Showing posts with label William Sylvester. Show all posts
Showing posts with label William Sylvester. Show all posts

Friday, May 1, 2020

When Monsters Attack!

BEHEMOTH THE SEA MONSTER (1959)
GORGO (1961)

Initially written as an amorphous blob, distributor Allied Artists insisted that BEHEMOTH THE SEA MONSTER became another 1950s movie dinosaur.  The Behemoth itself originates from Job 40:15-24, given to Earth on the fifth day of Creation, and generally regarded to have been Satan in the form of an elephant.

IN BEHEMOTH THE SEA MONSTER, scientists Steve Karnes (Gene Evans) and James Bickford (Andre Morell, channeling his role as Professor Quatermass) travel to Looe in Cornwall to investigate the death of a fisherman, whose dying word was "behemoth." Thousands of dead fish have washed ashore shortly after, and it is discovered that samples contain large amounts of radioactive contamination. Karnes suspects that the "behemoth" is a large marine mammal that has mutated as a result of nuclear testing. After an attack near the Essex coast, eccentric paleontologist Dr Sampson (Jack MacGowran) identifies the creature as a Paleosaurus, an aquatic dinosaur that emits an ionising pulse like an electric eel. Surfacing in the Thames and capsizing the Woolwich Ferry, the monster then rampages through London. While Karnes and Bickford advise the military to administer a dose of radium, they hope to accelerate the radiation sickness that is slowly killing the beast.

This joint Anglo-American production, released in the United States as THE GIANT BEHEMOTH, was co-directed by Eugène Lourié and Douglas Hickox, and is a facsimile of Lourié's own THE BEAST FROM 20,000 FATHOMS. Evans and Morell are the most convincing aspects, and Lourié - an art director by trade - manages to bring out some atmospheric locales, but the threadbare budget and punishing schedule clearly hindered the special effects. Willis O'Brien and his assistant Pete Peterson were subcontracted by the film's initial team of Jack Rabin, Irving Block and Louis DeWitt, the latter providing the embarrassing "umbrella handle" version of the Paleosaurus during the ferry attack (the prop's wooden base even clears the Thames). Similarly, during the London stomping, the model's ankle joints are visibly falling apart. These climactic attacks were actually filmed without sound to save money, but a nice nod to O'Brien's glory days sees stock screaming from KING KONG dubbed in for the panic.

GORGO's off screen life has included a Charlton comic book run illustrated by Steve Ditko. This is the cover of Gorgo #3 (September 1961), where Latin dictator Astro - a reference to Fidel Castro - commands the creature to destroy all countries who oppose him.

Two years later Lourié helmed GORGO, a co-production of the United Kingdom, the United States and Ireland. Captain Joe Ryan (Bill Travers) and his first officer Sam (William Sylvester) are salvaging for treasure off the Irish coast when a volcano erupts. Taking their ship to Nara Island for repairs, they consult an unhelpful harbour master cum archaeologist and encounter a sixty-five foot tall dinosaur awoken by the seismic explosion. Capturing the monster, Ryan shuns the University of Dublin for a better deal from Dorkin's Circus of London. Exhibited in Battersea Park, it transpires that the monster Gorgo - named after the fearful Gorgon of Greek myth - is in fact only an infant. The two hundred feet mother has been following its phosphorescent trail and comes ashore in the capital, to demolish as many landmarks as possible and rescue her offspring.

For GORGO, stop-motion gives way to a man in an unwieldy monster suit, swiping at and stamping on the miniatures in banal, overlong sequences. Refreshingly both monsters survive to return to the sea, innocents escaping human interference and violence. The completely male cast are more like caricatures - Sylvester looks consistently flippant and uninterested - with the military and scientists also severely lacking in any kind of intelligence. The dramatis personae also includes an annoying young Irish orphan boy played by Vincent Winter, who had won the Academy Juvenile Award for 1953's THE KIDNAPPERS.

Monday, July 1, 2019

Devils of Death

DEVILS OF DARKNESS (1965)
THEATRE OF DEATH (1967)


Horror films have always used the colour red to inflame the senses, but even smart ceremonial robes can't ignite DEVILS OF DARKNESS.

THE only claim to fame for Lance Comfort's DEVILS OF DARKNESS is that it was the first British horror film to feature vampirism in a modern setting. Yet this Planet MARK OF THE VAMPIRE imitation is a painfully dull affair, as stone-cold Paul Baxter (William Sylvester) encounters a Brittany-based Satanic cult headed by suave, self-styled "Leader of the Living Dead" Count Sinistre (Hubert Noel). The vacation takes a turn for the worse when Keith and Dave (Geoffrey Kenion and Rod McLennan) succumb to a cavern housing a group of coffins, and Keith's sister Anne (Rona Anderson) is found dead in a lake. Returning to England with a talisman that Sinistre has conveniently dropped, Baxter enlists the aid of scientist friend Dr Kelsey (Eddie Byrne) in exploring black magic. But when Kelsey adds to the body count, it transpires that the only other survivor from the French trip - antique shop owner Madeleine (Diana Decker) - is helping Sinistre to get a foothold in this country, as The Count focuses his attentions on red-head model and shop assistant Karen (Tracy Reed).

The opening French section is littered with 'ALLO 'ALLO style accents, but starts promisingly in an eight-minute pre-titles sequence where Sinistre - in bat form - takes gypsy Tania (Carole Gray) as his bride (there is also a sumptuous Hammeresque shot of Tania's coffin, her head wreathed in roses). Unfortunately, when the picture shifts to Blighty, even Madeleine's impromptu beatnik parties are staged and stodgy; but fangless Sinistre seems at home under his artist guise living in Chelsea (unlike DRACULA A.D. 1972, at least Noel actually mingles with society). Not only is everything pedestrian, there are no star turns (even seasoned performer Sylvester would have to wait three years to achieve his particular screen immortality, as Dr Floyd in 2001: A SPACE ODYSSEY).

"Fanaticism bordering on insanity;" Christopher Lee controls the THEATRE OF DEATH from Pennea Productions, a film originally released in the United States as BLOOD FIEND.

Playwright Samuel Gallu's THEATRE OF DEATH is another contemporary vampire tale with French connections which aims at Hammer acolytes. Svengali-like Philippe Darvas (Christopher Lee) is the director of the Theatre de Mort in the Paris backstreets, carrying on the Grand Guignol theme of sensationalist entertainment. As police surgeon Charles Marquis (Julian Glover) protects his former patient and Theatre employee Dani Gireaux (Lelia Goldoni) from a spate of murders, Darvas' protegee Nicole Chapelle (a pasty Jenny Till) is revealed as the killer, a haemotagiac whose thirst was initiated when feeding on her brother's blood as her Romanian family fled the Nazis in the Alps. With Lee killed off-screen at the half-way mark, he takes most of the interest with him; what remains is a drawn-out mystery thriller with too many red herrings and a late, out of leftfield sting. This reveal is at least different, and grounds the picture more successfully than the usual supernatural trappings in Comfort's film.