"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?

"Wild For Kicks" (1960) d/ Edmond T. Greville

We'll see June off with a real vintage rebellious youth scorcher from the Brits, full of hep cats with acoustic guitars, chicken on the railroad tracks, "Hogs of the Road", and jazzy now birds who striptease for kicks. Many people have tried to finger the cause of the vein of delinquency rampant in the youth of the era, and the subsequent rise of subcultures like the Teds, Mods, Skins, Punks, etc. but maybe living for the moment, to the fullest, testing one's boundaries, reveling in the thrills, doesn't require investigation at all, since it's just the nature of the beast in question. But it sure makes for great exploitation fare, like tonight's movie...


See! Plaid Shirt (Ollie Reed) go over and out, Dad.
Besides being a few letters away from being a flamboyant Hollywood Square, Paul Linden (David Farrar) is a retired British architect returning home to his sixteen year old daughter Jennifer (Gillian Hills), with his new French trophy bride, Nichole (Noelle Adam) in tow. Jenny is not much for bonding with her young stepmother, and would much rather sneak her ass out to the local coffee house, and surround herself with the  kick-craving "In Crowd" of beatniks who think drinking and fighting is for squares, as led by Dave (Adam Faith), who lugs around a guitar he doesn't play and often interrupts the house band, breaking into lip synched pop tunes that are waaay out there, Dad. Plaid Shirt (Ollie Reed) suppresses (barely...as he desperately dives across a floor for a bottle of gin, only to get scolded by the straight-edgers) his desire to get knackered in keeping with the beatnik code and dances like one of those inflatable sky dancers you see flailing around outside used car dealerships, while Dodo (Shirley Anne Field) slings catch phrases of the day in a posh accent and doesn't mind a good necking party. Nichole, who's already familiar with the beat scene from her time in happening Paris, tries to bond with her stepdaughter, who, in the spirit of teenage rebellion, declares an all-out smear war on the well-meaning blonde.


I say, ra-ther good show getting out of that restrictive clobber and putting your exotic naughties on display, eh wot?
When Nichole shows up at the aptly-named Off Beat Cafe' and embarrasses Jennifer in front of her bohemian peers, she is recognized by an old washed-up-on-the-beach stripper named Greta (Delphi Lawrence, uncredited), leading the little bitch to investigate Nichole's seedy past at the near by gentlemen's club, as run by Greta's unscrupulous flesh peddling beau, Kenny (Christopher Lee). Armed with the knowledge that her loving stepmother may have turned a trick or two in the rough spots, Jennifer goes jihad for kicks, partying in caves, racing in the dark on rear projected country roads that are under construction, laying her head on the rear projected railroad tracks with a train approaching, holding a striptease party in her sprawling estate, and even returning to the strip joint for an employment consultation with Kenny, who unforgettably exclaims, "Someone down there likes me!". If he's willing to allow a sixteen year old to enter his adult business in the first place, how far is this touchy feely chicken hawk willing to go? You'll find out when you sit down to screen Wild for Kicks for yourselves. I'm over and out, dad.


"Cor, I've left me shift in Bristol!"
Gillian Hills, who also appeared in Antonioni's Blow Up (1966), you'll recall as one of the penis-pop-lapping devotchkas that Alex encounters while browsing music in A Clockwork Orange (1971). Adam Faith, who does provide two of his bubblegum tunes for the soundtrack (Field also sings "It's Legal"),  would turn up as the lead in 1971's short-lived Budgie series, and later in McVicar (1980) with Roger Daltrey of The Who. Farrar would give up acting just two years later. Diane D'Orsay and Pascaline also deserve mention for some choice on camera clothes-losing, sizzlingly sexy and provocative for their day, I'm sure. Overall, you won't do wrong to check this one out, with its wall-to-wall laugh out loud dialog, outrageous dance moves, and enticing eye candy. Three wops, among the best of its rabble-rousing kind. Recommended.


"Pack your bags, my child. I've got two tickets to Inappropriate-ville right here.", coos Kenny (Christopher Lee).

"Blueblood" (1973) d/ Andrew Sinclair

The first time I saw Ollie Reed, in Ken Russell's Tommy (1975), I didn't like him. Looking back, it was probably his greasy Teddy Boy haircut combined with his awful singing in the movie that put me off, but over time, I earned great respect for the man's approach to acting, partying, and life, in general. Tonight's review, a gothic tale of witchcraft and horror set in extravagant Longleat House, country seat of the Marquis of Bath (who co-wrote the often clever script),  is a great example of Reed, from frivolous to sinister in record time and back again, all the while affecting an accent that is as hilarious as it is unintelligible. Sharing the lens with Ollie are the likes of Emperor Cl-Cl-Claudius himself, Sir Derek Jacobi, the ever-scrumptious Fiona Lewis, and Anna Gael (who's also the wife of the aforementioned Marquis).


"Aristocrat or not, I've a lot of balls for wearing a coat like this."
Beate (Meg Wynn Owen) is a frumpy, traditional German nanny, the latest to be employed by foppishly decadent aristocrat, Gregory (Derek Jacobi), whose predatory wife, Lily (Fiona Lewis), is often elsewhere on singing gigs, and whose looming butler, Tom (Oliver Reed), is a subject of growing unease and mistrust for the new nanny. Her two young charges being the result of Gregory's efforts to provide a male heir to inherit the sprawling estate, with a private section cordoned off for the family, and a public one that includes a drive thru wildlife park(!) for the constant influx of gawking tourists, Beate soon finds her dreams have gone all witchy with a red tint, and Tom as centerpiece, decked out in red cloth, dramatically palming a sacrificial dagger, and so on.


"Lighten up, Ilsa. 'Ave a bang of this Moony Kush."
The nanny finds that her cautionary chat with her employer is for naught, as he's no more concerned with his children's welfare than he is with his own deviant perversions or growing dependence upon his equally deviant manservant, who has taken control of the estate and all within it through his late night, red-colored voodoo. While Gregory carelessly parties away upstairs with a gaggle of upper-class twits, Tom follows suit with the staff, drinking booze and blowing jibbers, doing pretty much whatever (and whoever) he bloody well pleases, even slapping a stifling headlock on his fey boss in front of his mistress (Anna Gael) with no repercussions to fear. It all ends badly for the spineless aristocrats, as the male heir eats a sacrificial shiv and Gregory is no less deceased himself, and all with Tom gloating over the spoils, with an obedient Lily by his side.


'Cor, Fioner. You're giving me a...great deal of pleasure while admiring this screen cap.
The film sat for two years before opening to few theaters and fewer positive reviews in 1975, but that's not a deserving epitaph for such a movie, I think. If you're a fan of Reed and Jacobi, both of whom are excellent here, or just enjoy well-crafted British horror, and you haven't caught this one yet, do so immediately. Novelist/Director Sinclair, who also wrote an episode of Hammer House of Mystery and Suspense, aptly blends elements of anxiety and comedy into an entertaining visual romp full of sex, blood, drugs, and magic; all the necessary ingredients to earn this particular witches brew an impressive score of three Wops on the rating scale. Recommended.


"I'll only take a ceremonial dagger-stirred Bloody Mary, y'know..."

" The Devils" (1971) d/ Ken Russell

Before the inevitable influx of knee jerk religious zealotry comes raining down on this post, I've scheduled some flagellation in my personal fornicatory at the hands of twin raven-haired Wop-ettes in nun costumes for myself, having allowed such a blasphemous and incendiary piece of cinematic filth to slither it's evil way among my list of all-time favorite movies. Yea, though I greatly admire the powerful visual style of directorial conspirator, Ken Russell, who also hath writ the screenplay ( based upon the Aldous Huxley novel, The Devils of Loudon),  I shall also give thanks and praise to the dramatic contributions of those actors who would bring these shocking images to light, specifically Oliver Reed, though Michael Gothard, Dudley Sutton, Gemma Jones, and a hunchbacked Vanessa Redgrave all compliment Reed in supporting roles here. Riveting, disturbing stuff whose punch has lost very little, if any, potency, despite the passing of forty-plus years and countless censor's cuts, though one should pay heed to the poster's warning, as this is definitely not a film for every one...


I had a hunch that Sister Jeanne (Vanessa Redgrave) would be back...
The time is the seventeenth century, the place is France. At one of King Louis XIII's less masculine get together's, Cardinal Richelieu is buzzing about uppity protestants, suggesting the country's city fortifications all be torn down, to which the monarch agrees, excluding the town of Loudon, of course, as he had made a promise not to do such a thing, to it's governor, in the past. Only the governor has since turned his toes up, leaving the city's control in the hands of Urbain Grandier(Reed), a priest who's as insatiable for political power as he is for snug cunny, as evidenced by the number of Loudon women who daydream about receiving the holy in-out from him (even hunchbacked women of the cloth like Sister Jeanne(Redgrave) wouldn't mind drying his feet after a lengthy water walk with their scarlet tresses), and the growing number of rival priest's daughters suddenly pregnant at his doing is nothing to sneeze at, either.


"Take this spear wound, all of you, and lick obscenely at it, as though it were a vagina.", whispers dream-Jesus(Ollie Reed).
When an elitist Baron's (Sutton) attempt to carry out orders to bring down Loudon's walls are thwarted by a steadfast Grandier, backed by the city's army, he joins forces with Father Mignon (Murray Melvin), whose pregnant daughter has been rejected by Grandier. Meanwhile, Grandier has secretly married another woman (Jones), the news of which bodes ill upon the fragile psyche of Sister Jeanne, who implicates the priest in all manner of blasphemous charges to Mignon und Baron, who, in turn, enlists the services of a lanky drink of water inquisitor named Father Barre (Gothard) to get to the bottom of it all, even if it means pumping foul enemas up the asses of every nun at the convent in doing so.The King shows up in disguise during an exorcism, claiming to have a relic containing the blood of Christ to use in the cleansing spiritual rite, but after Barre appears to have used it successfully to clear the sisters of demons, the monarch flips it open to reveal it was empty in the first place. Good one, Louie. The still-"possessed" sisters pull the crucified statue of Christ from the wall and rape it in every conceivable manner, to celebrate. Grandier and his wife return just in time to catch the party, and are subsequently taken into custody by the Baron's soldiers. All that follows, you should really experience for yourselves.


Q: How many of these women are committing blasphemy? A: Nun.
Religious faith is a funny thing. Some people are content to believe what they believe and carry on their lives in a relatively normal fashion, while some treat their faith as an elitist badge of authority over others who don't share them, and some commit unspeakable crimes against their fellow man within the protective umbrella of their religious teachings. Who's wrong? Who's right? Let 'em scrap it out among themselves until the end of time if it's so important to them to find out what's waiting for them after they're gone. I'm more focused on enjoying the finer things in what life I've got left to live, with the people I care about, that care about me. I think if everybody gave that a shot,  we might be alright, after all. But we're just humans, hahaha. So we won't. I'd be more worried that you didn't give The Devils a shot, though, as it really is an extraordinary film, worth all the discourse and analysis one could possibly invest in it, and then some. Once you have, let me know what you think. Obviously, four wops.


"Is it too late to pass on martyrdom for the five quid and what's behind curtain number two?"

"Spasms" (1983) d/ William Fruet

For a genre nut like ol' Woppo, tonight's review first reared it's ugly head to me upon the grisly cover of Fangoria #28, with meaty gore effects by the master himself, Dick Smith. Having missed the theatrical run for whatever reason, I must've trolled the new release shelves of every video store in the valley for months before the clam shell Thorn-EMI VHS finally turned up...Oh, there will be spasms, as promised by the 1983 Fruet effort's ad campaign, but not as brought on by the potent neurotoxins of snake venom,  but instead catalyzed by the poisonous effect of a laughingly bogus screenplay as penned by Don Enright upon the viewer's sanity, compounded by a gimpy lead performance out of cult icon Oliver Reed, who inaudibly hisses most of his lines below whisper-level, and an even more shambling supportive effort from grindhouse vet Peter Fonda, who phones it in here, with missed marks and wooden deliveries a' plenty.


"Hey Mr. Bubble, the way you tickle my vadge almost makes the UTI worth it!"
After a hokey-looking magic ritual around a bonfire, some ornately decorated abbo's are chased around by a tinted crane shot, (which we later find out is really the guardian to the gates of hell...ahem) we see some poachers capture a whole lotta nothing in their massive nets (translation: aforementioned shnakety-shnake) to be transported to the San Diego (translation: Toronto) estate of millionaire hunter and whisperer extraordinaire, Jason Kincaid (Reed), whose brother was killed by the reptile on a hunt years earlier. Kincaid was also bitten by the snake, but instead of dying from the venom, now shares a psychic link with the monster, seeing through it's eyes every time some curious jackass opens the refrigerated container the snake is being transported in, and eats fang-driven death, in the process. Kincaid enlists the services of one ridiculously named Dr. Brazilian (Fonda), a psychologist who agrees to study the strange phenomenon but quickly blames it all on the millionaire the second that plans go awry.


"Sod all this deadly envenomatin' for a lark, Ollie, let's fuck off for a pint a'!"
Unknown to Kincaid and company, the snake is also highly coveted by the local sect of snake-worshipping Satanists(!), who are planning to steal the creature away at first opportunity. And when the container finally reaches the university, the cultists deftly snatch it under the cover of darkness, or rather simply open it up, freeing the snake to terrorize the campus with tinted snake POV-ferocity. Oops. After loosing Hell's fury upon the unsuspecting populace,  including the obligatory sorority house where foxy blondes may or may not be in the shower, the Satanists inexplicably disappear altogether from the film, leaving Brazilian and Kincaid to witness the boil-producing bladder effect aftermath of the snake's violence and face the damned thing on their own, using the hobbled hunter's mental link with it to track it down and end it's reign of latex terror. There you have it.


...And finally, monsieur Creosote, a wafer-thin mint.
The soundtrack was provided by Tangerine Dream and this guy. I've heard everything from script revision to production funds running out before filming wrapped, as to the reason why this one stinks like a fart party fulla bean eaters. Either way, that sentence should well have provided you with the three main words you ought to have taken away from this summary: This, one, and stinks. One wop.


"Psssshpsssssshpsssssssh.", whispers Jason Kincaid (Oliver Reed).
 

"Burnt Offerings"(1976)d/Dan Curtis

Get into your pajamas,kids,mom is popping up some Jiffy Pop.Pull up a spot on the big rug in front of the wood grain Zenith floor model television,and stop putting the Slime with Worms on your sister.The way back machine stops in 1976 tonight,and the focus is on yet another classic piece of horror by the late master,Dan Curtis.He may be remembered best for "Dark Shadows",but to sleep on his dizzying seven year horror run from 1968-'75 is criminal,and punishable here at the Wop with headphones blaring Oliver Reed's musical numbers from "Tommy" on repeat,duct taped to your domepiece until you lose your bearings,your mind,or both.Regulars here know full well the degree to which I dig all things Curtis,and tonight's offering to the gods of cinema is one of the finest examples.Winner of three Saturn Awards in 1977(Best Horror Film,Best Director,and Best Supporting Actress for iconic Bette Davis),and three more at Sitges(Best Director,Best Actor and Actress for Reed and Black,respectively),Offerings is a classic haunted house story,based on the 1973 novel of the same name,its memorable shocker ending,standard issue for most Curtis vehicles,usually comes to mind first for those who recall seeing this one,way back when.

Aunt Elizabeth(Bette Davis)opens wide to eat backbone-cracking,hallucinatory sliding coffin death.Ben(Oliver Reed),on the other hand,isn't as hungry.
The Rolfs(Black,Reed)inquire about renting a spacious Victorian mansion from the Allardyce siblings(Eileen Heckart,Burgess Meredith) for the summer.For nine hundred dollars the palatial estate is theirs,but for a few bizarre requests:they must care for the pair's mother,a reclusive old woman perpetually locked away in her room upstairs,and they must promise to love the house.Patriarch Ben is reluctant to enter into the strange agreement at first,but is soon talked into it by his wife Marian.The couple then moves in with their young son David and Ben's eldery aunt Elizabeth(Davis)in tow,a plethora of upkeep and restorative chores ahead of them.Marian is instantaneously enamored with the antique decor of the living room directly outside Mrs. Allardyce's locked bedroom,a table full of dusty framed pictures of people from varying time periods and quaint music box first on her checklist.Ben and his boy quickly get the inground pool back up to specs,but when they take a celebratory swim together,he's suddenly overwhelmed by the urge to hurt the child,violently roughhousing and holding him underwater as his aunt looks on helplessly in terror.Meanwhile,his wife spends more and more time upstairs outside the locked bedroom,tirelessly polishing pictures,and even dressing in Victorian era clothes,all while resisting her husband's late night amorous advances.Things get progressively worse as Ben is recurringly haunted by visions of a childhood funeral and uber-creepy pale,grinning hearse driver.Then,one night he is forced to break into David's room to find his son unconscious while gas dangerously leaks out into his room while the windows are jarred shut,which Marian later blames on Aunt Elizabeth and her increasing forgetfulness.The old woman,heartbroken by the accusations,sinks into a state of depressive illness,which kills her right under her nephew's nose,as he's too busy having nightmarish visions of his hearse driver slamming an empty coffin into his aunt's bed.

Marian(Karen Black)morphs into Mother Allardyce,who isn't very nice.
After Elizabeth's funeral,Ben is convinced the house is somehow responsible for the recent accidents and his aunt's death,but his wife refuses to leave,regardless of his theories.He even bears witness to the estate shedding old siding and roof tiles,and repairing itself(!),which proves too much for the man to take.When he tries to drive off the property with his hysterical son riding shotgun,the surrounding foliage physically stops his car and entwines itself around the man.During his escape attempt his injuries leave him in a state of catatonia,only snapping out of it as the pool comes to life and vast,crashing waves attempt to drown his son.After Marian sees the pool's murderous intent,she dives in and saves her boy's life,finally vowing to leave the bizarre property with her family while they're still breathing.As they're about to drive off,she stops to go back and tell Mrs. Allardyce goodbye and where the old woman can reach her after they've gone.Ben,impatient from waiting in the car with his son,goes inside afterward to find his wife,who has taken on the personna of Mrs. Allardyce upstairs in the locekd room,and throws her husband out one of the windows where he faceplants through the car windshield.David tries to flee the car himself,but is crushed to death by a crumbling chimney.The Allardyce siblings return to the estate,remarking of its restored beauty,and their mother's return.On the old woman's table upstairs,photos of Ben,Elizabeth,and David have joined all the others in her collection...

I hear that In and Out Auto Glass in Oakland does nice work.
Stephen King admits drawing heavy inspiration for his own "The Shining" from this book/movie,and it's pretty hard not to notice,revisiting it for the first time myself in decades recently.Curtis changed the ending from the novel to include the spectacular windshield faceplant and chimney avalanche,but stayed pretty faithful to the Bob Morasco book otherwise.The ten time Oscar nominated Dame Bette complained of trouble on the set with Karen Black not paying her the respect she deserved.Better act like you know,Karen-baby.If you can score yourself a copy of this little dittie,by all means,do it with all speed.If you're into unsettling haunted house-based horror,Curtis' take on the supernatural subject matter will quickly vault itself to the top of your favorites list.Overall,a satisfyingly solid effort packed with scares,that merits a Wop scale rating of:

Hey,"The Shining",are you feeling inspired yet?

Curse of the Werewolf(1961)d/Terence Fisher

I know,I know.Let's see YOU manage to juggle payin' dues,swilling booze,writing rad reviews,and still find time to schmooze with the local cooze!Thought so.What we have here is THE classic(and surprisingly also the ONLY)Hammer werewolf flick.Journeyman actor Oliver Reed terrified little blighters everywhere with Roy Ashton's unusual bang up lycanthropic makeup job in this film based on the novel "Werewolf of Paris" by Guy Endore,not to be mistaken for the atrocious skinheads-turned-werewolves-to-eat-unwanted-foreigners sequel to Landis' '81 classic.Fisher blends a bit of the old(Universal's "The Wolfman") with a bit of new(previously unseen grue) to create a likable film that stands up to repeated viewings.Definitely one of my top five werewolf pics of all time.

The dirty stumblebum acts the fool for the powdered bourgeoisse.
After a beggar shows up at the Marques' doorstep looking for food and shelter,only to be ridiculed by the upper crust as after-dinner entertainment then cast into the dungeon to be forgotten,the prisoner scores himself a piece of mute servant girl trim when she lets her pity foolishly drop her guard momentarily.Nine months later on Christmas(!) she dies giving birth to Leon,who is taken care of by Spanish do-gooder Don Alfredo(not to be confused with the scrumptious Italian pasta sauce).While taking the boy hunting,Leon's innocence gets the best of him,kissing a bloody bird brought down on the hunt,perhaps leading to his first transformation into a snarling half boy-half beast,but while on the prowl the boy gets winged by a rifle.Alfredo,seeing the boy's wounds,realizes he has been cursed by the full moon and takes the necessary precautionary measures to avoid him harming himself and/or others,locking him in a bar-laden bedroom on nights he is due to transform.

Do ya think it's alriiiight,to leave Leon(Oliver Reed) in the moonliiiight...
Leon spends the next ten years growing into a strapping young man,eventually gaining employment in a wine cellar,and falling in love with the owner's daughter,Cristina.A priest offers a temporary defense for his lunar attacks in that so long as he spends the full moon with his true love,he will not change into a werewolf.So far,so good.One night during the lunar cycle while his employer has his beautiful daughter under wraps,Leon goes aggro,transforms into the beast,killing several townspeople,tearing out throats and pouncing on anyone who gets close enough,before being trapped by an angry mob of torch-wielding citizens,and climbing a belltower for refuge.Frankenstein-ish,eh?His surrogate father squares off against him in the tower,finally putting an end to the terror with a well-placed silver bullet.He lives like a man,but dies like a dog,with tears in his eyes.Tragedy thy name is Leon!

Grrrrrrrr.That about sums this one up.
As I said earlier,one of my all-time fave ferocious furry feller flicks.Hammer certainly opted for style and substance here,as they often did in the early days of the studio's horror period,and the end result is a true fan-pleaser across the board.Reed does well as the tragic hero,avoids singing altogether,like he should have in Ken Russell's "Tommy"(1975),and sells the were-action with the best of 'em.His screen presence is sorely missed today.Anthony Dawson,who plays the snooty Marques went on to play a memorable assassin in Bond film,Dr No,and one of his uncredited servants,Desmond Llewellyn,went on to play Bond gadget man Q!Fancy that.This classic gets the top wopsploitation score of:

Oi!Leave out awl dat fecking noise down there,would you please?