TROY HOWARTH PHANTOM OF THE OPERA HAMMER FILMS: REVIEW AND GALLERY

Of all the films directed by Terence Fisher, Phantom of the Opera, apart from being one of the most controversial, comes closest to fulfilling his desire to helm a love story in the Frank Borzage mold. Wistful, delicate and almost entirely devoid of 'horror', the film was a critical and financial flop in 1962 and it remains hotly debated to this day. Fisher enthusiasts tend to embrace it as one of the director's best films, while others deride it as tedious. Reportedly developed as a vehicle for Cary Grant (though sources vary on what role he was intended to play – it seems unlikely that they would have stuck the biggest star they ever netted behind a mask, so he likely was intended to play the role of the hero), this unusually genteel adaptation of Gaston Leroux's novella works very well as a drama and less persuasively as a horror picture. Compared to other versions of the story, it is neither the most faithful nor is it the most far-afield of the original concept. I would argue that it is, ultimately, the best film as a whole out of the whole slew of filmic adaptations, but I would be in the minority on that point.

The film lacks the memorable Phantom makeup of Lon Chaney in the 1925 silent version, but the point of Fisher's take on the story is that the Phantom isn't a villain to be despised — he's a sympathetic, misunderstood and abused figure. In order to remove all the horrific deeds from the character, screenwriter Hinds devised a dwarf sidekick (Ian Wilson) to do all the dirty work, whether it be accidentally breaking the chandelier that plays a role in the finale or stabbing a rat-catcher (The Omen’s Patrick Troughton) in the eye.

The few flashes of horror do feel a trifle grafted on, notably the sequence with the rat-catcher. There is no real motivation for this action, making the dwarf character seem more psychotic than the bulk of the narrative seems to suggest that he is. An earlier moment, with the Phantom disrupting a performance of his opera by thrusting a hanged man onto the stage, is more satisfactory but still jars with the overall tone of the film.

The most problematic aspect of the film is the Salieri-like character of Lord Ambrose, played to reptilian perfection by Michael Gough (Dracula). The problem isn't with Gough, who is superb, but with the resolution of his character — but the problem goes beyond just his character to the very end of the film itself. Having been established as a complete and utter swine who steals the Phantom's music and attempts to force his advances on Christine, he is set up as a villain of epic proportions. Yet, when the Phantom confronts him, all we get is Gough ripping the mask from his face and running off in fright. What happens then? Does he get away scot-free, and if so, why? And if he does indeed get some kind of comeuppance, what exactly is it?

Fisher and Hinds lose sight of this as the film moves rapidly to a close — the villain's fate left unresolved, the film then sets about disposing of its tragic protagonist in a somewhat hasty manner. As Christine performs the Phantom's masterpiece to an appreciative audience, Fisher includes one of his trademark sensitive touches — a close-up of the Phantom's eye as tears stream down his cheek. However, the dwarf accidentally breaks the chandelier and the Phantom leaps to save Christine from being crushed, only to be crushed himself. All this happens so quickly and suddenly, with the Phantom taking time to rather pointlessly remove his mask so that we can get a perfunctory look at his scars (a decent makeup job from Roy Ashton).

So much of the film is so good and so sensitively handled, and yet Fisher and Hinds really drop the ball in these last 10-15 minutes. Were they running behind schedule? Was there more material intended to go in to this section of film that they simply couldn't film? It's hard to say, but the fact remains that what could have been Fisher's masterpiece suffers as a result of such thoughtless hastiness.

Clearly designed to reach a wider audience than their earlier horror films, Phantom has impressive production values. The decision to switch the setting to the London Opera House was a practical one, and the settings and set dressings are nicely rendered throughout. Reportedly shot on a higher than usual budget, it doesn't necessarily put the earlier run of Hammer films to shame for the simple reason that Arthur Grant's cinematography isn't as impressive as Jack Asher's. Grant creates some impressive images here and there, but overall his approach is more realistic than lyrical, thus clashing somewhat with the mood Fisher is trying so hard to maintain.

While not unattractive, his lighting has a pedestrian quality to it that detracts from the mood somewhat. Edwin Astley's score is more on the money, though the Opera snippets aren't exactly high art. (In fairness, the actual music is very nice... the lyrics, however, could have benefited from some polishing.)

The cast is, once again, first rate. Herbert Lom is absolutely brilliant as the Phantom. He makes for a credibly eerie presence — there are some marvelous shots of him lurking in the shadows — but he goes beyond being a stereotypical bogeyman to become a tragic hero. Lom handles the neurotic aspects of the character without overacting and is even granted a nice flashback sequence to show the audience, approximately, what he really looks like. Certainly, Christopher Lee let it be known that he thought that he should have been cast in the part, especially as he was chomping at the bit to do some singing on screen; never mind that the Phantom doesn’t actually sing!  For whatever reason, Hammer elected to go against the grain and cast somebody without a reputation for doing horror films in the role – but did it do the film any favors commercially?  Hard to say.  It would seem that after Grant dropped out of the project they simply sought to find somebody "fresh" and free of horror connotations, perhaps in the hope of selling the film to a wider audience. Supporting Lom is a fine gallery of character actors.

Heather Sears (The Black Torment), another odd choice for a Hammer leading woman, being neither conventionally sexy or particularly curvacrous, gives a sensitive performance as Christine. She credibly conveys her character's iron will while also displaying her more vulnerable qualities. Edward DeSouza, who would go on to overact rather shamelessly in The Kiss of the Vampire, makes for a likable romantic lead, while Gough steals his scenes with ripely overplayed villainy and lechery. Fisher favorite Thorley Walters (Frankenstein Must Be Destroyed) is also on hand as Gough's meek business associate, while Michael Ripper (Plague of the Zombies), Miles Malleson (The Hound of the Baskervilles), Harold Goodwin (The Mummy) and others pop up in smaller supporting roles.

Don’t let the snarky reviews put you off, but don’t go in expecting a conventional Hammer Horror, either.  Phantom of the Opera is a key Terence Fisher film and it deserves to find a wider audience.

Review Troy Howarth
Gallery: Marcus Brooks

THE HAUNTED WORLD OF MARIO BAVA: BLACKBOXCLUB TALKS TO AUTHOR TROY HOWARTH

So, what is the Bava style? Is there one? How would you or can you put him in to a category?

His style is hard to put into words.  He was, first and foremost, a very visual artist.  He conveyed volumes of information through imagery.  Barbara Steele said he would have made a terrific silent filmmaker and she’s quite right.  But there’s a common misconception that people who are aggressively visual are awkward when it comes to story and so forth.  I think he was a tremendous story teller, truthfully.  He was able to convey things with great economy and his films were, I think, quite lucid and easy to follow.  I guess you could describe his style – at least up until the early 70s – as Baroque.  After that, he embraced a more realistic aesthetic… but the point of view remained the same. As to category… I guess it’s fair to call him a genre director – but not exclusively horror.  He spread his talents over different genres.  He made westerns, sci-fi, comedies… he did a little bit of everything – and he did it mostly very well.

What is his defining film? 

It’s not my favorite, but there’s no escaping the impact that Black Sunday had on his career. It was his first “official” film as a director. What I mean by that is, he had completed other films without credit, even a couple basically from the get-go, but this was the first time he was a credited director.  He was very reluctant to make the leap to directing, thinking he didn’t have the talent for it.

How did he come into film making? 

He entered in the 30s, and was initially responsible for designing the Italian titles sequences of various Hollywood imports.  He liked doing this job but needed to earn more money to support his wife and children, so he gradually made the transition to cinematography.  He learned a great many tricks from his father – Eugenio Bava.  Eugenio designed FX and did camerawork on Italian films of the silent era.  Mario developed a passion for trick shots early on and would become much sought-after in this capacity.

His background?

Mario had wanted to be a painter, but realized it was a very unpredictable field – and again, lacked faith in his abilities.  He was a very self-doubting person in many respects.  He knew he was a good technician, but as a director he always minimized his talents.  Indeed, it can be said that he sabotaged himself by basically denigrating his own work on those rare occasions when he granted interviews.  I think that he liked being anonymous and as such avoided any attempts that writers would make towards putting him forward as a “serious” artist.  I mean seriously, how many people would call their work “bullshit” in interviews?  Many should, perhaps, but would never dare!

Who did he work with from other fields and film types?

He and Roberto Rossellini began together – Bava shot Rossellini’s first documentary film.  He also photographed films for G.W. Pabst, Jacques Tourneur and Raoul Walsh, among others.  They were all impressed with him.  Walsh essentially said that if the industry had more people like Bava, it would be a lot better off.

What were his successes and failures?

Depends on how you quality success and failure.  Most of Bava’s films failed commercially in Italy, and much of his work failed to secure much distribution in the 70s.  He made two very personal “pet projects” back to back in the 70s – Lisa and the Devil and Rabid Dogs.  They were very different films.  Lisa was a very arty project, while Rabid Dogs was an attempt at a gritty thriller designed to reestablish himself as a presence in the Italian film scene.  They both ended up being major disappointments.  Lisa couldn’t secure distribution, so it was later reedited with some new footage as House of Exorcism. Bava reluctantly shot some of the new material before leaving to work on Rabid Dogs.  Rabid Dogs fell into legal turmoil when the producer died and the money dried up; it would sit on the shelf until long after Bava’s death.  These two experiences were especially dispiriting for him.  In the international scene, he scored major successes with Black Sunday and Black Sabbath.  Diabolik was a big film for him – a Dino De Laurentiis production with stars and a generous budget… but he hated being micromanaged and resisted further offers to work with De Laurentiis again.  He preferred making small films with low budgets and total creative freedom.  But even on Diabolik, he managed to retain control – he brought the film in very much under budget.  Producers loved him and trusted him.

Was he open to criticism?

He was certainly open to collaboration and would welcome ideas and contributions… his films were not well reviewed as a rule, and he would laugh this off – but those who knew him said that it did bother him.  He put a lot of heart and hard work into his films.  But he wasn’t seen as “intellectual” by the press, so his work was dismissed as trash.  He was very devoted to his father but, reading between the lines of various comments, it seems that Eugenio was rather hard on him.  I think this stayed with him.

Who influenced him and who did he influence? 

He wasn’t overly influenced by many filmmakers that I can see.  I see a bit of Cocteau here and there… but in general, his influences were more literary, believe it or not.  He was a voracious reader and he adored Russian literature, especially of a fantastic nature.  He certainly loved Charlie Chaplin, however.  Who did he influence?  Quite a few, ranging from Dario Argento and Joe Dante to Martin Scorsese and William Friedkin.  Scorsese, Friedkin and Quentin Tarantino have all singled him out for special praise.  You can see elements of Bava in Scorsese’s Shutter Island and Cape Fear, for example, while Dante’s recent film The Hole contained an explicit homage.  Fellini also borrowed from Bava – the image of the ghostly girl in Kill Baby Kill! inspired his short film Toby Dammit, which was part of the Edgar Allan Poe anthology, Spirits of the Dead.  The critics may not have taken him seriously, but people like Fellini and Visconti certainly did.

Who did he prefer to work with, actors, crews?

He wasn’t crazy about actors as a general rule, though he became friendly with some of them.  He became a bit embittered towards Barbara Steele when she passed on The Whip and the Body – he thought she was becoming snooty about genre films as she had just done 8 ½ for Fellini, but then she did Castle of Blood for Antonio Margheriti.  I think he saw it as a bit of an affront and would make some uncharacteristically catty comments about her in later interviews.  That wasn’t like him in general, so I think that irked him and he misunderstood what had happened.  He liked Cameron Mitchell immensely.  He adored Boris Karloff.  He must have liked Christopher Lee, as he used him twice – and was set to use him again on a project that fell through.  He loved Daria Nicolodi.  He used a couple of character actors numerous times: Gustavo De Nardo and Luciano Pigozzi.  But he was most comfortable with his crew.  His son Lamberto assisted him for many years.  He used his father on his films up until his death in 1966.  He was very loyal to his crew.

Tell me about the music in his work..

Not much has been written about his use of sound and music, which is a pity.  He used certain composers a lot – Roberto Nicolosi and Carlo Rustichelli come to mind.  I think he liked working with them and responded to what they brought to it.  Many of his films were rescored when American International acquired the English language rights.  You only have to hear the soundtracks they did without his input to realize how carefully he used music – and more importantly, silence! – in his films.  A great many of his films have marvelous soundtracks.  He only did one film with Ennio Morricone, sadly, but it was a great collaboration: Diabolik.  I can’t say for sure, but I think he may have been the first director to have used a rock song in a horror or thriller context.  I’m thinking of the use of “Furore” by Adriano Celentano over the titles of The Girl Who Knew Too Much.  Dario Argento would get a lot of credit for this later, on Deep Red and Suspiria, but Bava beat him to the punch.  He would also use a rock song at the end of Five Dolls for an August Moon.  But the piece of music he was most obsessive about in a certain film was “Concerto d’Aranjuez” which he played on the set of Lisa and the Devil – the Paul Mauriat arrangement is used extensively in the finished film, and it suits the melancholy mood beautifully.

Your top three Bava films? 

Lisa and the Devil, The Whip and the Body and Blood and Black Lace.

Was there anything he wanted to do but did get around to, unfulfilled projects?

He wanted to do a Lovecraft adaptation but worried that it would be impossible to realize his peculiar brand of horror on screen. I think he could have done it, though.  Hercules in the Haunted World, Planet of the Vampires, Kill Baby Kill! and Lisa and the Devil all have elements that can be called Lovecraftian.  He also wanted to adapt the same story that inspired Elio Petri’s A Quiet Place in the Country; he liked the film that Petri made, however, and wasn’t about to try and compete with it.  He was busy developing projects to the day he died… you can read about these in-depth in the book when it’s released.

Give me the title of THE one to see, if I wanted to watch a good example of Bava..

If I wanted to show somebody a Bava film that could potentially ease them into his universe, I’d say Black Sabbath – or rather, the Italian version, The Three Faces of Fear.  American International ruined it when they released it in English – they were able to get Karloff to dub it, of course, but they changed the editing and the music and greatly diminished the impact.  The Italian edit is a great “primer” to all things Bava, however.

What is the 'ALIEN' (1979) Bava connection?

This is a point of contention among the creators of the film.  If you watch Alien and Bava’s Planet of the Vampires, you will see there are some similarities – not enough to make the Ridley Scott film an imitation, by any means, but enough to show an influence.  I frankly believe that the screenwriter Dan O’Bannon – a genre nut who had worked with John Carpenter on Dark Star and would go on to direct the marvelous Return of the Living Dead – borrowed a few ideas from the Bava film – but he never copped to it.  Anyway, the proof’s in the pudding, as they say….

What do think he would have hoped his legacy to cinema could have been?

I think that although he acted like he didn’t take himself seriously, he would be pleased to know that his work continues to inspire filmmakers.  Above anything else, I think he would love to have been remembered for his technical prowess – his ability to conjure up something out of nothing, like a magician.

Tells us about the twist in how his life ended

It’s sad – he was preparing to make a film, and he had to get a physical for insurance purposes.  Tim Lucas goes into all of this in his book: the exam showed no problems… but he would die of a heart attack just a few days later.  He was a workaholic and he smoked like a chimney… he aged very rapidly in his last years, so he looked much older than his years, but he was only 65 when he passed away.

And finally, the book why reissue?

Ooooh, this is convoluted.  Pull up a seat and stay a while.  Ha!  I undertook the book in 1996 on a whim.  I never would have thought I could write a book.  I intended to write a magazine article.  I couldn’t figure out why there were books on Argento and Fulci, but nothing on Bava.  So I decided to write an article… then it developed into a monograph.  I had no idea that there was another book on Bava in the offing – if I had known, I probably never would have followed through with it.  It was a professor at college who gave me the encouragement to follow it through and get it published.  I submitted chapters to FAB and McFarland, and they both were interested; I went with FAB because of the production value they could give it.  It was a flawed book.  I was very young when I wrote it and I like to think I’ve improved since then, so I was keen to revise it at some point – but FAB couldn’t commit to it due to other projects and their rights lapsed, so I shopped it around.  I wasn’t getting anywhere, but then I tried Midnight Marquee and Gary was very enthusiastic.  He and I were on the same page: we wanted to make it a better book than before and add in as much new material as possible. 

The key thing to understand is this is not a reprint: it’s literally a new book.  It’s updated, revised and expanded.  It’s been a dream getting to go back and make it much better.  One of the things I was happy to do was jettison the majority of the plot synopses.  They were a necessary evil when I did the first edition – FAB was insistent that they be lengthy as the films were hard to see at that time.  Now most of them are available, so we can get away with not going into that kind of detail… thank god!  I hate plot synopses.  I never read them and I hate writing them.  In my reviews, for example, I put in a basic plot intro… and then an ellipsis… If you’ve seen the film, you don’t need a recap; if you haven’t, chances are, you don’t want to read too much of the plot ahead of time.  Anyway, I was able to revise opinions that have since changed, tighten the prose and correct errors I made in good faith so many years ago.  I’m frankly very happy with it now, and I never say that of my writing.

Finally, finally . . Four words that sum up bava, his life and work?

Style… humility… imagination… humor. 

TROY HOWARTH REVIEWS THE EVIL OF FRANKENSTEIN: PUBLICITY STILLS AND GALLERY@ PETERCUSHING.ORG.UK

For anyone who may have missed it, here's is another opportunity to catch Troy Howarth's review of the 1964 Freddie Francis classic Peter Cushing Hammer Film 'The Evil of Frankenstein'. The review also comes with a great gallery of publicity stills and portraits. just click on the link to be taken to the review on our UK Peter Cushing Appreciation Society website: CLICK HERE

ANOTHER PETER CUSHING TROY HOWARTH FEATURE AND PCASUK GALLERY COMING UP THIS WEEK AT PETERCUSHING.ORG.UK

ONE TO LOOK OUT FOR THIS WEEK AT THE UK PETER CUSHING APPRECIATION SOCIETY WEBSITE.