The comparatively low-budget Creep has been compared to another British shocker from the past, the almost forgotten cannibal killer Death Line (1972), which made a similar descent into the London Underground. Christopher Smith confessed he had no knowledge of this almost forgotten precursor at the time of his shoot; rather, he referred to the underground scenes from An American Werewolf in London (1981) as his source of inspiration. Like many other regular passengers on the London Underground, Smith had been frustrated by the experience of being stranded in one of the system’s many tunnels for an overly long period and having to endure the sweat-ridden irritation of not knowing what was going on; not surprisingly for a man of his integrity this stimulated an idea. While he may not have mustered the hefty backing of the American studios, Smith wasn’t remiss when it came to serving up the grisly mayhem by the bucket load in a tense and well-paced splatterfest that harked back to the Italian predilection for gore during the late 1970s and on into the 1980s. The ruthlessly determined and selfish figure of Kate didn’t have the vulnerable qualities of the final girl of two decades past; her bourgeois tendencies made it very difficult to applaud her efforts as she sought to escape the creature that wanted so badly to savour her flesh. As Creep progressed, the audience’s sympathy turned to the cannibalistic villain of the piece, poor Craig, who just couldn’t help himself.
CHARGED WITH MURDER, Baron Victor Frankenstein (Peter Cushing) awaits the guillotine. From the confines of his prison cell, he tells a priest the story of how he created life from reconstituted dead bodies and how his creation escaped to commit the crimes of which he has been accused. For years, the Baron dedicated himself to studying under his teacher and friend Paul Krempe (Robert Urquhart). Their time together in the laboratory seems to be the orphaned Baron’s only reason for living. As they further their endeavours, their experimentation miraculously returns a dead dog to life. Victor’s obsession demands they build on this success with a view to creating human life. Krempe refuses to become involved with such a heinous scheme and warns of the dangers of tampering with the forces of nature. Although he is opposed to his former protégé’s macabre designs, he stays on in the house to protect Victor’s fiancée Elizabeth (Hazel Court), in what appears to be little more than an arranged marriage. Victor is oblivious to Elizabeth’s needs; he thinks only of his compulsive research and the nurturing of his abominable child, a victim of the gallows pole, who now lies incarcerated in a fluid-filled tank. He later acquires the hands and then the eyes just before turning on the electricity to breathe life into his bizarre creation (Christopher Lee). The creature’s brain, however, has been damaged and very soon it will break free to doom its surrogate father.
The experienced Terence Fisher was given the creative freedom to reinterpret this classic, and he took considerable care to ensure the details in set design and costumes were appropriate for this celebrated Gothic-styled tragedy. Curse of Frankenstein was Hammer’s first venture into pure horror although the studio’s Quatermass Xperiment (1955) had contained more than a smattering of terror. It was also the first Hammer movie to be shot in colour, making ample use of the lurid capabilities of Eastmancolor, and more significantly was the first terror-based pairing of one of the genre’s most renowned duos, Christopher Lee and Peter Cushing. Surprisingly Lee was only considered for the role when Bernard Bresslaw’s agent demanded a little more than Hammer could afford. This film, along with their masterpiece of the following year, The Horror of Dracula, was to define the company’s way of thinking for their forthcoming excursions into horror, which continued for almost twenty years. Its ever so tepid application of gore was but the beginning of the genre’s predilection for sanguinary excess, although in its day it was to upset many of the critics as the public flocked by the thousand to savour its gruesome pageant.
Universal had already threatened to sue Hammer if they were seen to imitate the make-up first used on Boris Karloff’s monster, so it was left to Phil Leakey to create something no one had before seen. His skill coupled with Lee’s portrayal made the monster every bit as terrifying as it had been at Universal and in the eyes of many of Mary Shelley’s ardent enthusiasts, his design was far closer to the description alluded to in the original novel of 1818. Leakey, however, was never happy with his work, being denied both the time and budget to create the impression for which he would have hoped and ultimately been remembered. This wouldn’t prevent Hammer’s Frankenstein creation from returning for another six outings in, The Revenge of Frankenstein (1958), The Evil of Frankenstein (1964), Frankenstein Created Woman (1967), Frankenstein Must Be Destroyed (1969), The Horror of Frankenstein (1970) and Frankenstein and the Monster from Hell (1973).
AFTER BRINGING DIRECTOR Jonathan Stryker (John Vernon) the rights to his new film, “Audra”, Samantha Sherwood (Samantha Eggar) assumes she will be given the lead role. Audra was a dangerously psychotic woman and the only way for a method actress of Samantha’s calibre to become immersed in this woman’s hopelessly deranged character is to appear insane and be committed to an asylum. While confined to the sanatorium her performance becomes a little too convincing and Stryker takes the decision to leave her there. He now has to find a new Audra and auditions six young women in the privacy of his remote New England mansion. One of these women tempts fate and openly admits she would be prepared to kill for her part in this film. Miles away from this secluded location Samantha has managed to escape her self-imposed incarceration, and arrives at the manse just as a crone-masked killer embarks upon the slaughter of these young hopefuls.
Following the success of Prom Night (1980) the Canada-based production team of Peter and Richard Simpson went straight into production with former cameraman Belgium-born Richard Ciupka, now promoted to directorial duties, to make a film that drifted into near obscurity before achieving a quite unique cult following. To say Curtains had a problematic production is an understatement. A few weeks into the shoot, the original lead actress, Celine Lamez, was fired when she refused to appear in a full frontal nude scene. Her scenes then had to be repeated, using her understudy Linda Thornson, thus adding to the film’s spiralling expenses. Once the shoot had been completed, many scenes were heavily edited leaving gaping holes in what should have been a reasonably linear plot. Meanwhile the backers were becoming increasingly concerned with Ciupka’s ability as a director, which led to him walking away from the film and Peter Simpson completing the second part of the shoot. Three years later Curtains was finally ready for release, but made very little impression on a market which by then was completely saturated by the slasher phenomenon. However, in keeping with the terrors of these years, this film refused to remain buried and acquired a more accepting audience when issued to video.
The VHS phenomenon of the 1980s certainly helped in bringing this film to a new audience, but this would have only ever worked if it had followed the now established conventions of the slasher trope. It achieved this by creating an unsettling milieu became immersed in this murderous episode, principally in the form of an old house, which on many occasions has provided a fitting backdrop. Curtains could also boast one of the more memorable kills of the slasher years, the ‘skate and slash’ of Christie (Lesleh Donaldson) as she joyfully skated in the early morning to an eighties tune, only to discover a strange looking doll buried under the snow. It was then the killer engaged his pursuit, in a series of expertly choreographed chase scenes. This was almost matched by the final kill in the shadows of the claustrophobic prop room that ensured so much of the film’s eerie premise was brought to a climactic finale. Ciupka would put this film behind him as he continued his career behind the camera and returned to the director’s chair at the beginning of the 1990s
HYSTERIA AND DISBELIEF engulf a television station as it reports on the zombie apocalypse that has now spiralled out of control. While a scientific expert fails to offer an explanation as to why this catastrophe is sweeping the globe, he carries a warning that even those walking dead recognized as friends and family can no l
onger be considered so; they are all abominations with but one craving – the pleasure of human flesh.
Two national guards, a reporter and her pilot boyfriend flee the besieged city of Philadelphia on board a helicopter. They land at a deserted shopping mall where they look to seek refuge, first slaying the zombies who have made their way into the complex and then by obstructing the large glass doors at the entry with vehicles. As they fight to clear the mall one of the national guards is bitten by the contaminated breed; it won’t be long before he takes his place among this mindless herd. After making this shopper’s paradise their own, the four settle in to their new life, but all too soon they realize that while they are safe from a society in collapse, they are little more than prisoners. The gravity of their situation is compounded by the revelation that Francine is pregnant and then a gang of bikers explode into the mall. They break down the doors, allowing droves of zombies to run amok in the halls and corridors of this huge shopping complex. As the bikers ride around the stores taking an insane pleasure in gunning down the zombies, a gun battle ensues with the team. The pilot takes a shot to the arm before being attacked by zombies in an elevator. The zombies then turn on the bike gang, who make a hasty retreat leaving the mall besieged by this deranged infestation. Only Francine the reporter and Peter, one of the national guards, make it to the roof to take a helicopter on into a country that has fallen into madness.
George A. Romero’s Dawn of the Dead, which is also known as Zombi and Zombie: Dawn of the Dead, marked the second instalment in his Living Dead series. The zombie outbreak that plagued Night of the Living Dead (1968) has now spread across the world; the original cast of characters, however, never gain a mention. Romero had hoped to produce a more ambitious sequel to his cult phenomenon of 1968, but his subsequent films hadn’t been particularly successful, which made it difficult to finance the extravagant venture he had envisaged at a time when zombie movies were not in vogue. The idea had come in 1974, when Romero was invited to visit the Monroeville Mall. It had started as a joke, the idea that someone could survive in the mall should a catastrophe befall the country, but what had been intended as meaningless banter inspired Romero, who began to write the screenplay for what would become Dawn of the Dead. Unable to secure US funding, Dario Argento, who was an acknowledged admirer of Night of the Living Dead, announced he was willing to assist Romero in his project in exchange for international distribution rights. Argento had only recently acquired an international reputation with the loaded Deep Red (1975) and Suspiria (1977).
With its savage depiction of flesh eating, dismemberment and exploding heads, Dawn of the Dead on its 1979 US release was without doubt the goriest film to have come out of America. Tom Savini’s sanguinary effects were to set the standard for a new generation of visceral zombie movies and ensured he would never be out of work, although much of his subsequent efforts were to endure heavy censorship on both sides of the Atlantic. Romero’s script was laced with dark humour and, as with his previous films, notably Night of the Living Dead and The Crazies (1973), he induced an undercurrent of social commentary which didn’t get in the way of the requisite chomp of the zombie horde. While in the mall, he presented a vision of a pleasure-seeking America unaware that complete social collapse was a stone’s throw from its own doors. Beneath the seeming lustre, there was a country ignorant to the ravages of corporate consumerism, one that had already forgotten the political strife of the decade before.
The film was premiered in Italy in the September of 1978 as Zombi: L’alba dei Morti Viventi, nine months prior to its release in the US. Romero’s splatterfest captured the imagination of the Italian public and proved to be a turning point for Lucio Fulci, who looked to direct a so-called sequel, Zombie 2, better known as Zombie Flesh Eaters (1979) and Zombie. His film was also immensely popular and paved the way for some of the most memorable horror movies of the next few years. On its eventual American release the reviews were largely accepting of Dawn of the Dead’s excessive gore and its receipts at the box office secured Romero’s career. He returned with the first of his official sequels with Day of the Dead (1985), and twenty years later came Land of the Dead (2005), Diary of the Dead (2007) and Survival of the Dead (2009). Dawn of the Dead was remade in 2004. A television show loosely based on the films is still in the planning stages.
THE FINAL PART of George A. Romero’s trilogy opens with a group of people searching for survivors in the devastated streets of Fort Myers, Florida. Their efforts go unrewarded, attracting instead an unwelcome gathering of zombies. Frustrated, they make their return to an underground silo where we learn they are assigned to a military backed scientific detachment researching the zombie epidemic. The tension between the scientists and the military has been mounting for some time as their supplies have slowly diminished and little progress has been observed in the experiments on the zombie specimens held captive in the bunker’s maze of underground tunnels.
Dr Logan, the facility’s head scientist, borders on insanity. He has been surreptitiously using dead soldiers in his research and remains steadfast in his belief that the zombies can be calmed and trained. If his experiments were ever discovered, he would be executed. This, however, does not deter him; he appears almost oblivious to the threat that surrounds him. In his laboratory, he keeps his prize specimen, Bub, a seemingly docile zombie who has exhibited a menial recognition of his past. The herded zombies, however, remain as dangerous as ever and it is no surprise when they break free of their restraints, and begin ripping and biting into the soldiers and one of the scientists. Rhodes, the military head of the base, is furious with this turn of events and declares the operation is to be terminated and the zombie specimens destroyed. Logan can’t stop himself; he is soon after found feeding human flesh to Bub and Rhodes makes the grisly discovery in the freezer of the remains of his soldiers. As the audience always knew, Logan would one day have to pay the price for his gruesome experimentation. It isn’t long before the zombies have completely overrun the caves as the military fall into chaos and Bub exacts his revenge on Rhodes for the killing of Logan. Those who survive manage to make it to a helicopter only to be confronted by another marauding band of zombies. Just when the audience is convinced that the apocalypse has consumed the heroes of the piece, Romero proves himself benign as he bestows upon his surviving cast an optimistic epilogue with the heroine of the story, Sarah, awakening on a beautiful beach, with the helicopter in the distance. Close by, her fellow survivors enjoy the surf as she crosses off another day on her calendar.
George A. Romero was offered seven million dollars to turn his latest script into another full-length film; in return it was insisted he make an R-rated film suitable for release to the corporate cinema chains that had become commonplace across the United States. Romero declined. He was adamant his grisly feature could only ever appear as an Unrated film; anything less would have been a compromise. The investors were all too aware that if they agreed to Romero’s demands, his proposal would receive only a very limited release that would make it difficult to see a healthy return on their investment. The budget was subsequently halved. This made it impossible for Romero to produce the film he had so carefully planned. He was forced to re-write and scale down his script, although elements would surface twenty years later in Land of the Dead (2005). On its eventual release, the cinema-going public overlooked his film; at that time it was but one of many horror movies, most of them being “R” rated, which included Re-Animator, Fright Night, and Return of the Living Dead. Those who did see Day of the Dead were unsettled by it dark premise and cast of unsympathetic characters. The film was indeed grim, but unlike its precursors in the trilogy it did offer the faintest glimmer of hope at the finale.
The social commentary permeating Dawn of the Dead was largely forgotten, although Romero had hoped to demonstrate how a lack of communication could result in chaos and collapse. Pandemonium ran rife, and once again droves of zombies were set loose with Tom Savini’s team, creating some of the mo
st realistic splatter scenes of their career. Bodies were ripped apart and the zombies looked more disgusting than ever before with an array of bite marks and atrophied faces. A direct-to-DVD prequel set in 1968, written and directed by Ana Clavell, was released in 2005, entitled Day of the Dead 2: Contagium. A remake of Day of the Dead was also issued directly to DVD in 2008, although it only used a few elements of the original, principally the underground silo.
THE HORRIFIC BURNING of a photographer, by a gang of locals in broad daylight, acts as the prelude to the macabre carryings on in the quiet coastal town of Potter’s Bluff. Shortly afterwards the same photographer is seen happily working away at the town’s petrol station, as if he hadn’t a care in the world. Sheriff Gillis (James Farentino) becomes suspicious when other people travelling through this picturesque resort start to go missing and then inexplicably turn up alive. With the help of the town’s eccentric coroner, Dobbs (Jack Albertson), the sheriff tries to discover who is behind these senseless killings. His efforts, however, have no effect on the murderers, as they feed their excitement by photographing the deaths of their victims. Gillis is also beginning to have major concerns about the odd behaviour of his wife, Janet.
The Mammoth Book of Slasher Movies (Mammoth Books) Page 15
