Packing for Transylvania

Recently, Alexandra of Mancrates Gifts for Men contacted your friendly ol’ Unimonster.  Mancrates is a site that specializes in manly gifts for manly men (so, of course they came to me, natch)—no frou-frou wrapping paper or frilly bows … the lucky recipient of a Man Crate gets just that, a crate and a crowbar.  The crate comes packed with a chosen assortment of everything a man could wish for—well, almost everything.  From video games, to barware featuring your favorite team’s logo, to enough beef jerky to carry you through any movie marathon or from the earliest pre-game show on Sunday morning through to Chris Collinsworth’s final words fifteen hours later, mancrates.com will box it up and ship it out.  And the question that Alexandra and mancrates wished to pose to the Unimonster was, “If you could have us crate up a kit to help you survive in a horror film, what would it contain?”

Most horror fans, when posed this question, would think ‘zombie apocalypse’ and start assembling weapons, ammo … and giant, economy sized cans of pudding.  Personally, I’m going to go in another direction.  I already have weapons and ammo, and I’m not all that crazy about pudding.  What I am crazy about is classic horror—vampires and werewolves, mummies and monsters, ghosts and ghouls.  And few have done classic horror as well as Hammer Films.  Beginning in 1957, this British studio resurrected classic horror from the depths to which it had plunged following World War 2, making it ‘cool’ again for a generation of movie goers.

Yvonne Furneaux-- The Mummy

Yvonne Monlaur-- The Brides of Dracula

Yvonne Romain-- Curse of the Werewolf, Night Creatures

And that’s the horror film into which I’d place myself.  One of the great, period horrors of the late 1950s, when Hammer was at it’s peak, artistically speaking.  There are several reasons for my selection.  First, no one’s starving in a Hammer film.  In fact, the vampires usually do one the courtesy of a sumptuous meal before the fangs come out and they get down to business.  Second, while I’ve never been accused of being a fashion plate, I do like to bathe and change my clothes more than once a year.  And lastly, we have the lovely ladies of Hammer Horror.  Now, if I have to fight my way through hordes of undead walkers, then Carol and Michonne are my picks.  But for sheer good looks, give me Hammer’s three Yvonnes—Yvonne Monlaur, Yvonne Furneaux, and Yvonne Romain.

So now that that’s decided, I need to pack for the trip.  The first thing mancrates will be putting in that box is some holy water.  I’m not talking about some tiny little vial—I want a gallon jug, preferably blessed by both Popes.  And a Hudson sprayer.  Throw in a box of crucifixes … the more the merrier.  Why Peter Cushing could never bother with packing more than one has always baffled me.  A little foresight and he wouldn’t have had to improvise with a pair of candlesticks.  Besides, vampires, at least in Hammer’s take on the species, tend to travel in packs.  Two more items to take care of the vampire set—a good, heavy mallet and a brace of stakes.  Maybe eighteen or twenty in a quiver would be nice.

Now, compared to vampires, werewolves are relatively easy to kill, if one knows the secret of how to do it.  Silver bullets; a box of fifty should be sufficient.  But not just any cartridge will suffice.  I’d like to keep things as period authentic as possible.  So let’s start with a handgun that’s quintessentially Victorian, with a bit of a ‘Steampunk’ vibe, the Webley Mk. I, chambered for the .455 cartridge.

One last item needs to be taken care of, and then mancrates can nail my crate shut, cover it in duct tape, and ship it out.  As Peter Cushing, Christopher Lee, and a host of their fellows demonstrated time and again, one simply does not battle monsters unless one is suitably attired; at least, not if one is a gentleman.  I’m not sure how a tweed jacket or white tie and tails helps a person kill monsters … but why take a chance?

Back from the Dead: the Return of Hammer Horror

Beginning in the late 1950s, and continuing into the 1970s, one studio was synonymous with the production and distribution of Classic Horror films, those films featuring the creatures of gothic nightmares—vampires, werewolves, witches, and the walking dead.  Just as Universal held the title of the “House that Horror Built” in the ‘30s and ‘40s, Hammer Films was the source for gothic horror throughout my childhood.  I was on a first-name basis with Christopher Lee’s Dracula long before I met Bela Lugosi’s, and to this day, for me at least, Peter Cushing is the definitive Dr. Frankenstein.

Unfortunately, Hammer’s popularity on the big screen never quite translated into long-term financial security.  Though its films generated huge box office revenues (Hammer’s 1957 movie CURSE OF FRANKENSTEIN, the film which started Hammer’s reign as the king of horror, was for many years Britain’s most profitable domestic production), most of that money found its way to the overseas distributors, many of whom had fronted the cost of production for the films.  This left the studio, under the direction of Michael Carreras, in a rather precarious position.  As long as there was sufficient overseas demand for their product, primarily in the US, then the funding was readily available for the studio to maintain production.  However, this often left the studio without the ownership of the movies it produced, and without the potential revenue such movies would generate in re-release.  It also meant that, when the US market for classic Horror began to dry up in the mid-1970s, so did Hammer’s primary source of capital.  Hammer’s last feature was 1976’s TO THE DEVIL A DAUGHTER, directed by Peter Sykes.  An attempt to capitalize on the popularity of demonic-themed Horror films following the blockbuster successes of ROSEMARY’S BABY, THE EXORCIST, RACE WITH THE DEVIL, and THE OMEN, Hammer’s entry into the sub-genre was a case of too little, too late.  Except for the occasional television program produced for the British market, Hammer Films, for all intents and purposes, ceased to exist.

However, as is the case with any good horror tale, the dead have an aversion to remaining buried.  In May of 2007, the rights to Hammer’s name, as well as their library of titles, were purchased by Dutch producer John De Mol.  The resurrected studio’s first feature production was 2010’s LET ME IN, the remake of the highly-acclaimed Swedish Vampire film LET THE RIGHT ONE IN (LÅT DEN RÄTTE KOMMA IN) from 2008.  That success (though the film earned a meager $13 million at the box-office, both critics and fans raved over it) was quickly followed up by 2011’s THE RESIDENT, a psychological thriller which reunited the great Christopher Lee with the studio that made him a Horror icon.  Starring Hilary Swank and Jeffery Dean Morgan, and directed by Antii Jokinen, it wasn’t as well received as LET ME IN.  Still, Hammer Films was back on the map, a return given an implied blessing by the inclusion of Lee in the cast.  And its biggest success was yet to come.

Based on the 1983 novel by Susan Hill (which had previously been adapted for the screen in 1989), THE WOMAN IN BLACK was the reborn studio’s most ambitious project to date.  The first post-HARRY POTTER feature for star Daniel Radcliffe, Hammer started filming on the project in late September 2010, on a budget of $17 million.  Radcliffe stars as Arthur Kipps, a young solicitor (the British term for lawyer) dispatched to a small coastal village to settle the estate of a recently-deceased woman.  From the moment of his arrival, Kipps is made aware that his presence is unwelcome, and that nothing would please the villagers more than his immediate return to London.  Determined to accomplish his task (indeed, his job depends upon it), Kipps finds himself drawn deeper into a supernatural mystery that seems to involve the entire village.

THE WOMAN IN BLACK, directed by James Watkins, is a rarity for these modern times:  A good, old-fashioned gothic ghost story.  Opting for genuine scares, rather than buckets of gore and cheap shocks, Watkins crafted a thrilling film that succeeded with both critics and fans.  With an opening weekend gross of over $20 million (placing it second for the weekend only to the teen Sci-Fi film CHRONICLE), laudatory reviews from critics, and an enthusiastic response from fans, Hammer 2.0 had its first blockbuster success.  The film ended its theatrical run with a $54 million domestic gross, and $127 million internationally.  Not since Hammer’s glory days had they seen success of that caliber, and they aren’t done yet.

Recently, Hammer has placed several films into production … John Pogue’s THE QUIET ONES; BONESHAKER, a co-production with Cross Creek Pictures; GASLIGHT; and a sequel to THE WOMAN IN BLACK, subtitled ANGELS OF DEATH.  They’ve also branched out into publishing, in partnership with Random House, and have even announced plans for a visitor attraction.  As owner of the vast Hammer library of titles, the new version of the studio should have the one vital ingredient to bring its plans to fruition; the one ingredient its predecessor lacked—a viable source of steady revenue.

As someone who loves classic horror, and who has been a life-long fan of the type of Horror films that were the hallmark of the original Hammer, it’s my sincere hope that they succeed in their plans.  Enough of torture-porn, “found footage,” and vampires taken from the pre-adolescent fantasies of young girls.  Give me ghosts, ghouls, mummies, werewolves, vampires who look like vampires.

Give me Hammer Horror once again.

Dracula Reborn: HORROR OF DRACULA and the Rise of Hammer

         

         The mid 1940’s to mid 1950’s was a period of decline for Classic Horror.  Monsters were no longer tuxedo-clad vampires or shambling, cloth-wrapped mummies.  Monsters were now gigantic insects, radioactive mutants, and alien invaders.  What vampires and werewolves were to be found were products of science tampering with nature, not the ancient undead or supernatural curses.

          Two prime examples of this are a pair of films released in 1957:  THE VAMPIRE, and I WAS A TEEN-AGE WEREWOLF.

          THE VAMPIRE, directed by Paul Landres, was a nondescript programmer from Gramercy Pictures, distributed by United Artists; not a terrible film, but hardly memorable.  A doctor, while on a quest to improve his mind, tries an extract of vampire bat blood, with predictable results. 

          Gene Fowler Jr.’s I WAS A TEEN-AGE WEREWOLF on the other hand, became something of a cult-classic, primarily because of the screen debut of a youthful Michael Landon rather than the film’s inherent quality.  Landon plays Tony Rivers, a juvenile delinquent placed under the care of a psychologist (Whit Bissell). 

          The psychologist performs some unauthorized experiments on the young man, using hypnosis to regress him to a point in man’s development where he is a savage, feral beast.  Here too, the results are entirely predictable and, for the junior wolf-man, unfortunate.

          Such was the state of our classic creatures of horror through most of the decade of the 1950’s.  But the pendulum was beginning to swing back towards the classics, and two unrelated events provided the impetus for that change of fortune.  The first was the release, in June of 1957, of Hammer Films THE CURSE OF FRANKENSTEIN, launching the British studio to the forefront of the horror genre.  Introducing Hammer’s Dynamic Duo of Horror, Christopher Lee and Peter Cushing, along with the studio’s star director, Terence Fisher, this film sparked a resurgence of interest in the classics, as well as changed the look of Horror Films.

          Hammer Film Productions had been around, in its then-current form, since shortly after the end of World War II.  A child of Col. James Carreras, Hammer was very much a small family business in the mid-1950’s, known primarily for crime, adventure, and war pictures.  Ensconced at Bray Studios, Down Place, in Berkshire, a small, tightly-knit group of artists and craftsmen would create some of the greatest Horror Films ever produced, working on budgets that were fractions of what was typical in a Hollywood production.

          They accomplished these miracles, at least in the beginning, through the efforts of a few very talented people, the people who created the “Hammer Look”… people such as Michael Carreras, the son of James, Tony Nelson-Keyes, Tony Hinds, and Jimmy Sangster.  Jack Asher’s superb photography brought the Hammer horrors to life, painted in brilliant colors across a canvas laid before the viewer by Bernard Robinson’s perfect production and art designs.

          THE CURSE OF FRANKENSTEIN was the film that established the pattern for the “Hammer Look”… bold, vibrant colors, lush period sets and costumes, and, at least at this point in time, quality acting, writing, and directing.  Peter Cushing, as the mad genius Dr. Victor Frankenstein, carries the film, creating a character at once evil yet complex, someone the viewer is unable to see completely as a villain.  Lee’s Monster, by comparison, is simply cruel and brutish, lacking any of the pathos and humanity of Karloff’s creation. 

          Philip Leakey’s make-up, constrained as it was by threat of legal action from Universal if it too closely resembled Jack Pierce’s trademarked conception, was generic and unimpressive, doing nothing to convey the monster’s origins the way Pierce’s did for Karloff.  Karloff looked like a patchwork, a being stitched together from rotting cadavers into a less than perfect whole; Lee, on the other hand, looked like nothing more than the common zombie that would populate Horror Films beginning little more than a decade later.  It was not an effective look.

          While the film was much closer in plot to Shelley’s original tale, it was all gloss and glitter; beautiful to look at, but lacking the heart and soul of James Whale’s landmark film, and wholly inferior to it.  This movie, like Hammer Films itself, was a gorgeous façade, with very little of substance supporting it.

 

          The second major development in the restoration of classic horror occurred in the fall of 1957, when Universal, through an arrangement with Screen Gems, released their Shock Theater package to Television stations around the country.  Composed of some of their greatest Horror Films, including FRANKENSTEIN, DRACULA, THE WOLF-MAN, and CREATURE FROM THE BLACK LAGOON, this led to an explosion of Hosted Horror programs on Friday and Saturday nights.  Though Horror Hosts had existed prior to the Shock Theater release, it was the flood of high-quality movies and the success of hosts such as Zacherley in New York and Vampira in Los Angeles that spurred stations from Atlanta to Minneapolis to develop their own late-night Horror shows.

          These trends continued into 1958, and on the 22^nd of May of that year, at the Gaumont Theater in London, Hammer’s second blockbuster premiered.  HORROR OF DRACULA, once again directed by Fisher and starring Cushing and Lee, took the basic blueprint laid down by the previous film and set it in concrete, defining for the next twelve years the look and texture of classic horror.  Not until DRACULA A.D. 1972 was there anything more than a qualitative change in Hammer’s Dracula franchise, and decidedly not for the better.

          This time however there would be a clear choice between good and evil, as Cushing was cast as Dr. Van Helsing, the bloody Count’s nemesis.  Though he ably demonstrated that he could play evil convincingly in THE CURSE OF FRANKENSTEIN, it’s as the heroic Van Helsing that he found his greatest role. 

          Where, in 1931’s DRACULA, Edward Van Sloan had essayed an elderly, superstitious professor (for all his scientific training, Van Sloan’s character was little more than a village wise woman…), Cushing portrayed Van Helsing as a young, strong, active combatant against evil, seeking scientific explanations for the vampire’s existence, and scientific means to destroy him.  Universal’s Van Helsing was a teacher; Hammer’s was a warrior, and a worthy foe for the Prince of Darkness.

          And what a Prince of Darkness he faced.

 

          For more than a quarter of a century previously, Bela Lugosi’s portrayal of the eponymous Count from Bram Stoker’s novel had been the model that moviemakers followed, and moviegoers wanted.  The image of Dracula as an urbane, sophisticated gentleman, clad in black-tie formality, had become ingrained into the consciousness of Horror fans through multiple iterations of the Count and his clones. 

          Whether portrayed by Lugosi himself, Lon Chaney Jr., or John Carradine, the American image of the Vampire was that of Bela, in tie and tails, top hat and cape.  His Dracula had a slow, languid quality, almost hypnotic to watch.  It took no stretch of the imagination to picture a beautiful young woman falling victim to his spell.  Dracula, as created by Lugosi, was first and foremost a seducer, a debaucher.  He was, at heart, a lecherous old man.

          Christopher Lee’s reinvention of the Count cast aside this “Undead Man-about-Town…” image of Dracula.  While the wardrobe was little changed, the vampire inside underwent a radical transformation.

          Lee’s Dracula exuded youth, power, strength, vitality.  Lugosi was polished, refined; Lee was a barely concealed savage, like a wolf masquerading as a dog.  Lee’s Dracula was no seducer of women; he was a rapist, in spirit if not in fact; taking his women by force, not by guile.  However, in a typically post-Victorian British Male Freudian manner, his victims were all too willing accomplices to their own debasement, eager to offer up their throats for his hungry kisses.

          Dracula, as rendered by Christopher Lee, was an animalistic creature of the night, savage, brutal… and just like the studio that spawned him, new and exciting.

          That phrase also serves well to describe the film itself.  Though no more faithful to the source material than Browning’s 1931 film had been, this script, by Jimmy Sangster, possesses an energy totally lacking in the original.  Where John L. Balderston’s script for the ’31 version had been stiff and stagey, betraying its origins, Sangster, with some alterations by Fisher, crafted a script that fairly flew from plot-point to plot-point, dispensing with everything that failed to advance the story.

          Gone was the slow moving, talky introductory scene of the Browning film.  Here we meet Jonathan Harker (not the extraneous character of Renfield…) already arrived at Castle Dracula.  In a brief voice-over, taken from the pages of his diary, we are told all we need to know:  Harker, played ably by John Van Eyssen, is a friend and colleague of a Dr. Van Helsing, and is there to find and kill Count Dracula, and end his “…reign of terror.”

          Harker is found out, however, and infected by a vampire’s bite.  Racing against time before he too becomes one of the undead, he finds the daytime resting place of Dracula and his consort.  In typical Horror movie style, he makes a monumental blunder and, as the sun is setting, decides to stake the female vampire first.  This he does successfully, only to find the sun has set and Dracula has awakened.

          The scene shifts to a small village Gasthaus, decked out with wreaths of garlic, where we first meet Dr. Van Helsing.  He’s in search of his friend Harker, and the inn was his last reported address.  The innkeeper is less than forthcoming with Van Helsing, but Inga, the serving girl, gives him Harker’s diary, found at the crossroads near the Castle.

          The book leads him to the castle, now abandoned by Dracula.  As he nears the castle, Van Helsing is nearly run down by a fast moving hearse, bearing a white casket inside it.  Entering the castle, Van Helsing finds the body of his now undead friend, and releases his soul from its torment. 

          He then travels to the home of Arthur and Mina Holmwood (Michael Gough and Melissa Stribling) to inform them, and Miss Lucy Holmwood, Arthur’s sister and the fiancée of Harker, of his death.  He provides no details, but simply tells them that Harker had died ten days before.  Holmwood treats him coldly, and, as soon as his news is delivered, asks him to leave.  The Holmwoods decide to keep the information from Lucy, whose health is fragile.  However, she is already aware of her fiancé’s death, and seems strangely unaffected by this knowledge.  As her brother bends to kiss her goodnight, he fails to notice the two puncture wounds in her neck, over her jugular vein.

          Once she is alone, she removes a silver crucifix from her neck and opens a door leading out onto the grounds.  As she lies back on the bed, anticipation on her face, Dracula appears in the doorway, and shadows and darkness engulf the young woman.

          The next morning, the Holmwoods are shocked and dismayed by the deterioration in Lucy’s condition, as is Dr. Seward, the attending physician.  He suggests a second opinion, and Mina decides to seek help from Van Helsing.  He immediately recognizes the symptoms for what they are, and issues strict orders for the household to follow:  All doors and windows in Lucy’s room are to remain tightly closed and locked between sunset and sunrise; and her room is to be filled with boughs of garlic flowers.  Any deviation from these instructions, he adds ominously, would result in her death. 

          Lucy, however, convinces a maid to remove the flowers and open the doors, allowing her bloodthirsty lover into her bedroom.  The next morning, she is found dead, drained of blood.

          Holmwood is devastated by his sister’s death, and asks Van Helsing to leave them to their grief.  The doctor apologizes, but informs them of the true nature of Harker’s, and now Lucy’s, deaths.  He leaves Harker’s diary with Holmwood, with the admonition that if he could not believe Van Helsing, then certainly he could trust his late friend’s own words.

          The diary doesn’t fully convince Holmwood, but when the little daughter of the maid is nearly attacked by someone she recognizes as “Aunt Lucy”, he goes to the family mausoleum, and finds her coffin empty.  He waits for her return, and is shocked to see her walking towards him, leading the young girl by the hand.  He calls to her, and she releases the girl.  She approaches her brother, reaching out her arms to embrace him, mouth opening to reveal the elongated canines of the vampire. 

          Suddenly, a cross is thrust into view…  Van Helsing has arrived just in time to save Holmwood from his sister’s bloodlust.  He presses the cross against the flesh of her forehead, burning the image of the icon into her skin.  She breaks away, rushing back into the mausoleum, and back to her coffin.  They follow her in, and Holmwood is shocked to see the evil that is manifested in Lucy’s face; her formerly beautiful, innocent features now twisted into a vulpine grimace.  He asks Van Helsing what can be done to release her from this vile curse.  The answer is simple, though horrifying:  They must drive a wooden stake into her heart, finally ending her existence, and releasing her spirit.

          But, before they take that step, they should consider one thing:  Lucy can be used to lead them to her master.  They can follow her straight to Dracula’s lair.  Holmwood, however, balks at this.  He wants his sister freed from her curse now, before she can defile others as she has been defiled, spreading Dracula’s corruption like a virus.  Van Helsing regrets his decision, but cannot in good conscience deny the grieving man.  With a sigh of resignation, he drives the stake into Lucy’s chest.

          With the deed done, he leads Holmwood over to his sister’s coffin.  Once again, innocence and peace have returned to her visage…  Lucy Holmwood is finally at rest.

          The pair returns to Holmwood’s home, and begin to lay plans for an assault on Dracula himself.  Holmwood still is in disbelief, despite the evidence of his own experiences.  He questions Van Helsing on the legendary aspects of vampires, their ability to transform themselves, for instance.  A common fallacy, he is told.  Vampires have no such power.  Van Helsing has devoted his life to the study of these creatures, and even his knowledge barely scratches the surface. 

          The first priority they have is to locate his resting place.  Dracula must reside in his native soil by day, and Van Helsing believes he has a clue.  The hearse that nearly ran him down that day at the castle must have been carrying Dracula in his box of earth, and to get to Karlstadt, it had to pass through the border crossing.  There they might find records of the crossing, and a destination for Dracula’s coffin.

          However, the border official is less than cooperative with the duo, even after Van Helsing presents his medical credentials.  Holmwood, however, has better credentials… cash.  A bribe reveals that the coffin was consigned to an undertaker in Karlstadt, and gives them the address of the establishment.

          At that moment, Mina is receiving a message from a street urchin, informing her that Mr. Arthur Holmwood wishes her to meet him after sundown at 49 Freidrichstrasse… the same address that now holds Dracula’s coffin.  She goes, oblivious to the danger, and as she enters the storeroom of the undertaker’s shop, the camera shifts to a single white casket… as the lid slowly slides open.

          The next morning, Van Helsing and Holmwood have returned, though only temporarily.  They have yet to visit the undertaker, hopefully to find Dracula helpless in his coffin.  As they head out, they encounter Mina, returning from a night with the object of their hunt.  She explains that she had taken an early morning stroll in the garden.  There is an odd look of contentment, even satisfaction, on her face, and it’s perhaps a poor reflection on her husband that he does not recognize it for what it is, instead inquiring as to her health.  She reassures him, and the pair leaves on their mission.  At the undertaker’s, the situation is worse than they had expected.  Not only is Dracula not there, but his coffin has been relocated.  They’ve lost their only clue to his whereabouts.

          Back at the Holmwood house, they quietly discuss their options over maps of the area.  Holmwood remembers a small, neglected graveyard in the vicinity; with no other logical place to start, they decide to begin their hunt there.  He turns to say good-bye to his wife, and asks her to wear, as a personal favor to him, a small silver cross.  She resists, but he places it in her hand.  Instantly she screams, and falls unconscious to the floor.  As Van Helsing rushes to her aid, he opens her clenched fist, to reveal the shape of the cross, burned into the palm.

          Holmwood is angry with himself for not following Van Helsing’s suggestion to use Lucy to lead them to Dracula, but Van Helsing tells him not to worry; there is still time to save Mina, and she can serve the same purpose he had in mind for Lucy.  They will keep watch over the house later that night, and catch Dracula when he attempts to reach her.

          That night, the two men patrol the grounds, keeping a watchful eye on the house.  Mina watches them from her window, then turns to open her bedroom door.  Below, in the foyer of the house, stands Dracula.  With desire on her face, she watches him approach her.  He closes the door as he enters her bedroom, and as she falls back onto the bed, he throws himself on her.

          As dawn breaks, the men end their vigil.  Van Helsing decides to stay there and rest, and Holmwood heads up to bed.  A sudden cry brings the doctor running to find a scene of horror:  Mina, apparently lifeless, rivulets of dried blood tracing paths down her pale throat.

          Van Helsing hastily gives the woman a transfusion, using her husband as a donor.  This saves her life, though she remains under Dracula’s control.  He sends Holmwood down to rest, with an admonition to drink some wine to fortify his strength, then turns his attention to caring for his patient.

          Later, he joins Holmwood in the parlor.  The shaken man has taken his advice, finishing off a bottle of wine.  He asks the maid to bring up another bottle from the cellar, but she demurs, saying that Mrs. Holmwood had forbidden her to go into the cellar.  That sends a jolt through Van Helsing, who rushes down to the cellar.  There he finds Dracula’s coffin, empty.  At that moment, the cellar door opens, and just for a moment hunter and hunted stand face-to-face.  Dracula runs out, pulling the door shut behind him.  After Van Helsing insures that Dracula will not return to his coffin by placing a silver cross on the bed of earth, he and Holmwood give chase, and a scream leads them upstairs.  Gerda, the maid, has been attacked by Dracula, though not harmed.  But Dracula has taken Mina with him as he fled the house.

          There is only one place he can go for shelter before the sun rises, and that is back home to his castle.  They find a dead coachman; Dracula has killed the man and stolen his vehicle, and is racing to get home before dawn.  They must catch up to him before he can hide himself in the basements and catacombs of his home, or they might be searching for him for years. 

          And for Mina.

          Dracula arrives at the castle with mere moments to spare, and he must first open a grave for Mina.  Rapidly he digs a shallow trench, drops her in, and begins shoveling earth in over her unconscious form.  She awakens with a scream just as Van Helsing and her husband pull up in their carriage.

          Holmwood leaps to his wife’s aid, as Van Helsing pursues Dracula into the castle.  Cornered, Dracula fights with Van Helsing, gaining the upper hand, and slowly drawing near the doctor’s exposed throat.  Van Helsing breaks the vampire’s grip, however, and notices a thin shaft of sunlight stabbing through closed curtains.  He rips the curtains down, flooding the hall with light.  With a pair of crossed candlesticks he forces Dracula into the sunlight, where he crumbles into dust.  The threat is over, Mina is freed, and Dracula is finally dead.

          This was perhaps Hammer’s best production, with the possible exception of the following year’s THE MUMMY.  All the important elements were in place… Sangster’s script, Asher’s photography, the performances of Cushing and Lee, all tied together by Fisher’s competent, workmanlike direction.  Together, these artisans equaled more than the sum of their individual talents, and for the brief period of time that they were all together at Bray, they produced some of the best Horror Films the genre has ever seen. 

          The story of the rise of Hammer Films is very much the story of a few gifted individuals in precisely the right place at precisely the right time.  It wasn’t due to the inherent strengths of Hammer; there were none, as events unfolding less than two decades later would pointedly demonstrate. 

          When this group began to dissolve within five years, Hammer Films would take a hit, in terms of quality, from which it would never recover.  The Hammer look would soon degenerate into an assembly-line, mass-produced commodity, churned out as rapidly as possible, sold lock, stock, and residual rights to the highest bidder.

          Hammer, for most of its existence, lived in a perpetual cycle of brief periods of plenty broken by long stretches of lean; living from paycheck to paycheck, always trying to catch onto the latest trend.  For the most part, they succeeded, at least until the fragile house of cards that was the company’s financial structure came crashing down around the head of Michael Carreras.

          But in 1958, that was still twenty years away.  In 1958, they weren’t trying to follow the trends, they were creating them.

          In 1958, Hammer Films released HORROR OF DRACULA… and the renaissance of classic horror began.

Junkyardfilm.com's Moldy Oldie Movie of the Month: SCREAM AND SCREAM AGAIN

Title:  SCREAM AND SCREAM AGAIN

Year of Release—Film:  1970

A young runner is running through a park when suddenly he has an apparent heart attack and collapses.  When he wakes, he's in the hospital and realizes to his horror that one of his legs is missing.  As he screams in terror the scene cuts to the discovery of a woman's lifeless body.  The police are stymied by her complete loss of blood.  The scene shifts to some neo-Nazi fascist regime apparently in a foreign country where imprisoned people are being tortured for no apparent reason.  Meanwhile, in Britain, government officials convene to have long, pointless discussions about nothing that has anything what so ever to do with this film.

The young runner is lying in the hospital bed, begging a nurse who silently goes about her nursing duties, for information.  When she exits the room, he screams in terror.  His other leg has been amputated!  At a nightclub, two young women scope out the young men.  One of the girls notices a young man named Keith (Michael Gothard) who is a possible dance partner and makes his acquaintance.  He invites her to go for a ride in his car.  Once out in the country, he attacks her, slamming her head repeatedly into a wall, then sucking blood from her unconscious body. 

Later, when the police discover her, they are confused by the lack of blood in her, on her or around her.  Meanwhile, in the foreign country, the Commander is in his office when a taller man named Konratz (Marshall Jones) comes in and, after some conversation, gives the Commander a fatal Vulcan neck-pinch.  Back in Britain, two government officials discuss something that has nothing to do with the plot.

A young runner, lying in a hospital bed, begins to weep helplessly as he discovers both of his arms have been amputated.  The police interview the young female friend from the nightclub but her recollection of the young man is fuzzy at best so the police decide to send to the nightclub an undercover female officer to ferret out the murder suspect.  Meanwhile, young Dr. Sorel examines the dead body.  In the foreign country, Major Heinrich Benedek (Peter Cushing) gets a deadly Vulcan neck-pinch from Konratz.

The undercover female officer prepares to go to the nightclub by having a microphone placed under her blouse and a tracking device placed in her shoe as her boyfriend, Dr. Sorel, looks on.  At the nightclub, it takes only minutes before the undercover office finds her man.  They leave the nightclub in his car, he not noticing the unmarked police car trailing behind.  Once in the country with the police listening on the radio, Keith begins to attack the woman, biting her on the wrist.  As the police rush to her aid, Keith flees into a nearby rock quarry.  Ignoring the policemen's shouts to come down and surrender, Keith climbs higher and higher until he almost reaches the top.  Losing his footing, he slides down into the waiting grasp of the police, who handcuff the unconscious man to the bumper of their car.  Awakening, Keith hugs frantically at the handcuffs, ultimately ripping off his own hand!  The pursuit is once again afoot!  Running over hill and dale, Keith arrives at a barn-like structure and, despite pleas from the police, throws himself into a vat of acid hidden under the barn's floorboards.  Suddenly, Dr. Browning (Vincent Price) arrives and is questioned as to why the young man would flee to his barn.  Dr. Browning feigns ignorance of the situation.

Later, Dr. Sorel and the policewoman return to Dr. Browning's property for the purpose of obtaining a sample of the acid.  He cautions the policewoman to honk the horn should anything happen and he would quickly return to the car.  Discovering the vat dry, he begins to walk back to the car when he hears the horn honking.  But, when he gets back to where he parked the car, it and it's occupant have disappeared.  Deciding Dr. Browning must know more than he is telling, the doctor sneaks into the main house and after some wandering around, discovers an operating theater, it's walls lined with refrigerated compartments.  Looking inside, he discovers human body parts.  Suddenly, Dr. Browning enters the room, followed by the silent nurse.  Questioned again about his part in this, Dr. Browning tells Dr. Sorel he's invented the perfect human substitute...super-strong and invincible cyborgs in human form!  He explains that the young man from the nightclub was an earlier failure and invites the doctor to watch as he creates a cyborg. 

The nurse rolls in a gurney carrying the policewoman's unconscious body as Dr. Browning explains her brain will be transplanted into his newest cyborg.  Terrified, Dr. Sorel first stabs the silent nurse who is unaffected by this attack.  He then attacks Dr. Browning who slams the younger doctor into a wall, knocking him unconscious.  Just as Dr. Browning is starting the operation, in walks the head of the fascist regime Fremont (Christopher Lee).  After a nonsensical conversation and a brief struggle, Lee forces Dr. Browning into a vat of acid, killing him.  The End

 

As all fans of film know, when a movie has several seemingly dissimilar plots they will all intertwine eventually.  With this movie, that eventuality comes too late for the viewer to care.  The only reason to sit through this confusing and bizarre film is the movie's three stars...Price, Lee and Cushing!  Even the distributor knew this was the primary draw when he wrote the tagline "Triple Distilled Horror...as powerful as a vat of boiling acid!”  Unfortunately, these three screen greats have precious little face-time together in this film.  In fact, Peter Cushing was hired for only one day's shooting and does not appear in any scene with the other two.  Vincent Price, terrific as the mad doctor bent on creating a master race, has the greatest amount of screen time but it's too little, too late.  The supporting cast does an admirable job with Marshall Jones delivering a frighteningly believable performance as the fatal Vulcan neck-pincher and the late Michael Gothard doing a first-rate job as the vampire cyborg.  If you have the patience to sit through the first two-thirds of the movie, you will be rewarded with the ending.

Happy birthday to scream-greats Peter (May 26), and Vincent and Christopher (May 27).

MSTjunkie

Dracula Reborn: HORROR OF DRACULA and the Rise of Hammer

The mid 1940’s to mid 1950’s was a period of decline for Classic Horror. Monsters were no longer tuxedo-clad vampires or shambling, cloth-wrapped mummies. Monsters were now gigantic insects, radioactive mutants, and alien invaders. What vampires and werewolves were to be found were products of science tampering with nature, not the ancient undead or supernatural curses.

Two prime examples of this are a pair of films released in 1957: THE VAMPIRE, and I WAS A TEEN-AGE WEREWOLF.

THE VAMPIRE, directed by Paul Landres, was a nondescript programmer from Gramercy Pictures, distributed by United Artists; not a terrible film, but hardly memorable. A doctor, while on a quest to improve his mind, tries an extract of vampire bat blood, with predictable results.

Gene Fowler Jr.’s I WAS A TEEN-AGE WEREWOLF on the other hand, became something of a cult-classic, primarily because of the screen debut of a youthful Michael Landon rather than the film’s inherent quality. Landon plays Tony Rivers, a juvenile delinquent placed under the care of a psychologist (Whit Bissell).

The psychologist performs some unauthorized experiments on the young man, using hypnosis to regress him to a point in man’s development where he is a savage, feral beast. Here too, the results are entirely predictable and, for the junior wolf-man, unfortunate.

Such was the state of our classic creatures of horror through most of the decade of the 1950’s. But the pendulum was beginning to swing back towards the classics, and two unrelated events provided the impetus for that change of fortune. The first was the release, in June of 1957, of Hammer Films THE CURSE OF FRANKENSTEIN, launching the British studio to the forefront of the horror genre. Introducing Hammer’s Dynamic Duo of Horror, Christopher Lee and Peter Cushing, along with the studio’s star director, Terence Fisher, this film sparked a resurgence of interest in the classics, as well as changed the look of Horror Films.

Hammer Film Productions had been around, in its then-current form, since shortly after the end of World War II. A child of Col. James Carreras, Hammer was very much a small family business in the mid-1950’s, known primarily for crime, adventure, and war pictures. Ensconced at Bray Studios, Down Place, in Berkshire, a small, tightly-knit group of artists and craftsmen would create some of the greatest Horror Films ever produced, working on budgets that were fractions of what was typical in a Hollywood production.

They accomplished these miracles, at least in the beginning, through the efforts of a few very talented people, the people who created the “Hammer Look”… people such as Michael Carreras, the son of James, Tony Nelson-Keyes, Tony Hinds, and Jimmy Sangster. Jack Asher’s superb photography brought the Hammer horrors to life, painted in brilliant colors across a canvas laid before the viewer by Bernard Robinson’s perfect production and art designs.

THE CURSE OF FRANKENSTEIN was the film that established the pattern for the “Hammer Look”… bold, vibrant colors, lush period sets and costumes, and, at least at this point in time, quality acting, writing, and directing. Peter Cushing, as the mad genius Dr. Victor Frankenstein, carries the film, creating a character at once evil yet complex, someone the viewer is unable to see completely as a villain. Lee’s Monster, by comparison, is simply cruel and brutish, lacking any of the pathos and humanity of Karloff’s creation.

Philip Leakey’s make-up, constrained as it was by threat of legal action from Universal if it too closely resembled Jack Pierce’s trademarked conception, was generic and unimpressive, doing nothing to convey the monster’s origins the way Pierce’s did for Karloff. Karloff looked like a patchwork, a being stitched together from rotting cadavers into a less than perfect whole; Lee, on the other hand, looked like nothing more than the common zombie that would populate Horror Films beginning little more than a decade later. It was not an effective look.

While the film was much closer in plot to Shelley’s original tale, it was all gloss and glitter; beautiful to look at, but lacking the heart and soul of James Whale’s landmark film, and wholly inferior to it. This movie, like Hammer Films itself, was a gorgeous façade, with very little of substance supporting it.

The second major development in the restoration of classic horror occurred in the fall of 1957, when Universal, through an arrangement with Screen Gems, released their Shock Theater package to Television stations around the country. Composed of some of their greatest Horror Films, including FRANKENSTEIN, DRACULA, THE WOLF-MAN, and CREATURE FROM THE BLACK LAGOON, this led to an explosion of Hosted Horror programs on Friday and Saturday nights. Though Horror Hosts had existed prior to the Shock Theater release, it was the flood of high-quality movies and the success of hosts such as Zacherley in New York and Vampira in Los Angeles that spurred stations from Atlanta to Minneapolis to develop their own late-night Horror shows.

These trends continued into 1958, and on the 22nd of May of that year, at the Gaumont Theater in London, Hammer’s second blockbuster premiered. HORROR OF DRACULA, once again directed by Fisher and starring Cushing and Lee, took the basic blueprint laid down by the previous film and set it in concrete, defining for the next twelve years the look and texture of classic horror. Not until DRACULA A.D. 1972 was there anything more than a qualitative change in Hammer’s Dracula franchise, and decidedly not for the better.

This time however there would be a clear choice between good and evil, as Cushing was cast as Dr. Van Helsing, the bloody Count’s nemesis. Though he ably demonstrated that he could play evil convincingly in THE CURSE OF FRANKENSTEIN, it’s as the heroic Van Helsing that he found his greatest role.

Where, in 1931’s DRACULA, Edward Van Sloan had essayed an elderly, superstitious professor (for all his scientific training, Van Sloan’s character was little more than a village wise woman…), Cushing portrayed Van Helsing as a young, strong, active combatant against evil, seeking scientific explanations for the vampire’s existence, and scientific means to destroy him. Universal’s Van Helsing was a teacher; Hammer’s was a warrior, and a worthy foe for the Prince of Darkness.

And what a Prince of Darkness he faced.

For more than a quarter of a century previously, Bela Lugosi’s portrayal of the eponymous Count from Bram Stoker’s novel had been the model that moviemakers followed, and moviegoers wanted. The image of Dracula as an urbane, sophisticated gentleman, clad in black-tie formality, had become ingrained into the consciousness of Horror fans through multiple iterations of the Count and his clones.

Whether portrayed by Lugosi himself, Lon Chaney Jr., or John Carradine, the American image of the Vampire was that of Bela, in tie and tails, top hat and cape. His Dracula had a slow, languid quality, almost hypnotic to watch. It took no stretch of the imagination to picture a beautiful young woman falling victim to his spell. Dracula, as created by Lugosi, was first and foremost a seducer, a debaucher. He was, at heart, a lecherous old man.

Christopher Lee’s reinvention of the Count cast aside this “Undead Man-about-Town…” image of Dracula. While the wardrobe was little changed, the vampire inside underwent a radical transformation.

Lee’s Dracula exuded youth, power, strength, vitality. Lugosi was polished, refined; Lee was a barely concealed savage, like a wolf masquerading as a dog. Lee’s Dracula was no seducer of women; he was a rapist, in spirit if not in fact; taking his women by force, not by guile. However, in a typically post-Victorian British Male Freudian manner, his victims were all too willing accomplices to their own debasement, eager to offer up their throats for his hungry kisses.

Dracula, as rendered by Christopher Lee, was an animalistic creature of the night, savage, brutal… and just like the studio that spawned him, new and exciting.

That phrase also serves well to describe the film itself. Though no more faithful to the source material than Browning’s 1931 film had been, this script, by Jimmy Sangster, possesses an energy totally lacking in the original. Where John L. Balderston’s script for the ’31 version had been stiff and stagey, betraying its origins, Sangster, with some alterations by Fisher, crafted a script that fairly flew from plot-point to plot-point, dispensing with everything that failed to advance the story.

Gone was the slow moving, talky introductory scene of the Browning film. Here we meet Jonathan Harker (not the extraneous character of Renfield…) already arrived at Castle Dracula. In a brief voice-over, taken from the pages of his diary, we are told all we need to know: Harker, played ably by John Van Eyssen, is a friend and colleague of a Dr. Van Helsing, and is there to find and kill Count Dracula, and end his “…reign of terror.”

Harker is found out, however, and infected by a vampire’s bite. Racing against time before he too becomes one of the undead, he finds the daytime resting place of Dracula and his consort. In typical Horror movie style, he makes a monumental blunder and, as the sun is setting, decides to stake the female vampire first. This he does successfully, only to find the sun has set and Dracula has awakened.

The scene shifts to a small village Gasthaus, decked out with wreaths of garlic, where we first meet Dr. Van Helsing. He’s in search of his friend Harker, and the inn was his last reported address. The innkeeper is less than forthcoming with Van Helsing, but Inga, the serving girl, gives him Harker’s diary, found at the crossroads near the Castle.

The book leads him to the castle, now abandoned by Dracula. As he nears the castle, Van Helsing is nearly run down by a fast moving hearse, bearing a white casket inside it. Entering the castle, Van Helsing finds the body of his now undead friend, and releases his soul from its torment.

He then travels to the home of Arthur and Mina Holmwood (Michael Gough and Melissa Stribling) to inform them, and Miss Lucy Holmwood, Arthur’s sister and the fiancée of Harker, of his death. He provides no details, but simply tells them that Harker had died ten days before. Holmwood treats him coldly, and, as soon as his news is delivered, asks him to leave. The Holmwoods decide to keep the information from Lucy, whose health is fragile. However, she is already aware of her fiancé’s death, and seems strangely unaffected by this knowledge. As her brother bends to kiss her goodnight, he fails to notice the two puncture wounds in her neck, over her jugular vein.

Once she is alone, she removes a silver crucifix from her neck and opens a door leading out onto the grounds. As she lies back on the bed, anticipation on her face, Dracula appears in the doorway, and shadows and darkness engulf the young woman.

The next morning, the Holmwoods are shocked and dismayed by the deterioration in Lucy’s condition, as is Dr. Seward, the attending physician. He suggests a second opinion, and Mina decides to seek help from Van Helsing. He immediately recognizes the symptoms for what they are, and issues strict orders for the household to follow: All doors and windows in Lucy’s room are to remain tightly closed and locked between sunset and sunrise; and her room is to be filled with boughs of garlic flowers. Any deviation from these instructions, he adds ominously, would result in her death.

Lucy, however, convinces a maid to remove the flowers and open the doors, allowing her bloodthirsty lover into her bedroom. The next morning, she is found dead, drained of blood.

Holmwood is devastated by his sister’s death, and asks Van Helsing to leave them to their grief. The doctor apologizes, but informs them of the true nature of Harker’s, and now Lucy’s, deaths. He leaves Harker’s diary with Holmwood, with the admonition that if he could not believe Van Helsing, then certainly he could trust his late friend’s own words.

The diary doesn’t fully convince Holmwood, but when the little daughter of the maid is nearly attacked by someone she recognizes as “Aunt Lucy”, he goes to the family mausoleum, and finds her coffin empty. He waits for her return, and is shocked to see her walking towards him, leading the young girl by the hand. He calls to her, and she releases the girl. She approaches her brother, reaching out her arms to embrace him, mouth opening to reveal the elongated canines of the vampire.

Suddenly, a cross is thrust into view… Van Helsing has arrived just in time to save Holmwood from his sister’s bloodlust. He presses the cross against the flesh of her forehead, burning the image of the icon into her skin. She breaks away, rushing back into the mausoleum, and back to her coffin. They follow her in, and Holmwood is shocked to see the evil that is manifested in Lucy’s face; her formerly beautiful, innocent features now twisted into a vulpine grimace. He asks Van Helsing what can be done to release her from this vile curse. The answer is simple, though horrifying: They must drive a wooden stake into her heart, finally ending her existence, and releasing her spirit.

But, before they take that step, they should consider one thing: Lucy can be used to lead them to her master. They can follow her straight to Dracula’s lair. Holmwood, however, balks at this. He wants his sister freed from her curse now, before she can defile others as she has been defiled, spreading Dracula’s corruption like a virus. Van Helsing regrets his decision, but cannot in good conscience deny the grieving man. With a sigh of resignation, he drives the stake into Lucy’s chest.

With the deed done, he leads Holmwood over to his sister’s coffin. Once again, innocence and peace have returned to her visage… Lucy Holmwood is finally at rest.

The pair returns to Holmwood’s home, and begin to lay plans for an assault on Dracula himself. Holmwood still is in disbelief, despite the evidence of his own experiences. He questions Van Helsing on the legendary aspects of vampires, their ability to transform themselves, for instance. A common fallacy, he is told. Vampires have no such power. Van Helsing has devoted his life to the study of these creatures, and even his knowledge barely scratches the surface.

The first priority they have is to locate his resting place. Dracula must reside in his native soil by day, and Van Helsing believes he has a clue. The hearse that nearly ran him down that day at the castle must have been carrying Dracula in his box of earth, and to get to Karlstadt, it had to pass through the border crossing. There they might find records of the crossing, and a destination for Dracula’s coffin.

However, the border official is less than cooperative with the duo, even after Van Helsing presents his medical credentials. Holmwood, however, has better credentials… cash. A bribe reveals that the coffin was consigned to an undertaker in Karlstadt, and gives them the address of the establishment.

At that moment, Mina is receiving a message from a street urchin, informing her that Mr. Arthur Holmwood wishes her to meet him after sundown at 49 Freidrichstrasse… the same address that now holds Dracula’s coffin. She goes, oblivious to the danger, and as she enters the storeroom of the undertaker’s shop, the camera shifts to a single white casket… as the lid slowly slides open.

The next morning, Van Helsing and Holmwood have returned, though only temporarily. They have yet to visit the undertaker, hopefully to find Dracula helpless in his coffin. As they head out, they encounter Mina, returning from a night with the object of their hunt. She explains that she had taken an early morning stroll in the garden. There is an odd look of contentment, even satisfaction, on her face, and it’s perhaps a poor reflection on her husband that he does not recognize it for what it is, instead inquiring as to her health. She reassures him, and the pair leaves on their mission. At the undertaker’s, the situation is worse than they had expected. Not only is Dracula not there, but his coffin has been relocated. They’ve lost their only clue to his whereabouts.

Back at the Holmwood house, they quietly discuss their options over maps of the area. Holmwood remembers a small, neglected graveyard in the vicinity; with no other logical place to start, they decide to begin their hunt there. He turns to say good-bye to his wife, and asks her to wear, as a personal favor to him, a small silver cross. She resists, but he places it in her hand. Instantly she screams, and falls unconscious to the floor. As Van Helsing rushes to her aid, he opens her clenched fist, to reveal the shape of the cross, burned into the palm.

Holmwood is angry with himself for not following Van Helsing’s suggestion to use Lucy to lead them to Dracula, but Van Helsing tells him not to worry; there is still time to save Mina, and she can serve the same purpose he had in mind for Lucy. They will keep watch over the house later that night, and catch Dracula when he attempts to reach her.

That night, the two men patrol the grounds, keeping a watchful eye on the house. Mina watches them from her window, then turns to open her bedroom door. Below, in the foyer of the house, stands Dracula. With desire on her face, she watches him approach her. He closes the door as he enters her bedroom, and as she falls back onto the bed, he throws himself on her.

As dawn breaks, the men end their vigil. Van Helsing decides to stay there and rest, and Holmwood heads up to bed. A sudden cry brings the doctor running to find a scene of horror: Mina, apparently lifeless, rivulets of dried blood tracing paths down her pale throat.

Van Helsing hastily gives the woman a transfusion, using her husband as a donor. This saves her life, though she remains under Dracula’s control. He sends Holmwood down to rest, with an admonition to drink some wine to fortify his strength, then turns his attention to caring for his patient.

Later, he joins Holmwood in the parlor. The shaken man has taken his advice, finishing off a bottle of wine. He asks the maid to bring up another bottle from the cellar, but she demurs, saying that Mrs. Holmwood had forbidden her to go into the cellar. That sends a jolt through Van Helsing, who rushes down to the cellar. There he finds Dracula’s coffin, empty. At that moment, the cellar door opens, and just for a moment hunter and hunted stand face-to-face. Dracula runs out, pulling the door shut behind him. After Van Helsing insures that Dracula will not return to his coffin by placing a silver cross on the bed of earth, he and Holmwood give chase, and a scream leads them upstairs. Gerda, the maid, has been attacked by Dracula, though not harmed. But Dracula has taken Mina with him as he fled the house.

There is only one place he can go for shelter before the sun rises, and that is back home to his castle. They find a dead coachman; Dracula has killed the man and stolen his vehicle, and is racing to get home before dawn. They must catch up to him before he can hide himself in the basements and catacombs of his home, or they might be searching for him for years.

And for Mina.

Dracula arrives at the castle with mere moments to spare, and he must first open a grave for Mina. Rapidly he digs a shallow trench, drops her in, and begins shoveling earth in over her unconscious form. She awakens with a scream just as Van Helsing and her husband pull up in their carriage.

Holmwood leaps to his wife’s aid, as Van Helsing pursues Dracula into the castle. Cornered, Dracula fights with Van Helsing, gaining the upper hand, and slowly drawing near the doctor’s exposed throat. Van Helsing breaks the vampire’s grip, however, and notices a thin shaft of sunlight stabbing through closed curtains. He rips the curtains down, flooding the hall with light. With a pair of crossed candlesticks he forces Dracula into the sunlight, where he crumbles into dust. The threat is over, Mina is freed, and Dracula is finally dead.

This was perhaps Hammer’s best production, with the possible exception of the following year’s THE MUMMY. All the important elements were in place… Sangster’s script, Asher’s photography, the performances of Cushing and Lee, all tied together by Fisher’s competent, workmanlike direction. Together, these artisans equaled more than the sum of their individual talents, and for the brief period of time that they were all together at Bray, they produced some of the best Horror Films the genre has ever seen.

The story of the rise of Hammer Films is very much the story of a few gifted individuals in precisely the right place at precisely the right time. It wasn’t due to the inherent strengths of Hammer; there were none, as events unfolding less than two decades later would pointedly demonstrate.

When this group began to dissolve within five years, Hammer Films would take a hit, in terms of quality, from which it would never recover. The Hammer look would soon degenerate into an assembly-line, mass-produced commodity, churned out as rapidly as possible, sold lock, stock, and residual rights to the highest bidder.

Hammer, for most of its existence, lived in a perpetual cycle of brief periods of plenty broken by long stretches of lean; living from paycheck to paycheck, always trying to catch onto the latest trend. For the most part, they succeeded, at least until the fragile house of cards that was the company’s financial structure came crashing down around the head of Michael Carreras.

But in 1958, that was still twenty years away. In 1958, they weren’t trying to follow the trends, they were creating them.

In 1958, Hammer Films released HORROR OF DRACULA… and the renaissance of classic horror began.

[*Primary reference for this article was the excellent book from Denis Meikle, The History of Horrors: The Rise and Fall of the House of Hammer. I cannot recommend it strongly enough.]