Barry Forshaw

Three new studies of the cinema of the macabre each illuminate the fashion in which talented filmmakers have enriched and repurposed the genre: Gothic for Radicals: The Horror Films of Gordon Hessler and Christopher Wicking by Steve Haberman, The Cinema Coven: Witches, Witchcraft and Women’s Filmmaking by Alexandra Heller-Nicholas, and an entry in the ‘British Cult Cinema’ series, The Hammer Thriller by Bruce G. Hallenbeck. While each of these writers has their own individual take on the genre, they are united in the perceptiveness of their analysis and the individuality of their approach.

Steve Haberman is celebrated as one of the most perceptive commentators on the horror genre, and Gothic for Radicals, a study of the collaboration between two British filmmakers, director Gordon Hessler and screenwriter Christopher Wicking, is – at a stroke – the definitive study of the four original essays in the macabre that the duo made for the independent production company American International Pictures: The Oblong Box, Scream and Scream Again, Cry of the Banshee and the more Poe-based Murders in the Rue Morgue. Over lunches, this writer would discuss with the late Chris Wicking the making of his films (and Steve Haberman quotes the conversations with him I recorded in my British Gothic Cinema). Such discussions were often a wry commentary on how his work was compromised by the demands of the production company – Chris would never, for instance, claim that The Oblong Box was the film they both intended. But he was prepared to accept praise from people like myself that Scream and Scream Again was one of the most intriguing and complex entries in the genre – even though he would lament the interference that this film received. However, Wicking’s customary interest in investigating the darker recesses of the human psyche still leaves its imprint on this flawed but provocative film.

For this writer, it was in a little place off the Edgware Road (to quote Graham Greene) – in a long-vanished cinema – that I had a disquieting experience (but of a pleasurable kind), seeing, on its first run in 1970, Scream and Scream Again. Like most viewers of the day, I would have had a variety of expectations on entering the cinema: the producer was Milton Subotsky, behind the various Amicus anthology movies (of varying quality but always offering something of interest), while the film appeared under the American International umbrella (of which the same might be said). And then there was the cast, featuring the three most prestigious names in horror films of the day: Vincent Price, Christopher Lee and Peter Cushing. The scenario – as far as one could tell – concerned a vampiric killer wreaking havoc in London. All of this pointed to an intriguing hour and thirty-five minutes, no doubt along generic lines, but delivered with some panache. But while the second half of that sentence is true, the actual experience of the film is quite unlike anything most of the stars had been involved in before.

In Wicking’s screenplay for Scream and Scream Again, there were certainly the requisite horror elements, but the film is in fact science fiction. And in the numerous ways in which it both subverts the expectations aroused by the genre and even audaciously frustrates what might appear to be its own narrative trajectory, the film is in many respects a rule-breaker – it’s not hard to see why producer (and original writer) Milton Subotsky was unhappy with the result. And one of the pleasures afforded by the piece is not just the participation of the three starry principals (two of whom, while excellent, are essentially cameo players – their presence here is as much for marquee value as anything else). The central character is a tough, no-nonsense cop, Detective Superintendent Bellaver, played by the excellent British character actor Alfred Marks, for whom this is something of a career best. Having established him as a brusque protagonist, Wicking then proceeds to have him fall victim to one of the film’s superhuman killers – a Janet Leigh-like premature demise that leaves the audience gasping (and, what’s more, rather cast adrift). The police are on the trail of a young man (played by Michael Gothard) who is haunting the discotheques of London and is possibly the blood-drinking killer who has already committed murder (the first killing we see in the film is grimly squalid – nasty, unspecified things happening to a young woman in a suburban tunnel).

The sheer complexity of the various narratives here perhaps reflects the cineaste tastes of its creators. Christopher Wicking (who, like most of his generation, had grown up on the challenging films of Alain Resnais and Michelangelo Antonioni) was excited by the possibilities of non-linear narrative. But an alertness to developments in European art cinema was not the only characteristic that Wicking shared with director Gordon Hessler; both were well aware of the imperative that a science fiction/horror scenario such as this would have to deliver a specific source of evil and mayhem.

This is not to say that we’re talking about a perfectly realised, organic piece of work here. Like all films that attempt to reflect fashion trends, the look of the film (which was made in 1969) is now one of its less-endearing features, with the gaudy velvet jackets of some of the male characters and (in particular) the discotheque scenes looking notably dated. But the jittery combination of an arthouse ethos and almost continuous hyper-violence (not to mention female nudity in the autopsy scenes) makes for a peculiarly unique combination – one that is quite deliberately worrying in some aspects (such as the tricky S&M elements in the various murders).

‘Our efforts,’ Chris told me, ‘were not received well by our bosses (Milton simply didn’t get it), but I’m pleased to see that the reputation of the film continues to grow with the years. We subsequently worked on Cry of the Banshee (1970), but the final results were deeply compromised – and by this time, the high esteem in which we were held by AIP had become something different, and Gordon and I had to learn to guard our tongues. We had a notion of drawing modern political parallels with the Banshee script, but we realised we would have to keep that quiet.’

Steve Haberman’s persuasively written study of the Hessler/Wicking corpus of films is second to none, illuminating every nook and cranny while also setting the films in the context of genre cinema of the day – and pointing out how they repeatedly invert and repurpose familiar tropes. This, of course, will be no surprise to those familiar with Haberman’s trenchant commentaries for a wide variety of Blu-ray discs.

Similarly, Alexandra Heller-Nicholas is one of the most insightful commentators on genre cinema, both in her books and in her informed but approachable commentaries provided for Blu-ray discs. Her latest book, The Cinema Coven: Witches, Witchcraft and Women’s Filmmaking, supplies both a panoply of the treatment of witchcraft in the cinema and, pertinently, an analysis of the contribution of female filmmakers to the field. It is obviously a truism to say that the treatment of women in popular culture can reflect such things in wider society, and the subjugation of the female sex – which still holds sway in many areas today – is, and should be, an element in the examination of gender issues. Heller-Nicholas interprets with keen perception how the admixture of women and the supernatural can be used to interrogate gender issues, and the complexity of various presentations in horror films is ripe for study. Key films in this study include The Blair Witch Project, The Craft and Suspiria (both the original 1977 version and the 2018 remake), perceptively examined by Heller-Nicholas.

The initial chapter focuses on The Blair Witch Project, with its theme of a woman attempting to finish shooting a documentary. Daniel Myrick and Eduardo Sánchez’s film functions both as a flesh-creeping entertainment and – perhaps unwittingly – as an examination of the limits placed on female achievement. But, as the author says, if this film is anything to go by, becoming a film director is hardly a wise career path for young women; the distressed heroine accepts responsibility for what is happening to her and her male colleagues. ‘I was very naïve and very stupid and I shouldn’t put other people in danger; it was all about me and my selfish motives.’ But Heller-Nicholas avoids drawing a simplistic dichotomy between male oppression and female vulnerability; she is primarily concerned with female possibilities, and while the text is couched in ‘academic light’ mode, it is always intelligent and provocative.

It’s always a source of interest to UK writers like myself that American film critics such as Bruce G. Hallenbeck are such admirers of the very British products of Hammer Films, but perhaps the perspective granted by being across the ocean ensures that such books as Hallenbeck’s The Hammer Thriller are full of new insights. Hallenbeck’s book is an essential purchase for anyone interested in the thriller (as opposed to the horror film), a very particular byway of Hammer Films – but then that’s true of all three books discussed here. Hammer’s inconsistent, but often highly accomplished, black-and-white psychological horror subgenre began with the sublimely chilling Taste of Fear, directed by Seth Holt in 1961. A vulnerable young heroine (Susan Strasberg) is under extreme psychological strain, in a film that borrows from two prestigious exemplars – Clouzot’s Les Diaboliques (out of Boileau and Narcejac) and Hitchcock’s Psycho – and adopts the notion that mental illness (usually reluctantly described as schizophrenia) is the source of disturbed or violent behaviour. Seth Holt’s Taste of Fear remains the among the best: derivative, certainly, but with the director’s casual mastery of suspense effortlessly elevating the film above most similar fare. (Later entries, such as those directed by Freddie Francis – Nightmare (1964) and Paranoiac (1963) – are more fitfully successful but have their virtues.) Hallenbeck’s comprehensive study takes in both the early straightforward thrillers and lovingly celebrates every Hammer entry in this subgenre with the same mix of perception and enthusiasm that he brought to The Hammer Vampire and The Amicus Anthology.

Gothic for Radicals: The Horror Films of Gordon Hessler and Christopher Wicking by Steve Haberman is published by BearManor Media

The Cinema Coven: Witches, Witchcraft and Women’s Filmmaking by Alexandra Heller-Nicholas is published by McFarland

The Hammer Thriller by Bruce G. Hallenbeck is published by Hemlock Books

Barry Forshaw

HANNIE CAULDER, SHOUT AT THE DEVIL and ISLAND OF TERROR, various directors/88

Three films for which I provided booklet essays. The unusual Western Hannie Caulder (1971) is famous for its poster showing Raquel Welch sporting a poncho that suggests she is wearing nothing else but a gun belt, but the films also demonstrate the guiding hand of one of the most reliable directors in the history of the Western genre, the talented craftsman Burt Kennedy. The director of Shout at the Devil (starring Lee Marvin and Roger Moore) was the accomplished Peter Hunt, celebrated for the now-classic Bond film On Her Majesty’s Secret Service (1969), but the second unit director also had a 007 connection: he was the equally gifted John Glenn, who would go on to direct five Bond films. Island of Terror was produced by British expat Richard Gordon, also responsible for Fiend without a Face (directed by Arthur Crabtree in 1958), which similarly featured hideous – and murderous – mutations laying waste to a community. The finding of finance for Island of Terror was relatively easy, particularly with the confirmed presence of Hammer Films’ top horror star Peter Cushing, and the facilities of Pinewood Studios were made available along with the nearby forests of Black Park.

NOTHING IS SACRED: VIRIDIANA (1961), THE EXTERMINATING ANGEL and SIMON OF THE DESERT, Luis Buñuel, director/Radiance

Radiance has under its belt a bushel of reissues of cherished films, but this collection of three blistering classics directed by Luis Buñuel bids fair to be the company’s chef d’ouevre – and at least two of the Buñuel trio are generally considered to be among the provocative Spanish director’s greatest masterpieces, Viridiana and The Exterminating Angel. There was a time when admirers would go to the cinema for each new film from the Spanish master Buñuel (in his late period), assured of something highly sardonic and original. It’s good to report that – viewed in the 21st century – these provocative and irreverent slices of social satire remain as delightful as ever. The director’s partnership with producer Gustavo Alatriste and actress Silvia Pinal furnished forth three of his key masterpieces: Viridiana(1961), The Exterminating Angel (1962) and Simon of the Desert (1965). Presented here in new restorations, these films remain as sublime as ever, showcasing Buñuel’s gift for startling imagery and a thoroughgoing surrealist sensibility. The discs include appreciations from Richard Ayoade, Alex Cox, Guillermo del Toro and Lulu Wang, an archival interview with Buñuel, as well as three feature documentaries. Radiance’s Nothing Is Sacred: Three Heresies from Luis Buñuel is a crucial buy for cinéastes.

COLUMBIA HORROR: BEHIND THE MASK, John Francis Dillon, director (1932)/BLACK MOON, Roy William Neill, director (1934)/AIR HAWKS, Albert S Rogell, director (1935)/ISLAND OF DOOMED MEN, Charles Barton, director (1940)/CRY OF THE WEREWOLF, Henry Levin, director (1944)/THE SOUL OF A MONSTER, Will Jason, director (1944)/Indicator

Once again, the enterprising Indicator outfit has come up with a truly tempting array of horror (and horror-related) rarities, collected in a handsome box. On this occasion there has been a raid on the vaults of Columbia Pictures, and the result is a disparate assemblage of items starring such luminaries of the genre as Ralph Bellamy, Nina Foch and a trio of horror film greats: Boris Karloff, Peter Lorre and Fay Wray. This three-disc set heralds the UK Blu-ray premiere of all six films and sports a brace of tempting extras, including newly recorded commentaries. Another winner for Indicator.

COOKING PRICE-WISE: VINCENT PRICE/BFI

While many actors fade from view as the years since their death increase, others remain utterly iconic – and few more so than the great horror actor Vincent Price, as this disc attests. Price’s well-remembered TV cookery show deserves to find a new audience, even among those who may not share Price’s culinary tastes. Previously unreleased in any format, it arrives on Blu-ray courtesy of BFI Flipside. The copious extras include a new interview with the actor’s daughter Victoria Price, new audio commentaries, Jenny Hammerton preparing classic Price dishes and more. In the 1970s, while Vincent Price was on a sojourn in England making a variety of films, the actor found time to work on this six-part television series, with his genial and civilised presence making him the perfect host for a show designed to lead British cooking in a more innovative direction.

VIXEN, SUPERVIXENS and BENEATH THE VALLEY OF THE ULTARAVIXENS, Russ Meyer, director/Severin

This trio of tongue-in-cheek erotica is shot through with the sardonic humour that is so characteristic of its taboo-busting director, and apart from the charms of the pneumatic actress Erica Gavin, this set includes nine hours of bonus materials illuminating each film’s historic critical and commercial fortunes, nationwide censorship battles and notoriety as landmark American independent films.

EL VAMPIRO: THE VAMPIRE (El vampiro, 1957)/THE VAMPIRE’S COFFIN (El ataúd del vampiro, 1958), Fernando Méndez, director/Indicator

El Vampiro: Two Bloodsucking Tales from Mexico collects a vampiric duo drawn from the under-explored field of Mexican Gothic, directed by Fernando Méndez (Black Pit of Dr. M) and starring one of the best-known names in the field, Abel Salazar (celebrated for such films as The Curse of the Crying Woman). These films appeared a year before Hammer’s Dracula, so cannot be said to be inspired by that groundbreaking take on Bram Stoker’s evil count. Restored from the original negatives, these films finally receive their Blu-ray world premieres.

HORRIBLE HISTORY: MARCO POLO, THE PIRATE, BOXER REBELLION and FOUR RIDERS, Chang Cheh, director/Eureka

Long celebrated as the godfather of Hong Kong cinema, Chang Cheh was responsible for nearly a hundred films for the celebrated Shaw Brothers Studio, and the four historical epics collected here are a testament to his versatility. The director’s trademarks are kinetic action and eye-popping production design – both characteristics well to the fore in this selection of films.

THE ESCAPEES, Jean Rollin, director/Indicator

Once dismissed as a purveyor of softcore porn horror, the director Jean Rollin has acquired an ever-growing army of admirers, seduced by his bizarre and surreal mix of erotic and the macabre, and this venture into a Parisien demimonde will increase their number. As two young women encounter a series of increasingly disturbing adversaries, Rollin’s trademark visuals are given a thorough workout. In this pinprick-sharp 4K transfer, Rollin’s work has never been shown to such good advantage.

DEMOLITION MAN, Marco Brambilla, director/Arrow

Aficionados of the all-stops-out action film might be forgiven for expecting that this Sylvester Stallone outing would be standard material for the genre, but this witty and futuristic entry proved to be something special – not least for its direction and production design. In terms of casting, the real achievement of the film is not its leading man (Stallone on standard form as a relentless cop) but its relishable supporting players: Wesley Snipes as the psychopathic villain released from cryogenic freezing in the future – Snipes plays the character at a manic level not a million miles away from various iterations of Batman’s nemesis the Joker – and Sandra Bullock in a star-making role as the quirky future policewoman working with Stallone’s character. It’s great fun.

THE SECRET OF NIMH, Don Bluth, director/Eureka

This ambitious attempt to steal the animation crown from market leader Disney has acquired a cult following over the years with its affecting tale of love and courage utilising eye-popping cell animation. The voice cast, too, adds lustre, with everyone from British character actress Hermione Baddeley to American master of the macabre John Carradine.

THE BLAIR WITCH PROJECT, Eduardo Sanchez and Daniel Myrick, directors/Second Sight

A recommendation for this groundbreaking found-footage chiller is totally redundant – it’s the film that launched an entire genre, and it has never looked better than in this new 4K transfer.

TANK GIRL, Rachel Talalay, director/Eureka

This adaptation of the celebrated British comic charcter was controversially received on its first appearance, but this splendid transfer gives you the chance to decide if the film was initially undervalued. Certainly, the package presented here could not be more impressive, with Lori Petty’s punky heroine and the megalomaniac villain played in his ripest style by Malcolm McDowell.