British horror legend Michael Gough dies at 94

The British actor Michael Gough has passed away at the age of 94.

The star of countless horror films was at his wild-eyebrowed best as over-the-top villains such as the sadistic crime writer Edmond Bancroft in Horrors of the Black Museum (1960) and the scheming impresario Lord Ambrose D'Arcy in the Hammer film The Phantom of the Opera (1962). He was a ham, but we loved him.

Among his other notable horror films were The Horror of Dracula (1958), Konga (1961), Dr Terror's House of Horrors (1965) and The Skull (1965). No doubt Gough's status as a cult icon in the horror genre led to Tim Burton's decision to cast him as butler Alfred in Batman (1989), a role he reprised in three sequels and on BBC radio.

Outside horror, his movie credits included The Man in the White Suit (1951), Ill Met by Moonlight (1957), Out of Africa (1985), Let Him Have It (1991) and Alice in Wonderland (2010).

Adieu and RIP, Michael Gough (1916-2011).

Bah, Gremlins!

I've been busy writing in a few different venues lately and, as it's the Christmas season, I've written a couple reviews of my favourite festive films.

First is Scrooge (1970). It's usually the first movie I get around to when December hits, and I still feel rather warm and fuzzy when the titles begin and I remember my first glimpse of the movie, back when I was a wee lad of five or six. Read the review here: Scrooge (1970): Film Review. I also penned a related piece, Who Was the Best Scrooge?, in which I review a handful of different actors in the role, including Alastair Sim (of course), Michael Hordern and Seymour Hicks. And lovers of linguistic trivia may find this article interesting: What Does 'Bah, Humbug!' Mean?

The second seasonal film is Gremlins (1984), which has a fun mix of holiday nostalgia, dark comedy and monster mayhem. Read the review here: Gremlins (1984): Movie Review.

Hammer horror star Ingrid Pitt dies at 73

Ingrid Pitt, the Polish-born actress best-known for a string of horror films in the early '70s, has passed away at the age of 73.

Pitt's earliest screen appearances were bit parts in films such as Doctor Zhivago (1965, uncredited) and Where Eagles Dare (1968, as Heidi), but she was to find international stardom in the Hammer movies The Vampire Lovers (1970, as Sheridan Le Fanu's vampiress Carmilla) and Countess Dracula (1971, as Hungarian murderess Elisabeth Bathory). Although she only appeared in three films for the studio--one of which was the 2008 online video Beyond the Rave--her name became synonymous with Hammer horror.

She also starred as a vampire in the Amicus anthology The House That Dripped Blood (1970), had a cameo in the classic The Wicker Man (1973), alongside Christopher Lee, and appeared in several episodes of the BBC sci-fi series Doctor Who.

Pitt was a fan favourite at horror conventions worldwide.

Hammer stalwart Roy Ward Baker, who directed Pitt in The Vampire Lovers, passed away earlier this year, aged 93.

Roy Ward Baker dies at 93

Roy Ward Baker, the British film director who sunk the Titanic and sent Quatermass down the pit, has died at the age of 93.

Baker, credited early on in his career simply as Roy Baker, counted The October Man (1947) and A Night to Remember (1958) among his first successes. Before that, he was second assistant director on the Will Hay comedy Oh, Mr Porter! (1937) and first on the Hitchcock thriller The Lady Vanishes (1938).

In the 1960s and 1970s, Baker made a name for himself directed horror, fantasy and science-fiction, including the Hammer horrors Quatermass and the Pit (1967), The Vampire Lovers (1970), The Scars of Dracula (1970), Dr Jekyll and Sister Hyde (1971) and the entertaining kung-fu crossover The Legend of the Seven Golden Vampires (1974). For Hammer's rival, Amicus, he shot And Now the Screaming Starts! (1973), as well as the anthologies Asylum (1972), Vault of Horror (1973) and The Monster Club (1980).

He was a talented director whose knack for suspense and horror technique could also be his downfall. Dr Jekyll and Sister Hyde has some truly memorable moments, but Baker's skill is almost too showy at times. Quatermass and the Pit stands out as one of Hammer's all-time most tense and riveting movies, however. The Scars of Dracula stands out as one of the studio's most embarrassingly bad pictures, while the same year's The Vampire Lovers pleasingly echoes Hammer's very best Gothic style.

Roy Ward Baker, who was born in 1916, in London, passed away on Tuesday, October 5, 2010.

St Catharines Movies

St Catharines, Ontario, of which I am proud to be a resident, has a classic line-up of Halloween films in store this year.

Starting on Thursday October 7, there will be free movies at Market Square (King St/Church St/James St), with a double bill of horror films

each week until Halloween:

October 7

7pm Halloweentown 1998 Disney film starring Debbie Reynolds

9pm: The Lost Boys 1987 vampire comedy starring the late Corey Haim, Keifer Sutherland, Jason Patric and Corey Feldman

October 14

7pm Bedknobs and Broomsticks 1971 Disney musical comedy starring Angela Lansbury and David Tomlinson (irrestible family fun)

9pm The Evil Dead 1981 camp cult horror with Bruce Campbell

October 21

7pm Practical Magic 1998 family comedy horror starring Sandra Bullock and Nicole Kidman

9pm Halloween Seminal 1978 slasher directed by John Carpenter and starring Jamie Lee Curtis and Donald Pleasance

October 28

7pm Monster Squad 1987 horror comedy featuring all the monster favourites, including Dracula and Frankenstein

9.30pm The Rocky Horror Picture Show Ultra-camp 1975 musical starring Tim Curry and Susan Sarandon

Entry to all movies is free--all you need to bring is something to sit on. More information here.

As a fan of the old classics, I am excited about Chorus Niagara's special screening of the Lon Chaney/Universal horror The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1923) on Friday and Saturday November 5 and 6 (7.30pm, St Thomas's Anglican Church, 99 Ontario St). Tickets are a steep $35, but the film will be accompanied by a live choral soundtrack. More info here.

2010 film journal

This is a regularly updated list of films I have watched in 2010.

Imitation of Life (Douglas Sirk, 1959). One of Sirk's most in-your-face films, packed with emotion, but very effective and with moving performances by Lana Turner and Juanita Moore.

Shoot 'Em Up (Michael Davis, 2007). Entertaining and absurdly over-the-top pastiche of the action genre, with wall-to-wall gun fights and lots of humour.

The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers/The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King (Peter Jackson, 2002, 2003). The second two films in the trilogy are better-paced and more exciting than the first film, with quite the best effects I've seen in a feature film.

The Man Who Could Cheat Death (Terence Fisher, 1959). Not terrible, but certainly one of Fisher's most under-realized efforts for Hammer, filmed rather conventionally.

Juggernaut (Richard Lester, 1974). Disaster thriller with an array of intriguingly sketched minor characters and a keen sense glimpse of the '70s British social context, alongside a suspenseful plot.

The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring (Peter Jackson, 2001). Lush-looking fantasy adventure based on Tolkein, but I must admit I still don't get the hype.

Baisers volés, aka Stolen Kisses (Francois Truffaut, 1968). Parisian anti-hero Antoine Doinel is now in his twenties and still running from life in this erratic comedy-drama.

Never Take Sweets from a Stranger, aka Never Take Candy from a Stranger (Cyril Frankel, 1959). Gritty Hammer thriller about child molestation, fairly straightforwardly done for the most part, but with one of the studio's most memorably sinister monsters in Felix Aylmer's Clarence Olderberry.

Antoine et Colette (Francois Truffaut, 1960). Charming short film continuing the exploits of Antoine Doinel from the director's earlier Les 400 coups.

Tombstone (George P Cosmatos, 1993). Generally very good reworking of the Earp-Holliday story, although the ending is anticlimactic and unnecessarily sentimental.

The Reptile (John Gilling, 1966). Sharp, atmospheric Hammer horror based on an original story, and containing all the cherished Hammer ingredients.

The Full Treatment, aka Stop Me Before I Kill! (Val Guest, 1960). Psychological thriller that has some effective moments, but is generally too talky and 25 minutes too long.

The Two Faces of Dr Jekyll (Terence Fisher, 1959). Hammer's take on the Jekyll-Hyde story; imperfect, but intelligently scripted, and intriguingly visualized.

The Hangover (Todd Phillips, 2009). Highly dumb, but also very funny comedy about a stag trip to Vegas that goes horribly wrong.

House on Haunted Hill (William Castle, 1959). Ridiculous, yet entertaining horror, but well done for what it is.

The Trouble with Harry (Alfred Hitchcock, 1955). Wonderfully ironic, almost whimsically executed black comedy, filmed beautifully in autumnal Vermont and with one of Bernard Herrmann's greatest scores.

Rear Window (Alfred Hitchcock, 1954). No less perfect than one expects from the Master of Suspense.

To the Devil a Daughter (Peter Sykes, 1976). Rather plodding horror spectacle, but with a few points of interest, including highly original scoring by Paul Glass. Until recently, this was the last horror film to be made by Hammer.

The Karate Kid (John G Avildsen, 1984). Eighties hit that still holds up surprisingly well.

The 3 Worlds of Gulliver (Jack Sher, 1960). Though lagging at times, this fantasy holds a lot of charm, and is supported by a particularly strong, witty Bernard Herrmann score.

The Flight of the Phoenix (Robert Aldrich, 1965). Subversive drama helped by strong characterization and an excellent ensemble cast.

Equilibrium (Kurt Wimmer, 2002). Essentially a variation on Fahrenheit 451. Despite the plot lacking consistency, and the action being silly and out-of-place, overall this emerges as a moving, involving futuristic drama.

The Omen (Clive Donner, 1976). Supernatural chiller that ranks among the scariest films of all time.

The Royal Tenenbaums (Wes Anderson, 2001). Tightly crafted comic drama filmed with poignancy.

The Plague of the Zombies (John Gilling, 1966). Atmospheric Hammer horror with a particularly fine cast headed by Andre Morell and John Carson.

Dawn of the Dead (George Romero, 1978). The best of Romero's zombie films, and one of the most memorable in the genre.

Carry on up the Khyber (Gerald Thomas, 1968). A rare Carry On film that takes the series to an entirely different level of wit and hilarity.

Carry on Behind (Gerald Thomas, 1974). Amusing entry in the Carry On series, and certainly one of the better of the later films.

Rasputin, the Mad Monk (Don Sharp, 1965). Christopher Lee delivers one of his most memorable performances in this enjoyable piece of pseudo-historical hokum from Hammer.

Black Dynamite (Scott Sanders, 2009). Smart, hilarious spoof of the '70s blaxploitation genre, looking impressively authentic.

Bottle Rocket (Wes Anderson, 1997). A pleasing mixture of gentle, quirky comedy and warm humanity that quickly became the director's brand following this solid debut.

The Far Country (Anthony Mann, 1954). Another compelling psychological western from director Mann and star James Stewart, excellently handled and stunningly shot as expected from their collaborations.

Gunfight at the OK Corral (John Sturges, 1957). Elegant retelling of the Wyatt Earp-Doc Holliday story (second only to My Darling Clementine), with a firm emphasis on the friendship, nicely portrayed by Burt Lancaster and Kirk Douglas.

Capturing the Friedmans (Andrew Jarecki, 2003). Disturbing, complex documentary about the family of a Long Island teacher accused of sexual abuse.

Children of Men (Alfonso Cuaran, 2007). Absorbing, brilliantly designed apocalyptic drama with a sterling cast in Clive Owen, Michael Caine, Julianne Moore and Pam Ferris.

Man of the West (Anthony Mann, 1958). Psychologically compelling western, despite Gary Cooper and Lee J Cobb being too old and too young for their roles, respectively.

The Crow (Alex Proyas, 1994). Fair revenge, comic-book style action, occasionally too sentimental.

The Damned (Joseph Losey, 1963). Gritty Hammer sci-fi with good location shooting, a mostly strong cast and an intelligent script.

The Man from Laramie (Anthony Mann, 1955). Engaging psychological western with strong performances from James Stewart and Donald Crisp.

Kill Bill: Volume I (Quentin Tarantino, 2003). Fabulously executed action movie with brilliantly stylized violence and a darkly comic tone.

The Ring (Gore Verbinski, 2002). Well-made and fairly spooky supernatural chiller.

Silent Hill (Christophe Gans, 2006). Banal horror film, all style and little substance.

Maniac (Michael Carreras, 1963). Disappointing thriller from a brilliant producer who never quite got the hang of direction.

The Snorkel (Guy Green, 1958). Hammer suspense film that has some very effective moments, although a few opportunities are missed.

Cash on Demand (Quentin Lawrence, 1961). Tense, small-scale Hammer thriller with good characterization and excellent performances from Peter Cushing, Andre Morell and Richard Vernon.

Dracula Has Risen from the Grave (Freddie Francis, 1968). Reasonable addition to Hammer's Dracula series that looks fantastic, even if it lacks the sophistication Terence Fisher brought to the subject.

Dracula, Prince of Darkness (Terence Fisher, 1965). A fine piece from Hammer Films, with a particularly haunting and atmospheric first half.

Les quatre cents coups (Francois Truffaut, 1959). Involving drama of a delinquent's stifled upbringing in Paris. It captures its location and era memorably.

Only Angels Have Wings (Howard Hawks, 1939). Warm, but down-to-earth drama, well written and directed, with the various elements of humour, melodrama and romance finely tuned.

Land of the Dead (George A Romero, 2005). One of the weaker and sillier entries in Romero's zombie series, but it's fun for what it is.

Se7en (David Fincher, 1995). Dark, noirish thriller that really comes into its own in the last half hour, thanks in no small part to its trio of stars.

The Brides of Dracula (Terence Fisher, 1960). Despite the convoluted story, this is deservedly loved of Hammer films for its impressively lavish production values. Camper than usual for the studio.

Dracula, aka Horror of Dracula (Terence Fisher, 1958). The definitive adaptation of Stoker's novel, with pretty much every element judged perfectly.

Teen Wolf (Rod Daniel, 1985). Comedy about a teenage werewolf, generally unremarkable, but a nostalgia trip for children of the '80s like this writer.

Written on the Wind (Douglas Sirk, 1956). Poignant drama, handled with customary style and substance by Sirk.

Night of the Living Dead (Tom Savini, 1990). Pointless remake spoiled by overacting and unsuccessful attempts to invest the plot with social meaning.

I Walked with a Zombie (Jacques Tourneur, 1943). Supremely sinister, finely tuned and justly celebrated horror from Val Lewton at RKO.

The Ghost Ship (Mark Robson, 1943). Taut thriller with Skelton Knaggs particularly effective in an uncredited role.

Frankenstein Must Be Destroyed (Terence Fisher, 1969). The most polished of the Hammer Frankensteins, with an exceptionally sharp script and a very sympathetic creature in Freddie Jones.

Frankenstein Created Woman (Terence Fisher, 1967). Wry, thoughtful entry in the Hammer Frankenstein series, intelligently scripted and with Peter Cushing at his best in a well-written part.

Shaun of the Dead (Edgar Wright, 2004). Distinctly British, very funny mixture of comedy and horror.

Magnolia (Paul Thomas Anderson, 1999). Exhilarating drama paced so well that three hours passes by like less than two. A true ensemble piece, boasting remarkable performances from the likes of Tom Cruise, Julianne Moore and Jason Robards.

The Mummy (Karl Freund, 1932). One of Karloff's finest turns, in a classy and supremely creepy horror movie that has aged much better than the studio's Dracula (1931).

About Schmidt (Alexander Payne, 2003). Comedy-drama crafted with superior storytelling ability by a very talented director. Cynical in the right way.

Murder at the Gallop (George Pollock, 1963). The second in Margaret Rutherford's Miss Marple series. The chief delights here are the scenes Rutherford shares with husband Stringer Davis - a brilliant comedy pairing.

Murder She Said (George Pollock, 1961). Agatha Christie mystery with emphasis on the comedy. Margaret Rutherford is delightful as Miss Marple, and James Robertson Justice is particularly funny.

The Last Man on Earth (Ubaldo Ragona, Sidney Salkow, 1964). Apocalyptic horror from the intelligent mind of sci-fi writer Richard Matheson. Good, despite the poor dubbing in places.

The Curse of the Werewolf (Terence Fisher, 1961). Classic Hammer horror featuring a seminal werewolf makeup, genuine scares and excellent production values.

Annie Hall (Woody Allen, 1977). Witty, engaging, well-directed romantic comedy; Diane Keaton steals the show in the title role.

Blue Velvet (David Lynch, 1986). Interesting and involving quasi-Hitchcockian thriller with surreal, Lynchian elements.

The Revenge of Frankenstein (Terence Fisher, 1958). This is where Hammer's Frankenstein series really came into its own, with a heavy dose of black humour and pathos added to the Gothic horror mix.

The Curse of Frankenstein (Terence Fisher, 1957). Pioneering in terms of colour Gothic horror, if fairly conventional in other respects.

The Crazies (George Romero, 1973). Pseudo-zombie horror, generally well done, with disturbing undertones.

The Bad and the Beautiful (Vincente Minnelli, 1952). Sharp, witty drama, deftly and stylishly executed by director Minnelli with a pitch-perfect cast.

The Terror of the Tongs (Anthony Bushell, 1961). Visually wonderful Hammer thriller that unfortunately suffers from a slow pace and clumsy direction.

Quatermass and the Pit (Roy Ward Baker, 1967). Andrew Keir makes a fine Quatermass in a suspenseful adaptation of the '50s sci-fi serial that remains gripping from beginning to end.

Quatermass 2 (Val Guest, 1957). Again, intelligently scripted by Kneale. A tight thriller, despite (once again) Donlevy's lacklustre performance.

The Quatermass Xperiment (Val Guest, 1955). Richard Wordsworth steals the show in this well-directed sci-fi, scripted intelligently by Nigel Kneale. Brian Donlevy is stiff as Professor Quatermass.

Frankenstein and the Monster from Hell (Terence Fisher, 1974). Hammer sequel constrained by a low budget, but a sophisticated end to a sophisticated series.

From Hell (Albert & Allen Hughes, 2001). Stylish fictionalization of the Jack the Ripper case, with impressive turns from Johnny Depp and Ian Holm.

The Naked Spur (Anthony Mann, 1953). The first of Mann's westerns with James Stewart, this has all the elements that made their collaborations a success, including involving characterization and psychological drama.

The Wolfman (Joe Johnston, 2010). Slow in places, with some daft story elements, but overall good, old-fashioned horror fun of which 1940s' Universal would not have been ashamed.

Captain Clegg (Peter Graham Scott, 1962). Underrated Hammer adventure, boasting a strong story, a witty script, tight direction and an ensemble of excellent performances helmed by Peter Cushing, Patrick Allen and Michael Ripper (in his finest hour).

The Entertainer (Tony Richardson, 1960). The hammy title role fits the often-hammy Laurence Olivier like a glove. This absorbing drama benefits from an excellent sense of time and place, thanks to the extensive location filming in the Lancashire seaside town of Morecambe.

The Pirates of Blood River (John Gilling, 1961). Smart-looking pirate adventure that makes the most out of Hammer's tight budget.

The Devil-Ship Pirates (Don Sharp, 1963). Entertaining Hammer swashbuckler with a strong performance by Christopher Lee.

Rushmore (Wes Anderson, 1998). Quirky comedy-drama that expertly balances the absurd and the believable in a story with genuine warmth.

In the Mood for Love (Kar Wai Wong, 2000). Intensely moving and sensual love story set in 1960s Hong Kong. A beautiful film with a beautiful, stunningly costumed, totally entrancing star in Maggie Cheung.

Mr Sardonicus (William Castle, 1961). Gothic horror, mostly silly, but as entertaining as you would expect from Castle.

Interview with the Vampire (Neil Jordan, 2004). Macabre vampire yarn with an enjoyable black comedy element, based on the book by Anne Rice.

The Mummy's Curse (Leslie Goodwins, 1944). Mediocre entry in Universal's rather dull Mummy series, but not the worst, and it has a few sinister moments.

Strait-Jacket (William Castle, 1964). Slightly silly psycho-thriller, tailor-made for star Joan Crawford. The director pushes the limits as usual, and it has great camp value.

Zombieland (Ruben Fleischer, 2009). Very funny zombie comedy whose highlight is a hilariously and brilliantly absurd cameo appearance from a movie legend.

The Evil of Frankenstein (Freddie Francis, 1964). The weakest in Hammer's Frankenstein series. Patterned after the Universal monster movies of the 1930s and '40s, it lacks the sophistication associated with this era in Hammer's history, and Terence Fisher's absence as director is sorely felt.

The Gorgon (Terence Fisher, 1964). Gorgeously shot Gothic horror-fantasy from Hammer's finest director.

The Tarnished Angels (Douglas Sirk, 1958). Sterling melodrama with the strong direction we expect from Sirk.

Night Passage (James Neilson, 1957). Handsomely mounted western. Enjoyable, but it nevertheless pales next to James Stewart's western collaborations with director Anthony Mann in the same era.

Legend (Ridley Scott, 1985). Visually charming fairy-tale fantasy that should be seen with the Jerry Goldsmith score to be appreciated. Tim Curry gives a scary performance in an impressive makeup.

Terminator: Salvation (McG, 2009). Passable action sequel that takes itself a bit too seriously compared to the earlier films in the series.

Bride of Frankenstein (James Whale, 1935). Very witty and very, very queer. A masterpiece of pathos, black comedy and horror, pulled off brilliantly by a talented cast (Karloff, Lanchester and Thesiger standing out), fantastical design by Charles D Hall, sharp script and direction, and a pioneering musical score by Franz Waxman.

Frankenstein (James Whale, 1931). Definitive adaptation of Shelley's novel, with Boris Karloff evoking terror and sympathy in equal amounts.

The Mummy's Ghost (Reginald Le Borg, 1944). Another outing for Universal's Mummy, again fairly plodding, with occasional creepiness from John Carradine.

The Mummy's Tomb (Harold Young, 1942). Lon Chaney, Jr, lumbers around as clumsily as the script in a part that could just as easily have been played by a stuntman. At least the emphasis is firmly on the Mummy's antics, rather than comic relief, as in The Mummy's Hand, which preceded it.

21 Grams (Alejandro González Iñárritu, 2003). Involving, expertly handled drama with a concept and structure that could easily have become convoluted and pretentious in other hands. Excellent performances from its quartet of stars.

The Mummy's Hand (Christy Cabanne, 1940). Rather flat by Universal's high standards, with far too much comic frippery and very little horror.

Cat People (Jacques Tourneur, 1942). Noirish horror with the atmosphere and creepiness expected of director Tourneur and producer Val Lewton.

Dance of the Vampires, aka The Fearless Vampire Killers (Roman Polanski, 1967). Parody of the Hammer horror, with a dry, cynical sense of humour, and looking particularly lush.

Misery (Rob Reiner, 1990). Capable adaptation of the Stephen King novel, thanks in large part to its small-but-strong cast, headed by Kathy Bates as the psychotic Annie Wilkes.

Watchmen (Zack Snyder, 2009). Pleasingly original take on the cult of the comic book superhero, with a striking film noir style and fun action, but its length and pretensions work against it.

Phantom of the Opera (Terence Fisher, 1962). Despite flashes of brilliance, this Hammer version of the famous horror tale never quite takes off, mainly due to the characters' weak motivations and the rather contrived subplot.

Sherlock Holmes (Guy Ritchie, 2009). Splendid-looking, superbly paced detective mystery that is both freshly original and true to Conan Doyle's creation.

Stay (Marc Forster, 2005). Surreal drama that held my interest, but was way too stylized.

In the Mouth of Madness (John Carpenter, 1994). Apocalyptic horror in the vein of HP Lovecraft, well-crafted and suitably scary.

Event Horizon (Paul WS Anderson, 1997). Sci-fi horror that boasts impressive effects, but feels a bit empty.

Taste of Fear, aka Scream of Fear (Seth Holt, 1961). Highly suspenseful Hammer thriller, handsomely mounted by cinematographer Douglas Slocombe. Style and atmosphere more than make up for the plot holes.

The Body Snatcher (Robert Wise, 1945). Impressively creepy horror with a wonderfully semi-comic turn by Boris Karloff in the title role.

Isle of the Dead (Mark Robson, 1945). Proving that while Universal reigned in the monster genre, producer Val Lewton's films for RKO were superior for genuine terror, suspense and atmosphere.

Stranglers of Bombay (Terence Fisher, 1959). Grisly Hammer thriller based on the Indian 'Thuggee' cult of the 19th century. Tightly directed by Fisher, as you would expect.

Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines (Jonathan Mostow, 2003). Enjoyable action movie, inferior to the first two in the Terminator series, but still fun.

Blade Runner (Ridley Scott, 1982). Stunningly designed futuristic film noir.

Adventures in Babysitting (Chris Columbus, 1987) Dumb, juvenile fun. This has a lot of nostalgic value for me.

Billy Liar filming locations

Billy Liar's Bradford

Billy Liar was the film that made Julie Christie a household name, but the Yorkshire town of Bradford was equally a star of this swinging sixties classic.

The 1963 British film Billy Liar memorably captured the beauty and charm of Julie Christie, then a youthful 22. But dazzling and delightful as Christie's portrayal of the spontaneous and carefree Liz was, this comic drama also put its main filming location on the screen for posterity.

While some scenes were shot in nearby Leeds and Manchester, as well as London, the movie's fictional setting of Stradhoughton was chiefly the real-life West Yorkshire industrial ... Read more at Suite101: Billy Liar's Bradford

Pet hates in movie fakery

This is a list of things in films that bug me because they're unrealistic. I made it because I felt like it.

Driving without keeping one's eyes on the road. You'd think a good actor would know that when people drive, they generally keep looking ahead of them. If they do look elsewhere, they do so for a second or two, tops (or they crash). So how do even the best actors get away with taking their eyes off the often-busy road for ten seconds or more at a time to have a conversation?

Drinking out of cups that are clearly empty. For some reason, this happens in Dexter all the time. Not surprising, perhaps, since donuts and coffee are two of the biggest recurring characters in the show. But it is obvious to me when someone is drinking out of an empty cup. Especially when it's shop-bought coffee that would clearly burn your tongue off at the roots if you drank it that quickly.

Picking up boxes, bags and packages that are clearly empty. Newsflash to props guy: We can tell that crate that guy just picked up is made of fibreglass and contains a nothing but a handful of packing peanuts.

People in meetings and church services responding in unison. Maybe it's just me, because I endured all of my adolescence in Pentecostal church services, but it irritates me when everyone responds to a preacher or evangelist with a perfectly unison "Amen!". Real born-again services are a little, and sometimes a hell of a lot less coordinated.

I may add to this list occasionally as other bits of random Hollywood fakery grate against me.

Three Scrooges

Watching A Christmas Carol in any of its numerous cinematic and televisual incarnations is an essential of the festive season for me, and eight days into December, I have already finished with the third of what will probably be five or six.

I began with Scrooge, the 1970 musical starring Albert Finney. This has always been my favourite, mainly because it was the first I ever watched. It enchanted me from the moment I first saw those gaslit Victorian streets. Despite being in his 30s, Finney manages to pull off the role quite convincingly. Leslie Bricusse's songs, as always, differ in quality, with some embarrassingly trite lyrics surfacing here and there. Overall, however, the tunes are hummable, with a few showstoppers that have stood the test of time, such as I Like Life and Thank You Very Much.

Oswald Morris's camerawork provides the film with a rich, multitextured look that has its dark as well as its light. The supporting cast are a treat, with Alec Guinness camping it up outrageously, yet delightfully as Jacob Marley, Edith Evans both wry and grandmotherly as the Ghost of Christmas Past, and Kenneth More spirited and commanding as the Ghost of Christmas Present.

The second, and by far the least successful of the three, was A Christmas Carol (1938). Lionel Barrymore's declining health prevented him from playing Scrooge, so the role was taken on by Reginald Owen, who tries rather too hard in the part, playing him unconvincingly as a caricature. Leo G Carroll, on the other hand, looks perfect as Marley, and yet underplays a role that can really benefit from some pantomime hamminess (so Michael Hordern in 1951 and Alec Guinness in 1970).

This version contains none of the bleakness or creepiness of the story. Scrooge's offices are overlit, his bedroom too ornate, and the Cratchits look fairly well-off in their spacious house. It is perhaps understandable that in 1938 MGM felt cheeriness was the way to go - but this film is overloaded with it. Most of Dickens's episodes are replaced with saccharine, whimsical vignettes that do little to advance story or character. Elements from the book are too often dealt with in perfunctory fashion.

In happy contrast, I was enthralled by the BBC's 1977 production of A Christmas Carol, which was a new discovery for me this year. Michael Hordern, who played Marley brilliantly in 1951, now plays Scrooge. It is a short piece, lasting only about an hour, but it is perhaps the most faithful adaptation I have yet seen. It is typical vintage BBC drama: shot on video on a shoestring budget, a tad rough around the edges, but carried off with creativity, sensitivity and atmosphere. Unlike many versions, it really feels like a ghost story.

Hordern is pitch-perfect, avoiding caricature, playing the miser with the appropriate amount of nastiness and presenting a believable transformation. Clive Merrison commendably avoids the usual bland portrayal of Bob Cratchit. I couldn't decide whether I liked Tiny Tim or not. For a change, there was nothing mawkish about him; yet the child actor seemed rather nervous, even glancing unsurely into the camera at one point, and the classic closing line ("God bless us, everyone") was delivered hastily and with uncertainty.

I'll be revisiting at least two very good adaptations before Christmas is over: the 1988 comedy Scrooged, and the 1951 British film with Alastair Sim - perhaps the screen's finest Scrooge, and certainly the most popular.

David L Rattigan on the Dr William Lester Show

I'm pleased to be the guest on Dr William Lester's radio show tonight for the second time. William and I will be talking about Hammer horror, and perhaps touching on other classic horror subjects, such as the Universal films of the 1930s and '40s, and the Amicus anthologies of the 1960s and '70s.

You can tune in online at Game Con Radio. The show is from 10pm to 12 midnight ET/7pm to 9pm PST. Alas, for listeners in the UK, that's 3 to 5am GMT!

Karloff: a fine horror star, an even finer actor

The greatest screen actors convey very much by very little. At his best, the British-born Hollywood star Boris Karloff did this masterfully well.

Although they made just eight films together - of which at least a couple are virtually forgotten today - Karloff will always be remembered for his association with the other legend of '30s and '40s American horror, Bela Lugosi. Yet it was an uneven pairing. Lugosi was, to be frank, a ham. Like Vincent Price after him, he excelled in roles that allowed him to make the most of his camp, overblown persona.

But Karloff was a notch above Lugosi. He was capable of camp villainy, but he was also capable of the subtlest of performances. Had Lugosi taken the role of the Monster in Frankenstein (1931), as was originally planned, it is difficult to imagine him giving the nuanced portrayal given by Karloff, who evoked as much pity as menace. For confirmation of this, you need only look at Lugosi's stilted performance in the 1943 spin-off Frankenstein Meets the Wolf Man. In many of Frankenstein's most famous scenes, Karloff is virtually expressionless. And yet the vulnerability, the lostness and the hint of feral unpredictability is all there in his face.

In The Mummy (1932), Karloff was once again given the opportunity of a role that demanded only the subtlest of expressions to exert the right amount of fear. As Im-ho-tep, he emerges from his tomb with the barest of movements but the maximum of terror; as Ardath Bey, he shuffles painfully slowly, his whole body betraying centuries of death and decay. One shudders to imagine the bloated pantomime that could have resulted in the hands of any other actor.

Boris Karloff was gifted with a wonderful speaking voice, a charming, slightly lisping English-American accent that many remember from his dozens of radio broadcasts. In celebration of his unique timbre, I leave you with a memorable clip from his 1968 film Targets, in which he narrates a short story by William Somerset Maugham:


This post is presented as part of Frankensteinia's Boris Karloff Blogathon, in honour of the 122nd anniversary of the actor's birth.

Boris Karloff Blogathon

Pierre at Frankensteinia has announced the Boris Karloff Blogathon, to be held November 23 to 29, coinciding with what would have been the great horror star's 122nd birthday.

I'm in!


Pierre does a sterling job at the Frankensteinia blog, though I have to say I get the biggest pleasure from his wonderful Monster Crazy, which is updated almost daily with horror, sci-fi and fantasy-related images. It's a mine of beautiful artwork and photography, most of which is rarely seen elsewhere.

Hammer's The Reptile (1966)

The Reptile (1966) is a horror film for which I never had any particular affection, and yet over the years it has slowly grown on me. For this reason, I have an inkling it may be one of Hammer's greatest unsung classics. In my experience, the greatest films creep up on you over time.

Holger Haase shares his take on the film at Hammer and Beyond today, and I can't argue with any of his points. Yes, there are a few obvious inconsistencies - but it's never bothered me with any other Hammer film. They were never known for being tight on logic.

There are a few elements that make this a classic for me, though. The first is that it's a very original attempt at a new Gothic monster at a time when Hammer could easily have stuck with recycling the same old favourites.

Second, it has a truly effective atmosphere. I particularly enjoy the rainy graveyard scenes. Bernard Robinson's Cornish village set, built on the backlot at Bray Studios and already used for The Reptile's sister picture The Plague of the Zombies, is partly responsible for this atmosphere. Location filming at nearby Oakley Court also helps. And Arthur Grant's photography is first class as usual, as is Don Banks's score.

Third, it is among my favourite Michael Ripper performances. Although Hammer is popularly known for its bigger stars, such as Christopher Lee and Peter Cushing, Ripper was in fact the most prolific of its actors, with supporting roles in over two dozen of their productions. He tended to be typecast in cheeky, often eccentric roles, but The Reptile is a change of pace for him. He plays a subdued character who risks isolation in his small, frightened community by gradually defying fear to pursue the creature of the title.

(Incidentally, the other Michael Ripper Hammer role that really stands out is as Mipps the Undertaker in the excellent Captain Clegg, aka Night Creatures, of 1962.)

There are a few other gems in the cast, too: the wonderful Noel Willman, the exotic Jacqueline Pearce, the strange Marne Maitland.

Hammer risked trying out new monsters several times - The Gorgon (1964), Hands of the Ripper (1971), Dr Jekyll and Sister Hyde (1971) - and as here, the results were rarely less than fascinating.

The idiocy of star ratings for films

Tommy Cooper is holding a violin and a painting.

"I have here a Stradivarius and a Rembrandt.

"Unfortunately, Stradivarius was a terrible painter," he adds with perfect timing, "and Rembrandt made lousy violins." (And he promptly destroys both.)

I used to be a fan of star ratings, but the more I've broadened my taste in films, the more the idea of comparing them in such a facile way strikes me as ridiculous.

A great diner does hamburgers really, really well. A great a la carte restaurant might do steak tartar or lobster thermidor really, really well. You don't write off the diner because it doesn't do a good lobster, or rail against the restaurant for failing to provide loaded potato wedges to take out.

The late John Hughes did Ferris Bueller's Day Off really, really well. Orson Welles did Citizen Kane really, really well. What kind of a schmutz gives Ferris 6 out of 10 because it's not Kane? Frankly, there are lots of schmutzes (usually critics) who would do exactly that. To me, they're both 10/10 movies.

Henri Langlois was a French cineaste who believed films were meant to be shown. Good or bad, high art or cheap entertainment, they were all included on the program of his legendary Cinémathèque Française in Paris. (Incidentally, he was so notoriously disorganized, the overbearing French authorities eventually shut him down, provoking riots. See Bertolucci's The Dreamers for a fascinating insight into Langlois's era.)

These days, taking my inspiration from Henri, I'll sit down to a Truffaut or a zombie movie with equal enthusiasm. So the characters are badly sketched. Maybe, but why not judge it on its own terms? Is it important to the movie that the characters are well sketched? No? Then let hamburgers be hamburgers and lobsters be lobsters.