Film Reviews by NP

One of the many enjoyable things about the horror genre is the continual ability to surprise. I recently watched Blood for Irina (reviewed earlier), and read that it could be seen as Rollin-esque. This in turn lead me to take a look at a few films by French director Jean Rollin, who appeared to specialise in very stylistic, low-budget vampire films, beginning with the provocatively titled Le Viol du Vampire/Rape of the Vampire (1968).

Of all the few Rollin films I have seen (and I intend to see more), Le Frisson des Vampires/Shiver of the Vampire (his third) might be my favourite.

The plot is still thin and difficult to follow in places – but that is deliberate. Rollin seems instead to concentrate on imagery, atmosphere and mood. Shiver contains all these things. Equally typical, there is plenty of casual nudity which rarely actually comes across in an erotic way, rather as a perfunctory element of the whole, delirious dreamscape.

As one of the two serving girls, once again, is Marie Pierre Castel. Marie featured in a number of Rollin films, sometimes alongside her sister Catherine. Both girls are striking to look at, quite ethereal in fact, and here Marie is her usual rarely-speaking, somnambulistic subordinate who for once, appears to have a happy ending. Marie’s final Rollin role was in La Fiancee de Dracula/The Fiancee of Dracula (2002). Though not often required to do a great deal other than look alien, the Castels are mesmerising performers.

Here, the locations are truly stunning and deathly creepy. Huge castles and lush forestry, together with a freezing beach – another Rollin staple – often belie the sometimes stilted acting, especially from the two hippy/vampires.

Rarely, this film is afforded an actual ending. Often in the Rollin films I have seen, they end very suddenly, possibly as a result of his lack of budget or time constraints. No so here. There is a very final moment – which nevertheless invites the viewer to check out more of his work. Certainly, this is one of his most accessible, although no kind of compromise to ‘normal’ film-making in any way.

The depiction of human society collapsing into chaos is just as relevant and prescient today, over 40 years after the original JG Ballard novel was written in 1975. Tom Hiddleston (who also narrates the audio-book version) plays Robert Laing, first seen eating the remains of an Alsatian dog, as in the book.

Skipping back to three months earlier, when the complex was barely finished, and Laing is ‘welcomed’ into the ‘High-Rise’ by his fellow inhabitants, it is clear for the most part, that his manners, respect and politeness are no match for the abrasive confidence of many of his neighbours, determined to get him to ‘join in,’ and yet seem unwilling to accept him into their clique.

When the building slides into disrepair, and the luxurious amenities become an ever-growing series of unsightly, inoperable facilities, it seems the residents’ descent into pack mentality had started well before the decay of their world; if anything, the swimming pool, lifts and corridors are simply sliding into a fitting accompaniment to the residents’ wilful degradation. The building is simply accepting the squalor of its occupants.

The recreation of the 1970s is a conservative one, which is probably deliberate; it is doubtful how seriously we could take a story featuring the garish winged collars, flares and safari suits modelled at the time – instead we get more of a suggestion of the fashions from that era. The endlessly pregnant Helen (Elisabeth Moss), very much an innocent compared to the others, happily chain-smokes, without comment from anyone, another sign of the times.

Anthony Royle (the tower-block’s hierarchy?), the architect, floats around the wreckage of his dream like Dr. Moreau, surrounded by the barely human animals he has created. Jeremy Irons is every bit as good as you could imagine him to be. Typically of Ben Wheatley-directed films, the cast are universally good, and full of familiar faces, if not names. Dan Renton Skinner (better known as comic character Angelos Epithemiou) is unrecognisable as brutal Simmons, a character you long to see beaten up – which he is, by Richard Wilder (Luke Evans) who is even more Neanderthal than he. Reece Shearsmith is Nathan Steele, Sienna Miller plays Charlotte Melville, James Purefoy excels as Pangbourne, and Hiddleston is excellent as the central Laing. His character, like that of Helen, only partially succumbs to the toxic new world around them; fitting then, that they appear to form a relationship that may have a future, although nothing and no-one is exclusive.

A film ostensibly about unpleasant people succumbing to their baser instinct is not necessarily a story that justifies two hours, and yet any cuts made to this would rob the film of its potency. The humans presented are us, our society, without the veneer of respectability, policing or media. The lack of interference by the outside world is cursory, which is the only unrealistic aspect of this tale: the authorities simply don’t want to know.

Nothing is fixed; life continues. So as civilisation settles into a biryani of filth, what could be nicer than to sit back, eat the rest of the dog, and listen to a speech from Margaret Thatcher whilst waiting ‘for failure to reach the second tower in the Development.’ Thatcher’s love affair with dividing the rich (on the top floors) from the poor (the lower levels – in every sense) could be echoed here, and again, still echoes now.

Opening with a very brutal, pre-credits hanging, ‘Witchfinder General’ goes on to feature an exceptional performance from Vincent Price, who despite a clash with Director Michael Reeves (Reeves declined to greet the actor at the airport on his arrival and made it abundantly clear he was not happy with his casting), names this as one of his favourite performances. It is easy to see why – he is given Matthew Hopkins, a Witchfinder steeped in hypocrisy, cruelty and genuine sin. Despite Price’s tendency to play extravagant characters, he invests Hopkins with a certain restraint, and is therefore extremely powerful: it is an excellent performance. Hopkins was a real life lawyer who, in 1644 elevated himself to witch-hunter, and is believed to be responsible for the deaths of 300 in the following two years.

There is a lot of screaming in this film. Indeed, even as the end credits roll, the heartfelt cries of Sara (Hilary Dwyer) threaten to drown out the music before they finally fade away. Such outbursts are entirely warranted, given the saturation of lies and duplicity that make the law by which normal people are expected to live their lives.

Michael Reeves died one year after this film’s release, aged only 25, his potential as a director and writer barely tapped. His work on ‘Witchfinder General’ is unstinting in its depiction of vile human behaviour and gleeful cruelty, the camera never in any hurry to move away from scenes of graphic violence and barbarism, not least from Hopkins, who misuses the word of God entirely for his own end. Hopkins dies violently, but not as graphically as he deserves, hacked to death by a crazed Richard Marshall (Ian Ogilvy), whose wife Sara has suffered innumerable terrible acts of maltreatment.

Whilst watching my DVD version of this film, there are many brief moments where the picture quality deteriorates noticeably – it suddenly struck me that these are scenes cut from the previous/initial release for reasons of bloodshed. Even with such pruning, the film provoked much outrage when it premiered. Despite this – or probably because of it – it was a success, even now held up as a cult classic. And so it should be. The way of life is presented in a way that causes the viewer to watch from behind their hands even today, and every member of the impressive cast is terrific, giving full-blooded, forceful performances. Donald Pleasance, Reeves’ original choice for Hopkins, would have provided his own brand of excellence, but this is probably Vincent Price’s finest hour – which is quite something for so prolific a performer.

Lisa Mackel Smith plays Kate Winters, a mother determined to prove that her murderous son was under demonic possession and not, as the authorities believe, suffering any kind of mental disorder. To do this, she hires a small documentary crew (Stu and Eddie and poor silent Joey) to film her as she submits to voluntary demonic possession herself.

After some risible scenes as the spell (by a demon called The Butcher – identical to the name given to the evil that took hold of Jessie, Kate’s son) takes hold, strange (but familiar to horror films), events start to occur. All the food in the house goes bad, relations between the documentary crew, Kate, her nurse and psychiatrist become antagonistic. And yet, apart from becoming more lurid and vulgar, none of the possessions – and there’s more than one - don’t progress in a way that ramps up much in the way of tension.

This is a not-so-distant cousin of other found-footage films, especially ‘The Last Exorcism (2013)’ – in fact, one character mentions its similarity to ‘Paranormal Activity (2010)’. Despite the efforts of the cast, however, it simply isn’t frightening. The ending, which piles proclamation after proclamation (often through a voice filter that makes it difficult to understand The Butcher’s words) just serves to muddy the waters and drags on far too long to remain suspenseful.

Well intentioned, and not without merit, this is nevertheless far from greatness.

Possibly one element of Hammer’s early horror films (Curse of Frankenstien, Dracula) that really got them noticed was the infusion of bright red blood and gruesome gore into otherwise sedate pictures. Captain Clegg doesn’t contain those extra elements – it is a tale of 19th century smugglers who disguise themselves as skeletal ‘marsh phantoms’ to obfuscate their wrong-doings. Despite references to having ears and tongues cut out, the horror element is very much in the background, and instead this is more of a period caper full of derring-do and spirited British performances. Sadly, this makes it substantially less interesting than Hammer’s better known output.

Yvonne Romain, who starred in the similarly anaemic ‘Curse of the Werewolf (1960)’ plays the subject of pirates’ desire and the daughter of Captain Clegg (Peter Cushing), and her co-star from that earlier film (although they never shared scenes), Oliver Reed is mostly wasted in the under-written role as innocent Harry, her would-be suitor.

This is a well-played, intriguing, mannered film with plenty of good performances. It’s a rollicking yarn - as a horror tale however, it doesn’t deliver the goods unless you are frightened by men riding around dressed as skeletons, on similarly disguised horses.

Madison has an acute fear of water, and worries that a vengeful spirit is coming for her. One of her friends admits to another that she has a mental problem. Probably best, then, that these ‘friends’ get together and create a mock séance and challenge any spirits to send a sign that they mean Maddie harm. When a definite sign is sent that harm IS meant, what is the next thing this group of geniuses decide to do? Carry on with the séance, and lower her into a tub of water – where she is grabbed by an unseen spirit that tries to drown her.

In the continuing face of her misery, more people – professionals, this time, and the father of a former victim – tell her her fears are all in her mind. Such stupidity gets instantly frustrating. The darkened creature known as The Drownsman thinks so too, and slowly he begins to attack Madison’s group of friends.

The trouble is, due to his nature, The Drownsman dispatches all his victims in the same manner, so instead of his crimes being depicted as brutal and terrifying, they are rather more relentless and repetitive. Also, Maddie’s extreme aqua-phobia clearly doesn’t extend to an ability to wash herself – she, her clothes and hair are spotless at all times. It’s impossible not to notice this.

This is a competently made, unambitious picture, content to model its scares on the ‘Nightmare on Elm Street’ franchise, with the titular fiend appearing to a group of intense young pretties mainly through their unconsciousness, always involving water. As the creature’s success with claiming the young troupe continues, his original favourite Madison continues to evade him long enough to find out a little of the Drownsman’s past; the ‘terrible sick monster’ was a rapist, who raped Maddie’s mother, which resulted in … Maddie.

There’s a notion that The Drownsman might have been waiting for Maddie so she can take his place, but this is only vaguely hinted at before the credits come crashing in and, in all honesty, it’s difficult to be overly concerned with a character (or characters) who spend most of the film’s running time screaming instead of developing any discernible character.

By 1948, Universal’s monsters had come to the end of their tether. A mixture of production-line film series, diminishing returns and lack of imagination had done for the classic monsters three years before. A script called ‘Brain of Frankenstein’ had originally been suggested as a serious entry into The Monster’s film series, before being rehashed into this vehicle for Abbott and Costello, a hugely popular comic duo whose star was also beginning to wane.

‘Abbott and Costello’ was a huge hit, but while the two comics found a temporary new lease of life, it was the last gasp for their three classic spooky co-stars.

It’s charming the way that Lon Chaney’s Larry Talbot, being the wolf-man, constantly has knowledge of the activities of the other two titular monsters (Bela Lugosi as Dracula, and Glenn Strange as Frankenstein’s Monster), who are currently exhibits in a horror museum (Talbot’s role here is the sensible, level-headed custodian over the hair-brained pursuits of the other monsters and their unlikely plans for villainy). Chaney once said that featuring alongside A&C was career suicide, but the fact is, their goofy routines are genuinely brilliant. Perfect comic timing, a fine balance of wise-cracking and humility that rarely dates, and some terrific lines that never, ever laugh at the horror co-stars, but with them. Of course, by this stage, the monsters have become so familiar they rarely truly frighten, but this is a respectful comedy show, and all the better for it. Also, it appears to have a generous budget – there are model shots, animation effects, spacious sets and some elaborate set-pieces for the time.

As for the monsters – Larry’s looking a little more haggard than usual, but remains otherwise unchanged. Glenn Strange gets more screen-time here than in both of his previous Monster excursions put together and acquits himself well with his few lines (I love the fact that the Monster is frightened by Wilbur’s (Lou Costello) appearance). Bela Lugosi, whose career had floundered somewhat by this time due to the unprincipled nature of film producers unable to see beyond his seminal vampire performance, finds the perfect balance between the solemnity of Dracula’s reputation and interplay (often very physical) with his co-stars. In fact, that accolade can be shared amongst all three, and for the Universal horror ‘style’ that is faithfully recreated here.

There is a real sadness knowing that The Wolfman and Dracula toppling into the sea, and The Frankenstein Monster’s fiery pier-side demise, truly spell the end for three horror characters that had been so effective and carefully written for early on in their careers. Their reputations would endure however, often after the actors had passed away, to this day. Lugosi, in particular, is still held in fascination for horror fans, and it was Glenn Strange’s Monster (as opposed to Karloff’s) that adorned most of the Frankenstein merchandise released subsequently. The classic monsters never truly die.

This post-apocalyptic Chilean film begins in an interesting way. Instead of showing the decimation of the world as we know it into a zombie-strewn, blasted wasteland, the terrible events are told through the narration and drawings of a child; the end of the world seen through a child’s eyes. Except this child (Camille, played by Camille Lynch), and a handful of others, have been born with gill-like marks on their necks, making them immune from zombie bites and the sickness that accompanies them.

When the film proper begins, it becomes apparent that this opening narration isn’t an introduction to the story being told - it IS the story. What follows is a series of images, relentlessly punctuated by flashbacks (often the same flashbacks, repeated), of a group of children – each one displaying no acting ability whatsoever – either playing happily on swings, being chased by the living dead (from whom they have nothing to fear because of their ‘gills’), or chased by soldiers eager to learn more about their immunity. And that is it. Story-wise, nothing happens until the end. Worst of all, the viewer is not given any inclination to care.

Visually, things are more interesting. A lot of the colour has been bled from the images, and we are treated to a kind of sepia world, with only rolling contaminated orange skies and the bright redness of blood to enliven the vistas. The zombie transformations are effective, but undermined each time by the juveniles’ utter lack of reaction to them – they are immune, so why should they worry?

The children reach the ocean, and the swelling of triumphant music tells us this is a good thing, even when a giant digital octopus emerges and destroys a helicopter full of ever-present soldiers. The youngsters’ transformation is complete, it seems, as Camille turns to the camera and reveals fully matured gills and webbed hands.

The opening scene from this Israeli film is quite frightening, depicting as it does an eerie, brutal exorcism. What immediately follows, however, is more scary. ‘You are stupid, but beautiful’ intones the sinister proprietor of the hotel at which three young travellers – Rachel (Yael Grobglas) and Sarah (Danielle Jadelyn) (who refer to each other as ‘bitch’) and Kevin (Yon Tumarkin), the young man they immediately pick up, his good looks and charm influencing the girls to change their plans and travel to Jerusalem - are staying. After immediately mocking the superstitious locals, they make the acquaintance of Omar, a confidently westernised regional guide, after discovering their common interest is smoking weed. After all, they’re young – this is what they DO.

The found footage genre takes a lot of criticism, but I think it is an entirely legitimate way of telling a story, if it’s done well. This is so reliant on that style that it plays like a computer game. The technology is impressive, but the plaything of the two girls is banal and irritating in comparison. The big American curses of typical ‘f*** you, a*****e’ and ‘m*****-*****r’ are slung about relentlessly with little regard as to how offensive to the locals such expletives are – but hey, that’s okay, because the locals are portrayed as menial cretins. Much more discerning is the myriad of grinning faces, gurning ‘hi’ to whoever is watching or indulging in some (always unfulfilled) casual sex with others equally vacuous. Waiting for the monsters to come is an excruciating experience.

Apart from the location, which is stunning and nicely shot, this is a trying film. The characters are stultifyingly stupid and irritating: giggling, horny, chirpy, shallow and banal. When the winged CGI-enhanced creatures come, their presence initially mistaken for a terrorist attack, they are seen and heard through a blur of ‘ohmigods’ and interruptive onscreen ‘webcam’ digital distractions – rock music, message alerts and ‘comedy’ adverts. The attacks from the creatures is briefly effective, and things become exciting towards the end, but the dross you have to sit through to get to these moments makes it hardly worth your while.

Adam Michaels (Ben Gardner Grey) and his determined-to-be-miserable wife Rachel (Cyd Casados), along with baby Alfie (Georgio Costa Houtris) stay the night at Eden Lodge, unaware of the slate of carnage that erupts around the place. A rambler is killed, her friend is imprisoned and tortured – and shortly after this everyone the couple meet are either dismembered or killed. The only two other survivors appear to be lovely landlady Mrs Wilkes (Ellie Dickens) and her reserved son David (James Killeen).

From the offset, Wilkes is represented as deeply religious, which appears to earmark her for suspicion. David is an awkward, ungainly fellow, and so he, too, should be considered a suspect.

Although highly likely to be red herrings, it materialises toward the end that they must be guilty, because everyone else has been killed. Except there is a twist – David committed suicide ten years ago, and his mother is the only one who sees him.

Rachel discovers the real David is a long-dead cadaver safely tucked up in clean sheets, in the top bedroom of Eden Lodge.

As is often the way with these things, there are plot questions. It is ten years since David’s death – are we to suppose that his mother has only now decided to carry out her twisted revenge – and if so, why the wait? If not, and she has been making these seemingly arbitrary killings, what has happened to the various corpses - at least five people die within the few days in which ‘Eden Lodge’s’ events take place, so by that reckoning, a large amount of corpses would have built up?

Presented as a slightly more-grisly-than-usual television horror drama, some of the acting is occasionally stilted. What gore there is, is effectively conveyed and, although it never intends to stray too far from standard horror, this is nevertheless a competent and enjoyable film. One online reviewer has compared it favourably to the films of Pete Walker, with Mrs Wilkes being an ideal part for Sheila Keith. It hadn’t occurred to me, but it’s a convincing point of view.

Sun-kissed, breath-taking landscape, stunning young blond lady meets hunky hitch-hiker who, within seconds, has removed his shirt, and the finger is hovering precariously over the off button. But any worries this may be Baywatch soon dissipate.

Mallory (Julianne Hough) is driving around the Grand Canyon, when her car breaks down. Christian (Teddy Sears) helps out, and she gives him a lift to the motel where he is staying. Christian’s transformation into perversity and psychotic evil is initially unthreatening in the extreme, but the power of Sears’ performance is a slow-burner. His slow, methodical taunting of Mallory is sadistic and measured, underlining the fact he likes to be in complete control of the situation - especially when Mallory deliberately crashes the car and becomes trapped inside, while Christian is free and happy to leave her to suffer.

As time goes on, the punishing imprisonment means many demeaning moments for Mallory, but just as luck seems to reach an all-time low, she might just be alright. Well, of course she’s alright. Not only that, but she saves her aggressor’s other victims, holed up in the motel – and sees off Christian as well. And that’s after 48 hours trapped upside down in a car.

Stretching credibility as it does, this nevertheless has some tense and harrowing moments, and the acting is excellent throughout – especially as the bulk of the film is essentially a two-hander.

Playboy ‘playmates’ Mary and Madeleine Collinson play Maria and Frieda, two recently orphaned twins from Venice, who have the additional misfortune to be coming to live with their Uncle Veil, the constantly furious leader of ‘The Brotherhood’, a group who bastardise their interpretation of religion by sacrificing young girls whom they believe are ‘servants of the devil’. One of the best lines in the film is Veil’s response to his nieces not wearing black after two months of mourning. On seeing their smart clothes, he intones, finger raised to the Heavens, “WHAT kind of PLUMAGE is this??”

Peter Cushing gives one of his best performances ever as Gustav Veil, a fairly complex character as written. With seldom few genuine ‘good guys’ on display (hero Anton (David Warbeck) is a teacher with less than professional designs on Frieda, who is, after all, one of his students) , Veil is typically written as a hypocritical, tyrannical yet ultimately fragile and humane authority figure. Cushing plays every contrast to the hilt, so that rather than hating him, the viewer is drawn into the moral dilemma of how to deal with the demonic forces he has given his life (and the life of those around him) to destroying, when such forces infest his own family. In his perverted translation of religion, he and his followers, all aroused by each other’s vehement hatred of impurities, are responsible for the deaths of more innocents than the corrupt Count Karnstein – and yet when Gustav falls, as he inevitably must, he dies a (kind of) hero. Real life tragedies etched ten years of age onto Cushing’s countenance (compare his appearance here to his last Hammer outing ‘The Vampire Lovers’) and leant him a forlorn countenance that adds to Veil’s vulnerability.

Damien Thomas was rumoured to be in line to play Dracula for Hammer once Christopher Lee had finally hung up his fangs – and from his performance here, it is easy to see why. The twins are also very good here, despite having little formal acting experience – subtle differences in responses separate the mischievous Frieda from the wholesome Maria very well; no mean feat considering they are dubbed throughout. Dennis Price is exceptional as the weasely Dietrich. Often wasted at this stage of his career on cheap sex-comedies and low-budget horrors, he is exemplary here, especially when ineffectually attempting to excite Karnstein with some inept devil-worshipping entertainment. Harvey Hall, the only actor to have appeared in all of this trilogy (alongside Kirstin Lindholm who is briskly burnt at the stake), is his usual dependable self as Franz, one of The Brotherhood. Finally, Katya Wyeth plays the third incarnation of Carmilla/Mircalla, (who speaks in crisp, clipped RC English, without the European intonations of her predecessors) who – in her one scene – incestuously seduces The Count and turns him into a vampire (which begs the question, who was responsible for the vampire attacks on villagers before Karnstein’s turning?). Apparently, Ingrid Pitt was offered the part, but possibly due to its brevity, turned it down.

Director Tim Burton often cites Hammer films as an inspiration for the visuals of his films, especially ‘Sleepy Hollow (1999)’. It is easy to imagine he refers specifically to ‘Twins of Evil’ as virtually every scene is reminiscent of the darkest gothic fairy-tale, with great use of rich colours against the shadows. Apparently the budget for this wasn’t much higher than the previous ‘Lust’ film, which is astounding, as this looks magnificent and a true credit to Director John Hough.

The music also separates this from others in the trilogy. The bombastic score is exciting and plays against some of the more gruesome scenes (the elongated burnings, for example), and yet makes them more tragic and frightening than if more traditional incidentals were used. ‘Twins’ is as good as anything Hammer has ever produced.

Fresh from playing an unnamed vampire in this film’s prequel ‘The Vampire Lovers’, actress Kirstin Lindholm here plays an unnamed peasant girl in the pre-credits sequence. She is attacked by another wraith-like bloodsucker stalking the countryside in broad daylight, which seems perfectly acceptable for the undead in these latter day Hammer films.

Immediately, the same studio-bound low-budget tattiness that afflicted the earlier film is evident here. Former DJ Mike Raven plays Baron Karnstein (presumably the same character John Forbes-Robertson played in ‘The Vampire Lovers’), dressed in suit and cape and dubbed by Valentine Dyall. He spills the girl’s blood to resurrect, in a nice gory sequence, Carmilla. Close-ups of Christopher Lee’s eyes, complete with red contact lenses, spliced from another film, are inexplicably inserted during this scene, further under-lining the gleefully cut-price nature of this production – and this barely ten minutes in.

Unlike the episodic nature of ‘The Vampire Lovers’, this gives us more time to get to know the characters. Ralph Bates – in a role originally written for Peter Cushing – plays Giles Barton, a fascinating character who exudes prim fussiness as schoolmaster in an idyllic Finishing School for girls, but hides a dark desire. He is chided by the girls for being a pervert, whereas the less interesting hero Richard LeStrange (Michael Johnson), who lies his way into the position of supply teacher so he can ogle new pupil Mircalla more closely, is welcomed with open arms by the students.

Pippa Steele returns from ‘The Vampire Lovers’ to play a different, equally doomed, character, as does the splendid Harvey Hall, but the titular Carmilla has been recast. Instead of Ingrid Pitt’s mastery of seduction and devilry, we have Yutte Stensgaard’s far less complex interpretation. Well worthy of a mention is Suzanna Leigh as Janet Playfair, the schoolmistress who tries to attract LeStrange’s eye. Christopher Neame, one of a gaggle of villagers would go onto play Dracula’s servant Johnny Alucard in ‘Dracula AD 1972’.

Barton’s moonlit rendezvous with Carmilla is my favourite scene from the film. Barton wishes to be a servant of the Devil, having studied vampire lore and disposing of Carmilla’s victims. His crumbling entreaties to the unfeeling girl as she drains him of his blood are a perfect mix of seduction and doom. Almost as mesmerising is Carmilla’s later love scene with LeStrange. This scene has been much derided, mainly due to the inclusion of a song (‘Strange Love’ by ‘Tracy’) throughout its duration, but I really like it. With horror, you either have to ‘go with it’ or not, and this scene helps to sell the haunting, dreamlike atmosphere – and yet it is telling Hammer never tried anything like it again. Ah well.

Having succumbed to the charms of a mortal, Carmilla’s days (or nights) are numbered. The Karnsteins return to their castle and a fiery finale involves a burning wooden stake hurtling from the ceiling, impaling the girl as the Count and Countess face their fate. I’m not sure whether I prefer this to the previous film or not. Both have flaws – usually budget-related – but many merits too. One thing I am sure about, however, is that the final picture of the trilogy, ‘Twins of Evil’ ends the project on a high.

By 1970, the formula that had been successful for Hammer was sliding out of fashion. Audiences were tiring of the European ‘bloodshed and bosoms’ stories the company were releasing with regularity. Their answer was to up the quotient of both, and the cleavage on display here is provided by no less than three main players – Kate O’Mara, Pippa Steele, Maddie Smith and especially Ingrid Pitt.

Based on Sheridan de Fanu’s masterful ‘Carmilla’ tale, this forms the first in a trilogy of films to feature the titular character, although ‘The Vampire Lovers’ is the only one that really uses the original novel as its inspiration. The sequels, ‘Lust for a Vampire’ and ‘Twins of Evil’ feature Carmilla/Marcilla/Mircalla as an increasingly peripheral figure played, bizarrely, by three different actresses. Perhaps the writers Harry Fine/Tudor Gates/Michael Style were trying to suggest that not only does she transcend age and time, but occupies multiple personalities too.

After opening with a voice-over (strongly reminiscent of the opening of Hammer’s ground-breaking ‘Dracula (1957)’) and a convincing model effect of the castle, the low-budget is betrayed in a very studio-bound yet sinister graveyard as Baron Hartog (Douglas Wilmer) witnesses the arrival of a wraith-like vampire (Kirstin Lindholm) before beheading her. The story proper begins with the introduction of Marcilla to a rather threadbare party, where she is placed in the care of General von Speilsdorf (Peter Cushing) and his niece Laura (Pippa Steele). It is then that strange dreams and occurrences begin in earnest. Following Laura’s death, Speilsdorf is written out of the narrative for much of the film, leaving George Cole’s Roger Morton and his niece Emma (Maddie Smith – and her Governess Kate O’Mara) as Carmilla’s later protagonists/victims for a brief spell before he leaves ‘for Vienna’. Jon Finch plays young Carl, who completes the quartet of angry men with a grievance against the mysterious vampire woman.

‘The Vampire Lovers’ is an enjoyable, unpolished production. Occasional scenes are dogged by signs of the raggedness that was creeping into Hammer’s dense production schedule at this time. The inn where the butler Renton (splendidly played by Harvey Hall) visits is filmed in close-up to avoid revealing a lack of customers; there are recurrent location scenes featuring a tennis court complete with chain-mail fencing; also, the camera lingers on scenes of Carmilla casting reflections – although she happily exists in daylight, suggesting she is perhaps more than a vampire.

Perhaps the best scene is a brief one. Witnessing the funeral of one of her victims (although no-one has yet made the connection between the mysterious girl and the succession of blood-drained victims) in the woods, Carmilla is terrified by the religious symbolism, and the ceremony overwhelms her.

Whilst it is great when the four protagonists finally gang up to rid 19th century Styria of Carmilla, to have them fractured throughout the film means that each one is severely underwritten. They are little more than cogs that come together, rather than characters with personalities.

The greatest written part goes, of course, to Ingrid Pitt’s titular character. The actress rises brilliantly to the challenge of playing a seductive, occasionally vulnerable, centuries old vampire. Her apparent infatuation with Emma is brought to life more by the actresses than anything in the script, and that is what stalls her plans to seduce everyone in sight. Never a step out of place, Pitt’s charm and presence underlines how incredible it is that she never played the part in the following two films in this trilogy.

Mara – according to Nordic mythology is a supernatural, female creature who haunts you at night and causes bad dreams.

Jenny is being interviewed by the police in a darkened room. In flashback, she tells us how she sees the sees the spirit of her mother, but that’s impossible, because her mother has been institutionalised for years after chronic post-natal depression. However, Jenny learns she has actually been released two years earlier, which seems to validate her sightings of the woman who had abused her as a child.

The flashbacks continue. She is at a party with her cousin and some friends, at her mother’s house. Jakob and Stina seem to be getting close and Jenny doesn’t like it. After more images of her mother appear, Jenny at last gets some sleep. When she wakes, everybody has gone. It is tempting to speculate that they left her because of her moody nature, but the truth is much worse. After an age of Jenny thinking she hears and sees ghostly images, she finds her friends stabbed to death. Her mother appears to be descending the stairs, bloody knife in hand. Jenny runs outside, blood staining her clothes and ample bosom. The police arrive and tell her to ‘drop the knife’. Looking at her hand, she is shocked to see she is holding the stained kitchen knife.

At this point, I was fairly disappointed in the resolution – neurotic girl imagines spectres are killing people, and we are left unsure whether or not it’s all in her mind. I was hasty.

Back to the interrogation. Jenny has told the police all she knows – and is then told her friends are alive and well. Confused, perhaps, but unharmed. So, the inspector reiterates, where did all the blood comes from? Jenny looks to the camera, and we see an image of her mother – dead and bloody, lying in a wood.

Too long is spent going through the rigmarole of seeing things that turn out not to be there again and again, but that notwithstanding, this is a very enjoyable low budget gore-thriller.