Brighton Rock style narrative, but they turn out to be only part of the context for a gradually-revealed SF story - which I guess is what my DracSoc chum meant about it being ahead of its time. It certainly kept surprising me as the story unfolded, which was fun.

Oliver and his gang are good value in their own right. Their patch is Weymouth rather than Brighton, but they have the motorbikes, the black leather, the post-war teen attitude and the mindless violence. Ollie carries a curved-handled umbrella in a way that reminded me of Alex's bowler hat and cane in A Clockwork Orange - but actually even the book of that wasn't written until after this film had finished production (in 1961), so I guess the use of that sort of characterising device for gang members originates somewhere earlier. His sister, Joan, helps to target the gang's marks by pretending to respond to their perving and luring them down quiet side-streets - and of course Oliver Reed's character is obsessively, jealously protective of her, which acts as a plot driver when she decides she likes one of the marks more than she likes him. She is played by Shirley Anne Field, who also played the titular character in Beat Girl (1960: LJ / DW), which made it easy to slip straight into the correct early '60s rebellious teen culture mode while watching her - presumably part of the point of the original casting.

The characters involved in the SF side of the plot are gradually introduced in parallel with Ollie, Joan and the gang at first, but then the two strands of the story come together as Joan escapes Ollie with the help of an American tourist whom she had previously targeted on behalf of the gang. They find themselves in a hidden bunker in a cliff below a military base, inhabited by nine children who are strangely cold to the touch - and baffled by Joan and the tourist's own warm skin. We've already seen these children receiving lessons over a television screen (very COVID-esque!) from the leader of a team of scientists observing them, and after a bit of to-ing and fro-ing it gradually emerges they that were born of mothers affected by nuclear explosions, and are radioactive themselves. They desperately want to escape their bunker and see the real world they have been taught about in their lessons, but their radioactivity makes them dangerous, which is why they are kept inside the secret bunker. The scientists are bringing them up in the hope that they alone of humanity will be able to survive a nuclear holocaust - naturally considered inevitable, given the time when the film was made.

The set-up was clearly designed to create a tension between the scientists' desire to do something to save humanity from protection and the lengths they're prepared to go to for this 'greater good'. This includes not only keeping the children locked up in the bunker but ultimately destroying everyone who finds out about it or protests against it, including Ollie, Joan, the American tourist and a female artist who is the lover of the lead scientist and has been making sculptures at the top of the cliff where the children are hidden all this time. The film closes with the scientist gunning her down in order to protect his project, which I quite liked as an unambiguously bleak ending. But overall, I wouldn't say it entirely lived up to the enthusiastic recommendation which my DracSoc friend gave it.
strange_complex: (Dracula Risen hearse smile)
I synchro-watched this film with [personal profile] lady_lugosi1313 this afternoon. It is one of my absolute favourites in the Hammer Dracula cycle - so much so that I apparently watched it once every two years at the beginning of the last decade: 2012 (LJ / DW), 2014 (LJ / DW), 2016 (LJ / DW). A four-year gap since my last viewing is therefore a long time for me!

It is so good, though, and rediscovering it today in all its vivid immediacy was just brilliant. The more I see it, the more I realise how much my personal fashion concept was shaped by it, and Stephanie Beacham's outfits in particular. Quite apart from the flares, the smock tops and the floppy hats, she is wearing purple in almost every scene. I listen to the soundtrack CD regularly in the car too, but there is a quite a lot of what must have been library music in the film itself which isn't on that CD, and which I've never successfully been able to identify via Shazam or similar - flute music as Bob and Jessica are driving around, the record Johnny puts on for Gaynor telling her the band were all stoned when they recorded it, and the music playing as Johnny stalks Marjorie Baines in the laundrette. I would love to find out more about all of those some time, but meanwhile will have to satisfy myself with exploring more of the music of Stoneground instead. I can see there is quite a lot of it on YouTube.

I don't want to repeat things I've written about this film in previous reviews, but I see that although I mentioned that it has "extremely competent cinematography" in my 2014 review, I didn't give any specific examples. Some of the sorts of shots I mean include Johnny seen through a bus window from across the road as he approaches the Cavern the day after the big ritual, his car approaching his flat seen through the square entrance-way, or Van Helsing viewed in a discarded shaving-mirror after his big battle with Johnny. But those are only a few examples. Throughout, the street scenes, the Gothic church set, and the many smaller interiors are really brought out to their best effect through interesting angles, focus pulls, panning etc. The man responsible deserves credit - and to have been given a better name by his parents than Dick Bush.

I also see that despite working it all out in my head about six years ago, I have never written out here my Very Fannish Theory for how this film actually fits perfectly effectively into the overall Hammer chronology. The apparent problem is that in this film we see Dracula being killed in 1872 and only resurrected in 1972, yet Dracula (1958) takes place in 1885, with Prince (1966), Risen (1968) and Taste (1970) all following on from it in a direct sequence. How, we might ask after seeing AD 1972, can he have been alive for all those stories in the intervening period? My explanation for this rests on the premise that in 1872, Dracula was not alone in London. Rather, Valerie Gaunt's character was there with him. She turns into a woman with the appearance of being in her 70s or 80s when Jonathan stakes her in 1885 (in Dracula 1958), so he probably bit her and turned her into his bride about 40 or 50 years before that - i.e. c. 1840. Perhaps he came to London around about then, and they were living there together perfectly successfully until they managed to come to Lawrence Van Helsing's attention in 1872?

Once you have her in the picture, you can flesh out the story of what happened on that fatal night in 1872. After Van Helsing kills Dracula, we see on screen Johnny Alucard's ancestor coming to collect and ritually bury some of his dust. But he certainly doesn't collect all of it. There is plenty left behind for, for example, Valerie Gaunt to come along after Johnny, and conduct a resurrection ceremony immediately. Naturally, after a traumatic event like that, Dracula and Valerie would choose to leave London for the safety of Dracula's native Transylvania - which is where we meet them both, thirteen years later, in Dracula (1958). By 1972, Valerie is long gone and Dracula has undergone many adventures, including a trip to India in the 1930s, but he has returned to London, not least because he knows he left instructions to his disciples to carry out a resurrection ritual in that year. But it isn't actually a resurrection ritual as such. Johnny thinks he is resurrecting Dracula, but we don't see any actual regeneration scene, as we do in some of the other films - just a load of smoke and then Dracula walking out of it. In fact, he was already alive and watching the ritual unseen as it unfolded, and stepped forward at the end to reclaim a small amount of his own lost strength, left behind with his dust a century earlier (the smoke) and his lost ring. Job done.

This still doesn't explain how Dracula can have gone to China in 1804 in the body of a monk and been killed there by Van Helsing in 1904 in The Legend of the 7 Golden Vampires. I have to resort to "It must be another member of the Dracula family who is also a vampire and was imprisoned in that castle by the Christopher Lee Dracula" to deal with that. But it's all doable if you think creatively enough.
strange_complex: (Dracula Scars wine)
This is one of four films in which Christopher Lee plays a spoof version of his own performances as Dracula. The others are Tempi Duri per i Vampiri (1959), Dracula père et fils (1976) and One More Time (1970), which I haven't seen.

It's a comedy (obviously), in which the main characters are played by Peter Sellers and Ringo Starr. I must say I'm no fan of Peter Sellers. Dr. Strangelove and Being There are both very good films, but mainly because both are dark political satires. In my experience, the more straightforwardly 'funny' Sellers thinks he's trying to be, the less I want to watch him.

This one is surreal and experimental, in a way that could only really have come out of the late 1960s. It's perhaps all too easy to label it 'proto-Monty Python', given that it literally has both John Cleese and Graham Chapman in it, very shortly before the first series of actual Monty Python aired, but it does feature a lot of their sort of humour. Examples include the helicopter pilot called Pontius, a scene in which the central characters go to the theatre to see Hamlet, and the person in the title role starts doing a strip tease complete with raunchy music and neon signs during the 'To be or not to be' soliloquy scene, and an escalating absurdity gag in which they go out with rifles to shoot game birds, but quickly upgrade to machine guns, rocket launchers and tanks.

It has a central plot, in which Peter Sellers' character, Sir Guy Grand, adopts Ringo Starr's, who begins the film as a homeless person sleeping in the park, but is given the name Youngman Grand by his new adoptive father. Guy Grand is so immensely rich that he can basically do whatever he likes, and his main interest seems to be performing experiments to explore the effect of money on other people. As he puts it, everyone has their price. So he goes round bribing a parking inspector £500 to literally eat his own ticket, offering an art dealer £30,000 for a (possible) Rembrandt before cutting it up in front of his eyes, bribing a team of Oxford dark blues to turn the Boat Race into a fight, and scattering fresh bank-notes into a vat of blood, urine and faeces adorned with a sign saying 'FREE MONEY HERE' and then standing back to watch as a lot of City types with bowler hats and umbrellas wade in to retrieve them.

But these episodes are exactly that - episodic. Where many another film about a person from the top of the social hierarchy adopting someone from the bottom would concentrate closely on those characters, developing them and showing us scenes in which they at first clashed or failed to understand one another, but then eventually reached a common ground and were reconciled, there is nothing of that here. Indeed, you don't even hear the dialogue in the initial scene when Guy goes up and introduces himself to Youngman in the park - just see it from a distance. After that, the adoption is simply a done deal, and Youngman follows Guy around the place as he requires, not doing much other than observing and saying 'Yes, Dad' as a lot of strange things happen to them.

Quite a bit of the humour reflects the era's growing awareness of sexual and ethnic minorities, in ways that generally side against the 'squares' who aren't au fait with such matters, but not necessarily with the minorities in question. At one point, two boxers all squared up for a big macho fight in front of the TV cameras surprise everyone by kissing instead of punching each other (not that we see it directly), whereupon the commentator observes: "The crowd seem to be sickened by the sight of no blood." Later, Yul Brynner as a transvestite cabaret artist delivers a sultry performance of 'Mad About the Boy' which culminates in him lifting off his blonde wig to the horror of a hitherto-entranced patron. And a passenger on the cruise ship from which the film takes its title is heard making reactionary racist remarks shortly before discovering that the evening's entertainment is a pair of Mr Universe body-builders, one Afro-Caribbean and one Causcasian, who strut their stuff to a song about 'Black and White', and are later seen dancing together at the ship's disco.

As for Christopher Lee, he's one of many, many star cameos in the film, some others of which I've already referenced above. He initially appears on the cruise ship dressed in a smart ship's waiter's uniform, delivering a tray of drinks to a female passenger, and I suppose the original audience would have assumed at first that he was no more than that. But the surprise twist is so utterly blown now that it's the very reason I watched this film - in fact, he turns out to be a vampire, who first bares his teeth and bends over the woman to help himself to a drink of his own, before striding down the corridor, cloak billowing, to follow up with a chaser of the captain. The corridor scene in particular is very effectively shot with a backwards-tracking camera in slightly slow motion, and in some ways perhaps captures the essence of his Dracula performances better by dint of being an overblown parody than Hammer could ever quite manage when presenting him seriously. He and Hammer were absolutely at the apogee of them at this point, churning out an average of roughly one a year, and the cameo must have felt like quite the snapshot of the contemporary zeitgeist.

But it's all over in a few seconds, though it is quite crucial to the plot, as it's also the cue for everything in the ship to descend into total chaos and anarchy. Soon afterwards, it turns out never to have left the dock at all, but to have been shut up in a warehouse in central London all along, while its passengers underwent a fake cruising experience. Guy Grand's group barely notices.

There's a sort of charm to the movie as a whole, but probably not the same charm its original viewers were expected to feel. The Beatles' 'Come And Get It' is the centrepiece of the soundtrack, usually played straightforwardly, but sometimes picked up by e.g. a marching band for a bit of variation. For a song which I'm pretty sure was meant to sound full of youthful spirit and joie de vivre, it somehow comes across as sad and wistful in this movie, much as I often find is also the case with Hanoi Rocks songs (none of which I ever heard until well after Razzle had already died in Vince Neil's car). It's all very obviously a relic of a bygone age.

Anyway, for those who might like to see Christopher Lee's scenes, but can't be bothered with the whole movie, if you have a FB account they are all included in this video of the climactic scenes on the cruise ship. Indeed, if you don't even want to sit through 7 minutes and 22 seconds just for about 30 seconds of Christopher Lee (however good those 30 seconds might be), his bits start at 02:52 and 04:48. Enjoy!

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