MIRRORS (20008)

Day #1253

I sit here crushed (don't worry, not literally) and despondent. So much hope and excitement cruelly snatched from my grasp!

It all started this morning when I aspied - remarkably - a creature with a human form in the distance! I beckoned to him and he waved back!! I set forth on foot towards him and judged him to be doing the same.

My suspicions were first aroused when he sneezed at exactly the same time as I. And, not long afterwards, I noticed that he discovered his fly was undone at exactly the same time as mine...

There is no mystery here. For you see, my new companion was nothing more than a reflection. Some trick of the light bouncing off a glacier, some prism refracting... or something, what am I, a F*&&%$g scientist???!!!

I apologise. There's no need for me to take it out on you. A film will surely calm me down...


MIRRORS (2008)



My thoughts after watching Mirrors were uncannily similar to my thoughts after I had sex for the first time. I enjoyed it, but deep down I knew it didn't go as well as it could have. And the more I think about it now, the more ridiculous it seems.

Also, I wish the only attractive woman involved didn't get killed half way through.

I digress. Your experience watching Mirrors will depend on a) how much you like Kiefer Sutherland...



and b) how freaked out you are by... mirrors!



Personally, I have a lot of time for Kiefer Sutherland. And as far as mirrors go, well, from a very early age, long before my visage had been ravaged by sub-zero arctic temperatures and malevolent bumble bees, I've been more than a little wary of contemplating my reflection in detail. I can sense something lurking just beyond my peripheral vision you see...

Which reminds me - I got some valuable advice from an old fortune-teller once, shortly before she died. Never look into a mirror in a dark room at midnight she said (or croaked 'neath an increasingly crushed windpipe, rather). For those phantasms beyond your vision are real. And when you stare at your own reflection for too long, there comes a moment when it becomes aware that it is being watched. This is the point when YOU become the reflection...

And so to Mirrors the movie. The plot is all too familiar - an obvious and unimaginative cross between The Shining and The Ring. Basically, an ex-ish alcoholic gets the job of watchman in a spooky old building. Shit happens, and we go on a meandering investigation that revolves a crazed little girl in a mental institution.

An awful lot of Kiefer's screen-time is thus spent in 'research' mode. Which involves him sitting at a desk, looking through endless scraps of paper and making occasional notes. You can tell when he finds out an important piece of information because he shouts 'goddamn!' and punches the nearest wall. It's gripping stuff.

A rare foray away from Kiefer's scrap-book strewn home-office is Amy Smart's death-scene. It's the highlight of the movie, not just because we get to see her fanny (don't worry UK readers - 'fanny' means 'arse' in the U.S (note to my U.S fans - 'arse' is the English for 'ass')) but that she meets a memorably grisly end, murdered by her own reflection as it rips its jaw off, knowing that the same thing would happen to her.

My main problem with Mirrors was that I just didn't buy into the premise. I couldn't find the will to spend time trying to fill in the various plot holes, like figuring out why the demon had to threaten the security guards to get their help? Would a simple 'please get me out of this mirror' have gone amiss?

And so the film ends with our hero desperately trying to escape a burning/collapsing building. Like an awful lot of other horror films.

Ah - I almost forgot about the 'twist' ending. Without giving too much away, it falls into one of the two standard horror film twists (Standard Horror Film Twist #1 - He's actually dead. Standard Horror Film Twist #2 - His 'friend' doesn't exist. He did the murders himself). You can probably guess...

Here's some rare footage of Kiefer Sutherland being asked to do the sequel which will be set on board a pirate ship:

I MARRIED A MONSTER FROM OUTER SPACE (1958)

Day #292

Dreams of escape, keep me awake, I'm never gonna get out and make it away.

The force-field is getting smaller day by day. It's now 85% of its original size according to my latest calculations. This has added to my feeling of being trapped. Of having no free will. Of being endlessly miserable with no hope of change... reminds me of the last time I was married, come to think of it.

Her name was Molly, a flighty young filly from good aristocratic stock in Weybridge. Loved the outdoors and rambling endlessly in the countryside, did Molly, and soon made an acquaintance with Giles our gamekeeper. I would often see them out riding together across the moors, Molly's face lit up with a radiant smile that I didn't recognise.

Anyway, there was a fire in the gamekeeper's cottage one fateful night. Two charred bodies were discovered, and to my sheer horror they turned out to be Giles and my faithless Molly!

A rogue candle was held to be the likely cause of the fire, and old Doc Jensen's observation that both of their necks had been broken prior to death was taken as being none other than the ramblings of a decrepit alcoholic that had no business to be still employed in the medical profession. He fell into the canal and drowned not long afterwards, drunk as a lord on the way home from the local tavern no doubt... except that Julian Fielding III, our local coroner, found no trace of alcohol in Doc Jensen's system - mind you, it was common knowledge that that the coroner was a raging opium addict, and in fact only a few days after his verdict on Doc Jensen he was found with a needle stuck in his - HALLO! I've been rambling on forever, you must forgive me. For here comes a film!

I MARRIED A MONSTER FROM OUTER SPACE (1958)



One of the many great things about watching American Sci-Fi from the 50s is that it gives you a rare glimpse of a bygone era, where things were very much different. IMAMFOS (short for 'I Married A Monster From Outer Space'. Very handy. Saves me writing out 'I Married A Monster From Outer Space' for no good reason) has a wonderful example of this...

... at her wits end for MAMFOS, Marge Farrell naturally reaches for a relaxing cigarette. But then to her horror, she discovers she can't find the lighter! Her husband Bill (the MFOS) appears and tries to reassure her by explaining that "the lighter wasn't working so I sent it to get it fixed" - but Marge quickly spots something else is wrong - "Where's your drink?" she demands.

I don't know what I love most about this scene, the thought of sending out your lighter to get it renovated, or the fact that Marge panics when she spots that her husband isn't cradling a Scotch at half past 2 in the afternoon. Sounds like my kind of time, the 50s...

... and did the place where Bill took the lighter to get fixed do anything else apart from fix lighters? Or was it solely the local 'Lighter Fixing Emporium'? This kind of stuff keeps me awake at night.

But I'm getting ahead myself and forgetting something - the title. It's become such a cliche for every review of this film to mention that the title is misleadingly flippant that now, even mentioning the fact that this is a cliche has become a cliche in itself. So I've decided it's best not to mention it all. Except of course, I already have. So I'll just add that it's a perfect title. I love titles that tell you important plot details so that there's no confusion. That's why 'Honey I Shrunk the Kids' is a perfect film title, unlike 'Twelve Monkeys', a film that I wasted good money going to see only to discover that it actually starred humans.

And so to IMAMFOS - one of the classiest 50s sci-fi movies (despite the misleadingly flippant title etc. etc.). IMAMFOS is beautifully shot and directed by Gene Fowler Jnr (who also did IWATW of course). We open with an impressive tracking shot that spans the shoreline of a lake before settling upon an approaching car that parks close enough to the camera to allow us to follow its occupants as they exit and head up the path to the local bar, stopping en-route to playfully knock on the car of a courting couple. This one shot lasts just over 59 seconds. Good start.

There's an even more memorable shot later, when we're in a busy restaurant with newlyweds Bill and Marge. The camera pans to the window for a second, and then back into the room to reveal that we're now in the young couple's bedroom, much later!!! But we don't witness any conjugal shenanigans because Bill is acting a bit strange. A bit nervous. Maybe it's something to do with the fact that a flash of lightning reveals his features to be that of a hideous alien.



Oh shit!

Marge is a rather perceptive young lady, and it's not long until she comes to the conclusion that her husband is AMFOS. This all starts when she buys him a dog for a present - Bill loves dogs you see - but alien Bill doesn't. And the dog doesn't like alien Bill. And alien Bill knows that the dog doesn't like alien Bill. And the dog... anyway, matters come to a head one night when Bill... when he... there's no easy way of breaking this to you, he kills the dog. HE KILLS THE DOG! And this was the 50s! Even now, canicide is thankfully very rare in films, so this is a truly shocking scene.

There are other memorable moments throughout IMAMFOS. Like when a rather flighty lady leaves a bar and tries propositioning a hooded gentleman outside a shop. Rather unwisely, as it turns out as the hooded gentleman turns out to be AMFOS and zaps the hapless harlot in the back.

Despite all this outrageous behaviour from the MsFOS, Bill's character actually manages to elicit a fair degree of sympathy. Tom Tryon plays the part of Bill, and he's a fine looking actor - tall, imposing, marvellously athletic. He gives a very finely judged and subtle performance, one that Keanu Reeves would mess up royally if he starred in the remake.

Having MAMFOS, Marge wants out. She hates the idea of Bill being AMFOS, and her mind is made up. Very harsh, in my opinion. I wish that she'd have fallen for alien Bill just a little bit, instead of spending the entire film running around hysterically, harping on about the fact that she MAMFOS.



I was firmly rooting for Bill throughout, and hoped in vain that there could have been just a small spark of electricity between the star-crossed couple. Even though alien Bill was a pooch-whacker, I think he would have made a more than capable husband. Deep down, he obviously felt something for Marge, despite not being able to feel anything, which is no mean feat.

Soon Marge manages to find someone who isn't an alien, who in turn manages to raise a posse from all the men in the maternity waiting room (the aliens are impotent, you see. So it wouldn't be them waiting in there). Who wants to be hanging around waiting for your wife to have a baby when you're offered a chance to go alien hunting, eh?
So off the posse goes...

It's not long until the expectant alien hunters home in on the spaceship, whereby the alien occupants make an appearance and it all kicks off big time. The humans are getting a right zapping until dog meets alien. Don't worry, the score is evened up this time. Dog wins.

There's only enough time left for alien Bill to rather sadly die in front of Marge. But there's a happy ending when she's promptly reunited with human Bill! They're going to live happily ever after surely! Let's just hope he can hold his liquor. And that he buys her a lighter for her next birthday.

MIDNIGHT MEAT TRAIN (2008)

Day #76

I wake up at 7am every day. Light the gas stove. Melt some ice. Drink some of the water, use some to shave and wash.

Make some coffee, get dressed. Then sit and think, "What the hell am I going to do now?" for the next 18 hours until I fall asleep again.

That's not quite true. I hunt and fish every day. I'm quite a successful fisherman and now have several months of frozen fish stashed away in the cold-box in the igloo.

I'm less successful as a hunter, and have only caught one bumble-bee so far.

I also map my surroundings within the force-field. I've noticed changes. Sometimes the force-field is a few feet smaller, and on other ocassions I can walk right past where it was the previous day for several metres. At the moment it measures the same as when I first calculated it. Something tells me if I can find a pattern to its changes it may give me some sort of clue... but a clue to what? To tell you the truth I'm not even sure. All I know is I want out of this godforsaken place. But where would that take me? To a swift execution? Or another solitary trial, stuck in the middle of a desert perhaps?

And why the films? What can they possibly mean? Here comes another. I must be meticulous in recording every minute, every character, every scene. There may be a pattern, may be some vital clue. And so I grab some parchment and an old pencil, and get ready for several hours of intense notation:


MIDNIGHT MEAT TRAIN (2008)


What a pile of shit.

TARANTULA (1955)

Day #556

Endless days with no word, no news, no contact from the outside world! Only now have I come to realise how much I rely on these films to give some meaning to my existence.

In the absence of any external stimulation I have taken to debating with myself in the mirror. Lately, these debates have become increasingly bad tempered and have actually ended in a mass brawl on 2 separate occasions. I regret to say that the index finger on my right hand was bitten off during the last one. This can't go on.

Why have the films stopped? What has happened to the person sending them through? Is he ill? Has he got bored with it? Or did he go on holiday up to Scotland with his wife and baby for a couple of weeks and has only just returned? I don't suppose I shall ever know...

But hallo! What is this? A sound and a glimmer of light from the TV! Dare I hope?

TARANTULA (1955)




Tarantula is on my second list of favourite films. This second list is the REAL list - namely, the films that I would actually watch If I found myself on Death Row (again) and had one day left to live, and a DVD player. And the DVDs in question. Other films on this list include Escape To Victory, Kelly's Heroes and The Three Amigos.

The first list of my favourite films is my 'dinner party' list i.e. the films that I say are my favourites to try and impress in company, but have never actually watched. This list includes Citizen Kane, Battleship Potemkin and There Will Be Blood.

Obviously the first list is pretty much redundant in my present situation. But maybe one day this ordeal will all be over... maybe the force-field will open and I'll be allowed back into society... and maybe my next dinner party won't end up in a blood-bath where all the guests are slaughtered with fondue forks, and the host of the dinner party mysteriously missing. As a matter of interest, the long-forgotten proto-slasher flick "Blood-bath at the Dinner Party of Death (U.S. title 'The Fondue Massacre!') was based on this incident at my, sorry, that dinner party.

All of which leads rather neatly onto 'Tarantula', one of my favourite 50s Monster Movies. 'Tarantula' has absolutely everything a self-respecting 50's Creature Feature should have. Nowadays, we call these things cliches, but back in the 50s before cliches were invented, these were just things that happened in Monster Movies. I'm talking about:

1) A scientist playing 'God' by making animals bigger than they should be.
2) The beautiful female assistant with a bloke's name.
3) A beautiful but deadly desert landscape.
4) Some hobos being the first to get killed.
5) A wise-cracking hero who isn't a police or army officer but seems to be able to over-ride them and make decisions that everyone obeys.

and

6) A huge tarantula.

'Tarantula' has all these. Plus, it's directed by Jack Arnold, legend of 50s Sci-fi. Plus+, it has the finest actors possible in the lead roles. I'm talking about the sultry and sassy Mara Corday...

... also a welcome presence in The Giant Claw and The Black Scorpion.

And the wonderful, wonderful John Agar.



John Agar is right at the top of my second (i.e. my 'proper') list of favourite actors (this list also includes Chevy Chase). Something in him reminds me of Steve McQueen - perhaps its the way he overacts when explaining something perhaps (apologies to Steve McQueen fans that don't think he overacts). Sure, he's got the cheesiest of cheesy grins and he might not be the greatest actor in the world but I love the guy - not least because of the films he's been in; Attack of the Puppet People, Invisible Invaders, Brain from Planet Arous, Revenge of the Creature... I could go on. Only John Agar can deliver lines like "Giant freaks of any kind give me the willies!", and actually sound like the mere mention of him mentioning giant freaks is giving him a flashback of the willies. A legend, and he was a damn nice guy as well by all accounts.

And so to the remote Arizona desert town where John Agar - a local doctor - has been called in to investigate the mysterious death of a young man who just happened to work out at Professor Deemer's research laboratory. By lucky chance, just before driving out there he has a chance to give a lift to Professor Deemer's new assistant, Stefanie 'Steve' Clayton (Mara Corday). It's not long until they hook up to investigate the strange goings on that are... going on.

Which leads to Steve being startled by Professor Deemer one night, when he creeps up behind her in the lab and gives her a ticking off about showing unqualified people (John Agar of course) around the lab. Not an unreasonable request really. To which Steve replies by screaming "Oh my God, your FACE!" and runs off. This really is a great response to being told off by your boss. If you don't believe me, try it next time you get called into an office to discuss your attendance. It works every time!

But look! While we were distracted, a giant tarantula has escaped from the lab and is now wreaking havoc around the local desert, creeping around menacingly in the distance before we see great POV shots of it's fangs bearing down on hapless hobos. Hobos in the desert always get it in 50s sci-fi movies I'm afraid. In fact, only soldiers guarding downed UFOs fare worse.

This type of behaviour really can't be allowed to continue, and so its not long until John Agar puts his hippocratical oath to one side momentarily and calls in an air-strike. Remember that this was the 50's, long before conservation and environmental issues were in vogue - and long before the Vietnam War had given napalm and assorted defoliants a bad press...

... so the ending that we get to cheer and applaud is Clint Eastwood napalming the tarantula to death!


That'll teach it! Barbecued spider anyone?

Here's the trailer for your viewing pleasure:

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:

THE CHILDREN (2008)

Day#42987

That last film I watched, 'Eden Lake', affected me no end. My nights are now filled with awful nightmares of murderous kids chasing me through an endless forest.

And now my waking hours are being invaded - haunted even - by ghostly children as the wind that whistles through the igloo now sounds to my fragile mind like children's laughter. Menacing. Mocking. Malevolent. Murderous. And bloody annoying.

So I pray for something to take my mind off this macabre train of thought. I note that I haven't had an old classic horror to watch for a while. Something from the 40's or 50's would be a welcome piece of nostalgia for me to enjoy, for example.

Aha! Here comes today's film, and I think I'm in luck! Unless I'm very much mistaken I can see the faint outline of Boris Karloff appearing through the static...

THE CHILDREN (2008)



My name is The Igloo Keeper and I am a horror fan. I watch 30 or 40 new horror films a year knowing that most of them will be rubbish. I do this because 7 or 8 will be worth watching. A couple will be great.

The Children is directed by Tom Shankland, whose previous film, Waz, you might know by its alternate tiles Wdelta Z or The Killing Gene. Don’t get me started on alternate titles.

Is it any good? Yes. One of the best horrors I’ve seen in a long time in fact. Tom Shankland sure knows how to direct. The cinematography and use of sound in this film is outstanding. You feel that the camera is always placed in the correct – if sometimes unusual – position (one particularly effective aerial outdoor shot springs to mind as we follow a trail of blood). Best of all, he treats the audience with a degree of intelligence. We pass by a table with scissors on it. We pass the table again and notice the scissors are missing – if we’re paying attention that is…

All this wouldn’t count for much if The Children didn’t deliver in the horror department, and thankfully it does. I was genuinely unsettled and creeped out throughout. At one stage I literally felt my spine chill (only to discover an icicle from the igloo roof was dripping down my back).

Creepy children are a horror staple, but some might say they’re a bit of a cliché.

How can you make them scary without being a bit… silly? Well, what Tom (I’ve decided I like him so much I’m going to call him by his first name) does is use restraint. He doesn’t ask them to act spooky or evil. He pretty much gets them to act like kids. And this works because it makes things believable – wonderfully, horrifyingly believable - even when these kids are running around with sharp pointy objects and playing the most peculiar games with dead bodies.

Here’s the plot in brief – a smug couple with a couple of kids arrive at their friends’ remote country home. Their friends are another smug couple with loads of kids. One of the kids gets sick. He goes a bit weird. Slowly, the other kids follow suit. Weirdness turns into a depraved bloodlust for adult flesh! That last line is a bit of an exaggeration, but I like it so I’ll leave it in. There also appears to be some sort of sub-text about abortion and pregnancy that I couldn't quite work out.

In summary then, dear reader, The Children manages to avoid most horror cliches, and is a genuinely unsettling and scary film made with real skill and flair. This is rare. So please enjoy it.

The only bad thing about the film is the rather lame 'You bought them into this world...' tag-line on the poster and on this trailer. Tom obviously didn't have anything to do with that.

EDEN LAKE (2008)

Day#67

Another blizzard, another day alone in the igloo with my thoughts. Thoughts of childhood, and of my loving mother. A saint, now no longer with us - cruelly taken one fateful day in November 1903.

Some lunatic had attacked her with an axe and hidden her under the woodpile. The same woodpile where I'd often wile away the hours, chopping firewood for the stove.

Life was never the same after mother passed. Father became distant and cold. I think he blamed me for her dying as indeed, did the police and local community. But the murder weapon was never found.

And so I became a loner and would often walk for hours, fishing sometimes at an undiscovered lake some miles within the forest. Nobody else ever came there. It was very deep in parts.

EDEN LAKE (2008)



I’ve watched Eden Lake, so now at least I know I’ll never have to watch it again. It’s not a bad film. Just… grim.

Eden Lake is yet another addition to the kids-terrorising- adults genre (Ils, Funny Games etc.) and also has a lot in common with the pre-slasher 70s Horror/Thrillers such as Deliverance and I Spit on Your Grave, to name two.

Like I said, it’s grim. But I say enough! Enough negativity! Surely there is good to be found in anyone or anything? So let me try and put a positive spin on Eden Lake. It might even have a happy ending...

Eden Lake is the charming tale of a carefree childhood. It follows a gang of great chums and their faithful dog who spend their days cycling around town and roaming through the local woods, having fun and getting into adventures.

One beautiful sunny day the lovable rogues are having fun at the local lake, playing music and kicking a football gently to one another.

But then the girl in the gang feels a pair of eyes prying on her. She thinks nothing of it at first, but then notices an odd looking man and woman further along the lake, staring at them intently. The gang's dog goes to investigate but runs back with its tail between its leg – something is amiss.

Suddenly, the man appears and starts acting aggressively. He grabs the stereo and turns the music off, then unashamedly ogles the girl’s tits. The gang are shocked and upset, and decide to leave.

But the nightmare is only just beginning. One of the gang, Brett, arrives home only to find that the man has followed him, and is lying in wait INSIDE his house! Thankfully Brett’s dad arrives home and the cowardly stalker manages to escape.

Now things take a turn for the worse. That night, as the gang are singing hymns around a camp-fire, the man and woman turn up again. The man attacks and in a fit of cruelty and madness, kills Brett’s beautiful dog!

The gang, acting in self-defence, manage to capture and subdue the man. However, they don’t count on his fiendish female accomplice who turns into some John Rambo wannabe, and picks them off one by one with whatever weapon comes to hand…

Eventually our hero Brett manages to escape her clutches, and arrives home. Sanctuary! Thank God his nightmare is over at last! But look out Brett! The woman is in the house! She has a razor! Brett’s dad is slashed in a vicious attack but survives. The woman will never harm Brett again. He goes to bed, safe and sound…

Sure, Eden Lake is intense at times but it’s still a great, heart-warming feel-good flick for all the family. Go see it!

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: