By Tristan Bishop
Think of Peter Cushing and you think of Hammer – and vice-versa, as the studio and the actor are intrinsically linked. He appeared, alongside fellow Hammer stalwart Christopher Lee, in the breakthrough hits from the studio, The Curse Of Frankenstein (1957) and Dracula (1958), and their early successes paved the way for Cushing’s career with Hammer: he starred as Baron Frankenstein in six films and as Dracula’s arch-nemesis Van Helsing (or relatives thereof) in five. But of course Hammer’s success inspired other British studios to try their hand at the horror market, most notably Amicus, but also the lesser known Tigon and (perhaps most deservedly obscure) Tyburn. Of course in the spirit of competition these challengers to Hammer’s crown were not above pinching the talent, and so most of Hammer’s stars appeared in second-tier productions too, with both Cushing and his co-star and close friend Christopher Lee appearing in many of these films.
The first and most successful studio of the three was Amicus, founded by Max Rosenberg and Milton Subotsky, both sons of Jewish immigrants to the US who worked as producers, and relocated to the UK in the early sixties. The first two Amicus productions were teenage musicals – this being only a couple of years after the rock & roll explosion – and pretty much just showcases for British and American musical talent – where else would you see Chubby Checker sharing screen time with, er, Acker Bilk? (Ask your grandparents) – although the wonderfully titled ‘It’s Trad Dad’ (1962) did at least provide the first directing job for the soon-to-be-legendary Richard Lester. Amicus soon moved on to horror, however (incidentally Rosenberg and Subotsky had previously worked on the creepy 1960 Christopher Lee vehicle The City Of The Dead, AKA Horror Hotel, which had the distinction of being set in America but shot in England, leading to some rather dodgy accents from the British cast!), and as a result of finding a canned script for a circa-1948 TV show based on the Ealing studios classic portmanteau horror film Dead Of Night (1945), which Subotsky considered “The greatest horror film ever made”, Dr Terror’s House Of Horrors was born.
To anyone who grew up in the era of late night BBC horror double bills, Dr Terror’s House Of Horrors (1964) will need no introduction, with a cast featuring Cushing, Christopher Lee, Michael Gough and Donald Sutherland, and directed by Freddie Francis, himself a Hammer veteran. The film was a great success – rather different from the Gothic costume horror that Hammer was specialising in during the mid-sixties, in that it was set in modern times and, of course, boasted five tales of terror with a wrap-around set-up featuring Cushing as the mysterious and sinister Dr Schreck (a quick nod to German expressionism there), who entertains fellow travellers on a train by performing tarot readings for them. Naturally the readings show a gruesome supernatural demise for each of the travellers, and these make up the five shorter tales in the film. The tales themselves range from the sublime (The Disembodied Hand, with Chris Lee and Michael Gough as a warring critic and artist respectively), to the ridiculous (Voodoo, with Roy Castle – a jazz trumpeter who will be familiar to older British readers from his time presenting kids show Record Breakers – stealing melodies from voodoo ceremonies, which brings him to a predictably sticky end). But the pace is cracking throughout, and the film is never less than totally entertaining, with Cushing’s character being a standout, especially in the films closing moments. Freddie Francis (later known as a great cinematographer on David Lynch films) does an excellent job here, and his is a name that will appear again in this article.
The next Amicus film that Cushing appeared in is rather an anomaly in lots of ways – Doctor Who And The Daleks (1965) is based on the (then fairly new) TV series Doctor Who. The film, and also the Amicus sequel, Daleks Invasion Earth 2150AD (1966), are not considered part of the Doctor Who canon, primarily because some bright spark decided that the Doctor himself was no longer an alien Time Lord, but now a human scientist (real surname = Who) battling his cybernetic nemesis The Daleks. It’s a shame that such a misguided step prevents Cushing from joining the recognised list of people who have played The Doctor, as the films themselves are good, childish fun – and the Daleks here are much bigger and more imposing than on the TV show. Cushing’s performance seems to be heavily based on William Hartnell’s first doctor, minus the grouchiness, and his avuncular nature adds to the homely feel of the productions. Incidentally Bernard Cribbins has a role in the sequel, predating his regular appearances in the TV series by some 41 years! Whilst the first film did good box office business, the sequel did not, and the planned third film in the series was quietly canned.
Freddie Francis was back at the helm for 1965’s The Skull, written by Robert Bloch (Psycho) and with a frankly amazing cast featuring Cushing, Lee, Patrick Wymark, Nigel Green, Patrick Magee and Michael Gough. The Skull is actually a crackling slice of vintage British horror – although the plot, regarding ‘occult expert’ Cushing coming into possession of (and by!) the titular skull, which used to belong to none other than The Marquis De Sade himself, stretches belief more than a little! Of course the skull exerts an evil influence on Cushing, leading to some irresistible antics as Cushing hallucinates and becomes murderous (and let’s not forget that silly but kind of irresistible floating skull!). Don’t get your hopes up for too much sleazy mayhem however; this was Britain in the 1960’s, so De Sade’s seedier proclivities are understandably glossed over.
Two years later Robert Bloch and Freddie Francis were back on writing and directing duties for Torture Garden (1967), the second Amicus portmanteau film. Sadly this one doesn’t really measure up to the heights of the previous Dr Terror’s House Of Horrors, although the cast once again promises great things; Cushing here shares the screen with Jack Palance and Burgess Meredith. Cushing only features in one of the segments this time, and the wraparound story features Burgess Meredith as a carnival sideshow huckster who promises his patrons a glimpse of their darkest fears if they, er, stare at some shears (I’m not kidding). Part of the problem with The Torture Garden is the pacing – there are 4 stories rather than 5 this time, which means what are essentially one-gag tales are stretched thinner, and the quality of story is markedly less; one of the segments features what I can only assume must be the only jealous killer piano in cinema, and another features a supposedly sinister but in reality rather lovable cat. Cushing’s segment is the last, and most successful by a long way – here he goes head to head with Palance in the segment The Man Who Collected Poe, in a tale not entirely dissimilar to that of The Skull. Cushing is his usual excellent self in this one, as a Poe fanatic who befriends another fellow enthusiast and shows him the greatest piece of Poe memorabilia going. The pay-off of this one is really quite silly (in keeping with the rest of the film), but it does at the very least stick in the mind!
In 1968 Cushing worked with a third British studio which was just getting started as a horror specialist – Tony Tenser’s Tigon British Film Productions (henceforth to be referred to as ‘Tigon’ for the sake of brevity). Tigon had already made a couple of films starring the great Boris Karloff (sadly to be among the last of his films – In Curse Of The Crimson Altar he is confined to a wheelchair), and would become best known for a couple of films directed by the tragic figure of Michael Reeves (The Sorcerers and Witchfinder General), as well as the now highly-regarded Blood On Satan’s Claw. Despite such classics, the output of Tigon varied greatly in quality (you only have to sit through the likes of The Body Stealers and the mind-numbing sci-fi sexploitation pic Zeta One to know this). Sadly Cushing’s first appearance at the studio was not among their best work by a long stretch – indeed Cushing would go on record to say The Blood Beast Terror was his least favourite of all of his films. Sadly this writer would also have to agree – I’ve long regarded it as the worst golden age British horror I have seen. Cushing, to his credit, remains the consummate professional and attempts to bring gravitas to the role of a Scotland Yard detective investigating a series of mysterious murders of young men. Unlike the Amicus films, which were set almost entirely in the present day, this is a bare-faced attempt to emulate the Hammer gothics, but fails at nearly every turn, especially with regard to the monster, which turns out to be, well, a weremoth. Yes. That read ‘moth’. Despite how frankly insane this might sound, the creature looks dreadful, the film is boring, the ending ridiculously anti-climatic and the entire affair is best avoided.
Thankfully Tigon proved they were capable of an entertaining film the following year, when Scream And Scream Again (1969) appeared; a co-production from Tigon and Sam Z Arkoff’s AIP, and directed by AIP’s Gordon Hessler, who directed the final films in the AIP Poe cycle (The Oblong Box, Murders In The Rue Morgue and Cry Of The Banshee). This one is a barking mad concoction set in modern times, starring Vincent Price, Christopher Lee and Peter Cushing, although they have very little screen time, and Cushing’s appearance amounts to fairly pointless cameo. The plot involves a policeman (Alfred Marks, putting in a nicely eccentric performance) trying to track down a murderer of young women, whose bodies are found drained of blood. The film is, to say the least, rather confusing (a reveal at the end showing the villains to be aliens was cut just before release!) but it does at least move at a cracking pace and keeps the audience guessing, and the guest star turns from the Big Three make it highly watchable. Incidentally the theme song is by ace Welsh rock band The Amen Corner.
Three years after Torture Garden Cushing was back at Amicus for yet another Bloch-scripted anthology film – The House That Dripped Blood (1970), this time directed by Peter Duffell, whose name will only be familiar to those with a deep knowledge of British TV (he worked on shows such as Man In a Suitcase, Strange Report and The Adventures Of Black Beauty). This time however the formula worked well; all four tales have their merits, and the cast is once again stellar, as this time Cushing is once again joined by Lee, plus Denholm Elliott, Joss Ackland, Ingrid Pitt and Jon Pertwee – who had recently taken over the role of Doctor Who on TV, making the film a rare appearance from two Doctors! The wraparound segment this time is a bit weaker, although it plays straight into the final story, with Pertwee playing a star of vampire movies (in a role originally meant for Vincent Price) who buys the house and mysteriously goes missing. The best segment in the film is undoubtedly Christopher Lee’s segment, Sweets To The Sweet, which remains genuinely unnerving even today, but Cushing’s is nearly as good, playing alongside Ackland with both men obsessed with a waxwork model of Salome, who may or may not have a deeper significance to both men. This one comes highly recommended to fans of the macabre, as the morbid atmosphere of 70’s horror begins to take root. Incidentally, despite the title, there is no blood on display in the film (Legend has it that Subotsky was going for a PG/A certificate, but the British censors slapped on an X rating anyway).
To read about how Cushing fared outside Hammer in the 70s, click here for Part 2 of Tristan’s lengthy piece (heheheheh) as our Peter Cushing Centenary celebrations approach their conclusion…