QUATERMASS 2 aka ENEMY FROM SPACE

Val Guest, 1957

Starring: Brian Donlevy, John Longden, Sidney James

Meteorites begin crashing to Earth and Professor Quatermass — who is busy trying to get a Moon colonization project off the ground — decides to investigate. He finds his way to a strange factory, which seems to have borrowed his plans for the Moon colony, though he meets with resistance because operations there are top secret. One of the meteorites is filled with an unidentified gas that seems to possess Quatermass’s associate, who is then taken away by guards from the factory. Quatermass teams up with Scotland Yard’s Inspector Lomax to find out what happened to his friend and they discover a terrifying alien conspiracy that may go all the way to the British government.

The sequel to Hammer’s The Quatermass Xperiment is once again based on Nigel Kneale’s excellent BBC series and, like the first film, manages to be surprisingly faithful to Kneale’s script.  Kneale was unhappy with the casting of hardboiled (and allegedly alcoholic) American actor Brian Donlevy as Professor Quatermass in The Quatermass Xperiment and subsequently refused the studio’s request to use the character in their loose follow up X the Unknown, but managed to get more input with Quatermass 2. Of course director Val Guest — who returned from the first film — also had a hand in the script and made one crucial change: while the series’ climax has Quatermass traveling to outer space to defeat the aliens, Quatermass 2 has the slightly more believable premise of the protagonists firing an unmanned rocket to blow up the alien base in space.

Admittedly, there are things about Quatermass 2 that are arguably better than The Quatermass Xperiment. First and foremost, it’s a relief that Brian Donlevy has settled into the role a bit more comfortably. I intensely dislike him in the first film, but the sequel is so fast paced and action packed that he fits into the grand scheme of things a bit more smoothly. In The Quatermass Xperiment, he spends most of his time yelling at people and ordering everyone around, but he’s more appealing here as the odd man out; he has trouble getting anyone to believe him and, for once, is unable to constantly get his own way. 

He also makes a decent pair with John Longden (Alias John Preston), who replaced Jack Warner (The Ladykillers) as Inspector Lomax. I do have a serious soft spot for sympathetic Scotland Yard-type characters though. But the film is basically stolen by Sidney James (The Lavender Hill Mob) as a hilariously drunken reporter who is the only member of the press to believe in Quatermass’s theory of an alien conspiracy and who has moments of brilliance that allow Quatermass to take him seriously. Also keep your eyes peeled for Hammer regular Michael Ripper — my favorite of the studio’s stock company — fresh off his first appearance in a Hammer genre film with the previous year’s X the Unknown. 

Similar to the previous year’s Invasion of the Body Snatchers, Quatermass 2 is concerned with hysteria and government conspiracy, apt subject matter during McCarthyism and the Red Scare. The film has the same assured sense of direction, moody cinematography, and documentary-like style that Val Guest displayed in the first film, but with a larger budget and plenty of location shooting. Notably, this is the first time production designer Bernard Robinson would work with Hammer, though it’s obviously a far cry from his colorful work on the studio’s later Gothic horror films. The factory set is quite fun — complete with its own bio-dome — and allows for a breathy conclusion where Quatermass and co. are forced to lock themselves in and defend against an angry mob — a later staple of Hammer’s horror films. 

All in all, Quatermass 2 comes recommended, particularly for fans of sci-fi horror crossovers. In retrospect, it feels like a blend of Doctor Who and The X-Files, and I would say it’s worth watching even if you haven’t yet seen The Quatermass Xperiment or any of Kneale’s serials. Pick it up on DVD, though I’d love for Hammer and the BBC to release a joint box set that contains all three films and all the serials. Quatermass 2 was somewhat ignored because it was released in the same year as The Curse of Frankenstein, the film that would set the course for Hammer’s future. 

X THE UNKNOWN

Leslie Norman, Joseph Losey, 1956

Starring: Dean Jagger, Edward Chapman

Soldiers located a mysterious source of radioactivity in the Scottish highlands, which leads to a deadly explosion. Some of the men are killed, while others are suffering from radiation burns, and a strange pit in the Earth begins to open. Dr. Royston, an investigator with the Atomic Energy Laboratory, is called in to investigate with the help of Mr. McGill, a security consultant. When a local boy and a hospital intern are killed after suffering from radiation burns, Royston and McGill surmise that a radioactive creature has emerged from the Earth’s core and is stalking the area, desperate for food.

An unofficial sequel to Hammer’s horror/sci-fi breakout film, The Quatermass Xperiment, this tamer entry also received an X-rating — probably thanks to some grisly scenes of burning flesh — and the studio wisely capitalized on that with the film’s title. But make no mistake, this is the same blend of sci-fi and horror that would character the Quatermass trilogy and the studio’s final sci-fi film, The Damned (minus the latter’s weird teddy boy subplot). When Quatermass writer Nigel Kneale wouldn’t allow Hammer free reign to use his beloved character, they basically just made a similar film to The Quatermass Xperiment but replaced the miscast Brian Donlevy with wholesome-looking American actor Dean Jagger of White Christmas and Vanishing Point fame. 

Jagger’s not particularly heroic hero, Dr. Royston, is thankfully not as abrasive as Donlevy’s unfortunate portrayal of Quatermass, but he really does lack personality. If X the Unknown is inferior to The Quatermass Xperiment, it is in two points: the absence of a truly compelling protagonist and antagonist. The film perhaps unwisely avoids the kind of hysteria and panic that would make Quatermass and the Pit such a triumph and the characters are all entirely too calm and civil. While there is some solid acting from Jagger and his primary costar, Leo McKern (who I have loved from the moment I saw Ladyhawke as a child), the two characters simply get along too well. There is not enough tension or anxiety between the central characters and don’t even get me started on the monster. (But do keep an eye out for an early appearance from the beloved Michael Ripper, soon to be a Hammer regular). 

X the Unknown also lacks The Quatermass Xperiment’s use of a compelling villain in the form of actor Richard Wordsworth, whose gradually transforming astronaut is a creature of both sympathy and terror. Despite the fact that it’s moody and atmospheric, the movie is so low budget that the monster barely appears and then only as a radioactive, vaguely shiny blob. This is a strange precursor to films like the superior The Blob (1958), Japanese atomic horror film The H-Man (1958), and Caltiki, the Immoral Monster (1959) from giallo forerunner Ricardo Freda. 

The monster is not exactly alien life, but competing life on earth that has come from deep within the planet’s core. The film’s scariest moments actually involve man encountering nature — such as when the boys go into the woods at night and when a soldier descends into a seemingly bottomless fissure in the earth — and while I love this early folk horror premise, it falls flat because of the “monster.” More than anything, it reminds me of the blancmange at Wimbledon skit from Monty Python and the Flying Circus. And speaking of Monty Python, one of their directors, Ian MacNaughton, actually appears here as a Scottish soldier named — drumroll — Corporal Haggis. I thought I was imagining things, but IMDB confirms that that’s actually the character’s name. 

This first feature script from the studio’s most popular writer, Jimmy Sangster, also plays fast and loose with science — radiation in this case — and Royston figures out a way to kill the monster with radio waves, which apparently neutralize the radiation that keeps it alive, but cause a spectacular explosion that miraculously harms no humans in the process. The great Joseph Losey — then blacklisted from Hollywood and working in England — began directing the film, but was replaced by Leslie Norman due to an illness. Luckily Losey would return to Hammer for The Damned, while Norman was apparently so widely disliked on set that even though he helmed a competent film, well-received film, he never made another movie with Hammer.

X the Unknown is an enjoyable, if dated effort, though I think I can only recommend it to fans of ‘50s horror. Though it loses momentum and focus in the second half, it’s plenty entertaining and takes itself quite seriously with some help from moody cinematography and composer James Bernard, who essentially reprised his score from The Quatermass Xperiment with equally chilling results. Check it out on DVD, but don’t expect it to be quite as magical as the Quatermass trilogy.

THE QUATERMASS XPERIMENT (1955)

Val Guest, 1955

Starring: Brian Donlevy, Jack Warner, Richard Wordsworth, Margia Dean

Professor Quatermass is overseeing the test runs of a rocket he personally designed, when something goes horribly wrong. After a trip to space, the rocket crashes into rural England and out of the three pilots aboard, two are missing and the sole survivor, Victor Carroon, is catatonic. While Quatermass and a team of scientists are studying Carroon, he begins to horribly transform and soon breaks out of the hospital. Quatermass and Scotland Yard’s Inspector Lomax begin a desperate manhunt after Quatermass realizes that Carroon’s new alien form is giving off spores with the potential to destroy the entire planet. 

Known in the US as The Creeping Unknown, this first film in Hammer’s Quatermass trilogy was a major turning point for the studio — and for British horror in general. Based on the BBC television serial penned by sci-fi great Nigel Kneale, the film of course condenses the events of the serial, but also made two major changes. The first, and most grating, is the casting of American actor and film noir regular Brian Donlevy (Hangmen Also Die) as Professor Quatermass, turning Neale’s thoroughly British scientist into a rude, ball-busting American. He looks more like a gangster or an irate insurance claims adjuster than he does a scientist and chokes on some of his dialogue. In one scene, he says to Victor Carroon’s distraught wife, “There’s no room for personal feelings in science!” This is basically the ‘50s sci-fi equivalent of “There’s no crying in baseball.” Harsh and unlikable, Donlevy is completely miscast — Peter Cushing would have been a much better fit, though he wasn’t yet a Hammer star at this point — but he is still unable to ruin the film.

Named The Quatermass Xperiment to capitalize on the “X” rating certificate the film received from the British censor board, surprisingly little of the monster is actually seen in the film, but there’s a fantastic sense of atmosphere. The competent Val Guest went on to direct one of my favorite early Hammer films, The Abominable Snowman (1957), as well as sci-fi classics The Day the Earth Caught Fire (1961). Though he keeps the monster primarily offscreen — a la Val Lewton a decade earlier — there are some fittingly grisly moments, such as a murder in an elevator and a bleak scene in a local zoo where the monster wreaks havoc on the animals. Though it isn’t quite scary (or gory) by modern standards, I can see why this was Hammer’s first major breakthrough, a success of such proportions that the studio not only produced a small run of sci-fi films, but began almost exclusively making horror films.

Character actor Richard Wordsworth (The Curse of the Werewolf) is the heart and soul of the film, giving a spectacular performance as the unfortunate Victor. Though his character ultimately transforms into something non-human, he gives a physical performance full of pathos and believability. Many of these early sci-fi horrors — particularly the British ones — have a romantic relationship at their center, but The Quatermass Xperiment doesn’t put a lot of emphasis on this, but merely uses Victor’s relationship with his wife — and her desperation to get him away from Quatermass — it to humanize Victor and elegantly move the plot forward. He is unable to kill his adoring wife, even though he is transforming into something alien and monstrous, and runs away from her in horror. 

Aside from the casting of Donlevy as Quatermass, Guest’s second major change away from the serial is the conclusion, spectacularly set at Westminster Abbey. In the serial, Quatermass is able to remind Victor of his last, lingering vestiges of humanity, and in order to save the planet, he kills himself. But in the film version, Victor has become completely alien and Quatermass electrocutes him to death with the help of a conveniently placed television crew. This change makes The Quatermass Xperiment less of a human story and more of a monster movie, but the concept of a transformed astronaut was obviously horrifying enough to inspire a number of similar films in the late ‘50s and early ‘60s.

This isn’t the only reason why it’s considered a minor classic. Val Guest keeps the pace moving at a brisk clip and despite the occasional moments of scientific exposition, there is a steady sense of suspense, even claustrophobia, to the proceedings. The film is an almost equal blend of horror, science fiction, and murder mystery; Scotland Yard even gets involved because they think that Victor may have murdered the two missing astronauts. The Quatermass Xperiment also has a decidedly bleak note thanks to Quatermass himself, who exploits Victor and, at the film’s conclusion, is determined to start his experiments all over again.

The Quatermass Xperiment comes highly recommended and anyone who enjoys a blend of sci-fi and horror will definitely want to seek it out. Pick it up on Blu-ray and I promise you’ll be able to get past Donlevy’s heavy-handedness and, if this is your first exposure to Quatermass, you might even enjoy him. The film boasts plenty of delights, including some enjoyable effects, wonderful atmosphere, and a particularly fantastic score from Hammer’s regular composer, James Bernard, which would set the stage for the rest of their sci-fi films.

FOUR SIDED TRIANGLE

Terence Fisher, 1953

Starring: Stephen Murray, Barbara Payton, James Hayter, John Van Eyssen

“I didn’t ask to be born so I have the right to die.”

In a small, English village, childhood friends Bill and Robin grow into determined scientists and develop an experimental device that can duplicate matter. The genius of the pair, Bill, is in love with another of their childhood friends, the beautiful Lena, but Lena prefers Robin. When Lena and Robin marry, after the pair announce their scientific success, the forlorn Bill becomes determined to alter the Reproducer machine so that it can replicate living beings. With Lena’s reluctant help, he makes a twin, who he names Helen, and hopes she will love him. But something about Helen is not quite right…

Hammer’s first sci-fi film might not quite belong in my British horror series, but Four Sided Triangle is a key early piece of the puzzle and marks their transition from a studio who produced primarily adventure and suspense films to one of the world’s biggest horror studios. Based on a novel by William F. Temple, there is also much to connect the film with Hammer’s first big hit, The Curse of Frankenstein, far more than just the presence of Hammer’s chief director, Terence Fisher. It also has a lot in common with Hammer’s most important sci-fi series, the Quatermass trilogy that would soon follow. For one thing, Four Sided Triangle has little in the way of special effects but much in the way of dialogue.

The style of Four Sided Triangle — basically a black and white radio drama captured on film — might seem unfamiliar to fans of Hammer’s Gothic horror, but it fits in perfectly with their other sci-fi films from the period like The Quatermass Xperiment (1955), X the Unknown (1956), and Quatermass 2 (1957). The laboratory sets are charming and it’s easy to see how Fisher — who unusually cowrote this film in addition to directing it — further developed much of Four Sided Triangle for his early Frankenstein films. But while the Quatermass films place an equal emphasis on science and horror, Four Sided Triangle is far more concerned with melodrama and human tragedy than it is with the legitimate workings of science.

I’m not exactly giving away any spoilers — the film is presented as somewhat of a tragedy from its opening frames, as there’s a preachy biblical quote about man’s perhaps doomed scientific dabbling, and the proceedings are narrated by the village doctor. He is clearly telling the story after the fact and speaks sympathetically about all of the characters, though particularly Bill. Though far more human than Hammer’s Baron Frankenstein, Bill is an early example of one of the studio’s beloved stock characters: the genius who does not begin as a villain, but is driven there by his obsessions.

This film has some of Hammer’s most interesting, if damaged characters. Bill’s abusive childhood is revealed and it offers something of an explanation for his tormented nature. His obsession for Lena is deeply connected with this, though it’s mind boggling that she goes along with his plans. She is also psychologically tormented — admitting to the doctor that she longs for suicide — and her desire to duplicate herself seems to stem from an inability to chose between Bill and Robin. It’s undeniably strange to see a science fiction film from this period with such well developed themes of love, sexual obsession, and personal torment, but it’s easy to see how this would go on to influence the more complex sci-fi of the ‘80s in films like David Cronenberg’s The Fly and Dead Ringers. And I wish The Four Sided Triangle had seen these themes through to their logically perverse ends, but it only goes so far as Helen’s suicide attempt — because she is also in love with Robin instead of Bill — and Bill’s ultimate plan to erase her memory to make her love him.

Though it won’t be for everyone, I really do have to recommend Four Sided Triangle. Pick it up on DVD if you like classic sci-fi or if you want to see the origins of some of the tropes that would emerge in Hammer’s later years, including their first instance of conclusion by fire. Though they would use this repeatedly over the years, the burning of Bill’s lab neatly — though frustratingly — concludes the film, as the kindly doctor and Robin (John Van Eyssen who would soon reappear in Hammer’s Horror of Dracula) realize that Helen has been killed, but Lena has survived. A little ambiguity wouldn’t have killed them. The film’s incessant moralizing is a little annoying, but it’s hard to find a ‘50s sci-fi film without at least a little of this included. And regardless, it sets up some early philosophical implications about doubles, clones, and twin-ship that would be explored later down the line in ‘70s and ‘80s sci-fi horror.

THE ABOMINABLE SNOWMAN (1957)

Val Guest, 1957

Starring: Forrest Tucker, Peter Cushing, Maureen Connell, Richard Watts

In the Himalayas, a group of scientists use a monastery as the base for their expeditions, including a botanist, Dr. John Rollason. A new team arrives — Dr. Tom Friend, along with a photographer, a trapper, and a guide — in order to find the legendary yeti. Rollason is determined to accompany them, but his wife Helen fears for his safety and hopes the local Lama will intercede on her behalf. It becomes clear that while Rollason has purely scientific interests, Friend wants to capture the beast and profit off of it. When the men become lost in the snow, Rollason’s wife stages an emergency rescue mission.

The Abominable Snowman, also known as The Abominable Snowman of the Himalayas in the US, is one of Hammer’s earliest efforts — alongside The Curse of Frankenstein — and for some reason it’s pretty thoroughly neglected, probably because it’s not one of their Technicolor Gothic horror outings. In my opinion, it fits in in two places: first, as part of Hammer’s small series of sci-fi horror films like the Quatermass trilogy, which began with The Quatermass Experiment (1953). Some of these films were helmed by The Abominable Snowman’s director Val Guest. And like many of those, it was based on a television play made for the BBC — called The Creature — written by Quatermass creator Nigel Kneale, also responsible for the filmic script.

It also fits in with a small number of winter-themed sci-fi horror films made in the ‘50s: namely titles like sub-genre mainstay The Thing from Another World (1951) and lesser known British film The Trollenberg Terror (1958). While I love The Thing from Another World — and of course John Carpenter’s ‘80s remake, The Thing (1982) — but I also really have a soft spot for The Abominable Snowman. Like the much later series The X-Files, it’s a pleasing blend of science, sci-fi, monster movies, and captures the spirit of fear and wonder that went along with the exploratory fervor of the 19th and early 20th centuries. Even as late as the early ‘50s, scientists and climbers claimed to find evidence of yeti prints. 

The creatures are a minimal presence within the film — thanks to Guest rather than Kneale — but the script uses them in a fascinating way. SPOILERS. The film suggests that when humans destroy each other, the peaceful, telepathic yetis will take humanity’s place as ruling bipeds on earth. The wonderfully ambiguous ending allows Rollason to remain as the only survivor of the disastrous yeti hunt expedition, but he claims to have no knowledge of the creatures, either because he has come to learn what the Lama already knows and is protecting them, or because he’s *cue suspenseful music* been brainwashed. They are terrifying precisely because they are able to telepathically control the members of the expedition, causing the men to hallucinate and having fatal accidents. 

There’s also a wonderful sense of atmosphere, with the film shot both in Bray Studios, Pinewood (to allow for more space), and the French Alps. Sometimes it’s clear where Guest and his team struggled to make the different sets work together, but I will take anything with mountains and snow. Hammer’s typically lush use of color is set aside in favor of some very effective black and white film, which occasionally gives The Abominable Snowman a vintage documentary feel. And despite the vast spaces, this has a Quatermass-like use of tension, claustrophobia, paranoia, and suspense — so much so that the film deserves a better reputation.

Don’t get me wrong, though. Like most ‘50s sci-fi, it has its issues. Some scenes are overly talky, while the acting is really nothing to write home about. American actor Forrest Tucker (Break in the Circle, The Trollenberg Terror) costars as the opportunistic Dr. Friend, but is just plain flat and unlikable alongside Peter Cushing in the great actor’s second starring role for Hammer after The Curse of Frankenstein. Though a bit more subdued than normal, Cushing is captivating and delightful, as always. He reprised his original role of Dr. Rollason in Knell’s teleplay along with actors Arnold Marlé (The Man Who Could Cheat Death) and Wolfe Morris (The House That Dripped Blood). One of Kneale’s biggest alterations from the teleplay version is that in the film, Rollason has a wife — apparently named Helen after Cushing’s own beloved wife, Violet Helene — who provides plenty of needed emotional weight.

The film comes recommended, providing you enjoy the sort of blend of sci-fi, horror, monster movie, and adventure film that The Abominable Snowman provides. Pick it up on DVD and revel in the glory that is Peter Cushing at the beginning of his career with Hammer. Give the script a chance to surprise you and revel in the windswept, alienating landscapes.

DRACULA aka THE HORROR OF DRACULA (1958)

Terence Fisher, 1958

Starring: Christopher Lee, Peter Cushing, Michael Gough, Melissa Stribling

Professor Van Helsing and Jonathan Harker are scientists studying the legend of vampirism. When they locate the castle of Count Dracula in Germany, Harker takes a post there (librarian?) to keep watch over the demonic lord. He slays one of the Count’s undead brides, provoking a deadly revenge: the Count bites Harker and then travels to find his fiancee, Lucy. The extremely dapper Van Helsing arrives too late to save Harker, but finds his diary and his diabolically preserved corpse, which he stakes. Van Helsing returns home to share the sad news with the Holmwood family — Arthur, his wife Mina, and his sister Lucy — but learns that Lucy has recently fallen ill with “anemia.” Can Van Helsing convince the Holmwoods of the truth in time to save Lucy and to keep Dracula’s attention away from Mina?

After their 1957 success with The Curse of Frankenstein and the ensuing franchise, Hammer Studio’s first foray into the vivid and bloody waters of Bram Stoker’s Dracula — which became known as The Horror of Dracula to U.S. audiences to avoid confusion with the Bela Lugosi film — is an over the top treat. Though some of the sequels took a bit of a nose dive (Taste the Blood of Dracula, I’m looking at you), this film is a strong start to what is admittedly one of my favorite franchises in horror cinema. It also helped set the very strong standard for vampire films that Hammer would continue with the Dracula series and beyond.

Similar to many other Dracula film adaptations, this has little to do with Stoker's novel and changes plot elements and characters at will. But if you’ve never seen a Hammer Studios horror film, this is a great place to start because it presents so many of their early trademarks with gusto: the sure, stylish direction of Terence Fisher, the weighty presence of actors Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee, lavish costumes and Victorian set pieces, plenty of buxom ladies, a heaping dose of sexuality, and even a bright red smear of violence. Fisher, Cushing, and Lee were reunited here after The Curse of Frankenstein and, in my opinion, are at their collective best.

Christopher Lee is a fantastic Dracula — and though he was not overwhelmingly fond of horror films, it was a career-making performance — and the tall, dark, and handsome Lee was probably the first to be overtly sexual or physical. I could be wrong about this, but he’s also probably the tallest Dracula, towering above everyone on set at 6’5”, a height that kept him out of leading roles early in his career, but got him cast as the monster in The Curse of Frankenstein. And while a lot of earlier adaptations of Dracula put an emphasis on the Count’s metaphysical abilities, but Lee’s Dracula is very earthbound and quick to put newly-shined shoe to ass.

Peter Cushing is a fabulous match in every way possible, retaining some the icy charm that leant itself so well to the role of Baron Victor Frankenstein. He’s also responsible for the single most stylish moment in any Hammer film when he walks on set wearing — I shit you not — an expertly tailored, three-piece red velvet suit. Cushing’s Van Helsing is cold, rational, and slaps the shit out of anyone prone to hysteria, while keeping in check the cruelty that fueled Baron Frankenstein. 

It’s strange to think of their partnerships in the two competing franchises. While Cushing appeared in every Frankenstein film save one in the seven film series (The Horror of Frankenstein, a loose remake of The Curse of Frankenstein), Christopher Lee is missing from two entries in the nine film Dracula series (yes, count ‘em, nine): the second, The Brides of Dracula, and the last, The Legend of the 7 Golden Vampires, a Shaw Brothers coproduction. Sadly, Cushing’s Van Helsing did not turn up nearly as often, only in The Brides of Dracula, and the last three fantastic efforts, Dracula A.D. 1972, The Satanic Rites of Dracula, and The Legend of the 7 Golden Vampires.

But Cushing, Lee, and Fisher aren’t the only things that make Dracula so fantastic. James Bernard's score is wild, dramatic, sinister and over the top, there are a series of great side performances from actors who would become regulars to the studio, and a thrilling conclusion that makes Universal’s Dracula look old and crusty. Of course it comes with the highest possible recommendation and you can finally pick up the complete, special edition version on the fantastic import Blu-ray.

THE REVENGE OF FRANKENSTEIN

Terence Fisher, 1958

Starring: Peter Cushing, Francis Matthews, Eunice Gayson, Michael Gwynn

Having escaped execution by guillotine as promised in The Curse of Frankenstein, the Baron Victor Frankenstein assumes a new name — Dr. Stein — and relocates to Carlsbruch, where he has become a highly sought after physician. He somewhat accidentally finds a new assistant when a young doctor, Hans, realizes he is Frankenstein and blackmails Victor into letting him help with new experiments. They work with Karl, Frankenstein’s deformed assistant, to try to transplant a brain into a new body. In this case, Karl wants his brain relocated into a healthy, handsomer form, thanks to his feelings for a pretty nurse at the hospital for the poor where they all work.

I have to admit that I find Hammer’s second film in the Frankenstein series — which followed hot on the heels of 1957’s The Curse of Frankenstein and was shot simultaneously with the beginning of their Dracula series, The Horror of Dracula — nearly as enjoyable as the first. It’s a real relief that Hammer took the series in a new direction, choosing to focus on the Baron rather than the monster as the subject of what would become a seven film run. And, even more so than The Curse of Frankenstein, this film belongs solely to Peter Cushing. The plot may not be as grand as Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, lacks serious moral quandaries, and doesn’t even really have a monster, but it’s still a fantastic films thanks to Cushing.

The Baron is a bit kinder and gentler here — or at least his ambitions are more rational and more focused. Hammer were building an effective Frankenstein mythology and made the Baron sort of a cross between protagonist and antihero. Here he is on the verge of having his genius and ambition result in real positive change. He’s still the same ruthless, egotistical bastard, but Revenge shows that he could be capable of true good… if things didn’t always seem to go wrong all the time. This movie is frustrating solely because everything would have worked out fine if everyone had just listened to Baron Frankenstein. Karl’s brain is ultimately damaged because he doesn’t give it time to heal and panics, fleeing his hospital bed with the help of the sensitive but ill-informed Margaret, the nurse he’s in love with. Karl’s brain goes haywire; it becomes convinced he’s paralyzed again and the ensuing trauma makes him completely homicidal.

It’s perhaps strange that Revenge of Frankenstein doesn’t even really have a monster in it. Karl fills the quota for “deformed assistant,” but he’s a sympathetic figure, arguably more so than any of Universal’s monsters. He also never really has an overly monstrous appearance and his transformation is not from a pile of corpses into a shuffling monster, but from a damaged human into a whole one. Hammer would use this formula again for later films in the series like Frankenstein Created Woman. Christopher Lee’s absence is not even felt, because he and Cushing teamed up for The Horror of Dracula, though the rest of the team is present: director Terence Fisher, writer Jimmy Sangster, cinematographer Jack Asher, designer Bernard Robinson, and so on.

This second film maintains several of the important themes of the first. Frankenstein is closely bonded with a male doctor — in this case, Hans Cleve (Hammer regular Francis Matthews of Dracula, Price of Darkness) — and seems completely uninterested in the female gender. There are also numerous class issues. Dr. “Stein,” Frankenstein’s less than clever pseudonym, refuses to join a local organization of wealthy doctors and willingly switches between upper class patients and charity treatment at a local hospital. Of course, this charity has an ulterior motive — experimentation — but the snub puts him on the wrong side of the powers that be and cause them to be suspicious of his actions and watch him closely.

But out of all the reasons to watch The Revenge of Frankenstein, probably the most important is its totally bonkers conclusion. Spoilers in the next few sentences: Baron Frankenstein is beaten to death by hysterical hospital patients, but he escapes death YET AGAIN. Hans removes the good doctor’s brain, so he can transplant it into a new body that mystifyingly resembles Peter Cushing and show the authorities Frankenstein’s corpse to get them off the doctor’s trail to make future experiments easier. And… drumroll… of course, Frankenstein himself planned this all in advance. So obviously, if you like Frankenstein films, Peter Cushing, or movies with amazing yet improbably endings, you owe it to yourself to give this a chance. You can find it on DVD and it’s a great choice for the Halloween season.

THE CURSE OF FRANKENSTEIN

Terence Fisher, 1957

Starring: Peter Cushing, Christopher Lee, Hazel Court, Robert Urquhart

After his mother’s death, the young, voraciously intelligent Baron Victor Frankenstein is in total control of his family estate. He agrees to support his aunt and cousin Elizabeth, and hires a tutor named Paul. After a few years, Victor and Paul become intellectual equals and begin a number of medical experiments. These soon take an unorthodox turn. They bring a dog back to life and Victor immediately begins work on a new human being, crafted from dead body parts. Elizabeth’s arrival in the household — and Paul’s refusal to continue participating — does nothing to deter Victor, who goes through with the creation of his creature, though its brain is accidentally damaged and things go horribly wrong.

The first major Hammer horror film and one of the first important horror films in color — and it is indeed highly stylized and garishly colorful — The Curse of Frankenstein is the movie that put British horror on the map. It changed the face of genre cinema in the ‘60s with eye-popping sets and costumes that were allegedly handed down from earlier productions, effectively disguising its low budget. Gorier and more sadistic than films that came before it (though not by today’s standards), Hammer’s adaptation worked hard to provide a fresh take on Mary Shelley’s classic novel, if only to avoid being sued by a watchful Universal Studios, who didn’t want their 1931 masterpiece imitated.

But if anything makes the film so fantastic, it’s undoubtedly the lead performance from Peter Cushing. A well-known TV actor before this film, Cushing plays the role with a sense of gentlemanly class and refined sensibility that would follow him though out his career. His Victor Frankenstein is like an early Hannibal Lector. He’s brilliant, but sociopathic and the film is less concerned with the moral transgressions of playing God, but more invested in the concept of unchecked ambition. He dehumanized everyone around him and, throughout the seven film series (where all the films but one have Cushing cast as Frankenstein), there always seem to be women wildly in love with him who are totally blind to his egomania and often cruel, violent misdeeds. The series as a whole can’t seem to decide if he’s an asexual genius, focused only on his experiments, or an opportunistic bastard. Here he callously murders a brilliant professor, a venerable man who is also his old friend, in order to harvest his brain for an experiment.

Victor Frankenstein’s emotional coldness, aloof intellectualism, and sociopathic tendencies are contrasted by his monstrous creation. Played by actor Christopher Lee, who got the part of the monster sheerly because of his enormous size at 6’5”, Frankenstein’s creation is more animalistic and ghoulish than Universal’s imagining. The greenish makeup is admittedly a little cheesy, but he appears almost pre-human, stitched together, and possibly still decaying. Lee’s lumbering performance is highly physical, though this is the last time he would return to the series. Regardless, The Curse of Frankenstein is an important footnote in horror history, because it’s the first time genre fans would see Lee and Cushing together — though they would go on to form one of horror’s most enduring partnerships and a warm off-screen friendship that lasted decades.

The Curse of Frankenstein also set up Hammer’s general horror formula: it involved the company’s two biggest stars, Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee, as well as actress Hazel Court, who would go on to appear in The Man Who Could Cheat Death and a number of Vincent Price films. It also united director Terence Fisher, arguably Hammer’s greatest, screenwriter Jimmy Sangster, and cinematographer Jack Asher. In a complete break from the sci-fi themes that dominated the genre cinema of the ‘50s, the film embraced a lush period setting with heavy bosoms and a literary origin. There are also the themes of classism — Frankenstein’s wealth and breeding are linked to his monstrosity — and a sense of confused sexuality — the Baron only seems capable of real intimacy with his male associates despite the many women in his life — that would continue throughout many Hammer films and all of the Frankenstein series.

Perhaps against the odds, this film was very successful and, as I mentioned, put Hammer on the map permanently. The studio would go on to fill out the series with six more films: The Revenge of Frankenstein (1958), The Evil of Frankenstein (1964), Frankenstein Created Woman (1967), Frankenstein Must Be Destroyed (1969), The Horror of Frankenstein (1970), a loose remake of Curse without Cushing, and Frankenstein and the Monster from Hell (1973). Though they retread many of the same themes, I think these are all worthwhile films, though Curse is obviously the ideal place to start. Pick it up on DVD or Blu-ray, though I’m hoping someone will release a full Blu-ray set of the whole series at some point soon.

And also, Peter Cushing is so handsome and debonair that if you haven't seen this movie yet, break out the smelling salts because you're going to swoon a few times.

THE HAUNTED STRANGLER

Robert Day, 1958

Starring: Boris Karloff, Jean Kent, Elizabeth Allan, Anthony Dawson

Writer James Rankin decides to investigate the potential innocence of notorious Victorian-era killer Edward Styles, a man convicted twenty years earlier of being a serial murderer known as the Haymarket Strangler and executed. As he becomes obsessed with proving Styles’ innocence, Rankin explores the Judas Hole, a music hall where the Strangler chose victims from among the dancers. He also arranges to have Styles’ body exhumed, but somehow this results in the murders beginning again, while Rankin grows more paranoid by the day.

Also known as Grip of the Strangler, this film from director Robert Day was written specifically for aging horror star Boris Karloff by his friend Jan Read. This Amalgamated Productions movie was filmed back-to-back with Fiend Without a Face, another Karloff vehicle, and the two were released in theaters as a double feature. Though it’s easy to remember Karloff’s films from the ‘30s as his best work — and I do love a lot of it — I think that honor actually goes to some of the films made in the last decade of his career: films like The Haunted Strangler, Corridors of Blood, The Raven, Black Sabbath, Comedy of Terrors (anyone who doesn’t like this film is dead to me), Mad Monster Party?, The Sorcerers, Targets, and even Curse With the Crimson Altar.

Though the film has plenty of campy moments and an obviously low budget, Karloff is a treasure. I don’t want to totally give away the ending, but needless to say his innocent, somewhat naive investigator goes very, very bad and this is essentially his retelling of The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Not only is the plot twist enjoyable — speaking as someone who generally hates them — but Karloff’s transformation is primarily delivered through a strong physical performance and is surprisingly effective. Like Frankenstein several decades before, part of his transformation apparently involved removing his dental bridge to give his face a sunken in, totally changed appearance — obvious evidence that practical effects, even inexpensive one, are much more powerful than CGI. Karloff is frightening as a pathetic — sort of sympathetic — researcher and as a more monstrous character, proving

But Karloff isn’t the only star here. Director Robert Day, alongside Fiend Without a Face’s director Arthur Crabtree, represents some of the most interesting genre talent in ‘50s England. The Haunted Strangler’s blend of exploitation, violence, and seediness is an early preview of what would soon appear in the films of Hammer and Amicus. Day would go on to make a series of sci-fi horror blends, including Corridors of Blood (1958) — also with Karloff — and First Man in Space (1959). Though it has the sci-fi themes that would obsess most of British genre filmmaking until Hammer came along, it also has a fantastic period setting (like Hammer) and makes great use of the foggy Victorian streets.

As I mentioned, there are some surprisingly exploitative and sleazy elements with the night club, wonderfully named the Judas Hole, which was initially considered as a title for the film. The tiny blonde Vera Day (Quatermass 2) struts her stuff and, like her role in Womaneater she’s little more than eye candy and/or a helpless victim. Also keep your eyes peeled for some grave robbing and a few disturbing scenes in an insane asylum — elements that would also soon make their way into films like Hammer’s Frankenstein series and The Flesh and the Fiends.

Stylish and solidly directed from Robert Day and with an amazing performance from Karloff, The Haunted Strangler comes highly recommended for anyone who enjoys early serial killer films, sci-fi tinged horror, and Victorian set genre films. And of course, if you like Karloff at all, this is worth watching at least once. Perhaps amazingly, it was released by Criterion in an all-out set called Monsters and Madmen that includes Corridors of Blood, First Man in Space, and The Atomic Submarine (a US film). The set includes plenty of nice special features, such as commentary tracks for all the films and some nice interviews.

DEVIL GIRL FROM MARS

David MacDonald, 1954

Starring: Patricia Laffan, Hugh McDermott, Hazel Court

A strange ship lands on the Scottish moors near an inn that is all but empty thanks to the winter season. The ship’s only living crew member is Nyah, a black vinyl-clad female alien from Mars determined to take male humans from Earth back with her to help with the Martian breeding program. Since the war on Mars between females and males resulted in a female victory, the male Martians have gradually degraded and are not considered suitable stock for procreation. But the handful of residents remaining at the inn are in no hurry to leave and work together to try to outwit her, though she clearly has superior technology, including sophisticated weapons and a robot companion.

Produced by the Danziger Brothers and distributed by British Lion, this low budget film is unmistakably kitschy and ridiculous, but it also has a certain charm and is far more entertaining than it has any right to be. When I first saw it, I was struck by two things — coincidental relationships with later works of fiction — that were difficult to leave behind. First, the Martian’s robot companion is named Chani, curiously also the name of the memorable love interest in Frank Herbert’s sci-fi masterwork Dune, which was written in 1965, so it’s possible that Herbert saw this film and was struck by this unusual name. According to the internet, it might be of Hebrew origin, though it kept Dune in my mind while I was watching the film. To be clear, the two Chanis have basically nothing in common. The film’s Chani is like a homicidal, slowly moving refrigerator, while Dune’s Chani is a captivating woman.

Obviously it would be unfair to compare Devil Girl From Mars to Dune, but it perhaps made me walk away imagining a richer back story for Nyah, the female alien, than really exists within the film. If one of Dune’s primary strengths is building such a complex universe, Devil Girl From Mars does sort of work towards building a compelling back story for the Martians. Somewhat like Mario Bava’s superior Planet of the Vampires, Nyah is from a violent but oddly sympathetic alien species who are forced to prey upon humans to save their dying race. I wish more had been done with this element of the plot, but it’s certainly one of the best parts of the film. I don’t know about you, but I definitely prefer sci-fi horror mashups where the aliens are fully developed characters rather than nameless monsters (…except, of course, Alien).

The film’s remote location on the Scottish moors — another of its best elements — reminded me of the recent, excellent Under the Skin, a more harrowing, abstract tale of a female alien landing on the moors to prey upon men. There were a number of early British horror films set on the moors (both English and Scottish) and the eerie locale lends itself well to low budgets and spooky visuals. The potboiler setting of the inn has its highs and lows. On one hand, it is really only an excuse to make roughly half the film’s scenes little more than a British tea-time drama with romantic intrigue and a bit of class friction. These overly talkie moments essentially revolve around two couples: a model trying to get away from her married reporter boyfriend, and a barmaid hiding an escaped convict who accidentally killed his wife. a couple  with lots of dramatic plots about a budding romance and an escaped convict. Devil Girl From Mars’ scenes basically go back and forth between these moments of personal drama and overwrought and tense moments where Nyah enters the inn, makes threats, goes away, rinse, repeat.

On the other hand, the low number of cast members makes the story a bit more believable, ratchets up the tension, and gives a claustrophobic feel to the proceedings. No one comes to their aid because they are isolated in the country in the middle of winter time, while an invisible wall Nyah has put up around the inn keeps them from going out for help. Despite the cheesiness of the film, there is something horrifying about Nyah’s intentions, though the discussion of what seems to be a planned invasion of Earth — where Martian women will visit major cities to kidnap human men — is never really resolved.

Incredibly, this was based on a stage play (!!!), which perhaps explains the basic sets and pared down story, but Devil Girl From Mars does have some interesting things going for it. Nyah’s imperviousness to human weapons, the advanced Martian technology, and her ray gun that can kill or stun is standard fare in contemporary science fiction, but this was possibly the first film to include a space ship made of living metal that can repair itself. And unlike many other sci-fi films from the period, this has strong sexual themes. Patricia Laftan’s Nyah resembles a modern day dominatrix more than she does any alien species. But like other British films from the period, she is ultimately not a match for the British citizens she goes up against. Despite their martial and technological advancements, the Martians have failed at that most basic of biological requirements — reproduction — and thanks to Nyah’s need for viable males, they are able to outwit her. The escaped convict agrees to go on board the ship and blow it up before it leaves the atmosphere.

Though much about Devil Girl From Mars is enjoyably silly, there are decent special effects and this is an interesting look at British sci-fi horror a few years before Quatermass. Prepare to find some scenes effectively eerie, but much of the running time is padded with unintentional hilarity — such as the robot Chani, whose ridiculous figure leeches away a bit of Nyah’s gravitas. I couldn’t help but wonder why Patricia Laffan (who stars as Nyah) didn’t appear in more genre films — she would have made a great Bond girl — though there is a solid, likable cast of familiar faces including Hugh McDermott (The Seventh Veil), Hammer and Roger Corman regular Hazel Court, Adrienne Corri (Vampire Circus), and John Laurie, who was like an early British horror version of John Carradine. Pick up the affordable DVD for some vintage horror that makes for fun Halloween season viewing.

THE BEAST OF HOLLOW MOUNTAIN and NEANDERTHAL MAN

Increasingly impressive label Scream Factory have paired together two obscure films, forgotten ‘50s creature feature The Beast of Hollow Mountain (1956) and a prehistoric riff on Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, Neanderthal Man (1953) for a double feature Blu-ray release due out next week. The first film to rustle up some cowboys and dinosaurs, The Beast of Hollow Mountain may not be on par with the classic works of stop motion cinema, but it is an interesting early experiment nonetheless. Neanderthal Man will please fans of werewolf and other transformation themed horror films. 

The Beast of Hollow Mountain

Jimmy Ryan (Guy Madison), a Texan cowboy living in Mexico, has a problem with missing cattle. The locals claim that a nearby hollow mountain and the swamp surrounding it is cursed and that's where his cattle are disappearing to, but Ryan thinks his number one rival, Enrique (Eduardo Noriega) is to blame. Enrique is jealous because his beautiful fiancée, Sarita (Patricia Medina), has been flirting with Ryan. She thinks he is kind because he recently hired an old drunk, Sancho (Pascual García Peña), and his young son, Panchito (Mario Navarro). People have begun to disappear near the mountain as well as cattle and when Pancho goes missing, Panchito runs off, desperate to find his father. It is up to Sarita and Ryan to rescue the boy, though they aren’t prepared for what awaits them. 

The first movie to mix dinosaurs with cowboys, The Beast of Hollow Mountain is short on both beasts and mountains, showing more cows and desert than it does either of the titular elements. The monster in question is a lone Allosaur whose appearance is not explained. The titular beast takes an hour to appear on screen in a film with an 80 minute running time, and we learn absolutely nothing about the hollow mountain. There are some hilarious close ups of the dinosaur’s strange tongue and a nice “man in a rubber suit” moment when only the dinosaur’s legs are visible. While I love blends of Western and horror or sci-fi, as well as big monster movies and creature features, there simply isn’t enough here.

Willis O’Brien, special effects supervisor for King Kong, The Lost World, Might Joe Young, and others, created the story idea for The Beast of Hollow Mountain. It unfortunately just feels like a dry run for The Valley of Gwangi. For some reason O’Brien did not even do the special effects for The Beast of Hollow Mountain, which might explain why they’re so shoddy. The stop motion scenes don’t look that great, particularly not if you’ve seen a single Ray Harryhausen film.

While Edward Nassour, producer of some unsuccessful stop motion films, is listed as the director, it is likely that prolific co-director Ismael Rodríguez filmed the Spanish language version that was shot at the same time and helped to overcome the language barrier with the primarily Mexican cast. Star Guy Madison is likable, but he’s not enough to save the film as his character is little more than a stock heroic cowboy. Carlos Rivas (The King and I) is also likable as his friend and business partner, but he doesn’t get nearly enough screen time or anything interesting to do.

Patricia Medina’s (from Orson Welles’ Confidential Report) leading lady Sarita somewhat overcomes the weak scripting elements. She is amazingly independent for a ‘50s creature feature, despite the fact that she is the centerpiece of a dull love triangle. The overall story is unfortunately very tame with conservative to nonexistent amounts of sex and violence, some blatant racism, and stock characters in a cookie cutter plot. The last twenty minutes somewhat makes up for the doldrums of the second act. The conclusion is undeniably cheesy, but it’s also a lot of fun and will please fans of early creature features, dinosaur movies, and B Westerns.

Neanderthal Man

Professor Cliff Groves (Robert Shayne) is determined to convince his colleagues that the extinct Neanderthal species was just as intelligent as Homo Sapiens, if not more so. They ignore him, mostly because of his unpleasant personality. Coincidentally, a saber-toothed tiger is located in the mountains near Groves’ home and a scientists travel there to investigate, primarily expert Dr. Ross Harkness (Richard Crane). He is immediately taken with Groves’ lovely fianceé (Doris Merrick) and daughter (Joy Terry), and conceals evidence that Groves has been experimenting on animals and humans with a reverse evolutionary serum. After a number of bodies turn up and local women are attacked, how much longer can Harkness hide his discovery? 

Writers and producers Aubrey Wisberg and Jack Pollexfen were involved with a number of other B-grade genre films, such as They Came to Blow Up America, The Man from Planet X, Captive Women, and Daughter of Dr. Jekyll. Thanks to their punchy script full of unintentionally funny dialogue, Neanderthal Man is easier to get through than The Beast from Hollow Mountain and is more fast paced with more scares and action. It also looks a lot cheaper, particularly where the indoor sets and matte paintings are concerned. And the less said about the saber-toothed tiger, the better. 

There are also a slew of unlikable characters, namely Groves and Harkness, both of whom are selfish and egomaniacal. Star Robert Shayne (Adventures of Superman) is also subjected to some ridiculous transformation sequences when he turns into a prehistoric, subhuman beast with googley-eyes. The make up was done by Ed Wood regular Harry Thomas, so when things look silly, it shouldn’t be all that surprising. Though they are shown off camera, it’s amazing that the rape/attack scenes made it past the censors. Many of the women of the film are unmercilessly abused, including Beverly Garland (The Alligator People), Doris Merrick (The Big Noise), and Tandra Quinn (Mesa of Lost Women). The alleged hero, Harkness (Richard Crane also from The Alligator People) isn’t particularly kind to them either and waits entirely too long to reveal Groves’ murderous activities.

Directed by E.A. Dupont, the film doesn’t boast much in the way of creativity or technical skill and some of the dialogue is painfully boring. And yet, Neanderthal Man has so much unintentional humor, ranging all the way from the attacks to the foley effects, that it is definitely worth watching for fans of ‘50s B genre films, particularly the blends of sci-fi and horror that were so popular at the time.

The Beast of Hollow Mountain is presented in 1080p High Definition with its original 2.25:1 aspect ratio. This is supposedly the first creature feature to be filmed in Cinemascope and despite some sloppy effects, the print looks absolutely beautiful. Though there are some minor scratches and signs of debris, the colors and landscapes are so stunning that it’s easy to look past the minimal damage. Shot in black and white, Neanderthal Man is presented in a 1.35:1 aspect ratio and also looks great, probably better than it ever has. Unfortunately there are some moments where there is so much clarity that it’s easy to tell what is a matte painting or still shot. There seems to be less damage and debris on this print than on The Beast of Hollow Mountain. The audio, DTS-HD tracks for both of the films, sounds very clear and dialogue is never muddy. 

This is The Beast of Hollow Mountain’s first official DVD or Blu-ray release, which is an achievement despite the fact that there are sadly no extras, unless you count the addition of a second film, The Neanderthal Man. Both films are also included in an extra DVD copy.

Though The Beast of Hollow Mountain and Neanderthal Man may not be for everyone, diehard creature feature fanatics will rejoice in the addition of two more obscure films being released on Blu-ray. Scream Factory should be celebrated for their continued effort to rummage through the MGM back catalogue and release forgotten delights, which is how The Beast of Hollow Mountain and Neanderthal Man came to see the light of day on Blu-ray.