THE BEAST MUST DIE

Paul Annett, 1974

Starring: Calvin Lockhart, Peter Cushing, Marlene Clark, Michael Gambon, Charles Gray, Anton Diffring

Tom Newcliffe (Calvin Lockhart), an eccentric millionaire and big game hunter, has called together a number of unusual people to his isolated island home. He tells them that they are all connected by one thing — death — and that he believes one of them to be a werewolf. His plan is to use his hunting prowess and an elaborate surveillance system to force the werewolf to reveal him or herself, so that he can kill it once and for all. He uses a number of methods to induce this, including exposing them to silver, wolfsbane, and moonlight, but things don’t quite go as he expected…

This fucking movie. I am both horrified and delighted that my series on Amicus’ genre films will go out with this incredibly strange — and not entirely successful — werewolf film by way of Agatha Christie’s And Then There Were None and Richard Connell’s The Most Dangerous Game, though the script is actually based on the short story, "There Shall Be No Darkness,” by James Blish. It’s gimmicky, thanks to something describes as a “Werewolf Break” (I wish I was kidding) and the opening the following declaration in both voice over and text: “This film is a detective story — in which you are the detective. The question is not, ‘who is the murderer?’ but ‘who is the werewolf?’ After all the clues have been shown, you will get a chance to give your answer.” And, no joke, there is really a break at the climax of the film that cuts to the faces of the various suspects and asks you to name the killer.

I really might be The Beast Must Die’s target audience, as it’s a horror-mystery hybrid and I am an absolute junky for mystery/crime fiction (and films), whether they are well-made or are just entertaining garbage. This falls somewhere in the middle and I have to admit to finding the “Werewolf Break” to be a really fun idea, even though director Paul Annett apparently hated it and it was inserted after the fact by producer Milton Subotsky. It reminds me of a little bit of a forerunner to something’s like Clue’s alternate endings, though it is of course no where near as entertaining or successful as that example.

Admittedly, the film is a bit schlocky. There’s absolutely no way to know who the werewolf is, so there’s not even a point in having the break. Hilariously, the mythic beast is actually a dog wearing a fur coat, because of budgetary constraints, though there is some decent gore on occasion. It’s easy to make fun of, but the film really does have a few interesting moments. First and foremost is the fact that a successful black character is, quite unusually, the protagonist, played with charisma by Calvin Lockhart (in everything from Predator 2 and Wild at Heart to Coming to America and Twin Peaks; Fire Walk with Me). He sort of inadvertently winds up becoming the hero, when he makes an ultimate sacrifice at the end of the film. He could have easily become an antagonist, but the film curiously doesn’t go in this direction, though it also doesn’t give any of the other characters much motivation or direction. 

A primary issue is that the script veers much too far from the course of both its source stories. On one hand, there aren’t enough murders or red herrings as in And Then There Were None, so the group isn’t forced to band together for survival. They wander sort of aimlessly for the majority of the film. And though they’re all introduced as having some sort of dark past, very little is made of this (with the exception of one character who is a cannibal and has exceptionally hairy hands and arms). Secondly, The Most Dangerous Game pits a desperate protagonist against a malevolent genius driven mad by power — and this film instead tries to combine those two figures loosely into one, which just does not work. 

The real delight, at least for me, is in the casting of some of England’s finest genre actors: Peter Cushing as an eccentric doctor who happens to be a werewolf expert; Charley Gray as a snooty diplomat, who has sneering down to a fine art; and Anton Diffring as a sort of security consultant that hides out behind the scenes, keeping track of all the cameras and monitors (at least until he is bumped off). Creepily, none of the other guests know of his existence and also do not learn of his death. And let’s not forget Michael Gambon (!!) as a sickly, suffering musician and the heavenly Marlene Clark (of Ganja and Hess ), who really shines as the impatient wife, at least when the script allows her room to do so.

I can’t help but recommend The Beast Must Die, which you can find on DVD. As I said, it’s not perfect, but it’s a lot of fun, especially if you’re a sucker for any of the elements that hooked me in: the incredible cast, nonsensical werewolf elements, and a murder mystery that doesn’t make a whole lot of sense — not that that slows anyone down in this case. 

THE CURSE OF THE WEREWOLF

Terence Fisher, 1961

Starring: Oliver Reed, Clifford Evans, Yvonne Romain, Catherine Feller, Anthony Dawson, Michael Ripper

A malevolent Marquis in 18th century Spain imprisons an innocent beggar sheerly for his own amusement. After years in prison, he loses his mind and becomes animalistic. When a beautiful young servant rejects the Marquis’s advances, he throws her in a cell with the beggar, who rapes her. She gives birth to a child before dying and a kindly gentleman, Don Alfredo, raises the baby as his son. When the boy, Leon, grows up, it becomes clear that something isn’t right about him and during the full moon, local animals are found slaughtered. Thinking he can suppress the urges, Leon sets off to work in a nearby vineyard, but falls in love with the owner’s daughter, Cristina, though she has been promised to another. When her father aggressively seeks to keep Leon and Cristina apart and his wolfish feelings return…

Though they would explore a variety of transformation-themed horror films over the years, Hammer’s sole attempt at a werewolf film — The Curse of the Werewolf — primarily succeeds thanks to the glorious Oliver Reed, appearing here in his first starring role. Handsome and occasionally hammy, Reed is perfect for the part as he’s able to capture a wide range, though Leon is generally either romantic, sensitive, or enraged. I’ve probably related this anecdote a hundred times on this blog, but director Ken Russell — who worked with Reed often — would communicate what he wanted from the actor by asking for a certain technique ranging from subtle to explosive: moody one, moody two, or moody three. I think this is a perfect summary of Reed’s acting style in general and he busts out moody three a fair few times in The Curse of the Werewolf. The effects from Roy Ashton are certainly not the film’s centerpiece, but they aren’t too overwhelming for Ollie to be able to emote even when he’s gone wolfish.

This might strike contemporary audiences as more of a period drama or tragic melodrama more than an outright horror film, but hey, it’s still a werewolf movie. The script is a bit confusing on exactly why young Leon becomes a werewolf. Is it because his mother is raped and the baby’s born on Christmas Eve (which another character repeats his unlucky)? Or because the beggar who rapes her — after years of imprisonment — has become more animal than human? I really have no idea, but the general conceit is that love can keep the wolf from his door and it’s the presence of first Don Alfredo, his adopted father, and later Cristina, that keeps him from changing. When he’s removed from Cristina’s influence in particular, he can’t control the beast within. 

This film has the fairytale elements that mark some of the best of Hammer’s films and here the werewolf is not a monster, but a pitiable victim, a tragic Romeo. Though it takes awhile to get started — the first third is sort of wasted on Leon’s back story — this time is spend emphasizes the dichotomy that defines a lot of Hammer’s films: that human cruelty often directly causes horror and in particular it is a result of the actions from characters in the upper classes. In other words, the Marquis’s actions so many decades ago have led directly to Leon’s lycanthropy. And where he could have easily found salvation — in Cristina’s arms — he is tragically prevented by yet another greedy aristocrat.

While most werewolf films completely skirt Guy Endore’s inflammatory novel, The Werewolf of Paris, this is one of the few movies to actually stick with some of the plot, namely the rape sequence as an explanation for lycanthropy. And though it avoid much of the book’s sexual content, there are some seedy elements like the lecherous Marquis, the rape scene, and Leon’s brutal attack of a prostitute (seriously, this book is so brutal I can’t believe a direct adaptation hasn’t happened yet). Hammer moved the setting from France to Spain thanks to having some Spanish set pieces already built, but this seems perfectly normal to me because I’ve seen entirely too many of Paul Naschy’s El Hombre Lobo films. 

It’s hard to pay attention to anyone else when Oliver Reed is on screen, but there are some solid performances. Keep your eyes peeled for Hammer regular (and favorite) Michael Ripper, the beloved Desmond Llewellyn (Q from many James Bond films), Anthony Dawson (Dr. No), and Clifford Evans (The Kiss of the Vampire) as the kindly Don Alfredo. Catherine Feller (The Girl with the Pistol) is a disappointing female lead and I really wish she had switched roles with gorgeous Hammer regular Yvonne Romain (Night Creatures), who has a small role as Leon’s unfortunate mother.

Of course The Curse of the Werewolf comes recommended — I would never speak ill of Oliver Reed — and I think anyone who loves Paul Naschy would find this to be a fascinating precursor to his werewolf cycle. Though his first film, the lost Las noches del Hombre Lobo (1968), was only released a few years later, he must have seen and been influenced by this film. You can find the Blu-ray import with some nice special features or as part of the Hammer Horror Series DVD set along with other underrated pleasures like Brides of Dracula, Phantom of the Opera, Paranoiac, Kiss of the Vampire, Nightmare, Night Creatures, and Evil of Frankenstein.

WEREWOLVES ON WHEELS

Michel Levesque, 1971

Starring: Stephen Oliver, D.J. Anderson, Deuce Barry

The Devil’s Advocates, a biker gang, are traveling across the desert when they decide to spend the night at an old church. Unfortunately for them, the church is home to a group of Satan worshipping monks. The monks give them drugged food and the bikers pass out. They wake up to their leader’s girlfriend doing a strange, satanic dance and she is secretly transformed into a werewolf. Soon she begins infecting members of the gang and it becomes an all out battle between human bikers and werewolves. 

Werewolves on Wheels and its British satanic biker counterpart, Psychomania, are two of my favorite ‘70s horror/exploitation films. Two of my favorite subgenres, outlaw biker exploitation films and satanic horror, are spliced together for a delightful hour and a half romp full of naked ladies, drug use, motorcycles, satanic monks, occult rituals, and the best ‘70s werewolves this side of Paul Naschy.

The film is not perfect, though its flaws are endearing and anyone who loves ‘70s exploitation cinema will be able to ignore them, if not outright embrace them. Director and writer Michel Levesque got his start as art director on a number of Russ Meyer’s films and there is a certainly similarity here. This is far more exploitation than horror and though there is a little gore, it isn’t excessive. The second half is far slower than the first and unfortunately we don’t really see the werewolves till just before the end of the film. With that said, they look great and lovely creature design makes me wish we saw a bit more of them. 

The satanic rituals are excellent - better than most B-grade satanic horror from the period - and it’s a shame more wasn’t done with them later in the film. There’s also a wonderful scene with Donna Anders (Count Yorga, Vampire) doing a sexy, satanic dance with a skull and a snake while the rest of the bikers are dosed with LSD, resulting in one very interesting evening. It’s script ideas like these that make me wish the ‘70s were alive and well, minus the hippies of course. 

Though this is a pretty run of the mill exploitation film with a basic script, there’s some wonderful cinematography from Isidore Mankofsky (Better Off Dead) of the desert and a fantastic score from Don Gere. The psychedelic blend of rock, country, blues, and folk is equally as memorable as the film, if not more so. Listen here. 

The acting is about what you would expect from a movie called Werewolves on Wheels. Stephen Oliver (Motor Psycho) is decent as the gang’s leader and some other genre regulars make appearances, such as D.J. Anderson aka Donna Anders (Count Yorga), Gene Shane (The Velvet Vampire), and Severn Darden (Battle for the Planet of the Apes) even makes an appearance as the amazing leader of the satanic monks. William Gray (The Day the Earth Stood Still), in addition to acting in the film, was a motorcycle collector in real life. The cast was rounded out with some real bikers, who do little other than ride their motorcycles around and try to look tough. They mostly accomplish this, despite the fact that the bikers are pretty friendly as far as exploitation characters are concerned.

Werewolves on Wheels comes highly recommended and is the pinnacle of satanic-fusion cinema in the ‘70s, at least on this side of the Atlantic. There’s a nice DVD from Dark Sky, which includes some great special features, namely a commentary track from Levesque and a few others.