The Devil’s Widow (1970)

          Released in the U.S. under the deceptive moniker The Devil’s Widow, this strange thriller is a uniquely Celtic bit of business that was filmed and released in the UK as The Ballad of Tam Lin. Based on an old Scottish myth, which evolved over centuries of adaptations in literature and song, The Devil’s Window is the only movie directed by veteran actor Roddy McDowall. A gifted photographer, McDowall approached the task of making his first movie with predictable visual flair. However, he demonstrated zero affinity for storytelling. McDowall even did a poor job of modulating performances, because the acting in The Devil’s Widow runs the gamut from excellent (leading man Ian McShane) to mediocre (ingénue Stephanie Beacham) to terrible (top-billed star Ava Gardner). That said, perhaps something was lost in translation while the movie crossed the pond, because the behavior of the characters often seems inexplicable to American eyes. And when the picture transforms into a full-on supernatural horror show during the climax, the tonal shift is bewildering.

          The film begins at the sprawling Scottish estate of Michaela Cazaret (Gardner), a middle-aged woman of unclear national origin who populates her castle and its grounds with swinging young people. One of them is Tom Lynn (McShane), who is Michaela’s current lover despite being many years her junior. When Tom meets pretty and wholesome local girl Janet Ainsley (Beacham), daughter of the town vicar, he slips away from Michaela to begin a relationship with Janet. Michaela responds viciously, culminating in the final sequence wherein she uses drugs and/or enchantments to drive Tom mad. Throughout most of the picture, the nature of Michaela’s household is completely unclear; on the one hand, she seems to exert mind control over her young playthings, and yet on the other hand, Tom demonstrates free will. Similarly, the reasons behind Janet’s attraction to Tom are mysterious, especially when she realizes that Michaela is some sort of dragon lady with otherworldly powers.

         McDowall tries to mix cynical vignettes of world-weary party people with lyrical passages of young lovers shutting out the rest of the world, and the two elements clash. Moreover, the characterization of Michaela never makes sense. Is she crazy, magical, or just lonely? Gardner’s unfocused performance provides few clues. The Devil’s Widow looks lovely, thanks to intricate lighting by cinematographer Billy Williams, and McDowall deserves credit for trying a few interesting things, such as a scene comprising freeze frames and several weird effects during the finale. What all of it means, however, is anybody’s guess.

The Devil’s Widow: FUNKY

And Now the Screaming Starts! (1973)

          Proving once again that British production company Amicus was a poor cousin to its better-known competitor, Hammer Films, And Now the Screaming Starts! represents a failed attempt to emulate Hammer’s signature style of sexed-up Gothic horror. Although And Now the Screaming Starts! features the requisite components of heaving bosoms, lurid subject matter, and over-the-top gore—all wrapped up in posh costuming and production design—the movie is as silly as its title. UK starlet Stephanie Beacham stars as Catherine, a wide-eyed 18th-century lass who marries into the Fengriffen family unaware of a deadly curse that plagues the family’s estate. Soon after arriving in the estate’s gigantic main house, Catherine begins seeing visions of dismembered hands and of corpses with gouged-out eyes; she’s also terrified by a painting of her new husband’s long-dead grandfather, because the painting seems to watch her. Eventually, Catherine’s inquiries unlock a lengthy flashback explaining the sordid history of the estate, so the film shows the grandfather (Herbert Lom) heinously abusing a servant and his wife for psychosexual kicks; these misdeeds provoke the curse that plagues the grandfather’s bloodline. Alas, the manner in which the flashback ties into the “present day” storyline is highly unsatisfying.

          Furthermore, since Beacham is barely more than competent as an actress, she can’t generate enough emotional heat to sustain interest during the first hour of the movie, which is dull and repetitive. Most of the actors surrounding her are equally bland, delivering their lines with stiff formality. It’s worth noting that horror icon Peter Cushing has a small and inconsequential role, so his top billing is deceptive. Similarly, Lom is onscreen for less than 15 minutes. That said, he makes his brief appearance count, enlivening the movie with elegant sadism. Directed by UK-horror stalwart Roy Ward Baker, And Now the Screaming Starts! has the texture of a credible Gothic shocker, thanks to campy gore effects and shadowy sets, but the jolts are so clichéd that nothing quickens the pulse. Worse, the “twist” ending is undercut by an overabundance of exposition prior to the big reveal. Nonetheless, And Now the Screaming Starts! offers many things to please devoted fans of the genre that Hammer perfected, even though Amicus’ take on the genre is unquestionably second-rate. For instance, none could ever question Beacham’s ample qualifications for summoning the long power required to deliver on the movie’s title.

And Now the Screaming Starts!: FUNKY

The Nightcomers (1971)

          The last movie Marlon Brando made before his twin 1972 triumphs of The Godfather and Last Tango in Paris, which briefly returned him to prominence as one of the world’s most revered actors, The Nightcomers is a strange film on many levels. Not only is The Nightcomers a prequel—which in 1971 was still a rarity in cinema—but it’s a prequel to a book, rather than a previous movie. Written by Michael Hastings and produced and directed by Michael Winner, the film imagines what events might have preceded the narrative of Henry James’ 1898 novella The Turn of the Screw. Additionally, while Brando has top billing and a colorful role, the real leads of the picture are juvenile players Christopher Ellis and Verna Harvey, portraying children who fall under the spell of Brando’s character. (After all, these children will eventually become the protagonists of The Turn of the Screw.) The final major aspect of The Nightcomers’ strangeness is its brazen juxtaposition of eroticism and youth—The Nightcomers features bondage, nudity, and psychosexual abuse in the context of a story about children navigating adolescence.

          Set in late 19th century England, the picture begins when a wealthy aristocrat (Harry Andrews) leaves two orphaned children—of whom he is the nominal guardian—in the care of a housekeeper, Mrs. Grose (Thora Bird), and a nanny/teacher, Miss Jessel (Stephanie Beacham). The master of the house wants nothing to do with the raising of Flora (Harvey) and Miles (Ellis). Thus, the children have the run of a country estate with only the two women and a handyman, Peter Quint (Brando), for company. Peter is a crass Irishman more interested in play than work, so he fascinates the kids with his imaginative games, tall tales, and wild lectures about the nature of life and death. (“If you really love someone,” he says, “sometimes you really want to kill them.”) Much to the chagrin of the stern Mrs. Grose, the children spend most of their time with Quint, often engaging in dangerous shenanigans at his urging.

          The estate takes on a darker color when night falls, because Peter regularly visits Miss Jessel’s bedroom for rough sexual encounters—and since the children are so enthralled by Peter, Miles watches one such encounter through a peephole and attempts to re-create the bondage-filled tryst with Flora. Eventually, the children’s obsession with Peter has tragic consequences

          The Nightcomers has many peculiarities that could be described as flaws, such as the absence of a clearly defined leading character and the lack of satisfying psychological explanations for the extreme behavior of Peter, Miss Jessel, and the children. Yet as a hypothesis for what led to events in The Turn of the Screw, the film is highly imaginative. It is also effective as thriller. The sex scenes between Beacham and Brando are bracing, and the climax is horrific. As for Brando, while his lilting brogue may strike some viewers as overdone, the actor smoothly incarnates a multidimensional character. Ellis and Harvey blend innocence and wickedness effectively, while Bird strikes the correct uptight posture. Beacham, alas, is the picture’s weak link thanks to her superficial performance. That said, her eye-popping curves make the lust that drives the story highly believable.

The Nightcomers: GROOVY

Taste the Blood of Dracula (1970) & Scars of Dracula (1970) & Dracula AD 1972 (1972) & The Satanic Rites of Dracula (1973) & The Legend of the 7 Golden Vampires (1974)

          By the mid-’60s, a dreary formula was in place for Hammer Films’ long-running Dracula series: Each movie contrived a laborious new mechanism for resurrecting the titular bloodsucker (Christopher Lee), and each movie ended with Drac suffering an elaborate demise. As the series progressed, Lee’s characterization became more robotic, and the filler scenes depicting various supporting characters became more tedious. By the time the ’70s arrived, even Hammer’s lush Victorian-era costumes and locations felt stale. As a result, Taste the Blood of Dracula is a routine but well-photographed entry notable only for introducing Satan worship into the series, although comic actor Roy Kinnear enlivens a few early scenes. The movie takes forever to get started (an hour passes before Drac bites his first neck), and the formula of blood, cleavage, and Gothic atmosphere is overly familiar; furthermore, Dracula’s overreliance on henchmen makes him seem more like a Bond villain than a legendary monster.
          Scars of Dracula features more of the same, but instead of Satan worship, the story pays rudimentary homage to Bram Stoker’s original Dracula novel with scenes of an unfortunate European fellow imprisoned in Drac’s castle. Reflecting how dry the creative well was at this point, the opening scene depicts a bat reviving Dracula by drooling blood onto the count’s bones. Really? Although Lee spends more time onscreen than usual in this entry, Scars of Dracula is one of Hammer’s shoddiest productions, complete with fake bats that wouldn’t pass muster in a student film.
          After a two-year hiatus, Hammer shook up the formula with Dracula AD 1972, which resurrects Dracula in present-day England, and the always-entertaining Peter Cushing returned to the series for the first time in 12 years, playing Lorimer Van Helsing, a descendant of the count’s old nemesis. The movie retains a bit of Gothic flavor by giving Dracula an abandoned old church as a lair, but most of the story takes place in the London youth scene, so lots of with-it kids party in tacky early-’70s fashions (leading lady Stephanie Beacham rocks a fierce mullet hairstyle). Campy dialogue, kitschy musical interludes, and slick camerawork make Dracula AD 1972 a guilty pleasure, and watch for raven-haired cult-favorite starlet Caroline Munro in an early role. It should also be noted that Beacham’s mesmerizing cleavage is such a focal point in Dracula AD 1972 that her breasts should’ve gotten special billing; this movie may represent the apex of Hammer leering, which is saying a lot.
          Hammer continued its new modern-day continuity with The Satanic Rites of Dracula, a Cushing-Lee romp enlivened by the presence of costar Freddie Jones, who plays a twitchy Satanist/scientist, and future Absolutely Fabulous star Joanna Lumley, taking over Beacham’s role as a Van Helsing descendant. The movie boasts an energetic score (proto-disco funk passages, lots of stabbing horns), plus slickly atmospheric wide-lens photography. There are even a couple of genuine jolts (rare in any Hammer flick), like a slo-mo attack on Lumley by several distaff vampires. The fact that the first hour of the movie plays out like an occult-themed conspiracy thriller sets the stage nicely for Lee’s dominance in the last twenty minutes; for once, Lee gets to do more than lunge at people and recoil from crosses, and he seems energized. Satanic Rites is easily the best thriller of this batch, even though it’s barely a Dracula movie in the classic sense.
          In 1974, Hammer’s Dracula series reached a bizarre conclusion with the kung fu epic The Legend of the 7 Golden Vampires, a joint effort from Hammer and chop-socky specialists the Shaw Brothers. In two brief scenes, John Forbes-Robertson unimpressively stands in for the absent Lee as Dracula, while a tired-looking Cushing reprises his Van Helsing shtick for the whole dreary flick. Boring nonsense about noble Chinese martial artists engaged in brawls and swordplay against decaying vampire ghouls in ornate gold masks, 7 Vampires is the series’ absolute nadir. Plus, who knew Dracula spoke fluent Chinese?

Taste the Blood of Dracula: LAME

Scars of Dracula: LAME

Dracula AD 1972: FUNKY

The Satanic Rites of Dracula: FUNKY

The Legend of the 7 Golden Vampires: SQUARE