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NIGHTMARE SCENARIOS:
Incursions of the Unacceptable
English
Gothic A Century of Horror Cinema, Jonathan Rigby (Reynolds
and Hearn, 17.99) |
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'From Hoffmann and German Romanticism, to the modern
fantastic in horror films, fantasy has tried to erode the pillars of society
by un-doing categorical structures'. - Rosemary Jackson
(1981) 'Advance thee, O thou
terror...'
- The Revenger's Tragedy (1607)
This
is a well-researched historical reference survey of British horror films by
film critic and actor Jonathan Rigby. Rigby, who has a long association with Shivers magazine, is
also the author of Christopher Lee the Authorised Screen History (2001), a book
on Roxy Music and, more recently (2006), a companion volume to the present
work, American Gothic Sixty Years of Horror Cinema. English
Gothic
is organised into six main historical sections, although parts Two through to
Five, a survey of 'Britain's Golden Age of Horror', comprise the core of the
book. This was a period when, as Rigby says, 'the staid faade of British
filmmaking was ruptured by monsters of all kinds', and which reached its peak
around 1968 when - to some outrage - Hammer Films won the Queen's Award for
Industry. That
'horror films' articulate and dramatise a perennial conflict between 'light'
and 'dark', between 'normality' and its 'monstrous' intrusive opposite, is
perhaps, an obvious, even simplistic (but nonetheless plausible) notion of
their function. English Gothic provides a vivid, detailed exposition
of the numerous cinematic sub-themes and mythic symbols encapsulating those
unacceptable, anarchic factors which, because they contradict orthodox
concepts of truth, beauty and seriousness - the 'pantheon of high culture',
to quote Susan Sontag - subvert, and often derail, our cosy, humanistic status
quo. A
preliminary section entitled 'British Horror In Embryo' precedes the four
main chapters which are followed by a final section called 'British Horror In
Retreat'. The book is introduced by an 'Author's Note and Acknowledgements'
(2004), a Forward (to the First Edition) by Richard Gordon (2000) and a
Forward (to the Second Edition) by horror queen Barbara Shelley (2002). There
is Appendix dealing with 'Gothic on Television' and two postscripts by actor
David McGillivray. All bibliographical references and references to
quotations are contained in conventional Source Notes organised by section
and gathered together at the back of the book. There is a Title Index to all
films discussed and a mini-concordance of Alternative Titles, including titles
in foreign languages. You will learn that Inseminoid is also known
as Horror Planet,
that Eros Exploding is another title for Secrets of Sex and Das
Wachsfiguerenkabinett is German for Waxworks. The text is broken into
bite-sized segments introduced by semi-tabloid style headings such as 'Hammer
Glamour', Decadence And Desolation', 'Grot Guignol' or 'Morbidity Makes
Money' and there are just over one hundred encyclopaedic inset panels for key
films. Together
with the plot synopses integrated into the narrative, these panels are one of
the most significant editorial features of the book. Here the reader will
find formalised information such as production company; production date;
duration; colour register; technical credits and cast lists for each film
together with a relevant black and white still. Each panel also incorporates
two quotations from contemporary reviews and notices, ranging from The
Wall Street Journal
and trade papers such as Variety to genre magazines like Fangoria. The data
panels reflect the core historical time-frame: the first comprises details
from Hammer's pioneering The Quatermass Xperiment of 1954, while
the last panel features To The Devil A Daughter from 1975
based on the Dennis Wheatley occult novel of the same title. As
is the case with any cinematic reference book, illustrations are a crucial
factor. Here almost all are in high-quality black and white and are scattered
throughout the volume. They comprise a mix of action-stills, promo publicity
shots, press photo-calls, behind-the-scenes shots and posters. There is a
four-page colour plate section featuring the same mix of trade adverts,
novelisation book covers, action shots and press book artwork. There is a
colour group shot photo-call with Christopher Lee, Peter Cushing and Vincent
Price taken on the set of The House of Long Shadows (1982). Among
the action shots are some iconic images. These include Edith Evans as
Countess Ranevskya in The Queen of Spades (1948),
Christopher Lee and Yvonne Furneaux in The Mummy (1959) and a
'startlingly graphic' image of blond bombshell Vanda Hudson impaled by a
knife in throat in a scene from Circus of Horrors (1959). Oliver
Reed's histrionic transformation in Curse of the Werewolf (1960) is
here, together with French Queen of Cool, Catherine Deneuve in Polanski's art
house exercise Repulsion (1964). There is a crepuscular
Christopher Lee, framed by cobwebs in a menacing moment from Theatre of
Death
(1965), not to mention the hilarious 'Do you mind if I smoke?' scene
featuring Fenella Fielding in Carry On Screaming (1966). We
also have a revealing, decadent image of Ingrid 'The Pitt of Horror' Pitt
seducing Madeline Smith in The Vampire Lovers (1970), based
on Le Fanu's 1871 novella Carmilla. The Vampire Lovers with its
demonic female un-dead fiend, being just one of a series of controversial,
possibly subversive, movies (many of these films were controversial at the
time) described as part of the historical overview. We have a striking image
of Billie Whitelaw as 'sinuous prostitute' Mary Patterson in John Gilling's
1959 shocker The Flesh and the Fiends, a re-telling of the perennial
Burke and Hare Edinburgh body snatcher story. Rigby describes this movie as
well ahead of its time with its 'uncomfortable mixture of black humour and
gruelling violence'. Whitelaw, seething in the presence of a demented Donald
Pleasance in the scene shown here, is the very incarnation of Convulsive
Beauty. Enthusiasts
with an interest in behind-the-scenes detail will find a number of 'on-set'
publicity shots featuring famous names both actors and directorial
luminaries. Among many others there is Terence Fisher on set with Hazel Court
and the always 'febrile' Peter Cushing for the Curse of Frankenstein (1956). There
is Robert Day directing Boris Karloff in Grip of the Strangler (1957) and a
shot of Sidney J Furie directing Doctor Blood's Coffin (1960)
including a glimpse of young cinematographer Nicholas Roeg. Elsewhere you may
find American director Roger Corman with Vincent Price on location in Norfolk
for the Poe adaptation The Tomb of Ligeia (1964). Price
is also pictured on set in Lavenham for the Witchfinder General (1967). There
is a particularly alluring gem of a shot showing cult 'horror princess'
Jacqueline Pearce in a coffin, lounging casually with a cigarette between
takes while working on The Plague of the Zombies in 1965.
Pearce also starred in the iconic role of Anna the Reptile in The Reptile, filmed
back-to-back on the same sets as Zombies and was to resurface in the
following decade in the wildly Camp role of Supreme Commander Servalan in
Terry Nation's anomalous BBC sci-fi space opera Blake's Seven (1978-1981). English
Gothic
has a comprehensive scope dispute its narrow editorial remit. It claims to be
the first book to trace the rise and fall of the genre from its nineteenth
century beginnings to the present day (2000), encompassing lost films of the
silent era 'to Karloff and Lugosi chillers of the 1930s. This entails a
survey from Charles Calvert's semi-occult The Wraith of the Tomb (1915), via
Alfred Hitchcock's The Lodger: A Story of the London Fog (1926) to the
recent 'zombie renaissance' films that play on more recent fears ('mad cow
disease', biological warfare), inaugurated by 28 Days Later (2002). It is
worthwhile noting that The Lodger, a Jack-the-Ripper subject starring
contemporary heartthrob Ivor Novello, formed a link between the British film
industry and German Expressionist chiaroscuro techniques studied by Hitchcock
in Munich. Rigby also charts the curious relationship between fantastic
horror films and the rise of television, explaining how, in 1954,
Hammer/Exclusive launched into the SF/Horror market via a deal with the BBC
to produce a feature film version of Nigel Kneale's serial shocker The
Quatermass Experiment. Directed by Val Guest the movie was released
under the title The Quatermass Xperiment, the 'X' being a
tongue-in-cheek reference to the newly introduced X Certificate. Unfortunately
the book does not have a consolidated bibliography although sources of
research are listed in the notes organised by section. Rigby provides
references to key sources which can be easily followed-up by those wishing
for recommended further reading. Rigby has consulted some key works on Gothic
and the cinema including Punter's The Literature of Terror (1980), and
Pirie's A Heritage of Horror (1973), both essential sources. Also
listed are Durgnat's A Mirror for England (1970), Kim
Newman's Nightmare Movies (1988) and several books by John
Brosnan including Movie Magic (1974) and The Horror People (1976). He has
also consulted, and quoted from, various memoirs and diaries from key figures
including the censor John Trevelyan, actors Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee
and film directors Roger Corman and Roman Polanski among others. Christopher
Lee's autobiography is entitled Tall, Dark and Gruesome (1977). The
narrative of the survey draws upon the social history of popular
entertainment and film history. Listed are Julian Petley's All Our
Yesterdays: 90 Years of British Cinema (1986) and The Gay Twenties A
Decade of the Theatre (1958) by J.C. Trewin. There are references to Ealing
Studios
(1977) by Charles Barr and Roger Hutchinson's volume High Sixties: The
Summers of Riot and Love (1992). Rigby also trawls periodical literature
both fringe and mainstream. Here his sources include Time Out, The
Listener, Picturegoer, The Stage and TV Today, Films and Filming, Sight and
Sound, The Evening News, The Liverpool Echo, the Weekend Telegraph, The News
of the World and
the Radio Times.
Among the genre and fan literature consulted we find The Dark Side,
Fangoria, Fantasynopsis, Cinefantastique, The Goth: Magazine of the Gothic
Society, Flesh and Blood, Midi-Minuit Fantastique, Little Shoppe of Horrors and The
House of Hammer.
English
Gothic
takes the form of a straight historical survey of movies by all the
production companies of the time, from Balcon's Gainsborough, home of
bodice-ripping melodramas, through to Hammer, AIP and a host of others (Anglo
Amalgamated, Lynx, Amicus, Tigon British, Titan etc.). Summary synopses are
given for all the main features discussed. At various points in the narrative
the culture of film production related to wider social events and changing
attitudes, reflecting a kind of perpetual struggle against censorship, a 'high
minded mania for social realism', and typically British straight-laced
prudery and general anti-permissiveness. Rigby
is happy to pass critical comment, handing out plaudits and brickbats in
equal measure. For example Tower of Evil (1971) is described as the
'daftest' film in the entire survey, offering the spectacle of 'reputable
actors muddling their way through arrant nonsense'. In his considerations of
the climax of The Legend of Hell House (1972) he says 'women-hungry
trees, sentient ivy, giant death's head moths; British horror offers all
these and more, but nothing so breathtakingly stupid as this'. On the other
hand he praises the 'bewitching brilliance' of Blood on Satan's Claw (1970) and
Marc Wilkinson's 'lyrical and sinister score' for the same movie. Clearly a
Christopher Lee fan, Rigby asserts, no doubt correctly, that Christopher
Lee's Dracula amounts
to 'the most revolutionary acting performance in all post-war horror movies'.
He also enthuses about the 'lewd Z-movie vitality' and 'outrageously tacky
proceedings' of Horror Hospital (1972). Regarding
the ill-fated Curse of the Crimson Altar (1968) Rigby points out the
unacknowledged dept to Lovecraft's Dreams in the Witch House (1932) and
bemoans the fact that the script is 'virtually incomprehensible' and the film
only worthy of attention 'because of its extraordinary cast'. With Boris
Karloff, Christopher Lee, Michael Gough and a rare British appearance of the
scream queen of Euro-terror Barbara Steele (resplendent in green body paint
and horned head-dress) in lead roles this was clearly a disastrous missed
opportunity, and Rigby makes no bones about it. By
contrast Death Line (1972) is hailed as 'one of the great classics of
British horror', with a scenario that explores one of the issues 'closest to
the heart of traditional Gothic. How far can a person 'degenerate' and remain
human?' The tale has Donald Pleasance as a Holborn copper investigating a
generation of inter-bred, cannibalistic, plague riddled, 'debased' humans
inhabiting the London Underground near Russell Square station. Like zombies
and the femme fatale, 'degeneracy' is a resonant theme of Gothic that finds
its origins way outside the literary context. In
his first chapter Rigby makes inroads into the archaeology of early horror in
the years before The Wraith of the Tomb. The earliest item mentioned, Photographing
a Ghost
(1897), a trick photography effort by George Albert Smith of the Brighton
School of filmmakers, no doubt appealed to an audience fascinated by
Spiritualism and psychical research. A
close look as subsequent fragmentary short films from this period reveals
some trends and patterns that remained with British horror cinema in later
years and continue to this day. Staple sources included the history of witch
mania and puritan fundamentalism, sensational 'true crime' stories (the Red
Barn Murder, the case of Burke and Hare, Jack the Ripper) and theatrical
melodrama. The stage melodramas were sometimes, but not always, based on
these true stories (Maria Marten, Sweeney Todd, and The
Bells),
others were stage versions of popular terror tales such as Frankenstein and Polidori's
The Vampyre.
Examples of the aesthetics of 'extreme states' (Sontag) such popular dramas
all shared in the same popular blood-and-thunder ethos of Penny Dreadfuls
like Varney the Vampire (1845). Prawer describes the
experiences of a contemporary theatregoer who attended a double bill of Frankenstein
and
The Vampyre
in 1826. Another
thematic strand featured the 'exotic female' or femme fatale. For example, The
Miser's Doom
(1899) featured a vengeful female spirit, while The Wraith of the Tomb concerned the
ghost of an Egyptian Princess and tells of her revenge on the archaeologist
who stole her mummified hand. Heba the Snake Woman (1915), like
more famous recent post-war horror films, featured a woman metamorphosing
into a snake. Other similar examples include an early version of H Rider
Haggard's 1887 novel She A History of Adventure and an
adaptation of The Beetle (1897) a novel by Richard Marsh filmed
in 1919 by Alexander Butler, featuring yet another mysterious Egyptian
princess. As is self evident, Egyptian 'mysteries' and Egyptian mummies have
continued to exert a powerful fascination for makers of horror films up to
the present day. The
early case of Heba the Snake Woman is an example of 'gothic' horror with
roots in ancient fears of female sexuality. Obvious mythic parallels can be
cited such as the Genesis story of Eve and ancient Greek Myths of the Gorgon
Medusa and the legend of the demonic snake-woman, Lamia sometimes identified
with Lilith. As
Mario Praz has shown, the image of the Medusa and the theme of tainted
'Medusean Beauty' were favourite preoccupations of the Romantics that by the
end of the nineteenth century (the era that saw the birth of the cinema) had
mutated into the Decadent-Symbolist image of the femme fatale. The
juxtaposition of the fatal woman with the snake was taken over into film from
art images such as Delville's 'Idol of Perversity' (1891) and Franz von
Stuck's highly successful painting 'Sensuality' (1889). Von Stuck's painting
was so popular that between 1889 and 1912 he produced no less than eighteen
versions with variant titles such as 'Vice' or 'Sin' all depicting a
voluptuous female drapwd in a monstrous snake. Explicit examples of this
theme surfacing in the post-war period include both The Snake Woman (1960) and The
Reptile (1965).
Hammer's The Gorgon (1963), with a script by John Gilling, is
described by Rigby as 'a cold thoughtful exercise far removed from the
popular conception of Hammer as a schlock factory for simple minded
adolescents'. Here the ghastly Megaera, 'last of the legendary Gorgons',
played by dancer Prudence Hyman, acts as a kind of agent of warped
retribution, inflicting the lovers of her female alter-ego, Carla Hoffmann
(Barbara Shelley), with hideous death by petrification. Unfortunately The
Gorgon
is flawed by the feeble make-up and risible coiffure of snakes worn by
Prudence Hyman. Apart
from those authors already mentioned, immediate literary, rather than
pictorial, sources for the early horror cinema included Shakespeare (Hamlet,
Macbeth)
and Robert Louis Stevenson. The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, soon became a
perennial favourite, and The Bodysnatcher (a reprise of
the Burke and Hare case) conditioned any number of thematically similar
films. W. W. Jacobs The Monkey's Paw was an early adaptation and, of
course, Arthur Conan Doyle. Doyle's Study in Scarlet was
transferred to the screen with James Bragington as Britain's first cinematic
Sherlock Holmes, in 1914. It would seem that that the horror genre is rooted
in the nineteenth century and the macabre themes of popular Victorian
literature and theatre. Rigby
precedes his discussion of the early cinema with some notes on the era of the
original Gothic craze (1760-1820), an era which provided the film industry
with one of its most famous monsters, Mary Shelley's Frankenstein (1816). Of
course the other notorious 'monster of filmland', Bram Stoker's Dracula (1897), was a
product of the Eighteen Nineties - an era that saw a second flowering of new
style Gothic literature closer in tone to the films that were also of product
of the time. It was symptomatic of what Rigby in a later chapter terms
'Britain's disintegrating horror tradition' that most of the themes outlined
above occur in the parodic production Dr Jekyll and Sister Hyde (1971), a
movie 'obviously conceived as a lark'.
Here, as Rigby tells us, we find a Whitechapel setting derived from
Dickens, complete with town criers, knife-grinders, blind beggars and brassy
prostitutes. The script is crammed with references to Jack the Ripper, Burke
and Hare and Wilde's Dorian Gray. There is a 'necrophile morgue
attendant', a crimson-dressed Fatal Woman and sly references to Sweeney Todd.
Apparantly the production team was only sorry that they could not include an
appearance from Sherlock Holmes to round off this 'demented gazetteer of
English Gothic clichs'. This inevitable tendency towards intentional or
unintentional self-parody illustrates how 'horror' inhabits a cultural space
on the border between a theatrical sensibility of extreme states and the
equally theatrical sensibility of Camp. Because Camp incarnates the supremacy
of style over content, it also incarnates the ascendancy of aesthetics over
morality, thereby diluting or eroding the constraints of 'high art'. We
should not forget that 'horror' is the dark-side of the fantastic, where the
term 'fantastic' is used to denote a wide-ranging aesthetic mode that might
include ancient myth, the Satyricon, eschatology, apocalyptic literature,
folklore and demonology. The popular heritage of Elizabethan/Jacobean Tragedy
and its antecedents in Medieval Romance, the Danse Macabre and ancient drama,
such as the Oreseia of Aeschylus and the dramatic works of Seneca,
also provide literary models for the horror genre. Think of the image of the
dead man's hand in the Duchess of Malfi. It is intriguing that, while
the 'Golden Age' of British horror film coincided with a revival of Jacobean
Tragedy in the theatre (Trevor Nunn's Revenger's Tragedy in 1966-1969
and Titus Andronicus in 1972), it was not until the nineteen nineties
that these source works started to appear in British cinema. Discounting
Griffi's Italian 'Tis Pty She's A Whore (1972), starring England's
Chelsea Girl Charlotte Rampling, late examples of this reversion to source
being Middleton's Changeling (1994) directed by Marcus Thompson, and
The Revenger's Tragedy (2003) directed by Alex Cox and featuring Derek
Jacobi and Christopher Eccleston. But,
of course, the fantastic is disreputable: once, the predominant
interpretation of the phenomenon, among both professional academics and
ordinary readers, was a facile conflation of the fantastic with 'escapism'
and 'otherworldliness'. Although this approach was challenged in the nineteen
seventies, it is still a view that is widely held. Many readers still presume
to judge the fantastic mode as trivial and not 'serious'. Furthermore,
from the time of Plato onwards, the fantastic, especially in its macabre or
horrific form has long been the object of hostility. The
Vincent Price vehicle Theatre of Blood (1972) satirised the cultural
pretensions of high art with its blood soaked tale of a crazed Shakespearean
actor taking revenge on his critics, inflicting terrible murders modelled on
killings and atrocities from Shakespeare plays. One suspects that when Andre
Breton, in Limits not Frontiers of Surrealism (1937),
identified the role played by the fantastic in revealing the latent, not the
manifest, content of the age, he disclosed the true reason for this
conventional hostility. In performing this function, he explained, 'the
pleasure principle has never avenged itself more obviously upon the principle
of reality'. The legions of decency and proselytisers of the ascetic ideal
cannot ever tolerate such a 'nightmare scenario'. In
The Republic,
where, in the interests of state-controlled education (the dictatorship of
reality, the suppression of desire) the authorities supervise 'the production
of stories', grotesque and bizarre myths such as the 'foul story' of Ouranos
and Cronos, are condemned as theologically and morally 'unsuitable'. For
Plato all tales of ghosts, spirits and the 'hateful chambers of decay that
fill the gods themselves with horror' must be outlawed in the interests of
maintaining the 'fighting spirit' of a militarised garrison-state run by a
Spartan style totalitarian elite of masters posing as guardians of the
'good'. Nevertheless, as Rosemary Jackson has explained in her keynote work Fantasy:
The Literature of Subversion (1981), the attempted expulsion of
'transgressive energies' from the ideal society is doomed to failure. These
transgressive forces (they comprise: eroticism, violence, madness, laughter,
nightmares, farce, dreams, blasphemy, lamentation, absurdity, uncertainty,
female energy and all forms of excess) remain exiled on the frontier of
acceptability, not expelled as Plato demanded - for that is impossible - but
marginalised to a shadow-world, twilight sphere of the disreputable. Waiting,
always waiting, poised to stage an atavistic return, or incursion of
'darkness', into the comfort zone of normality. That horror movies are
vehicle for the unwelcome return of such socially unacceptable elements,
elements that perturb the 'pantheon of high culture', is also one of the main
themes of English Gothic. For instance, in Taste the Blood
of Dracula
(1969) directed by Peter Sasdy, Christopher Lee's reconstituted vampire Count
is a nemesis figure, a 'thing of darkness', embodiment of 'a powerful attack
on Edwardian double standards'. He appears in the film as merely a half-seen
presence lurking in shadow 'only emerging to deal several bloody blows' at
bourgeois hypocrisy. Again,
discussing The Revenge of Frankenstein (1958) directed by Terence
Fisher, Rigby observes how the director 'excelled at showing bourgeois
banality ruptured by the intrusion of the inexplicable and the abnormal.'
This principle is exemplified in the scene where Karl (a 'helpless, twisted
wretch' played by Michael Gwynn) disrupts the Countess Barscynska's musical
evening, crashing through French windows to expire at Frankenstein's feet.
Rigby points out that the motif of the shattered French windows was to appear
in several other films from the same director. However,
as is well illustrated by the closing scenes of The Vampire Lovers, the forces of
reaction usually reassert dominance via, to quote David Punter, 'the ritual
purgation of the disordering element', a tendency that reinforces a reactionary
rather that subversive interpretation of the stereotypical horror scenario.
It is perhaps ironic that it requires the combined efforts of four male
representatives of the prevailing (patriarchal) order led by Peter Cushing
('the General') to eliminate, by impaling and decapitation, the 'evil'
(disruptive) influence of one voracious female vampire. On the other hand,
Punter's idea of the 'problem of the undead' should, perhaps, be borne in
mind. In many of the most successful horror films the hero-villain
incessantly returns to wreak further havoc, to 'fight another day and
reappear in endless sequels', thus implementing a central feature of Gothic
as an aesthetic mode that, among other things, charts the impossibility of total
repression. As
a psychic symbol the villainous Gothic monster (the vampire, the serpent
woman, the cat-girl, the mutant and the brute) remains a testimony to a
compulsive element in human nature. An element that, in the words of S. S.
Prawer, will always strive 'to live more intensely' through the medium of the
terror film: 'we cross frontiers, we test limits, we enter realms in which
fear and delight are not strictly separated.' In Gothic Horror the repressed
elements always return in some form or guise and the cycle of perturbation
and reaction continues... indefinitely. As if to illustrate this point Hammer
produced two more episodes in what became known as their 'Karnstein Trilogy'
- Mircalla/Carmilla was reincarnated in the persons of Yutte Stensgaard and
Katya Wyeth in Lust For A Vampire and Twins of Evil. However the
tide had turned against this style of Gothic and Twins of Evil was, for the
time being, outperformed at the box office by the true blockbuster of 1971,
TV spin-off feature, On the Buses. In
summary English Gothic, by concentrating on the 'Golden Age of Horror',
explores all the dimensions of the gothic mode. The films show how producers
and directors worked in both 'traditional' (costume gothic) and contemporary
(modern dress) style. Furthermore,
the book explores the various fluid overlaps with other genres (exotic
adventure, crime, science fiction) and marginal subcultures (paganism,
occultism and the esoteric) and its osmotic interaction with sleazy
exploitation cinema (Cover Girl Killer, 1959). Black humour and satire
exemplified by The House in Nightmare Park (1972)
starring Frankie Howerd) are also covered. Augmented
by external influences both Continental (Marquis de Sade, Gaston Leroux,
German Expressionism) and from the United States (Edgar Allan Poe, H. P.
Lovecraft, Guy Endore) these are the genre features that characterised the
British Horror Film; the main dimensions of Gothic film. In
its diverse forms and formats (main features, supporting features, art-house
and 'portmanteau' anthologies) with its recurring obsessions (vampires,
Satanism, spooky houses, mad scientists, monsters, mutants, Armageddon,
degeneracy, fog, plague, cannibalism, zombies, sadomasochism, deranged
families, aliens, revenge, resurrection, low-life, serial killers,
mutilation) the horror film evolved through various developmental phases. The
historical trajectory sketched out by Rigby is a threefold affair. He posits
a preliminary phase of early development, comprising the inter-war period and
the early 1950s. Chronologically this period was followed by a main phase of
development from around 1954 to the mid-1970s. Lamented as 'the gradual
extinction of Britain's Gothic strain', the latest phase is defined as a
phase of decline (although it includes Clive Barker's Hellraiser, 1987) and
covers the late 1970s to the present millennium. The decline can be
attributed to various factors, including the precarious economics of the UK
film industry and box office fashions. It
is the case that the Golden Age of British Horror coincided with a resurgence
of 'Monster Culture' in the US stimulated by the 'shock package' TV
syndication of pre-war films from the Lugosi/Karloff era. Exemplified by
magazines such as Famous Monsters of Filmland (1958-1983),
Monster Culture was initially nostalgic and, therefore, the full-colour
English Gothic horrors, starting with The Curse of Frankenstein, appeared new,
glossy and innovative. However,
by the mid-seventies film fashions had changed. This was reflected by a new
wave of American gore-fest product, spearheaded by directors like David E.
Durston (I Drink Your Blood, 1972), George A Romero (Dawn of
the Dead,
1978), Tobe Hooper (The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, 1974) and,
from Canada, David Cronenberg with They Came From Within (1975).
Furthermore, whereas the English Gothic films and Corman's Poe cycle tended
to glamorise the juxtaposition of sex and death in a style that caused some
outrage among the defenders of public probity, some of the new mainstream
horror films from the US displayed a reactionary tendency. Whilst
The Texas Chainsaw Massacre confronted its audience with a macabre
inversion of all-American 'family values' and deranged 'frontiersman' ethics,
both The Exorcist (1974) and The Omen (1976)
exhibited, as Ramsey Campbell has noted, a much more traditional,
moral-theological perspective. These contrast starkly with British examples
such as Witchfinder General and The Wicker Man. It is
noteworthy that, in Anthony Shaffer's screenplay for The Wicker Man (1972), the
alien, 'monstrous' incursion takes the form of a Christian policeman who, at
the climax of the film, is ceremoniously immolated by the nature-loving
community of 'pagans' he stigmatises as degenerates. In The Exorcist on the other
hand, the Devil (predictably) inhabits the youthful body of an adolescent
girl (evil equates with youth, women, profanity and blasphemy) and is only
cast out by the 'self-sacrifice' of white, male, Christian clerics in a
triumphant validation of conventional, orthodox 'faith'. The
first horror film of the post war period to be a contender for The Oscars,
clearly The Exorcist conformed very neatly indeed to the worldview and
tenets of the incipient Moral Majority movement (established on a formal
basis in 1979). Its seems that, faced with the post-modern hi-tech, venereal
body horror of Durston and Cronenberg, the reactionary Biblical
fundamentalism of the Exorcist, The Omen cycle and an
impending wave of 'teen-terror' slashers initiated by Wes Craven, British
horror films were outgunned and, possibly, outclassed, in terms of mass
box-office appeal. Weighing
in at 320 pages, this is a well-produced glossy medium-sized paperback. The
cover, in tasteful black, white and red, shows a scene from Dracula (1957) with
Melissa Stribling in a clinch with saturnine, Byronic Christopher Lee in the
title role. The pictures are, as previously noted, mainly black and white
stills with the exception of the few colour plates and posters adorning the
back cover. They are crisply reproduced on quality paper and, together with
Jonathan Rigby's trenchant judgements, qualify as one of the main assets of
the book. As noted above, the text is punctuated with encyclopaedic data
boxes at strategic intervals while the narrative incorporates capsule summary
plot synopses in italic font throughout, enhancing random browsing. The
lack of a name index is a disadvantage and the onus is on the reference
reader to access the book by film title, however this is not a major obstacle
and the volume is, without doubt one of the most indispensable guides to this
genre of British movie-making. A.C. Evans
2007 References and Further Reading Bade,
Patrick. Femme Fatale: Images of Fascinating Women. Ash & Grant, 1979. Eyles,
Allen. Ian Allan Film Albums 2: Horror Film Album. Ian Allan, 1971. Jackson,
Rosemary. Fantasy: The Literature of Subversion. Methuen, 1981. Prawer,
S. S. Caligari's Children: The Film as Tale of Terror. Oxford University
Press, 1980 Praz,
Mario. The Romantic Agony. Fontana, 1960. Punter,
David. The Literature of Terror: A History of Gothic Fictions from 1765
to the Present. Longman, 1980. Sontag,
Susan. Notes on 'Camp' (1964), in Against Interpretation. Vintage, 2001. Sullivan,
Jack (ed.) The Penguin Encyclopaedia of Horror and The Supernatural. Viking,
1986. |