Tag Archives: 1960s retrospective

The Witching Hour: Rediscovering Ingmar Bergman’s Hour of the Wolf

05 Sunday Jan 2025

Posted by in retrospective

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , , , , ,

Ingmar Bergman’s Hour of the Wolf (1968) is a haunting exploration of the human psyche, wrapped in the shroud of surrealist horror. Often overshadowed by his magnum opus, Persona (1966), this film still stands as a remarkable achievement in Bergman’s illustrious career. Infused with themes of isolation, grief, sexuality, and fractured relationships, Hour of the Wolf delves into the fragile boundaries between reality and nightmare, offering a chilling portrait of psychological unraveling.

The film centres on Johan Borg (Max von Sydow), an artist tormented by inner demons, and his wife Alma (Liv Ullmann), who bears witness to his gradual descent into madness. Set on a remote island, their isolation becomes a breeding ground for paranoia and supernatural dread. Through Johan’s journal entries, we are introduced to a cast of grotesque figures—possibly products of his imagination—whose interactions blur the lines between memory, hallucination, and folklore.

Bergman’s use of folklore-inspired horror is particularly striking. The title refers to the time just before dawn, when the most deaths and births occur, evoking an atmosphere of heightened vulnerability. Subtle allusions to vampirism and lycanthropy further deepen the film’s surreal mystique, positioning it as a psychological horror piece with universal resonance.

Visually, Hour of the Wolf is a masterclass in unsettling imagery. Sven Nykvist’s stark black-and-white cinematography amplifies the film’s oppressive mood, while Bergman’s use of dreamlike sequences and fragmented storytelling creates an otherworldly atmosphere. One standout moment is Johan’s vivid recollection of an aristocratic dinner party, where grotesque characters mock and torment him. The sequence is both absurd and terrifying, encapsulating the film’s unique blend of existential dread and surrealism.

The film’s exploration of Johan and Alma’s relationship is equally compelling. Liv Ullmann delivers a powerful performance as Alma, whose love for Johan is both her strength and her curse. Her quiet resilience contrasts with Johan’s increasing detachment, highlighting the emotional toll of living with someone consumed by inner turmoil.

At its core, Hour of the Wolf is a meditation on the destructive power of creativity and obsession. Johan’s art becomes a metaphor for his deteriorating mental state, raising questions about the price of artistic genius. The film’s unsettling climax, where Johan confronts his demons in a surreal and chaotic sequence, serves as a harrowing depiction of psychological collapse.

Bergman’s exploration of grief and repressed desires adds another layer of complexity. The spectral figures haunting Johan can be interpreted as manifestations of his guilt and unfulfilled longings, making the horror deeply personal and introspective.

The Prognosis:

While not as universally lauded as Persona, Hour of the Wolf remains a standout in Bergman’s filmography for its bold fusion of psychological drama and horror. Its surreal style, rich symbolism, and unflinching examination of the human condition make it a compelling and thought-provoking experience. Hour of the Wolf is a mesmerising journey into the darkness of the soul.

  • Saul Muerte

1960s Retrospective: The Blood Beast Terror (1968)

04 Saturday Jan 2025

Posted by in retrospective

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , ,

In the golden age of Hammer Horror-inspired cinema, The Blood Beast Terror (1968) dared to stand out with its blend of detective mystery and creature feature antics. Unfortunately, this boldness didn’t translate into cinematic success, resulting in a film that’s more curiosity than classic. Despite its flaws, the movie is buoyed by a stellar central performance from Peter Cushing and a capable supporting cast including Robert Flemyng and Wanda Ventham.

The film’s plot reads like a fever dream of 1960s pulp horror: a series of grisly murders plagues the countryside, each victim drained of blood. Enter Inspector Quennell (Cushing), a sharp-witted detective determined to solve the mystery. The trail leads him to Dr. Mallinger (Flemyng), an entomologist whose secret experiments have birthed a horrifying creature—a human-moth hybrid with a deadly thirst. Mallinger’s enigmatic daughter, Clare (Ventham), further complicates matters as Quennell unravels the twisted truth.

Peter Cushing’s performance as Inspector Quennell is the film’s greatest asset. His trademark gravitas and effortless charm breathe life into the otherwise pedestrian script. Whether interrogating suspects or confronting unspeakable horrors, Cushing elevates every scene with his nuanced delivery and commanding presence. His performance alone makes The Blood Beast Terror worth a watch for fans of vintage horror.

Robert Flemyng provides a suitably sinister turn as Dr. Mallinger, blending arrogance and desperation in his portrayal of a man consumed by hubris. Wanda Ventham, as Clare, delivers an enigmatic performance that hints at the character’s duality, though the script’s limitations leave her with little room to shine. Ventham’s ethereal beauty and restrained menace make her a memorable part of the film, even as the narrative fails to fully explore her potential.

The concept of a giant killer moth might seem ludicrous, but it’s handled with surprising seriousness. The creature effects, while dated, possess a certain charm and showcase the ingenuity of the era’s low-budget filmmaking. The transformation sequences and final confrontation are standout moments, embodying the warped gold that makes this film intriguing despite its shortcomings.

The Prognosis:

The Blood Beast Terror is a peculiar entry in the annals of 1960s horror. While it struggles under the weight of a thin script and an outlandish premise, the performances—particularly Cushing’s—and the audacity of its concept make it a fascinating watch for genre enthusiasts. That said, the film ultimately lacks the polish and cohesion needed to ascend to the ranks of its contemporaries.

The Blood Beast Terror is best appreciated as a quirky relic of its time, a testament to the creativity and ambition of mid-century horror cinema.

  • Saul Muerte

Spider Baby (1967): A Twisted Tale That Crawls Just Short of Greatness

29 Sunday Dec 2024

Posted by in retrospective

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , ,

Jack Hill’s Spider Baby is a strange, grotesque, and undeniably ambitious horror-comedy that teeters between campy fun and genuinely disturbing imagery. Dubbed “the maddest story ever told,” the film centres on the Merrye family, whose hereditary condition causes them to regress mentally as they age, resulting in murderous, childlike behaviour.

Lon Chaney Jr., in one of his final roles, anchors the film as the loyal caretaker Bruno. Chaney’s performance is surprisingly heartfelt, lending a sense of tragedy to the Merrye family’s twisted plight. His rendition of the haunting theme song only adds to the film’s offbeat charm.

The standout performances come from Jill Banner and Beverly Washburn as the deranged Merrye sisters, whose blend of innocence and malice creates an unsettling dynamic. Sid Haig also makes a memorable appearance as the simple-minded but dangerous Ralph.

While the premise is intriguing and the black humour is effective in places, Spider Baby struggles to maintain its tone. The low budget is evident in the uneven production quality, and the narrative often feels disjointed. Hill’s direction shows flashes of brilliance, but the film ultimately feels more like an experiment than a fully realised work.

Despite its shortcomings, Spider Baby has developed a cult following for its unique vision and daring approach. It’s a flawed but fascinating oddity, worth a watch for fans of offbeat horror looking for something different.

  • Saul Muerte

Viy (1967): A Spellbinding Journey into Russian Folklore

28 Saturday Dec 2024

Posted by in retrospective

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , ,

Konstantin Ershov and Georgi Kropachyov’s Viy is a haunting adaptation of Nikolai Gogol’s supernatural tale, capturing the eerie beauty of Russian folklore with a visual style that lingers long after the film ends. As the first Soviet-era horror film, Viy is both groundbreaking and deeply atmospheric, offering a rare glimpse into a world where religion, superstition, and the supernatural collide.

The story follows Khoma, a young seminary student tasked with praying over the body of a deceased young woman in a remote village. As the nights wear on, Khoma is forced to confront a series of terrifying, otherworldly encounters, culminating in a spectacular showdown with the demonic titular entity.

The film’s special effects, while dated, are undeniably inventive, creating an unsettling and surreal atmosphere that heightens the horror. The climactic scene in the church, where creatures of the night come alive, is a masterclass in tension and creativity, blending practical effects with an otherworldly aesthetic.

Leonid Kuravlyov’s performance as Khoma is compelling, capturing both the character’s arrogance and his growing terror. The narrative’s moral undertones and folkloric roots add depth to the film, making it a fascinating cultural artifact as well as an effective piece of horror cinema.

Viy is not without its flaws—some pacing issues and uneven performances detract slightly—but its vivid imagery and folkloric charm make it an unforgettable experience. For fans of folk horror and international cinema, it’s a must-see.

  • Saul Muerte

The Fearless Vampire Killers (1967): A Parody with Bite, but Lacking Sharp Fangs

27 Friday Dec 2024

Posted by in retrospective

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , ,

Roman Polanski’s The Fearless Vampire Killers is a peculiar beast, blending gothic horror and slapstick comedy into a vampire spoof that is as visually enchanting as it is narratively uneven. It’s a film that delights in poking fun at the vampire mythos, with Polanski both behind the camera and in front of it as the bumbling Alfred, assistant to Jack MacGowran’s delightfully eccentric Professor Abronsius.

The story follows the duo as they stumble into a Transylvanian village under the shadow of Count von Krolock’s castle, only to face more trouble than they bargained for. The film’s humour is often subtle, relying on awkward encounters and physical comedy, though some jokes fall flat or drag longer than necessary.

What The Fearless Vampire Killers lacks in consistent laughs, it makes up for in its lush visuals. Cinematographer Douglas Slocombe creates a wintry gothic wonderland, with the production design perfectly capturing the decaying opulence of von Krolock’s castle. The masquerade ball scene, in particular, is a strikingly macabre highlight.

While Polanski’s direction and Sharon Tate’s charming turn as Sarah elevate the material, the film struggles to balance its comedic and horror elements, leaving it feeling slightly disjointed. Despite this, it remains an enjoyable curiosity, worth a watch for its unique take on vampire lore and its visual flair.

  • Saul Muerte

A Patchwork of Uneven Delights: Revisiting Torture Garden

20 Friday Dec 2024

Posted by in retrospective

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , ,

1967’s Torture Garden is another anthology effort from Amicus Productions, helmed by director Freddie Francis, who was no stranger to the world of macabre storytelling. With a screenplay by Robert Bloch, celebrated author of Psycho, and a strong ensemble cast that includes Jack Palance, Burgess Meredith, and Peter Cushing, one might expect Torture Garden to be a standout in the horror anthology genre. Instead, it’s an uneven affair that delivers moments of intrigue and terror but ultimately fails to coalesce into something memorable.

The film’s wraparound story features Burgess Meredith as Dr. Diabolo, a sinister showman luring customers into a carnival exhibit that reveals horrifying visions of their possible fates. This setup, while atmospheric, feels oddly rushed, robbing the overarching narrative of the gravity it desperately needs. Meredith’s performance is delightfully theatrical, adding a touch of charm to an otherwise underwhelming framing device.

As with many anthologies, the success of Torture Garden hinges on the strength of its individual segments. Of the four tales presented, The Man Who Collected Poe stands out for its inspired premise and the committed performances of Jack Palance and Peter Cushing. Their shared obsession over Edgar Allan Poe memorabilia creates a gripping dynamic that feels genuinely unsettling. However, the other stories—ranging from a cursed piano to a deadly feline—vary in quality, with some verging on the ludicrous.

Freddie Francis’s direction is steady but uninspired, lacking the visual flair he brought to earlier works like The Evil of Frankenstein or The Skull. The production design, though serviceable, feels constrained by the film’s modest budget, and the cinematography struggles to evoke the same haunting atmosphere found in Francis’s better efforts.

Robert Bloch’s writing, while clever in places, leans too heavily on moralistic twists that can feel predictable or forced. The result is a collection of tales that often amuse or provoke thought but rarely terrify.

Torture Garden remains a curious entry in the horror anthology tradition—a film that entertains in parts but falters as a cohesive whole. For fans of Freddie Francis or Amicus Productions, it’s worth a watch as a time capsule of late-60s horror. However, for those seeking a truly chilling experience, it’s unlikely to leave much of an impression.

  • Saul Muerte

Retrospective Review: Theatre of Death (1967) – Christopher Lee Commands the Stage in This Middling Horror Mystery

14 Saturday Dec 2024

Posted by in retrospective

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , ,

In Theatre of Death (1967), the world of the stage becomes a sinister arena where art and life collide, with the ever-reliable Christopher Lee taking centre stage. Directed by Samuel Gallu, this British horror-thriller delves into the macabre possibilities of theatrical performance, questioning where the boundary lies between scripted terror and real-life horror. While not one of Lee’s most celebrated features, it nonetheless showcases his enduring gravitas as a cornerstone of the horror genre.

The film follows a series of grisly murders in Paris that seem to be connected to the Theatre of Death, a dark and experimental troupe led by the imperious Philippe Darvas (Christopher Lee). As the no-nonsense director, Darvas is both feared and revered, commanding absolute loyalty from his performers. Yet when suspicions arise that he might be more than just a manipulative taskmaster, the line between performance and reality begins to blur, drawing the audience into a spiraling mystery.

As usual, Christopher Lee elevates the material with his magnetic presence. His portrayal of Darvas is sharp and domineering, filled with the sort of brooding intensity that makes him both menacing and captivating. Lee’s ability to imbue even the simplest lines with menace gives the film its strongest moments, ensuring that Darvas remains a figure of fascination—even when the plot begins to falter.

The film’s concept is intriguing, leaning heavily into the theatrical setting as a means of exploring horror. The imagery of actors rehearsing scenes of death and torture within the confines of the stage serves as a clever metaphor for the duality of performance and authenticity. Yet, despite its ambitious premise, Theatre of Death struggles to fully capitalise on its potential.

Samuel Gallu’s direction is serviceable but lacks the flair needed to make the film truly memorable. The pacing feels uneven, and while the murder mystery element offers some intrigue, it never reaches the level of nail-biting suspense the story demands. Similarly, the supporting characters, while adequately acted, fail to leave much of an impression, overshadowed by Lee’s towering performance.

That said, the film does have its strengths. The atmospheric use of the theatre itself is a standout feature, with its shadowy corridors and moody lighting adding an air of Gothic unease. The murders are suitably macabre, even if they don’t push the boundaries of what the genre had to offer in the late 1960s.

The Prognosis:

Theatre of Death is not the strongest entry in Christopher Lee’s illustrious career, but it’s an enjoyable curiosity for fans of his work and the era’s horror films. Its exploration of the theatrical world as a backdrop for terror adds a unique flavor, even if the execution doesn’t quite match the ambition. With Lee’s commanding performance at its heart, the film is worth a watch—just don’t expect it to leave a lasting impression.

  • Saul Muerte

Retrospective Review: Berserk! (1967) – Joan Crawford’s Circus of Madness

14 Saturday Dec 2024

Posted by in retrospective

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , , , , , , ,

Berserk! (1967) is a campy murder-mystery-slash-horror hybrid that stands as a curious artifact from the later career of Joan Crawford. Known for her commanding performances and status as a titan of Hollywood’s golden age, Crawford’s presence elevates what might have otherwise been a forgettable schlockfest into something undeniably watchable. While it’s not a masterpiece, Berserk! offers enough intrigue and melodrama to keep audiences entertained, even if its thrills are more tame than terrifying.

Set in the colourful yet sinister world of a traveling circus, the film wastes no time diving into its macabre premise. A series of gruesome murders rocks the troupe, leaving circus manager Monica Rivers (Crawford) to navigate the chaos while safeguarding her business—and her secrets. Crawford, in her early sixties at the time, commands the screen with her trademark mix of icy authority and simmering vulnerability. Her Monica is as ruthless as she is enigmatic, and Crawford’s sheer charisma ensures she remains the centre of attention in every scene.

That’s not to say the rest of the cast doesn’t try. Ty Hardin brings a certain swagger as the hunky new high-wire act, and Diana Dors oozes campy charm as a jealous rival performer. Yet, their characters often feel like mere pawns in a game that Crawford is orchestrating. Her ability to dominate the narrative, even in a low-budget thriller like this, is a testament to her enduring star power.

The film itself is a mixed bag. Director Jim O’Connolly crafts an entertaining but uneven narrative, often veering into melodramatic territory. The murder sequences, though strikingly staged for their time, lack the visceral edge to fully capitalise on the horror elements. Similarly, the “whodunit” aspect doesn’t quite deliver the nail-biting suspense it promises, culminating in a finale that feels more absurd than shocking.

However, Berserk! does succeed in delivering a gaudy, vibrant aesthetic that captures the circus milieu. From the bright costumes to the dramatic performances under the big top, the film revels in its setting, creating an atmosphere that is as unsettling as it is ostentatious. It’s a shame the plot can’t fully match the energy of its lead and setting, often succumbing to formulaic beats.

The Prognosis:

Berserk! is not a great film, but it’s an oddly fascinating one. Its appeal lies less in its plot and more in the chance to witness Joan Crawford embracing the genre with gusto, proving she could still mesmerise audiences even in her later years. For fans of campy horror and classic Hollywood, it’s worth a watch—if only to see the legendary Crawford working her magic under the circus tent.

  • Saul Muerte

1960s Retrospective: The Spirit is Willing (1967)

06 Friday Dec 2024

Posted by in retrospective

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, ,

Some films from the 1960s manage to endure as classics, while others remain firmly planted in the realm of passable entertainment. The Spirit is Willing (1967), directed by William Castle, is decidedly in the latter camp—a light-hearted supernatural comedy that aims for charm but lands squarely in middle-of-the-road Americana.

The story follows the Whitlock family as they move into an old seaside home, only to discover it’s haunted by a trio of mischievous ghosts. What unfolds is a series of slapstick encounters and mild frights that lean more on farcical antics than genuine scares. It’s a blend that Castle, known for his knack for gimmicky horror, doesn’t fully commit to, leaving the film feeling oddly safe and uninspired.

The comedy, while present, struggles to hit consistent highs. Much of the humour feels sanitised, playing to an audience that might have been more easily amused in the 1960s. By modern standards, the laughs are few and far between, with the film’s attempts at wit coming across as quaint rather than clever.

What The Spirit is Willing does have going for it is its cast, led by Sid Caesar (best remembered as the coach in Grease—who brings his trademark wry delivery to his role) and Vera Miles, who do their best with the material they’re given. Special mention must go to the young Barry Gordon, who injects a sense of energy into the proceedings. These performances elevate the film just enough to keep it watchable, even if they can’t entirely save it.

Visually, the film boasts some fun practical effects for its ghostly gags, though nothing particularly groundbreaking for the time. It’s all serviceable but lacks the kind of creativity that could have made the film a standout in Castle’s filmography.

Ultimately, The Spirit is Willing is a harmless, moderately amusing romp that never quite rises above mediocrity. While it has its moments, they are too few and far between to leave a lasting impression. For fans of 1960s cinema or William Castle completists, it’s worth a look—but don’t expect to be haunted by its brilliance.

  • Saul Muerte

Roddy McDowall Brings Life to the Lifeless in It! (1967)

05 Thursday Dec 2024

Posted by in retrospective

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , ,

In the pantheon of 1960s horror cinema, It! (1967) is less a towering monolith and more a crumbling relic, notable more for its quirks than its craft. Directed by Herbert J. Leder and starring the ever-compelling Roddy McDowall, the film is a largely forgettable take on the age-old golem under control story. Despite its shortcomings, McDowall’s eccentric performance breathes a glimmer of life into what might otherwise have been a plodding exercise in horror tropes.

The plot is simple, perhaps too much so: McDowall’s character, Arthur Pimm, discovers a golem—a hulking, indestructible creature bound by supernatural forces—and sets about using it to satisfy his ambitions. As is typical for the subgenre, things spiral out of control, with the golem proving as dangerous to its master as it is to his enemies. The beats are predictable, with little in the way of innovation to distinguish It! from earlier iterations of the golem legend.

What does elevate the film, however, is McDowall’s signature flair. As Arthur, he leans into the character’s unhinged qualities, delivering a performance that teeters on the edge of camp without ever fully succumbing to it. His manic energy provides the film with a pulse it sorely needs, and his interactions with the golem often border on absurd, imbuing the proceedings with a strange, almost comedic undercurrent. It’s a testament to McDowall’s talent that he can command the viewer’s attention even when the script gives him so little to work with.

Visually, It! is serviceable but uninspired. The golem itself is a hulking, imposing presence, though the film rarely exploits its potential for genuine terror. Instead, the creature feels more like a prop than a fully realized character, a missed opportunity in a film that could have used a stronger antagonist.

For all its faults, It! remains a curious artifact of its time, a low-budget horror film that leans heavily on its star to carry the weight of its thin premise. While the film’s narrative and pacing leave much to be desired, McDowall’s performance provides just enough intrigue to keep the viewer from completely disengaging.

Ultimately, It! is a middling effort, an uninspired retelling of a familiar story that offers little new to the genre. Still, for fans of Roddy McDowall or those with a soft spot for obscure 1960s horror, it’s worth a watch—if only for a glimpse of McDowall’s eccentric genius.

  • Saul Muerte