"Captain Kronos-Vampire Hunter" (1974) d/ Brian Clemens

Tonight we look at one of the odder vampire flicks in the Hammer canon, a strange mixture of action, comedy, and horror, that showcases some excellent cinematography and moments of genuine atmosphere in bringing a vastly different genre experience to the silver screen than the familiar Lee/Cushing formula that the studio regularly churned out in their heyday. Once intended to be the first in a series of films chronicling the adventures of the good Captain, poor box office returns made certain that would never happen, after the production stagnated on the shelf for two years before finally being released. This would also mark the final appearance of scream queen Caroline Munro for the studios, who were experiencing a marked decline at this point.


Kronos is unsure where the vampires are, while Grost (John Cater) has a hunch.
After freeing a  comely 19th century gyppo bird named Carla (Caroline Munro) from the stocks, the dynamic team of Captain Kronos (Horst Janson) and Professor Grost (John Cater) gallop across the European countryside in search of active blood sippers, who differ greatly from their conventional neck-supping counterparts, in that they drain the life energy from their victims rather than the usual red vino on tap, leaving behind withered (yet alive, if only briefly) husks of humanity as evidence. Kronos is a former Dragoon who was forced to depart his own wife and child from existence when they showed signs of vampirism. He's joined by his pal Heironymous, a crook-backed member of academia whose specialty is dispatching fanged types. Carla hitches a ride with the duo offering them her assistance, and even regular gyppo trim for the blonde hero, though she denies Grost the same benefits, as hunchbacks must not be her bag, man. Along the way, Kronos is forced to come to the aid of his deformed chum in a pub, when three local toughs mock him. Did I mention Kronos is a master swordsman? Yeah, he really isn't.


"Flappy brought mommy her strawberry preserves! Mommy loooooves her lil' Flappy..."
On their journey, they follow the trail of innocent peasant girls with the life sucked out of 'em like so many Mountain Dew slushies, leading to unorthodox vampire hunting techniques, such as the burying of several dead frogs in boxes in suspected areas of sharpened incisor activity, with the hopes that any passing vampires will bring the nearest frogs back to life. There's also a bell-heavy tripwire of little effectiveness. The trio meet up with the local physician, a sensible chappie named Marcus (John Carson), and perhaps the last one of his ilk in the region, with the peasants mostly being of the suspicious and superstitious variety. Could the local aristocracy be sheltering the responsible pair of fangs? There's poncy fop, Paul (Shane Briant) and his ageless ginger sister, Sara (Lois Daine), and their terminally ill mother, Lady Durward (Wanda Ventham) herself, confined to her deathbed with a grill like a dead man's frosting bag. You'll find out all the who's, why's, where's and when's if you snag yourself a copy and screen it, soon afterwards.


"I can see your reflection in that steel, dahling, you look maaahvelous."
Did I really just reference Billy Crystal's Fernando Lamas impersonation from 80's SNL? Holy ham steaks, I'm old. Brian Clemens gained fame more for his writing skills than directing, as evidenced by the scripts he penned for And Soon the Darkness (1970), Dr Jekyll and Sister Hyde (1971), The Watcher in the Woods (1980), and even an epsiode of tv horror anthology series, Darkroom (1981). German actor Horst Janson, who would also appear in Murphy's War (1971) opposite Peter O'Toole and The Last Days of Patton (1986) opposite George C. Scott, has enjoyed a long career in television. Despite being miserably awful in the film's awkwardly choreographed action sequences and offering little more than one or two facial expressions throughout the production, Janson is pretty likable in the lead role here. Ian Hendry you'll recall from appearances in things like Get Carter (1971), Tales From the Crypt (1972), and Theatre of Blood (1973). John Carson showed up in genre fare like Blood Beast from Outer Space (1965), Plague of the Zombies (1966), and Taste the Blood of Dracula (1970). Two solid Wops for Kronos, a film you'll want to check out for yourselves if you've never done, for sure.


"Both you and your spouse have fallen and can't get up? I'm calling paramedics and your family, Lady Durward..."

"Revenge of Frankenstein" (1958) d/ Terence Fisher

Following up their successful adaption of Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, Curse of Frankenstein (1957), Hammer Studios reassembled director Terence Fisher, screenwriter Jimmy Sangster, and lead actor Peter Cushing, who'd all only just completed the studio's legendary take on Dracula together, for this interesting and entertaining direct sequel. Sure, there's no Christopher Lee this time around, as he was otherwise occupied with things like Corridors of Blood, Missiles From Hell, and the aforementioned Drac, but the movie doesn't suffer much from his absence, so you won't hear too much bellyaching from the peanut gallery where this one's concerned. It all starts like this...


"We British have never hesitated to take up arms. Take this one."
At the outset, we see Baron Frankenstein (Peter Cushing) awaiting his appointment with the guillotine for his prior crimes against humanity, only to cheat the blade with the help of his assistant, and the priest who gives him last rites ends up a full head shorter, and buried in his place, for his troubles. Years later, we note that the Baron has become a successful and highly popular physician/ surgeon in Carlsbruck, working under the alias, Dr. Stein, much to the dismay of the local medical council, save one member, one Dr. Kleve (Francis Matthews), who recognizes him to be Frankenstein, but only wants to assist him in his controversial experimentation with life and death. He agrees to take the savvy young doctor under his wing, and those outrageous experiments are soon underway, with assistance also provided by Karl (Oscar Quitak), a disfigured hunchback the Baron has promised to provide a new, healthy body for in exchange for his years of unflinching loyalty. Among the first things on Karl's "to do once I'm no longer a pitiful gimp" list, is Margaret (Eunice Gayson), the comely new brunette assistant at the hospital, who's only seen the pitiful gimp variant, thus far. I think you can figure out where this is all leading...


"I'm sorry, Karl, the hunchback turned me on more. Just saying.," says Margaret (Eunice Gayson).
Karl's brain is soon transplanted into a healthy bod (Michael Gwynn), and he's immediately struck with wanderlust, despite the Baron's orders that he remain strapped to a bed in a locked hospital room. Meanwhile, there's the issue of Frankenstein's chimpanzee, his first successful brain transplant, that seems to have developed cannibalistic traits, having eaten his mate after being fitted with an orangutan's brain. That's gonna come back to haunt these guys, I think. Karl hears of his savior's plans to tour the world with him as a medical wonder and attraction for the crowds, and convinces Margaret to spring him from his binds. What's the worst that could happen? Karl's new frame starts to show signs of rapidly reverting back to the gimpy hunchbacked one, leading him to commit several homicides before slumping dead at Frankenstein's feet in the middle of a social function, even calling the doctor out by his former name for all ears in attendance to hear. What transpires from here, I believe I'll leave for you eager Hammerheads out there to discover on your own. You'll appreciate it, alright.


The eyes have it. Especially this particular pair.
Eunice Gayson, you'll remember, was the first Bond girl, appearing opposite Sean Connery in Dr. No and From Russia With Love. She's acceptable lens candy here, too. Francis Matthews scored roles in Dracula: Prince of Darkness and Rasputin the Mad Monk, for the studio in 1966. As for Gwynne, he showed up later on in things like 1966's The Deadly Bees and Scars of Dracula in 1970. Everything about this iconic offering from Hammer is top shelf: from Cushing's performance (as always) and his surrounding cast, to Fisher's ever-exemplary direction, to the gothic sets (that you'll remember parts of from Horror of Dracula, also shot at Bray), to Leonard Salzedo's score, often considered his finest work. Popular among critics and fans alike, it's efforts like this that established Hammer as one of the premier studios for genre cinema of the era. On the scale, anything less than Three big ones would be beyond criminal, and I'd never have that where this one is concerned. So, three Wops it is. Snare yourselves a copy immediately!


"After we're found out here, I'll be Franin Kenste in the next city." 

"Blood From The Mummy's Tomb" (1971) d/ Seth Holt

Normally, I'm not much for mummy movies with gauze-wrapped chaps dragging that one foot across the floor after their reincarnated love, who happens to be too terrified to remember to sprint their ass from the premises before Kharis can slip her a Cosby cocktail, etc., etc. Leave it to Hammer to change all of that with one film, tonight's review, a groovy horrorshow that dusted off archaeological horror with open veins and sex appeal and doubled with the studio's Stevenson gender-bender, Dr. Jekyll and Sister Hyde,  at the theaters. It would stand as Seth Holt's last directorial credit, dying from a heart attack during the shooting schedule. What this picture really delivers on, is its statuesque brunette star,  the breathtaking Valerie Leon,  who you'll recall from the Carry On films and things like Revenge of the Pink Panther (1978) and The Spy Who Loved Me (1977), in a dual role of sorts. Not like it's the first time Hammer rolled out some delectable lens candy to help pitch one of their films though, is it? And more importantly, who's complaining? Not I, sez I.


 Demonoid (1981) was never like this! If anyone's looking for me, I'll be dusting those bombers for hidden hieroglyphics.
It would seem that some time during the roaring '20s, Professor Fuchs (Andrew Keir) and his British archaeologist chums are on a quest to uncover the lost tomb of an evil Egyptian queen, who we learn through ancient flashback, doesn't appreciate being laid out in a sarcophagus by her assassins, or her hand chopped off and thrown to the local pack of mangy jackals, as a magical, throat-ripping wind whips up and does in the responsible bastards. Wouldn't you know it, Queen Tera's final resting place is infringed upon by these limey bone-dusters, and sure enough, she hasn't aged a day in several lifetimes. Fuchs takes the entire chamber and its contents back to his flat in London, as part of a creepy basement shrine to the princess, with various priceless artifacts (a skull, a cobra statue, being looked after by other members of the expedition. Wouldn't you know it, Fuchs' daughter, Margaret (Valerie Leon) happens to be a dead ringer for the deceased royalty, and it isn't long before she's being haunted by vivid dreams...or are they lost memories?


Yeah, that's it...do the plums next, baby.
Across the street lurks a mysterious gent who spies on the young woman's every move, and rightfully so, as he's Corbeck (James Villiers), another expedition member looking to resurrect the Queen through Egyptian hoodoo rituals, helping her to retrieve each of her artifacts from the other tomb defilers, and leaving in their stead, many a torn out throat. It turns out Fuchs himself is also pushing for the resurrection, but is unaware that the princess may be as evil as legend would have it, putting his lovely, banana-eating daughter in terrible peril, giving her the queen's own ring from her severed hand, complete with a massive red gemstone that today's hip hoppers might even find a bit too gaudy to display (yeah, right). Even her boyfriend, Tod Browning (!) (Mark Edwards) seems uninterested in her colossal cleavage, ever on display, and more in tune with the nefarious Egyptian plans. Does Tera rise from the world of the dead to once again spread terror among London's posh set? Does Tod not see those earth-shattering bobblers or what? Will Margaret survive to peel another banana, or will her ancestor win out in the end? It's all there for you to discover when you see this one for yourselves.


Oof-ah. This guy's just been E-gypped.
Peter Cushing, originally signed to do the picture, but bowed out after one day when his beloved wife was diagnosed with emphysema. I'm sure Ms. Leon delivers some dialog along the way here, to varying levels of effectiveness, it's just that my attention could well have been drawn to her expressive eyes (while taking a picturesque stroll through Bristol City, mind you, guv' ) the whole damned time. Any repeat viewings will probably go the same way, I'm not ashamed to report, much like my experience when I throw some Lindberg on. Italian tunnel vision, I'm afraid. Don't cry for me, I'll make it somehow. Tonight's movie combines some meaty murders, righteous reincarnation, and ancient weird religious rites a' plenty to good genre effect. It's probably a two Wop interpretation of Bram Stoker's less famous novel overall, but I'll add one for Valerie just the same, in the name of red-blooded males/ true feminists everywhere. Any third wavers that wanna chew me out over that particular opinion can find my e-mail addy on the right side of the page, but go easy on the bikini pics. Have a heart.


I'd unwrap this like it was Big Jim's Laser-vette with flip up hood cannons under the X-mas tree.

"Frankenstein Created Woman" (1967) d / Freddie Francis

Tonight's review, a 1967 cult classic as directed by one Freddie Francis, is the fourth in the Frankenstein series for the legendary Hammer Studios, half of a horror double bill with The Mummy's Shroud, and a metaphysically kooky one, at that. Besides the expected Peter Cushing in the lead, reprising his familiar role of Baron Frankenstein, this one also displays the Austrian Playboy Playmate Susan Denberg, dubbed here as the film's producers found her Austrian accent too thick for audiences, and Robert Morris, who'd also appeared in Quartermass and the Pit for the studio the same year. It's a showcase of Francis' ability to turn a disorientated script into an effective slice of gothic horror that may sound a bit like misogynist fantasies acted out for the big screen, but in actuality, stands as an empowering display of beautiful woman in the driver's seat, if by "driver's seat", we really mean "serial murders". Onward!


This imagery takes me back to a certain ultra-cheezy music video from the "Intensities in 10 Cities" album. You know the one...
After a young boy witnesses the public head chop of his criminal father at the guillotine, we see that he's grown into an adult named Hans (Robert Morris), excessively kindhearted for someone that's seen his dear da beheaded, at work as an assistant to Baron Frankenstein (Peter Cushing) and Doctor Hertz (Thorley Walters), and in love with the barkeep's disfigured, crippled daughter, Christina (Susan Denberg), who gets the piss taken out of her quite regularly, by three wealthy deviants named Anton, Karl, and Johan (Peter Bythe, Barry Warren, Derek Fowlds, respectively) who later beat her father to death with canes when he interrupts their late night theft of his wine, and frame Hans for the murder, when he refuses to use his alibi (he was having gimpy in n' out wiff Christina, wudn't he?) and spoil her name. It just so happens, that Frankenstein, having been revived from a cryogenic death-state himself, has invented a soul-trapping apparatus, which he uses on the freshly executed Hans, and when Christina returns to the soul-crushing news and does a suicide flopper into the drink, drowning herself, well, you can see where this is going, can't you?


Harnessing the energy from Madonna's Blonde Ambition stage bra had proved disastrous for these men of science.
If you voted that Frankenstein used his medical knowledge to give a stay of execution to both parties involved, albeit a gruesome one, indeed, then give yourself a banana sticker. While the Baron uses surgery to repair all of Christina's physical flaws, he manages to trap Hans' disembodied soul inside the now beautiful young lady. That's not gonna work out the way you planned it, methinks, unless your plan was "get Hans' vengeful spirit to possess his former love and use her new fleshy wares to trap the three pompous perpetratin' bastards what put them in this metaphysical pickle in the first place". Naturally, Christina systematically snuffs the bastards at the ethereal insistence of her ghostly beau, and Frankenstein and Hertz only manage to piece it all together just as she's cancelling out the last of them for keeps. When the severed head informs her that her vengeful journey has come to an end, against the desperate pleas of Frankenstein, she takes the Nestea plunge into a waterfall, and re-drowns herself, to join her mate in the afterlife. For once, Frankenstein's comeuppance is merely psychological, and he walks away to collect his thoughts, and focus once again, on his work...


Susan Denberg wielding a meat cleaver? Halfway to full mast, with tingly potential.
Denberg would also appear in the "Mudd's Women" episode of Star Trek, which I have seen before, but can't recall whether the actress made an impression on me. I'm sure she did, and I just buried all memories of the poisonous sci-fi in the inner depths of my memory, including those of her. It is what it is, sci-fi dorks, I can't be someone I'm not... Rumors of her flipping her lid on L.S.D. and overdosing in the seventies, would seem to be unsubstantiated, probably. Cushing, as British Horror's elder statesman, would follow this up with Frankenstein Must Be Destroyed (1969), as well as assorted genre fare like Torture Garden (1967), Blood Beast Terror (1968), and Scream and Scream Again (1970). He certainly earned a packet of twenty unfiltered John Player fags, long his favorites, with his performance here. Either way, this is both must-see for film fans, and must own for genre completists, as it has earned an impressive three Wops on the rating scale. Grab a copy!


The Herman's Hermits pop music concert scheduled tonight in the East End, has, regrettably, been cancelled. Health reasons cited.
 

R.I.P. Christopher Lee

 
                         05/27/22 - 06/07/15

"Paranoiac" (1963) d/Freddie Francis

Tonight, we'll examine Freddie Francis' first effort in the director's chair for Hammer Studios, a tightly wrapped psychological thriller starring the always excellent Oliver Reed, as well as Janette Scott of Day of the Triffids (1963) fame. Closer in look and feel to the director's later film, The Elephant Man (1980), than the color-splashed genre romps the studio would come to be known for, Paranoiac wears a shroud of Hitchcock-esque deceit in weaving its potent parable of madness and money around Francis' richly framed black and white shots. They don't make 'em like this any more...


"We're out of brandy, Williams. I should think that you'll order eighty-four more cases immediately..."
We meet the affluent Ashby family as they attend a memorial service at church for their deceased parents, when Eleanor (Janette Scott) is struck with a sudden vision of her dead brother, Tony, who may or may not have committed suicide some eight years prior. Her brother, Simon (Ollie Reed),  is a devil-may-care posh sot, who's taken to driving his E-type Jaguar through the estate's lush flower beds and drunkenly dart-fencing  poofs at the pub, when he isn't downing brandy's and/or Eleanor's busty nurse, Francoise (Liliane Brousse), that is. It seems that Eleanor's grip on reality has been steadily slipping since her brother's untimely demise, so much so, that she even tries to copy him, jumping blindly from a cliff out of misery, only to be saved by...her dead brother, Tony (Alexander Davion)? Well this certainly fucks Simon's chances for an inheritance pay out in three weeks' time, doesn't it?


"The flights on these...I believe they're crooked."
Of course, as is usually the case when dealing with a taut British thriller like this, nothing is as it seems at first glance. Eleanor's condition improves with Tony's arrival, but Aunt Harriet (Sheila Burrell) and Simon aren't at all sold on the man's identity, calling in the family attorney Kossett (Maurice Denham) to test him with family trivia, which he passes with flying colors, thanks to a thorough prepping from Kossett's son, who's been skimming cash from the family funds for quite a while. It's a good thing that he's an impostor, too, as Eleanor seems to have fallen in love with him somewhere along the way, and incest is the kind of scandal that might ruin the family name. His extravagant, drunken lifestyle forever nipping at his heels in the form of debt collectors and magistrates, Simon cuts his returned brother's brake line, nearly removing his recovering sister in the process to narrow down the division of his inheritance, and drowns the nurse when she realizes too late who the real family mental case is. If you didn't know, seeing a mysterious depiction of Oliver Reed on the release poster as you walked into the theater might have tipped it off for you, I dunno, anyway,  it's  Simon. But the shocks don't stop there, no sirree.


"Is that "Summer Holiday" by Cliff Richard and the Shadows? I bloody love that track!"
Scott went on to appear in The Old Dark House (1963) and Crack in the World (1965) while Sheila Burrell who had a long stage career, was Sir Laurence Olivier's cousin, no less. One of my favorite Hammer movies, hands down, and easily just as enjoyable as Christopher Lee leering with fangs displayed, at Veronica Carlson's technicolor tits, or a post-surgery Peter Cushing straining to wipe away brow sweat with a hand doused in bright stage blood. Sure, it's a British Psycho-clone like several others of the era, but one that's been masterfully handled by Francis and his crew, with solid performances from the cast, Reed's being the notable standout, of course, and thus, the sum of those excellent parts is full of enough suspense, mystery, and atmosphere to merit four Wops on the scale. A true classic. See it now.


Would you look at the state of that... Impossible to hire good clean up staff these days, 'innit?

R.I.P. Madeleine Collinson

                      07/22/52-08/14/14

"To The Devil...A Daughter" (1976) d/ Peter Sykes

I dunno about you guys, but I'm suddenly feeling the initial vibes of another theme to focus our critical lens upon here at the Wop, and demonology and witchcraft-themed flicks have always been favorites of mine (obviously), so unless there are any objections,  it's unanimous. Tonight's review, the last horror film out of iconic Hammer Studios for over thirty years, is a very good one, indeed. Permeating director Peter Sykes' frame with a sense of dread and real evil is the regal Christopher Lee, who treats the role of an excommunicated priest-turned-cult-leader with great relish and aplomb, as always, with the likes of Richard Widmark, Denholm Eliott, and a budding Nastassja Kinski along to help realize Christopher Wicking's strong screenplay, adapted from occult specialist Dennis (The Devil Rides Out, et al) Wheatley's novel.


"As you can very well see, I derive a significant amount of pleasure from the worship of Astaroth."
After being excommunicated from the Church for heresy, Father Michael (Christopher Lee) spends the next decades scheming to bring about the physical rebirth of Astaroth using the body of the teenage daughter of a man named Henry Beddows (Denholm Elliott) as the animate vessel through a gruesome matricidal ritual. Beddows recants on his pact with 'ol Scratch by enlisting a popular occult novelist named Verney (Richard Widmark) to protect his child from the former priest and his demonic disciples. Verney deftly stashes Catherine (Nastassja Kinski), who's lived a sheltered existence thus far, as a nun in Germany, at his London flat, with his associates Anna (Honor Blackman) and David (Anthony Valentine) helping to conceal her until he can further research Beddows' predicament. Verney states that ninety-eight percent of so-called Satanists are just sexual deviates seeking out new kinky thrills, but the remaining two percent are very definitely cause for great concern.


"Hold my inverted cross, boys, I'm goin' all the way like The Raspberries!"
Varney soon learns that it's the dreaded other two percent that he's foolishly gotten involved with, as Father Michael oversees the birth of a horrible, misshapen baby demon out of it's mother's abdomen during a wild Satanic orgy, while Catherine eagerly cops to being a willing disciple of Michael's, displaying a gold  pendant of Astaroth upon an inverted cross she was given as a present for her upcoming eighteenth birthday, the desired date for the arrival of the crown prince of Hell. As Varney grills a Bishop for historical background on Father Michael, and browses the very pages of The Grimoire of Astaroth that Father Michael had, twenty-six years earlier, Catherine, under the influence of the sinister ex-priest, shanks a watchful Anna in the neck with a steel comb and escapes to her awaiting sect. Will the author save the girl from the impending forces of darkness? Or will evil triumph in it's climactic battle against good for the ages? Score yourselves a copy and see how it all turns out...


"What's the big idea, peltin' Robert Tessier with tomatoes?!!?"
Despite the silly, floppy, rubber devil-baby (say that six times fast, why don't ya), I'm of the belief that the less in tune critics that wrongfully panned this one back in 1976 were probably shocked by the film's somber tone and heavy erotic vibes, having been lulled by the familiarity of the studio's track record; relying heavily upon burlesque thrills and corny chills to a fault. What they had here was in fact, a legitimate horror movie, an effective companion piece to Hammer's own earlier occultish effort, The Devil Rides Out (1968). Though star Richard Widmark called it the one mistake of his acting career, and even Christopher Lee (who does not provide his own ass in the production, for the record) found at least one sequence to be quite obscene, I found it well worthy of three Wops on the rating scale, and recommend that you hunt down a copy and see for yourselves what I mean.


...and to the Devil's daughter...I dunno, maybe a bikini wax?

"Lust for a Vampire" (1971) d/ Jimmy Sangster

Despite some pretty famous hate from star Ralph Bates, who replaced the elder Peter Cushing, who'd bowed out of the production to tend to his ailing wife, Hammer's last minute swap of directors (Sangster for Terence Fischer), and Mike Raven's laughably dubbed, dollar store Christopher Lee portrayal of Count Karnstein, there's a lot to like about tonight's review, the studio's meaty follow up to The Vampire Lovers(1970), further exploring the ungodly acts and deeds of the Karnstein clan, and showcasing the loverly Yutte Stensgaard, a blonde any red-blooded man'd love to get his fangs into.


"This is one of the worst movies ever made, mate!", scoffs Giles (Ralph Bates).
After seeing a throaty young strumpet provide the red stuff in a sacrificial rite of resurrection, where her blood is poured over the veil-draped skeletal remains of none other than Carmilla Karnstein, we're then introduced to the aptly named Richard leStrange (Michael Johnson),  a writer of lurid horror fiction, who lands himself a cushy gig at a nearby finishing school for girls, just as Countess Arritzen (Barbara Jefford) arrives on the scene, with her blood boilingly beautiful blonde niece, Mircalla (Yutte Stensgaard), in tow. Richard is instantly smitten with the mysterious young girl, as is the dusty headmaster, Giles Barton (Ralph Bates), who seems strangely acceptant when his frolicking young fillies start disappearing, one by one.


That's no stake in my trousers, I'm just glad to see Yutte.
It turns out that Barton is an aspiring student of the Black Arts, and through extensive grimoire research and love-born portrait sketches, he relates to Mircalla that she is, in fact, Carmilla, and pledges his servitude to the ageless predator, even hiding the lifeless body of one of her late night snacks down a well, and ultimately earning a fanged up neck-death for his blind loyalty. Meanwhile, Richard also blindly vows his love and allegiance to the vampire, who lets him dine on her instead of the usual eating arrangements we've grown accustomed to seeing (I'll be humming "Strange Love" the next time I'm performing cunnilingus, for sure). Further complicating matters,  Janet (Suzanna Leigh) the gym teacher has inexplicably fallen in love with Richard, a guy she's barely talked to since he joined the staff. From here, it's bare breasts, bloody neck bites, Bishop-driven lynch mobs, and flaming castle support impalement. Ain't nothing wrong with any of that.


Look, it's Nick Frost, the 1830 variant. Cornetto?
Sadly, Yutte bowed out of the Hammer spotlight after her appearance here, feeling under-appreciated in the genre. Personally, I've always appreciated the Hell out of her small-but-impressive body of work. She'd even make a needlepoint video sexy. Lighter on the on-screen lesbianism than it's predecessor, but heavier with Hammer honeys like Pippa Steel, Lust is packed top to bottom with splashy blood and bursting bosoms, gothic sets you may recall seeing in other movies, like Scars of Dracula(1970), and is a ripper of a time to be had, in general. Twins of Evil (1972), another favorite of mine, came next. If you're on board for a true Hammer terror classic, you won't find it here, for sure, but it's still a classic in my book, exploitatively speaking, and well worthy of three Wops on the rating scale. Next up, I'll be taking center stage over at Theater of Guts to scrutinize some genre material, so you'll definitely want to check that out.


I wasn't down for this particular Count. Like, blah! Blah!

"Rasputin the Mad Monk" (1966) d/ Don Sharp

Christopher Lee hasn't always been a menacing, baritone villain of few words and icy stare, you know. He could portray a menacing baritone romantic lead of few words and icy stare just as effectively, as is the case with tonight's review, a 1966 Hammer release directed by the guy behind such choice eyeball-fodder as Kiss of the Vampire (1963), Curse of the Fly (1965), and The Death Wheelers aka/ Psychomania (1973). If you're on board to see a to-the-letter,  historically accurate portrayal of  the life of the enigmatic Grigori Yefimovich Rasputin, you're better off surfing the nearest library. If the idea of seeing Christopher Lee, free of the stifling confines of Count Dracula's cape,  raucously chugging booze, dancing wildly, and manhandling hypnotized hussies like a mystical monk-mack sounds like a good time to you, then this one's right up your alley.


"Roll your bloody hips for some more vodka, gypsy wench!" says Rasputin (Christopher Lee), charmer.
A Russian innkeeper is told by the local doctor to prepare for the worst concerning his gravely ill wife, who lies unconscious and racked with the number one killer of peasants of the day: "the fever". That is, until a lanky monk barges in, demanding his thirst be slaked immediately. As a means to an end, he lays his hands upon the dying woman and heals her, earning himself a green light on whatever the hell he may want, in the process, i.e. drinks on the house, a roll in the hay with the man's budding young daughter, even if seeing her jealous boyfriend getting his hands lopped off has spoiled her randy mood. After being accused of being little more than a spawn of Satan by the Bishop, Rasputin (Christopher Lee) protests in his own defense that he commits only sins worth forgiving (gotta love this guy!), while boasting that he has always possessed healing powers of unknown origins within his very mitts. After receiving a hot tip from a cart driver, he embarks on a journey to St. Petersburg, with bigger fish to fry, indeed.


"The merest hint of Gucci Flora and I'm compelled to grab your armpit and kidney, immediately."
Inside the city, he easily defeats a failed doctor named Zargo (Richard Pasco) in an epic drinking contest, and imposes himself upon the hapless drunkard, setting up operations in his small apartment. The unwanted guest mesmerizes the Tsarina's lady-in-waiting, Sonia (Barbara Shelley), hypnotizing her into sexual slavery, forcing her to influence the young Tsarvitch to gravely injure himself on the ice outside the palace, setting the stage for Rasputin's own brand of healing theatrics. In the Tsarina's favor for saving young Alexei and drunk with growing riches and power, he boldly gets Zargo's medical credentials reinstated, and demands with a heavy pimp hand that Sonia, with her services no longer necessary, go off and destroy herself, which she willingly does. When Sonia's vengeful brother Peter (Dinsdale Landen) catches a grill full of acid in Zargo's laboratory, it's up to he and Ivan (Francis Matthews) to cut down the blasphemous monk with a trap baited with the promise of Ivan's sister, Vanessa (Suzan Farmer), poisoned candy, and port. I think we all know how smooth that went, when all was said and done...


"Give Davey the microphone, Peter. None of your tunes make me feel groovy in the least."
Barbara Shelley, who'd appeared in Blood of the Vampire back in 1958, would share the screen again with Lee in Hammer's Dracula: Prince of Darkness (filmed back-to-back with Rasputin the same year). Her list of genre credits is both lengthy and impressive: The Gorgon(1964), Village of the Damned (1960), Five Million Years to Earth (1967), and Ghost Story (1974), just to name a few others. Interestingly, Rasputin's own daughter noted to Christopher Lee that he shared her father's expression. I dunno, Rasputin always resembled an bedraggled Rene Auberjonois with a joke beard, to me. Given the rare opportunity to do more than hiss or glare at  frightened girls in their nightgowns , Lee takes full advantage here, zealously dominating every frame he's in, and filling it with entertainingly animated scene-chewing dramatics of the highest order. Whether you're a Hammer fan or a Lee completist, you'll want to see this romp for yourselves. Three wops. Recommended.


"Do I look comfortable down here on the floor? Well, I'm bloody not!"