KISS OF THE VAMPIRE: REVIEW AND GALLERY : HAMMER FILMS

PRODUCTION:

Director – Don Sharp, Screenplay – John Elder [Anthony Hinds], Producer – Anthony Hinds, Photography – Alan Hume, Music – James Bernard, Special Effects – Les Bowie, Makeup – Roy Ashton, Production Design – Bernard Robinson. Production Company – Hammer films. UK 1962

CAST:

Edward de Souza (Gerald Harcourt), Jennifer Daniel (Marianne Harcourt), Clifford Evans (Professor Zimmer), Noel Willman (Dr Ravna), Barry Warren (Carl Ravna), Jacqui Wallis (Sabena), Isobel Black (Tania), Peter Maddern (Bruno), Noel Howlett (Father Xavier)

SYNOPSIS:

The early part of the century. Gerald Harcourt and his newlywed wife Marianne are passing through Bavaria on their honeymoon when their car breaks down. They seek refuge in the local village where the locals seem very superstitious and fearful. They are befriended by the wealthy and charming Dr Ravna who invites them to a masque at the Chateau Ravna. Gerald passes out drunk and when he wakes in the morning he finds that Marianne is missing. Both Ravna and the entire village deny any trace of her existence. The only person who will help him is the embittered Professor Zimmer and so Gerald bands together with him to rescue Marianne from being claimed by Ravna’s vampire coven.

COMMENTARY:
Kiss of the Vampire is one of the more interesting vampire films to come out of Hammer Films during the 1960s. It was made in the period after Hammer had had their huge initial international success with Dracula/The Horror of Dracula (1958). For several years after that, Christopher Lee refused to return to the part of Dracula, determining to establish himself as a serious actor first. The period saw The Brides of Dracula (1960), which tried to be a Dracula film without having Christopher Lee or any Dracula present.

Kiss of the Vampire interestingly enough had begun life as another tentative Christopher Lee-less Dracula film. Hammer then decided to make it an original film that would not be dependent on such a notable absence at its center and such connections were written out.

Kiss of the Vampire is an interesting effort. It has been aptly called a vampire version of Alfred Hitchcock’s The Lady Vanishes (1938) – a film that Hammer later directly remade in 1979. Producer Anthony Hinds sets up a fair and reasonable script, better than most of the later Dracula sequels. The focus is not so much the hardly interesting married couple but the two opposing figures of good and evil fighting on either side of the film – Noel Willman who plays the vampire with glacial stolidity but alas lacks any real charismatic presence, and Clifford Evans who plays the vampire hunter with a brooding harshness. Kiss of the Vampire also comes filled with several other intriguing performances packed around the sides, most notably from Barry Warren as Ravna’s very weird son and Barbara Steele-lookalike Isobel Black as the innkeeper’s vampirised daughter who one wishes had been given more screen time.

Don Sharp’s handling sometimes falters but he is aided considerably by the sumptuous production values of all early Hammer films, which buoy the film up, most notably during the beautifully staged masque sequence. [The masque scenes were later wittily parodied in Roman Polanski’s The Fearless Vampire Killers/Dance of the Vampires (1967)]. There is an unusual climax featuring hordes of attacking vampire bats (a sequence that had originally been intended as the climax of The Brides of Dracula), which falters slightly through merely adequate effects.

Kiss of the Vampire was the genre debut of Australian-born Don Sharp who later became a regular director within the British horror industry making the likes of Witchcraft (1964), Curse of the Fly (1965), the first two of the Christopher Lee Fu Manchu series The Face of Fu Manchu (1965) and The Brides of Fu Manchu (1966), Hammer’s Rasputin The Mad Monk (1966), the period sf comedy Jules Verne’s Rocket to the Moon/Those Fantastic Flying Fools/Blast Off (1967), the psycho-thriller Dark Places (1972), the undead biker film Psychomania (1973) and the lost world film Secrets of the Phantom Caverns/What Waits Below (1984).

Kiss of the Vampire exists in two different versions, the original cinematic and video release. Kiss of Evil is a cut version for tv, which adds additional scenes taken from Hammer’s The Evil of Frankenstein (1964).

REVIEW:Richard Scheib  Here

HAMMER FILMS: THE DEVIL SHIP PIRATES : HANGINGS FLOGGINGS AND SWORDPLAY

16^th century England: a pirate ship fighting with the Spanish Armada is damaged and needs to dock for repairs.  The devious Captain Robeles convinces the gullible villagers that the English have been defeated and that they must acquiesce to their new leaders …

The clever script by Jimmy Sangster offers a reversal of a similar plot device found in Hammer’s earlier war film, The Camp of Blood Island.  Whereas the earlier film dealt with a group of POWs trying to prevent their Japanese captors from discovering that the Allies have won the war in order to prevent being wiped out in retaliation, here the pirates trade on the villagers being cut off from society by telling them that they have won the battle and are therefore now in charge.  As usual for Sangster, there isn’t a tremendous amount of depth to the characters, but they serve their function effectively enough as archetypes.  Robles is a properly dastardly villain, while village lad Harry fulfills the role of hero with a rebellious streak.

The film benefits from solid production values and expert direction from Don Sharp.  Sharp was well known for his ability to stage action scenes and this is certainly evident here.  He also makes excellent use of the widescreen frame and the lighting by the gifted Michael Reed helps to sell the illusion of this being a bigger film than it really was.  Bernard Robinson’s sets and the art direction by Don Mingaye is up to their normal standards of excellence, too, though Gary Hughes score feels a bit limp and generic.

Like so many Hammer films, the film succeeds in large part due to the quality of its acting.  Christopher Lee is every bit as impressive here as he was in The Pirates of Blood River.  Robeles is comparatively suave and fiery, befitting both the actor and the character’s Latin disposition.  Lee effortlessly dominates the film, throwing away sinister bon mots of dialogue without resorting to melodramatic overstatement.  He also gets plenty of opportunities to show off his facility with sword fighting.  The supporting cast includes good roles for such reliable character actors as Andrew Keir, Philip Latham, Duncan Lamont and Michael Ripper.

Ripper may not be the most ideal casting for a Spanish pirate imaginable, but he and Lee have great chemistry and he makes for an endearingly impish presence.  Keir’s role isn’t nearly as memorable as his character in Blood River, but he brings considerable presence to it, just the same, while Latham proves to be as effective in aympathetic role as he would be in a more sinister context as Lee’s faithful servant, Klove, in Dracula Prince of Darkness (1965).

The hero is played by John Cairney, but he can’t hope to compete with Lee in terms of presence and charisma.  More interesting is Barry Warren, fresh off of playing a memorably arch vampire in Sharp’s The Kiss of the Vampire (1963), who brings a dash of sympathy to his role as the Spanish nobleman who crosses swords (literally and figuratively) with the despotic Robeles.

The female side is represented by Suzan Farmer, as the village girl that Robeles sets his lecherous sights on, and a young Natasha Pyne, who is memorable as Harry’s spunky sister, Jane.  Farmer, of course, would be reunited with Lee on Dracula Prince of Darkness and Rasputin the Mad Monk (1966), while Pyne would go on to co-star with Vincent Price, Peter Cushing and Robert Quarry in the Amicus/AIP hodgepodge Madhouse (1972).

The Devil-Ship Pirates did solid business but Hammer would move away from films of this sort, perhaps because they required a little more production value than their usual stage bound Gothic horrors.  Part of the decision may have stemmed from the fact that Hammer constructed a mock up ship for the film which proved to be problematic, to say the least.  The money spent is all on screen, however, ensuring that the film holds up as a fun slice of Saturday matinee entertainment. 

Written by Troy Howarth

Images and Design: Marcus Brooks

SOCK IT TO ME SUNDAY AT UK PETER CUSHING APPRECIATION SOCIETY : WIN SETS OF HAMMER SOCKS

A bit of fun for tomorrow @ the UK Peter Cushing Appreciation Society Facebook Fan Page Hammer Socks! Sock It To Me Sunday! Ten sets to win. Three pairs of socks in a set depicting Christopher Lee as the creature in 'The Curse Of Frankenstein' and Count Dracula in 'Dracula' (1958) and 'Taste The Blood Of Dracula' (1970)

CHRISTOPHER LEE: FRANKENSTEIN 'IT WAS AS SIMPLE AS THAT..'

'HE WHO ROBS THE GRAVES OF EGYPT DIES!' THE MUMMY HAMMER FILMS (1959)

Hammer Films 'The Mummy' Starring Peter Cushing as John Banning, Christopher Lee as Kharis and Yvonne Furneaux as Isobel. Directed by Terence Fisher and produced at Bray Studios. Shooting Production: February 25th until April 16th 1959.

Hammer Films 'The Mummy' Starring Peter Cushing as John Banning, Christopher Lee as Kharis and Yvonne Furneaux as Isobel. Directed by Terence Fisher and produced at Bray Studios. Shooting Production: February 25th until April 16th 1959.

Hammer Films 'The Mummy' Starring Peter Cushing as John Banning, Christopher Lee as Kharis and Yvonne Furneaux as Isobel. Directed by Terence Fisher and produced at Bray Studios. Shooting Production: February 25th until April 16th 1959.

'THE MAN WHO COLLECTED POE' TROY HOWARTH REVIEWS CUSHING AND PALANCE IN AMICUS FILMS 'TORTURE GARDEN'

CAST:

Burgess Meredith (Dr Diablo). Enoch:- Michael Bryant (Colin Williams), Maurice Denham (Uncle Roger). Terror Over Hollywood:- Beverly Adams (Carla Hayes), Robert Hutton (Bruce Benton), John Phillips (Eddie Storm), David Bauer (Mike Charles), Bernard Kay (Dr Helm). Mr Steinway:- Barbara Ewing (Dorothy Endicott), John Standing (Leo). The Man Who Collected Poe:- Jack Palance (Ronald Wyatt), Peter Cushing (Lancelot Canning) 

PRODUCTION:

Director – Freddie Francis, Screenplay – Robert Bloch, Based on his Short Stories, Producers – Max J. Rosenberg & Milton Subotsky, Photography – Norman Warwick, Music – Don Banks & James Bernard, Makeup – Jill Carpenter, Art Direction – Don Mingaye & Scott Simon. Production Company – Amicus. 

Given the box office success of Dr. Terror’s House of Horrors (1964), it may seem surprising that it took producers Max Rosenberg and Milton Subotsky several years to light upon the idea of delivering another horror film in the same vein. They had explored sci-fi via a pair of juvenile Dr. Who vehicles, and had explored horror in various forms via such Robert Bloch properties as The Skull (1965), The Psychopath (1966) and The Deadly Bees (1966), but somehow they had failed to capitalize upon the box office potential of the anthology format. The tide changed when they enlisted Bloch to pen a new anthology, which was then envisioned as another vehicle for Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee. Things changed a bit when Columbia Pictures was enlisted to infuse some much needed financing, but the film’s box office takings persuaded Subotsky and Rosenberg to direct much of their energy to further multi-story offerings for the remainder of their partnership.

Things kick off with a splendid slice of grotesquerie starring Michael Bryant, Maurice Denham and Niall MacGinnis. There are no end titles, and as such there are no official on camera segment titles, but this segment is known as “Enoch,” and it casts Bryant as a ne’er-do-well who seeks to cash in on his uncle’s demise by using the old man’s money to get himself out of debt. Little does Bryant realize that the money carries a witches curse, and the witches familiar - a black cat - has every intention of seeing this legacy fulfilled. Director Freddie Francis slathers on the atmosphere with moody lighting and interesting camera angles; it marks one of his most successfully realized mood pieces, and helps to get the film off on the right foot. Bryant, who had not long prior “finished” filming a lead role for Orson Welles (in a project destined to be uncompleted, unfortunately) and was already established as one of the notable “leading lights” of the British theatre, gives an excellent performance in the lead, and it’s fun to see Maurice Denham and Niall MacGinnis reunited, as it were, from Jacques Tourneur’s magnificent Night of the Demon (1957).

The quality dips sharply in the next two segments, unfortunately. First up is “Terror Over Hollywood,” in which grasping wannabe starlet Beverly Adams unwittingly sells her soul for fame and fortune, and then “Mr. Steinway” tells the tale of how Barbara Ewing (Dracula Has Risen from the Grave) falls victim to - wait for it - a possessed piano. The former is dreadfully dull, done up in a bland, smothering “lite jazz” score by Don Banks, while the latter is simply too silly for words. Kudos to Francis for trying to make the latter halfway credible, but all the gel lighting and canted angles in the world can’t shake the silliness from the basic concept

In the grand tradition of saving the best for last, the film wraps up with “The Man Who Collected Poe” - it is for this, fellow Cushing fans, that we are here assembled. The segment stars Jack Palance as the most obsessive collector this side of, well, Peter Cushing in The Skull. Determined to avail himself of some of the “treasures” of fellow fanatic Cushing, he decides to play dirty - but may or may not live to pay the price.

 The segment allowed Cushing his only chance to share scenes with Hollywood heavyweight Jack Palance, who was then about to enter something of a dry spell with appearances in numerous B and Z grade productions. Even so, he already had an Oscar nomination (for Shane) under his belt, and the Golden God would become his in the future, thanks to his career-rehabilitating turn as Curly in the audience friendly family comedy City Slickers (1992). Palance was as intense as he was imposing - standing a full 6’ 4”, and built like a tank, he had been a boxer and a decorated WWII veteran before turning his sights to acting. Palance had the face of a heavy, and he knew it - far from resenting it, he capitalized on it and turned it in to an advantage. Palance wasn’t afraid of hamming it up, and it seems that on occasion a fondness for the bottle took its toll on his work (witness his turn as the head of a strange religious sect in director Jess Franco’s Justine, 1969, for a truly “bombed” appearance), but more often than not he was able to inject substance and interest into even the least defined of characterizations.

Torture Garden afforded Palance one of his few truly good horror genre roles. The character of Ronald Wyatt is a fanatic extraordinaire - his sheer giddiness and glee at handling the various items in Cushing’s collection of Poe memorabilia may seem over the top to some, but if you ever get a chance to attend, say, a horror film convention, you’ll realize it’s not far from the truth. Palance doesn’t underplay the part, but it’s not a role that calls for understatement, either. Wyatt is something of a functioning junkie, though his addiction is Poe rather than any illicit substance. Palance nails this aspect of the character with ease, and he never seems to be playing down to the audience.

As one might expect, Cushing’s performance as his “rival” collector, Lancelot Canning, is more reserved. Even so, he also manages to express the character’s almost orgasmic love of his collection - handling the items with tenderness, talking of them as one might of a lost love, and also reveling in the fact that he has the upper hand on his American colleague. The two actors also display a real chemistry, and play off of each other very well. When Palance first visits Cushing’s home, for example, the former is so overcome with excitement that he can barely focus on the formal pleasantries. Ever the gracious host, Cushing offers a choice of drinks - upon saying “whiskey,” Palance blurts out an eager “yes,” and then Cushing proceeds to offer sherry as an alternative, whereupon Palance continues with “yes, thank you!” Wyatt is clearly not even paying attention, and Cushing’s sly double take manages to convey a sense of amusement without milking the scene for laughter. The two men then proceed to virtually worship at a portait of the late author, hanging in Cushing’s salon. Canning offers a pithy analysis of Poe’s genius, while Wyatt silently, somewhat mockingly, sizes him up. It’s clear early on that he realizes that he’s bigger, tougher and more cunning than his “opponent,” and if he doesn’t exactly have murder on his mind, he is nevertheless bound and determined to see the full extent of Canning’s collection. Wyatt plies Canning with alcohol, affording Cushing a rare chance to play “drunk” on screen. Cushing does so without resorting to over the top theatrics, subtly slurring his words but not going for slapstick in the process. The episode basically plays out as something of a bizarre ritual, as the two men, unified in a common obsession, test and tease each other, each itching to come out on top as the ultimate fanatic.

Here, as elsewhere, Francis directs with a keen eye for the visual. He offers a wide variety of interesting camera set ups, ratcheting the tension as Palance’s obsession tilts from barely contained to positively dangerous. He elicits excellent performances from his actors, and the pace is taut, with no longeurs to complain of. This stands in contrast to Subotsky’s allegations that Francis was good with visuals, but lousy with story - thus prompting the producer to perpetuate the myth that he salvaged much of his work in the editing room, a claim which Francis strenuously objected to.

Interestingly, this marked the only time that Amicus hired Hammer’s in house composer James Bernard to pen the soundtrack. Bernard sat out the Terror Over Hollywood segment, allowing Don Banks to deliver a more “modern” sound apropos to the subject matter, but his contributions to “Enoch” and “The Man Who Collected Poe” are strongly felt. Perhaps because of the fact that he didn’t score the film as a whole, it’s a score that doesn’t generate much attention among his fans - but truly, it deserves more appreciation. As in the best of his Hammer scores, Bernard’s music not only complements the mood - it helps to elevate it where needed.

Ultimately, Torture Garden is an uneven picture. Two segments work, two segments don’t - and on this level, it’s hard to give it a full endorsement. Fans of British horror would be remiss to skip those two key segments that do work, however, as they offer all the attributes one associates with the golden age of British horror filmmaking.