“Who is She ?” muses the singer of the title number in The Vengeance of She,
an incredible Hammer Films misfire from 1967. Well, as all you lovers
of British fantasy will doubtless be aware, ‘She’ is Ayesha, or at
least the reincarnation of Ayesha embodied the shapely person of Carol
(Olga Schoberova, billed as Olinka Berova, for reasons which I can’t
begin to fathom), a young tourist who is irrestistably drawn to the lost
city of Kuma, ruled by King Killikrates (Richardson). Carol is picked
up by a passing pleasure boat, where she meets the not especially
amusingly alcoholic George (Blakely), his cynical wife Sheila (Melford),
psychiatrist Philip (Judd) and a variety of anonymous crew members.
However, her quest for Kuma is not all it seems and the influence of an
evil priest must be conquered before she can return to her own life.
Now, the 1965 Hammer version of She isn’t at all bad. It’s not
really in the H.Rider Haggard vein, although Peter Cushing makes a
marvellous academic, but it’s entertainingly silly and features some
good set-pieces. The weakest link was the casting of John Richardson as
Killikrates. Richardson is a drag on the
film and by the conclusion you’re not desperate to ever see him again.
So it’s no surprise that, in this lower budget sequel, Richardson is the
only cast member to reappear. The film basically plods through a similar
plot to the original; journey to lost city, encounter exotic lost
tribe, enjoy a ropey special effects and a destructive conclusion… you
know the drill. It lacks a strong leading man to replace the implacable
presence of Cushing.
Edward Judd tries hard but is saddled with some
appalling expository dialogue - “I don’t want to force my help on you,
none of us do. But if you want help, just ask for it” - and some
psychiatric jargon to make him seem like a reasonably likely
headshrinker. Colin Blakely, always worth watching, does better with a
more interesting part and his sparring with his wife has something
resembling the spark of life even if it never quite seems believable.
Derek Godfrey and George Sewell inject a certain amount of vitality to
their scenes and if you stick with the film, you will be rewarded with a
brief appearance from the great Andre Morell - although that fine actor
was better served in the previous year’s Plague of the Zombies.
Most disappointing is the casting of Ms.Berova. A well-scrubbed European
blonde in the tradition of Brigitte Bardot, Yutte Stenssgaard, Elke
Sommer and tha woman from the Shake 'n' Vac ad, Berova tries hard but
simply can’t deliver dialogue in a manner which suggests anything is at
stake. This wouldn’t matter if all she had to do was look pretty but her
possession by Ayesha is the central plank of the plot and without a
convincing actress, it simply doesn’t hold the attention. On the poster,
she was described as “The ultimate female who used her beauty to bring
kingdoms to their downfall... and men to their knees!" but her presence
is so weak that it’s hard to think she wants to do anything to men
except wash up for them and possibly do the ironing.
A similar problem
arose, you may recall, when the marvellous Ingrid Pitt was replaced by
Yutte Stenssgaard in Lust For A Vampire. Hammer Horror or indeed
fantasy, only works when it’s performed by good actors who are giving
their all to the material. Christopher Lee and Peter Cushing are the
most fondly remembered of the Hammer stars because they never suggested
that the mediocre dialogue and flimsy sets were beneath their dignity.
They took the films for what they were and gave committed, intelligent
performances. The minute the Hammer films try to either undersell
themselves, send themselves up or go for trashy camp value, they fall
apart. This is occasionally fun - Dracula A.D.1972 is an unintentional joy – but is more often it’s simply tedious. The Vengeance of She is a case in point. It’s not exactly boring but it is far too long and lacking in anything to keep you engrossed.
It doesn’t help that the production team is very much from the B-List of Hammer talent. The splendid American poster art suggests something a
lot more interesting than we actually get and is an image – Berova
wielding a huge wip while wearing something she picked up at an Ann
Summers party – which is a damn sight more memorable than anything in
the film. The cinematographer Wolfgang Suschitzky lights everything in
much too even a fashion to create the requisite atmosphere in the
underground city and he seems much happier with the Mediterranean
exteriors towards the beginning of the film. Peter O’Donnell’s
screenplay is much too convoluted, stretching a relatively
straightforward plot out to an unconscionable length and showing little
of the stylish wit of his ‘Modesty Blaise’ novels. Most of the criticism
should, however, be placed on the shoulders of Cliff Owen.
One of the
most uninteresting British directors of the 20th Century, Owen never
made a film which is anything more than mediocre. Like other directors
of his ilk – Bob Kellet, John Robins – his shots have no imagination, he
can’t build suspense and he doesn’t seem at all interested in either
the visuals or the performances. He just points the camera and hopes
that it all goes alright. The only films of his which have anything
resembling worth are the ones where the characters or actors work
miracles with their dubious material – principally Steptoe And Son and the Arthur Lowe / Beryl Reid scenes in No Sex Please We’re British. After all, this is the man who managed the difficult task, in two films, of making Morecambe and Wise seem unfunny.
The Vengeance of She is a hard slog for any viewer who doesn’t
have a thing about Scandanavian blondes – and even they are likely to
lose their patience while the film tries to show off its unusually
lavish North African locations. Even by the standards of Hammer fantasy –
which, lets face it, are not all that high as a look at the bizarre The Lost Continent will confirm – it’s poor stuff.
Review Source: Mike Sutton
Images: Marcus Brooks
Review Source: Mike Sutton
Images: Marcus Brooks
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