Showing posts with label Christopher Lee. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Christopher Lee. Show all posts

Thursday, 11 June 2015

A very sad day

Today, we learned of the deaths of two legends of the acting world. Neither was a surprise; they were both old men, at the end of long, varied and remarkable careers. Both, however, will be sorely missed.

Sir Christopher Lee was born in London in 1922; he died on June 7th. He was 93 years old. He began acting on film in 1947, and continued acting up until he died (his intended final film, The 11th, will be released next year). His list of credits gives tell to an astonishingly prolific career. He was Saruman, Count Dooku, Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes, Fu Manchu, Lord Summerisle, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, le Comte du Rochefort, Death and Scaramanga (and he was supposed to be Dr. No, but events conspired against him). His Hammer horror credits alone are impressive: the Monster, the Mummy, Sir Henry Baskerville and, most famously, Count Dracula, in several productions. His friendship with frequent co-star Peter Cushing was legendary, and he never really got over his friend's death in 1994.

Lee's life outside of acting was even more remarkable than his roles. He played Rasputin? So what, he'd met the man's assassin. He volunteered for the Finnish Army and fought in the RAF, and was assigned to the effort to track Nazi war criminals at the end of WWII. He led a distinguished career in the Special Forces, about which he remained very secretive throughout his life. When asked by a director to imagine what sound a man would make as his throat was cut, Lee quietly replied that he didn't need to imagine it. He was fluent in five languages and proficient in three more. His final years were marked by a burgeoning career in metal music. He meshed heavy metal with opera to great acclaim. He was a Knight Bachelor, a Commander of the British Empire, and a Commander of the Venerable Order of St. John, and bore the arms of the Holy Roman Empire. The man was, simply, a legend.

Ron Moody was born Ron Moodnick in 1924. He died today, the 11th of June, aged 91. It's easy to feel sorry for him, as the announcement of his death has been somewhat overshadowed by that of his fellow actor, but Moody was a prolific and talented actor himself. He will always be best known for his role as Fagin in the musical Oliver!, a role he reprised several times, but he had many other charismatic performances. He was the wizard Merlin in Disney's A Kid in King Arthur's Court, Sir Isaac Newton in Revelation, and Uriah Heep in the 1977 adaptation of David Copperfield. He appeared in many television series, both on screen and through voice acting. He was, notoriously, offered the role of the Doctor by the Doctor Who production team in 1969, to take over from Patrick Troughton. He always regretted turning it down, although he did play a Time Lord-like alien in the children's series Mike and Angelo, in which he had a memorable turn as Angelo's father. (I have an elaborate and ridiculous theory that he was, in fact, the second incarnation of the Doctor's enemy, the Meddling Monk.) He eventually made an appearance in Doctor Who in the 2005 audioplay Other Lives, as the Duke of Wellington.

Two mighty lords of acting, taken from us. Great men.

Tuesday, 4 November 2014

HAMMERAMA: The Curse of Frankenstein (1957)




You can't have Hallowe'en without a bit of Hammer, and despite the unseasonal blazing sunshine this gone Hallows Eve, I turned to the film that put Hammer Horror on the map. Hammer had, of course, been around for many years before The Curse of Frankenstein, and had dabbled in sci-fi and horror with such titles as The Quatermass X-Periment. Yet it was Curse that would kick off their reputation as the masters of British horror. Full colour X-certificate gothic horror with just enough gruesomeness and gore to shock and entice the British public in equal measure. While tame by the standards of today's gut-drenched horror films, Hammer's chillers were scandalous by the standards of the time. Critics savaged Curse as debased and depraved as much they applauded its acting and production techniques.


There have been dozens of films based on Shelley's novel Frankenstein, already almost 140 years old when Hammer produced its own version. There were already numerous such films by 1957, the most famous and well-regarded being Universal's 1931 film. The success of this was jealously guarded by the company, and Universal did everything they could to ensure that Hammer could not replicate any elements of the monochrome classic. Every adaptation of the novel has played fast and loose with the source material, and Hammer's is no different. Indeed, the need to differentiate their version from Universal's perhaps led to the very different plot used in Curse, which bears little resemblance to that of the novel. Bookended by the possibly insane Baron Frankenstein telling his story while awaiting the hangman's noose, the storyline retains the fundamentals of the scientist stitching together a creature from human corpses and bringing it to life with electricity, but little else. Notably, one element to make it through was the Creature's encounter with a poor blind man, albeit playing out quite differently than in the book. It's a scene notably absent from Universal's version, although it was worked into its sequel, Bride of Frankenstein. However, while in the novel and Bride it is used to develop sympathy for the Creature by providing someone who does not see his terrible visage, Curse uses it to ramp up the horror and danger posed by the Creature.


This is, of course, the first outing for Hammer's classic double act, Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee, although not the first ever film to feature them both (that was a 1948 production of Hamlet, although Lee was uncredited). The duo would star in a number of films together for Hammer, often as opposing characters, and struck up a deep and famous friendship. Cushing is absolutely fantastic as Victor Frankenstein; idealistic, engaging, yet chillingly amoral and oozing with hubris. In spite of his great intellect, he is a borderline sadist, taking very little time to progress from drowning puppies to murdering old friends in cold blood. Not to mention his cold-hearted affair with his own housemaid, little more than a sex object used by the Baron to sate his baser impulses. Lee, however, is rather wasted here, with little opportunity to show the skill that later made him so renowned. Cast primarily for his height (his role almost went to Carry On... star and future Ice Warrior Bernard Bresslaw), he has no lines and surprisingly little screentime. Nonetheless, Lee manages to bring both fearsome power and an injured vulnerability to the part of the Creature.


Part of the agreement of terms with Universal was that Hammer's version of the Creature could not look like the infamous flat-topped version played by Boris Karloff. Make-up artist Jack Pierce created a unique new look for the Creature, and while it will never be as widely recognised as the Universal version, it has its own distinct quality. It's a particularly unpleasant version of Frankenstein's creation, with rotten, pallid flesh boasting very visible stitching. One eye is white with cataract, while the other is piercingly intelligent. It's a deeply unsettling image.






The film has a small cast, with the bulk of scenes going to Frankenstein and his teacher, accomplice and eventual enemy, Paul Krempe, played with conviction by Robert Urquhart. Melvyn Hayes is impressive, and convincingly Cushing-like, as Victor's younger self. Hazel Court is also very good as Elizabeth, the potential Mrs Frankenstein. But it's Cushing who owns this film, his every scene bristling with charm and threat in equal measure. He is, quite appropriately, electrifying.



The success of The Curse of Frankenstein would lead to the production of six sequels, all but one featuring Cushing as the mad Baron. More significant is that Curse launched Hammer into focusing almost solely on Horror until the mid-seventies. Hammer immediately went into production on Dracula, which reunited Cushing and Lee and allowed the latter to show just what he was capable of. Dracula, its own follow-ups, and the 1959 release The Mummy, cemented Cushing, Lee and Hammer as the new faces of horror.