Non-Horror Movie People Who Scare Me #1 - A New Series (Alternate Title 'People Who I'm Glad Are Looking At Mick Jagger Like That And Not Me")

Unknown Hell's Angel, Altamont Speedway 1969.





More footage between 4:00-4:18 just after the dog walks across the stage (yes, you read that right). If you know him (the Hell's Angel, not the dog) please don't tell him I've posted this...



Actually, he's probably a really nice guy.

BLACK SABBATH (1963)

Day #3

Another night in the igloo, another nightmare. Or was it real?

Asleep, or awake, I found myself lying on my bed trying to focus on a shadowy mass at the other end of my dwelling...

What is this that stands before me? Figure in black which points at me!
Turn around quick, and start to run, find out I'm the chosen one - oh no!

Big black shape with eyes of fire, telling people their desire, Satan's sitting there, he's smiling - watches those flames get higher and higher!

Oh no, no, please God help me! Is it the end, my friend? Satan's coming 'round the bend - people running 'cause they're scared - the people better go and beware! No, no, please, no!

Then I woke up for real - it was just a dream. Thought so.

BLACK SABBATH (1963)



I’m sorry, but Italian horror has never really done it for me. If I was spoiling for a fight (and I usually am) I’d say that Italian horror consists solely of big shiny knives, garish colours and ‘sexy’ women who actually aren’t sexy at all and look like drag queens.

That said I was more than willing to give Black Sabbath a chance. But I’m sorry to say that I still came away from it feeling distinctly underwhelmed.

Black Sabbath, a film by the legendary Mario Bava, is an anthology of 3 short horrors:

The Telephone – A ‘sexy’ woman who actually isn’t very sexy at all is harassed by an obscene caller. Big shiny knives are involved. The twist is pretty lame. Next please.

The Wurdalak – This is a lot more like it, thanks in no small part to a sinister as hell Boris Karloff who plays Gorca, a man turned into a vampire type creature, cursed to attack those he loves the most. The scene with the undead child outside the house pleading for his mama is pretty chilling. And it looks great, with lots of garish colours. However, the heroine is played by a ‘sexy’ woman who actually isn’t sexy at all and look more like a drag queen.


The Last Drop – A bitter nurse steals a ring from a dead patient and gets her comeuppance. Very Tales of the Crypt. The dead patient is bloody hideous and is exactly the sort of thing that would have shat me right up as a kid. But I’m 72 now and made of sterner stuff…

NNNNNYYYYYAAAAAAAARRRRRGGGGGHHHH!!!!!!
Sorry about that.

One problem I have with Black Sabbath is that the 3 tales don’t really come together as a whole(certainly not in the way that a wonderful Amicus anthology would, for example). The Telephone and The Last Drop have a similar theme I suppose, as both women are terrorised by real or imagined horrors in the supposed safety of their homes, but then where is The Wurdalak – a gothic, medieval vampire tale – meant to fit in?

So as I said, I was underwhelmed by Black Sabbath. The Wurdalak was the only highlight for me with its on-form Karloff, foreboding atmosphere and some genuinely imaginative cinematography. I’m not the kind of person who ever scores films out of 10 - that method is way too simple and easy, and I’ll fight until my dying breath before a review of mine ends in such a way - but If I was to mark the 3 tales individually, I’d give them a 4, 6 and 5 respectively. 15/30 then. Which is 5/10.

Oh, and I almost forget the end – where, for some bizarre reason the camera pulls away to reveal that Karloff is actually on a fake horse, and we see all the special effects guys and scenery shifters around him. If I’d been enjoying the film this would have ruined it.

Ile Trailero:

WITCHFINDER GENERAL (1968)

DAY#908

The embers on the fire are barely aglow. Night settles like a dark shroud o’er the endless Arctic tundra outside.

I say endless, even though I’m actually trapped in a force-field a mere matter of miles across. But I reckoned explaining all that would be a bit less poetic than just saying ‘endless’.

Anyway, it’s late. Too late for a film to come tonight, surely?

But I’m wrong. The TV crackles into life as the clock strikes midnight. The Witching hour.

WITCHFINDER GENERAL (1968)


Witchfinder General was the fourth and final film of Director Michael Reeves tragically short life and career. He died aged only 27, less than a year after filming was completed. Having made one of the best British horror films of all time...

Witchfinder General is imbued with such cynicism and world-weariness that it seems all the more amazing that such a young director could have made it. There are obvious Vietnam parallels to be made, as an innocent, pastoral way of life is despoiled by an inhuman and corrupt enemy. The opening scenes where Richard (Ian Ogilvy) the swashbuckling hero professes his love to his beautiful Hilary is heavy with foreboding...




... as something wicked this way comes...

Clippety-clop! Clippety-clop!

That was supposed to be a horse (sorry, I only had coconuts). For hark yonder! Here along this very country lane comes Matthew Hopkins, self-styled Witchfinder General (based on a very real life person) played with rare restraint by Lord Vincent of Price.

Ah, Vincent Price. That face. That voice. Where did it come from?

Oh, I've not doubt that he may have merely started cooing and gurgling like a normal child before saying "Mama!" at around 9-months of age, but I prefer to think of his mother waking up one day to find a 9-month old baby Vincent - with the head of the adult Witchfinder General - sitting at the foot of the bed and speaking in a fully formed Vincent Price voice: "Greetings, mother. As you've no doubt noticed I shall be speaking from now on. I shall breakfast shortly on your breast milk."

I guess we'll never know which of those two scenarios it was. Maybe that's for the best.

Although Michael Reeves managed to elicit one of finest ever performances from Vincent Price in Witchfinder General, he was fought almost every step of the way by the veteran actor. The behind-the-scenes battles between the two makes for great reading. On one occasion, a frustrated Price is reported have told Reeves: "I've made 87 films. What have you done?"



Reeves responded: "I've made three good ones."

Price plays the part of Hopkins in such a way that we're never entirely sure of his true motivation. Does he actually believe in what he is doing? We know he's corrupt, for sure, but is that the reason for his work or merely a by-product of it? How deep is this man's heart of darkness? How empty the pit of his humanity?

The history books are unclear whether the real Hopkins died from an illness in bed (possibly Tuberculosis) or whether he was subjected to his own swimming test by an enraged mob of villagers. Let's hope it was the latter. The guy was obviously a dick.

The fictional Hopkins meets his maker in a more clear-cut way. After an orgy of burnings, drownings and hangings, he is stopped from torturing the lovely Hilary with an axe delivered swiftly to the bollocks by the heroic Richard. A happy ending it is not though, as Richard continues to beat Hopkins to a bloody pulp, only to be stopped by a soldier who dispatches Hopkins with a mercy shot.

"You took him from me! You took him from me!" howls a crazed Richard as a traumatized Hilary screams in anguish. Downbeat is not the word.

Great trailer:

DEVIL DOLL (1964)

Day #73

Earlier today I lost all track of time staring into the shaving mirror. I was there for an age, lost in a trance. Christ, this place is boring.

Anyway, this led to me reminiscing of the last time I tried a spot of hypnotism. Namely, on the foreman of the jury at my trial, as he stood up and prepared to deliver the verdict on me.

Previously I had been swinging my solid silver pocket watch to and fro, and it had caught his eye several times.

“Not guilty! Not guilty!! Not guilty!!!” I commanded in silence as our eyes met once again.

Staring intently at me, he stood and paused, seemingly lost for words. Then, as if in a daze he falteringly said: “Guilty! On 20 counts of murder! Guilty on murder #1. Guilty on #2. Definitely guilty of #3 and #4. Oh, and of #5 certainly. As for #6, #7, #8 and #9, guilty. Guilty on #10…”

“Bollocks.” I muttered and put away my solid silver pocket watch as he droned on and on…

DEVIL DOLL (1964)

Ventriloquist dummies are a fine subject for a horror movie. They’re scary. Scary as hell. But there’s something much scarier, my friend! Look again. Look at the bigger picture – look at who is pulling the strings…

Okay, so ventriloquist dummies don’t have strings – but what I'm trying to say (without being too graphic) is look carefully at the one with his hand up the dummy’s arse - the ventriloquist! For a man who has devoted his life to making a wooden dummy look like it’s talking is far more scarier than a wooden dummy. No matter how freakily the eyebrows have been fashioned.


Or as Charlton Heston would say, Dummies don’t kill people. Ventriloquists do.

Devil Doll – a very classy, noirish looking British horror from the 60’s - illustrates my point beautifully. Hugo (great name for a dummy) is a spooky little fecker but he’s not evil, far from it. He’s merely an innocent soul trapped in a dummy’s body by the real baddy – The Great Vorelli!

The Great Vorelli is a wonderful baddy, with a voice uncannily like Sideshow Bob. Bryant Haliday is the fine actor playing the part, and I was quite surprised to read that he didn’t really act a great deal after this, as he gives a very enjoyable and accomplished performance.

William Sylvester plays the good guy, an American called Mark English (a name that Alanis Morrissette would no doubt call ironic). The fact that he's American does at least allow other characters to deliver lines like, “I’ll certainly try and keep – as you Americans would say - an open mind.”

And let’s not forget Yvonne Romain as the gorgeous love interest with wonderful 60s eyes that they don’t make anymore.

Vorelli – being a complete dickhead – puts lovely Yvonne into a trance as part of his diabolical scheme to marry her, steal her cash and then transfer her soul into a female dummy.

And he would have got away with it too, until Hugo leaps into action (okay, maybe not leaps. This is a wooden dummy we’re talking about here) and battles Vorelli in a wonderful climactic fight scene which rather coolly ends in a freeze-frame that turns into a negative. Far out!

There's a final twist that wraps things up rather neatly, and if you don’t jump up and shout “Hurrah!” then you must have a wooden heart. And - it follows - a psychopath’s hand up yer bum.

DRACULA: PRINCE OF DARKNESS (1966)

Day #210

Near disaster today! Whilst struggling to pull a fish from my favourite ice-hole, I stumble and accidentally discharge my hunting rifle. The shot cracks the ice and I plunge into the murky abyss!

My life flashes before my eyes... the murders, the sadism, the treachery... ah, good times...

Then I see a bright light and feel myself being pulled towards it... pulled... towards the light, or out of the hole? Because the next thing I remember I am on the ice, struggling for breath... are there voices?

I recall a shadowy figure kneeling beside me and whispering: "If you're frightened of dying, and you're holding on, you'll see devils tearing your life away. If you've made your peace, then the devils are really angels, freeing you from the Earth."

Then I feel a blow to my head. I wake up hours later in the Igloo, wrapped warmly in a blanket I've never seen before...

My God, what a day! I could - and possible should - have died under that ice! I can't bear to think of it. I need a stiff brandy, and to watch something that will take my mind off the whole unfortunate episode...

DRACULA: PRINCE OF DARKNESS (1966)

Alan Kent is one of four unsuspecting tourists who find themselves in a seemingly deserted Castle Dracula. His wife Helen has a strong sense of foreboding but her protestations are given short thrift: “You’ll forget about all this in the morning, you’ll see,” Alan assures her. She simply replies: “There’ll be no morning for us.”

This line chilled my spine when I first saw this movie as an 8-year old. Barbara Shelley’s fatalistic delivery of it is impeccable – she states it not as a prediction, but as a certainty. And she is now resigned to her fate, having tried and failed to warn anyone else of the danger. It’s one of the finest lines in horror movie history in my opinion. Only "Death by stereo" comes anywhere close.

The Hammer Draculas were the young Igloo Keeper’s first horror love, and they remain firm favourites . Having said that, I can’t help but think that it's a flawed series, and although I’d rather watch 'Dracula: Prince of Darkness' more than almost any other film, it could have been so much better:

For example, where’s Peter Cushing? No sign of him here. Any Dracula film without Cushing v Lee, Van Helsing v Dracula is missing something very special indeed. Mind you, even when the two do appear together, it always seems that their screen-time together is too brief. I want to see them verbally spar with one another. I want to see them sit down for a meal together, being outwardly polite, but promising to end one another's time on this Earth if it's the last thing they do, by thunder!. That sort of thing. But for some reason it never happened, perhaps because of my next point...

Another huge flaw throughout the series is Dracula’s dialogue. Or lack of it. For some reason, he’s struck dumb in 'Dracula: Prince of Darkness'. In the other films he fares not much better, usually being restricted to a couple of lines near the end of the film which generally follows this sequence:

a) Dracula quickly boasts about how omnipotent, wonderful and unstoppable he is.
b) He then throws something at Van Helsing that misses by a mile.
c) And dies either stupidly (by falling into a shallow pit of stakes: ‘Dracula 1972 A.D’), or unluckily (being hit by lightning: ‘Scars of Dracula).

I’ve heard that Lee himself felt exactly the same way about his piss-poor dialogue and tried unsuccessfully to get the film-makers to use some suitably portentous lines from the original Stoker novel. But 'twas not to be.

Back in Dracula’s castle the count is resurrected by the blood of a hapless Alan Kent, in another wonderful scene where the evil henchman Clove hoists him above a coffin and slits his wrists. The casual, workmanlike way that he does this still packs a punch (it chills my spine in fact, but I already used that phrase in the first paragraph). Blood flows and Dracula is back!

Barbara Shelley is his first victim. Now, I’m fully aware that vampirism has laid scourge to many a Carpathian countryside, and becoming a vampire is not generally a good thing but wow – Barbara Shelley looks good on it! She transform from a frumpy old misery into a hot, Hot, HOT Uber-sexy MILF vampire. She could tap at my window any time. If my igloo had windows…

Thankfully the remainder of the group, Charles and Diana Kent, manage to escape and enlist the help of a no-nonsense rifle-toting priest, Father Quatermass.

This time, Dracula finds himself treading on thin ice – literally. His death is probably a 50/50 split between bad luck and stupidity, as the priests shoots holes in some ice that Dracula has somehow found himself on. A few skillful shots later, Dracula topples into a watery grave.

Ha! Let’s see him get out of that one! What monster has ever managed to escape from being preserved in ice before? (see ‘Dracula has Risen from the Grave for further details…)

DR TERROR'S HOUSE OF HORRORS (1965)

Day #22.
Temperature: Freezing.
Weather: Blizzard.
Visibility: Don't know - can't see for the blizzard.

Confined to my igloo with nothing but the endless static on the battered old transistor radio for company. Then - a miracle! An ancient portable TV in the corner (yes, this igloo does have a corner) crackles into life! A message starts to appear! Perhaps this could be a clue as to why I'm here? And how I can get out? I'll fetch a pen and paper. Must write this down. Must record what happens...

DR TERROR'S HOUSE OF HORRORS (1965)

Roy Castle, Kenny Lynch and Alan 'Fluff' Freeman???


Why, it can only be a classic British horror anthology from Amicus!

It's a great title for a horror movie, but I have issues with it. We meet Dr. Terror on a train. We never see his house. So why not call it Dr. Terror's Train of something or other... Horror, Trauma, Doom, whatever... why house???

Anyway, we're on the train. The 7:55 express to Bradley. It's one of those wonderful old fashioned carriages where 6 people could sit together. One of them is the mysterious, bushily eyebrowed Dr. Schreck (Peter Cushing). Schreck means 'terror' in German apparently. Hence the title. Although unless 'house' means 'train' in German, I still have issues with it.

Dr. Schreck whips out a pack of Tarot cards and, what with this being the days before iPods and Nintendo's, he manages to interest the other guys enough to tell each his future... future... future... future...

First up is a promising but disappointing tale called 'Werewolf' in which an architect travels home to a Scottish island to renovate an old house of his, now owned by an odd old lady. It's a bit of a plodder. Next.

The second story is a bit silly. And not in a good way, as Alan 'Fluff' 'Not 'arf' 'Howdy Pop-pickers'Freeman get terrorised by a killer plant. Not as much fun as you'd think.

The third story's a belter! Now we're talking! Biff Bailey (Roy Castle) steals music from an ancient voodoo ritual during a visit to the West Indies. When he performs his new song back in blighty all HELL breaks loose (as a disapproving Kenny Lynch looks on). Marvellous stuff, despite being borderline racist.

Then we come to the fourth and finest installment, the unforgettable 'Disembodied Hand'. Step forward Christopher Lee...

... a harsh, pompous, twat of an art critic who constantly lets everyone know how awful he thinks artist Eric Landor's (Michael Gough) work is. Eric gets his revenge when he fools Lee into praising a work by an unknown artist, who is then revealed to be a chimpanzee! Much hilarity ensues, and Eric should have left it at that really, but he proceeds to rub it in by constantly following Lee to important functions and reminding him of his lapse of judgement. Making monkey sounds at him. Throwing bananas at him, that sort of thing. Eventually Lee snaps and takes his revenge by running the artist down in cold blood. The artist loses his hand. But not for long, as the hand proceeds to stalk poor Christopher Lee!
As an eight year old, this was terrifying stuff indeed. As The Igloo Keeper, perhaps not quite as terrifying. But still fabulous fun!

The final part 'Vampire' features a young Donald Sutherland...

...who suspects his wife is a vampire. I liked it. Very nice twist.

And then we're back in the train carriage as it reaches its destination... where can they be?

I have a bit of a problem with the ending(as well as the title, now that I come to think about it) in as much as - I just don't get. Oh, I realise that it's about not being able to cheat death or something but... why all the palaver? Why all the tales about vampires and werewolves if... ? If you've seen it, and you're not as dumb as me, please explain... you know my address: The Igloo Keeper, Igloo of the Uncanny, Desolate Arctic Wasteland.

PEEPING TOM (1960)

Peeping Tom has quite a history, of course. Famously reviled upon its release, it became almost impossible for its legendary director Michael Powell (Black Narcissus, A Matter of Life and Death) to ever work 'pon these shores again. Yep, people really disliked it.

Now of course, its rightly hailed as a classic by the like of Scorsese. And me. For Peeping Tom is a complex, nasty little piece of work that really does get under your skin. This is in no small part due to Karlheinz Bohm's portrayal of Mark, The Peeping Tom of the title, who has serious issues. Like the fact that his father used to manipulate his levels of fright and fear and film them for posterity. This is not the kind of thing you'll ever read about in good parenting manuals. And with good reason, because it certainly didn't helped Mark become a fully rounded adult.

In fact, he's far from fully rounded. Think Frank Spencer crossed with Norman Bates. With a German accent. Doesn't get much frightening than that does it?

"Muzzer! Blood! Blood!"

Throughout Peeping Tom we, the audience, are permitted to follow Mark on his murderous excursions, which are filmed first hand for his 'masterpiece'. By doing so, the movie asks questions about screen violence and the audience role as voyeur, that seem to be more pertinent now (with beheadings free to download for all) than ever before.

Peeping Tom was promptly branded as 'sick' and 'vile' upon its release, and shelved after a limited run. And it wasn't until almost 20 years later that it was rescued by a new wave of film-makers, Scorsese included. Unfortunately, a lot of previously cut material is now lost forever. Yet Patch Adams remains available in its entirety. go figure.

RASPUTIN - THE MAD MONK (1966)

Pre-revolutionary Russia. The peasant landlord of a country tavern is nursing his terribly ill wife. Enter Rasputin!

He promptly heals the landlords wife, takes advantage of the landlord’s hospitality to get riotously drunk, has a fight, has a dance, ravages a wench, cuts someones hand off, jumps through a roof onto a waiting horse, shouts “Hurrah!” and gallops away.

Rasputin, as played by Christopher Lee, is basically a Lord Flashheart for the grunge generation. In this historically inaccurate (I assume. I hope!) Hammer offering, we see him cut a swathe through pre-revolutionary Russian society, shagging, drinking, fighting and shouting in an incredibly deep voice as he goes.

Christopher Lee is nothing short of perfect in this role. Tall,loud, athletic, with mad staring eyes and a huge false beard - exactly the kind of guy that you'd make a point of avoiding in bus stops (not that there were any bus stops in pre-revolutionary Russia of course. Which I suspect may have been one of the underlying causes of the revolution. But that's another post).

The film has a fine supporting cast, including everyone’s favourite MILF Barbara Shelley, who falls under Rasputin’s spell and hops into bed with him at any given opportunity, before he casts her aside in the cruellest fashion.

Rasputin gets his comeuppance of course. It’s not easy to take him down though, the hard-as-nails bastard that he is, but goodness prevails, and the Mad, Bad monk is last seen lying twisted and broken on the snow...

... having fallen out of a second story window. After being drugged. And beaten up. And poisoned. And stabbed. And fed loads of chocolates of the poisoned variety.

Personally, I would have added a final scene where Rasputin jumps back up, straightens his beard, swigs a bottle of vodka, jumps on his horse, shouts "Hurrah!" and gallops off. But you can’t have everything I suppose…

CITY OF THE DEAD (1960)

I love the mist - completely over the top but great fun! No, no, no! I'm not talking about this year's 'The Mist', you've got it all wrong! I'm talking about the wonderfully thick, dense, spooky mist in Horror Hotel. Check out the trailer (between 15 and 20 seconds to be exact)...



Or should it be fog? What's the difference between mist and fog anyway? Tell you what, let's talk about this another time, because before you lose interest I must tell you that 'City of the Dead' (or 'Horror Hotel' in the US - don't get me started on why films feel the need to change titles)is a wonderful, eerie little treasure from 1960.

It starts with a witch, Elizabeth Selwyn, getting burned to a cinder back in 1692. Fast forward to the modern day (with a rather fetching Be-Bop Beatnik Jazz soundtrack)where a young student, Nancy, is advised by her tutor (none other than Christopher Lee)to travel to the village of Whitewater to continue her research...

...which takes us to Whitewater - bring on the mist! Or fog. Whatever, it's all over the place - making it quite difficult to see the damn place - but also making it wonderfully, fantastically (in the original sense of the word) spooky!

And things don't get any less spooky when Nancy checks into the hotel, where the owner (played to sinister perfection by Patricai Jessel)bears an uncanny resemblance to one Elizabeth Selwyn... and turns out to be, well - that would be telling. Suffice to say that some genuinely shocking things do happen to some good people. And we're treated to a great ending with witches running around on fire - Bravo!

So if you're a fan of terrible tales - or extreme weather conditions - check in to Horror Hotel. But be warned - you'll be dying to leave!!! Myooohahahaa!Myoohhaahaaaa Myooo...COUGH COUGH!COUGH!!!... damn, that bloody fog gets everywhere...

THE KISS OF THE VAMPIRE (1964)

A young man regains consciousness the morning after a party to find all the guests gone and the host, a great friend only hours earlier, telling him to get lost. Next time the man sees his girlfriend, she spits in his face.

Sounds like a fairly typical weekend for me really - and it’s also the premise of ‘The Kiss of the Vampire’ a wonderful classic Hammer Horror. Van Helsing and Dracula are nowhere to be seen, but there are a number of typical Hammer vampire vixens on hand to spice things up – the lovely Tania (played by sultry Scottish seductress Isobel Black) could chomp my bare chest any time...

Don't worry though - there’s a 'Van Helsing' type character named Professor Zimmer, but imagine a Van Helsing gone to seed, drowning his sorrows in brandy and not really giving a toss any more – That’s Zimmer. Luckily, however, for young Gerald Harcourt (the aforementioned party lightweight), Professor Zimmer suddenly gets his act together, apparently forgets that one of his arms has third degree burns, and promptly sets about rescuing Gerald’s damsel in distress from the clutches of the evil Dr.Ravna.

This is a lively and enjoyable Hammer romp – and because there’s no Van Helsing or Dracula, it can actually get away with introducing some surprising and hitherto unknown vampire battling tactics – leading up to a memorable, if rather batty, denoument. Enjoy!

MASQUE OF THE RED DEATH (1964)

‘Sticks & stones may break my bones but names will never hurt me,’ goes the old saying. Someone obviously forgot to tell Prince Prospero (Vincent Price) in Masque of the Red Death because his words can REALLY hurt. Has there ever been a better put down than this, for example?

Scarlatti arrives late at Prospero’s castle and begs him for sanctuary from the Red Death.

Scarlatti: Take my wife! I give her to you to do what you please!

Prospero: I've already had that doubtful pleasure.

Not exactly the reply Scarlatti was hoping for, surely. For in less than 10 words Prospero has:

a) Brazenly admitted to Scarlatti that he’s shagged his missus.
b) Told him that she was rubbish anyway.
and c) Turned down Scarlatti's request for sanctuary, thus giving him a virtual death sentence.

But that’s not all. Prospero then grabs a crossbow and shoots Scarlatti through the neck. Making it the greatest put-down ever, because he has:

a) Brazenly admitted to Scarlatti that he’s shagged his missus.
b) Told him that she was rubbish anyway.
c) Turned down Scarlatti's request for sanctuary, thus giving him a virtual death sentence.
and d) Followed all that up with extreme violence.

Masque’s is Price’s finest hour (in my expert opinion). His delivery of each and every line is deliciously macabre and impeccably sinister - look out for his conversation about God with Jane Asher on the battlements of his castle (“Do you know how a falcon is trained my dear? Her eyes are sown shut…”). What a voice.

And also look out for his hot MILF wife played by Hazel Court (that’s ‘hot’ as in ‘sexy’, and not ‘hot’ as in ‘I’ve-just-branded-myself-with-an-upside-down-crucifix’).




Wonderful acting, great source material, lavish set-designs... Masque truly has everything for horror and non-horror fans alike. Even a midget burning a man in a gorilla costume. He deserved it though.

FRANKENSTEIN CREATED WOMAN (1967)

Directed in 1967 by Hammer hero Terence Fisher, Frankenstein Created Woman is one of the best in the Hammer Frankenstein series. And it's a bloody long series.

Susan Denberg plays Christina, the woman of the title. This was her last ever film – a real tragedy, as she gives a great performance here. And is pretty damn gorgeous. According to IMDB she returned to Austria after becoming immersed in the 60s high life of drugs and sex… damn those horny hippies!



She starts the film as a disfigured barmaid, cruelly taunted by some local Hoorah Henrys - but loved by her boyfriend Hans, a simple, loyal servant with a heart of gold and who wouldn’t harm a fly. Anyway, he gets his head chopped off. It was the fault of the Hoorah Henrys (the swines!) who murdered the local pub landlord (Christina’s dad. The swines!) after he stumbles upon them helping themselves to some free wine.

And so Christina, in a fit of grief, jumps in a river and kills herself. Quick as you like, Dr. Frankenstein captures Hans’ soul and transfers it into Christina’s body. Christina, no longer disfigured, tracks down the obnoxious toffs and gets medieval on their hapless upper-class asses - HURRAH! Before killing herself... BOOOH!

Looks like Baron Frankenstein will have to go back to the drawing board yet again...

VILLAGE OF THE DAMNED. THEN AND NOW...

It was a dark, foreboding night, and as the ancient grandfather clock dolefully struck the witching hour, the credits rolled on my ‘Village of the Damned’ DVD. I retired to the library with a stiff Scotch and pipe with my usual rough shag, and settled down with my faithful copy of ‘Keep Watching The Skies’ - to read all about that most singular village of Midwich… Henceforth, I discovered that Letchmore Heath near Elstree Film Studios was the location for the film - and a quick look on the map revealed that Letchmore Heath is only 7.6 miles from my house! “Darling” I said to my wife “How would you like a nice drive in the country this week-end? Perhaps stopping off for a bite to eat at...oh, I dunno…say, Letchmore Heath?” “What are you planning this time you idiot?” My wife asked, rather unkindly I thought. “Nothing at all darling.... nothing at all!” She looked directly at me for several seconds... “You’re thinking of…A BRICK WALL!” “Okay, okay you got me!” I said “Letchmore Heath is where they filmed Village of the Damned you know that film with the spooky little blonde kids...

... and so I want to go and see if I can recognise all the places in the film.” “You’re paying for lunch.” She said and walked out the door.

Which is why, later that week, I found myself spending an enjoyable afternoon wandering around Letchmore Heath, camera in hand. It’s a beautiful spot, basically (just) a small green, pub and pond. It doesn’t even have a shop – the store featured in the film is up for sale! It dates back to 1500 according to the Estate Agents. Unfortunately at £850,000 it’s out of my price range. Would make a nice piece of movie memorabilia though.

Anyway, here are the results of my sojourn, with the corresponding shots of the film (taken with the same camera, by sitting in front of the TV. Which explains why 'PAUSE' appears on a few shots. Apologies for my lack of technical know-how).