Review by Ben Bussey
When we think of the Hammer Horror brand in the early 1970s, typically we think of sleaze. The once-mighty British institution was falling on hard times, struggling to keep up with a rapidly evolving industry – to say nothing of an evolving horror genre – and so they sought to retain audience interest by upping the sex appeal quota, hence the likes of the Karnstein trilogy, Countess Dracula, and Doctor Jekyll and Sister Hyde are primarily remembered for their emphasis on T&A. What is sometimes overlooked, however, was that in these uncertain times Hammer did take some genuine risks in terms of tone and content, trying their hand at some edgier material which broke away somewhat from the old formula they’d largely stuck with since the late 50s. This is certainly the case in Hands of the Ripper, one of the darkest, most unconventional films made by Hammer in their twilight years – and arguably the one of the few which really pointed ahead to the new areas horror cinema would explore in the decade to come.
While Hands of the Ripper was at one time released across the US as a double bill with Twins of Evil, in many respects it’s a more suitable bedfellow to Dr Jekyll and Sister Hyde, given both films take place in late 1890s/early 1900s London in the fog – and, of course, both films touch on Jack the Ripper, this one in particular. The action centres around Anna (Angharad Rees), a troubled orphan girl who – though the rest of the cast don’t know it until late in the day – is the daughter of the Ripper himself. Taken in by a bogus spiritualist who employs her to provide fake spirit voices during séances, things take a dramatic turn following an evening’s sitting attended by Dr John Pritchard (Eric Porter) and a member of parliament named Dysart (Derek Godfrey). Once the other guests have left, Dysart remains behind to hire young Anna’s services from the lady of the house for more old-fashioned purposes – a duty which it is suggested Anna may have been forced to perform more than once – yet when the light of a jewel reflects across her eyes, something rather dramatic occurs, and moments later Dysart attempts to flees the scene, but is caught in the act by Pritchard. Re-entering the house, Pritchard finds Anna cowering in a corner and her mistress impaled on a poker – but surely a mere slip of a girl couldn’t be responsible for such a manly act of violence…? Proclaiming to be a fan of this new-fangled psychoanalysis lark, Pritchard takes Anna into his own home in the hopes of studying her and finding out just what drove her to kill; but in the meantime, no one in the vicinity with a shiny object on their person is safe from harm…
As may be evident from this synopsis alone, it’s not hard to see why Hands of the Ripper is sometimes thought of as a prototype slasher movie. While any sense of mystery surrounding the killer’s identity goes out the window very quickly, the overall rhythm of proceedings – a gruesome kill coming at regular intervals, built up in what becomes a fairly predictable fashion – would certainly seem to predict the formula which would be followed by a shedload of stab-happy movies by the end of the decade. Indeed, given Hands of the Ripper came after Powell’s notorious Peeping Tom, and a year before The Fiend AKA Beware My Brethren (a largely overlooked British horror that’s well worth seeking out – see my review), there are ample grounds on which to argue that the slasher genre really began in Britain. Yes, Hollywood gave us Psycho, but let’s not forget the nationality of the chap who directed it; and yes, Italy’s Mario Bava gave us A Bay of Blood/Bloodbath/Twitch of the Death Nerve/insert other alternate title here, but we might note that too arrived in 1971, so we can hardly accuse Hammer of jumping on the bandwagon here.
Another factor which makes Hands of the Ripper stand apart from early 70s Hammer is its sheer grimness. The overtones of camp which tend to make the company’s output such a pleasure is all but gone here; while the well-dressed, well-furnished public face of respectable London is present and correct, we dig a bit deeper into the seedy underbelly. Happily, none of this is handled as salaciously as it might have been. While it’s clearly implied that Pritchard’s interest in Anna might not be purely professional, Angharad Rees is not treated as mere eye candy like so many Hammer actresses before and after; both Rees and Eric Porter give far more grounded, serious performances than we might anticipate. Indeed, the overall take on the material is far more grounded than might be expected; while some suggest Anna is possessed where Pritchard insists she is traumatised, the film largely eschews a supernatural explanation, seeming for the most part to side with the psychoanalytical argument. The murder scenes themselves, meanwhile, are fairly typical of Hammer for the level of gore; nothing particularly accurate to the MO of Jack the Ripper so far as I can tell, but I rather doubt anyone was anticipating that.
Coming to this film after Taste the Blood of Dracula and Countess Dracula, this would be director Peter Sasdy’s last work with Hammer, leaving him with a fairly respectable track record. Hands of the Ripper is probably his least well-remembered Hammer film, but it’s certainly his most unique, and while it might not quite warrant lost classic status, it’s well worth seeing.
Hands of the Ripper is available now on Blu-Ray from Network.