Jon Finch – The Magnificent 60s

Should have a lot more going for it. Female empowerment for a start. This would also, in today’s terms, be called a reboot of the Dracula legend, though it does originate from a different source than Bram Stoker. Or you could look at the bold exploration of lesbianism, none of the angst of The Killing of Sister George (1968) or the lyricism of The Fox (1967). Or you could fall back on that old chestnut – a camp reinterpretation of the vampire world, where female breasts rather than necks are the prime target. At the very least, it should have set up Ingrid Pitt (Where Eagles Dare, 1968) for stardom.

And while all these hold true, it lacks the key ingredient of the horror picture, any kind of tension or imminent threat. Nor does it carry the emotional weight of Countess Dracula (1971) – also starring Pitt – a twist on Dorian Gray, of a woman trying to hold age at bay with infusions of virgin blood.

So, in the end, it comes off as little more than a commercial decision to revive a fading genre with lashings of nudity, sex and lesbianism. Director Roy Ward Baker (Moon Zero Two, 1969) brings significant style to the proceedings even though the backdrops look as if they’ve been picked from a cast-off bin.

The tale is based on a story Carmilla by Sheridan Le Fanu, that predated Bram Stoker. On the production side, Hammer and its American rival AIP teamed up, with the latter blamed for insisting on the sexual overdose. Although on that score you could as easily point the finger at the British censor known for his liberal approach to such shenanigans.

While it’s true that Dracula, especially as interpreted by Christopher Lee in Hammer offerings, carried a sexual frisson, there was never anything more than that, allowing the audience to determine whether the vampire was ever interested in a woman except for the purpose of sucking blood from her neck. Previously, diaphanous gowns and cleavage had been the extent of the sexual element. To switch the target from the neck to the breasts is a determined commercial move.

So, basically, with a gender twist, we’re following the old story – vampire stalks victims, finds acolytes, and falls victim to a vampire hunter. In the 19^th century, the beautiful Carmilla (Ingrid Pitt), traveling with her mother, a countess (Dawn Adams), is adept at inveigling herself into high-class households where she seduces the daughters and staff of the rich. Her first victim Laura is niece to General Spielsdorf (Peter Cushing) who subsequently enlists the help of vampire hunter Baron Hartog (David Wilmer), who mistakenly believes he had rid the world of the female vampire clan.

Next for the bloody breast treatment is a Mademoiselle Perrodot (Kate O’Mara), governess to Emma (Madeleine Smith). Perrodot becomes her lover and accomplice. Carmilla is an inclusive kind of vampire and if need be will seduce any male obstacle such as Morton’s suspicious butler Renton (Harvey Hall) while sucking the blood out of any passing male of more modest means.

Carmilla has the same get-out-of-jail-free as any male of the species and can take refuge in her grave until the heat passes. However, this time she’s intent on taking Emma with her. By now Baron Hartog has filled the general in on the threat, explaining that the Karnstein clan go back to the sixteenth century, and that he has dispatched many of the breed in traditional fashion, decapitation or stake through the heart, but he had been unable to find the night-time resting place of Carmilla.

So when Carmilla heads off to Karnstein Castle with Emma, she’s not expecting vampire hunters lying in wait. This time it’s the general who does the killing, making doubly sure by both cutting off her head and driving a stake through her heart. Emma recovers.

Given that any version of Dracula was essentially a franchise, Hammer/AIP managed to keep the Karnsteins going for another two episodes, Lust for a Vampire (1971) – which gave Yutte Stensgaard a shot a stardom – and Twins of Evil (1972) starring Playboy Playmates the Collinson twins.

While The Vampire Lovers was a launching pad for Ingrid Pitt as a new top-billed femme fatale, her marquee attraction didn’t last beyond the superior Countess Dracula. However, Pitt certainly brings gusto to the part and there’s an argument that the contemporary world deserved more explicit expression of that previously restrained sexual frisson. The counter-argument is that it’s blatant sexploitation.

Kate O’Mara (The Horror of Frankenstein, 1970), a future Scream Queen, would have been an obvious contender for the main role rather than a supporting one except that she refused to take off her clothes. Madeleine Smith (Taste the Blood of Dracula, 1970) became another future Scream Queen.

With Ingrid Pitt’s physical allure to the fore that limited the involvement of Peter Cushing (Frankenstein Created Woman, 1967). The more prominent of the wannabes was Jon Finch (Macbeth, 1971).

Written by Tudor Gates (Danger: Diabolik, 1968).

Still the argument continues – groundbreaking approach to the genre or mere sexploitation.

You decide – Amazon Prime currently has this.

Fanboys these days wouldn’t accept the sudden shift in the series without some far-fetched backstory. But in those days audiences never seemed to question why the new iteration of Frankenstein was less than half the age of the previous one (Frankenstein Must Be Destroyed, 1969). Call this a remake or a reimagining or just trying to pull a fast one on a loyal moviegoer.

In fact, this goes pretty much back to basics – and beyond the addition of sex and gore it’s claimed in some quarters to be little more than a retread of The Curse of Frankenstein(1957) – and without Peter Cushing to provide chilling gravitas. Instead, Hammer have corralled in a younger rising star in Ralph Bates – who had made his movie debut in Taste the Blood of Dracula (1970) and would form part of the studio’s horror stock company for the next few years – and in keeping with his age taken us back to the teenage Frankenstein, besting schoolmasters with his arrogance and scientific brain, before dropping out of university to concentrate on experiments with human life.

By this point he’s bumped off his father to inherit the fortune he requires to kit out his castle with the most modern equipment, including the not-so-advanced vat of acid. This time out there’s no suspicious cops breathing down his neck. And while there also no compromised youngsters representing innocence, his medical colleague goes along so easily with the ghastly experiments that his innocence would be called into question.

The tale is exceptionally lean, with none of the moral complexity of its predecessor. Primarily, the focus is on the baron building his monster piece by piece with the help of corpses delivered by unctuous graverobber (Dennis Price) though in an unusual gender twist for the period it’s his wife (Joan Rice) who does the actual work of digging up the graves.

Theoretically, there’s some sexual tension between Frankenstein’s mistress, housemaid Alys (Kate O’Mara). and the high-born Elizabeth (Veronica Carlson) who takes up residence with him after she’s left destitute following the death of her father.

Elizabeth had turned down over a dozen marriage proposals while waiting for Frankenstein to get down on bended knee, but he shows little interest in her and seems to thoroughly enjoy humiliating her by allowing her to stay but only as an employee.

Anyone who gets in Victor’s way ends up in the vat or is thrown to the monster. The monster (Dave Prowse) is the best thing in it. He looks like a real person, huge, tall and strong, and doesn’t react well to being chained up, preferring to go on a murderous rampage. No time is spent enlisting audience sympathy for any of the characters.

There’s an excellent twist at the end where the monster ends up in the vat, therefore relieving the authorities of anyone to blame for the serial killing, and priming, I would have thought, a sequel with Bates – Cushing returned in 1974 with Prowse again as the monster, though this Cushing appears to have managed to escape from the burning house in Frankenstein Must Be Destroyed. Go figure.

It was a big ask to expect Ralph Bates to step into the shoes of Peter Cushing. The movie is better viewed as Hammer’s attempt to revitalize its various horror franchises, and having dipped its toes into the world of the female vampire it would shortly invest in lesbian vampires and a sex-change Dr Jekyll (a concept light years ahead of its time).

None of the women auditioning for the title of Hammer Scream Queen have much to offer beyond cleavage. Kate O’Mara (The Vampire Lovers, 1970) has the better part, given she has the sense to try her hand at blackmail, but she’s generally insipid. In acting terms, Veronica Carlson hasn’t improved on Frankenstein Must Be Destroyed. It doesn’t take much for Dennis Price to steal the show.

So, mostly a series of scientific experiments with a modest amount of gore and none of the nudity Hammer threw into the revamped female vampire series.

I was surprised to find I preferred Michael Carreras’ take on the legend in Frankenstein Must Be Destroyed rather than that of writer-director Jimmy Sangster (Lust for a Vampire, 1971) making his directorial debut but with a bigger reputation as a writer among the horror cognoscenti. Hammer continued playing its role in blooding rising stars -this time round its Jon Finch (Frenzy, 1972).

I’ve seen this described as a parody but I didn’t find much to laugh about.

Tag: Jon Finch

The Vampire Lovers (1970) ***

The Horror of Frankenstein (1970) ***