After all the down at heel suburban atmos of the preceding episodes, we’ve finally got a big ol’ manor house on-screen right from the outset here (Hampden House in Bucks, for the record), furnished with an impressively opulent array of priceless antiques, and soon to be squabbled over by a clan of scheming toffs, when, during the pre-credits sequence, affable Lord of the Manor Sir Jack takes what I believe we’re obliged to call ‘the Rod Hull exit’, tumbling from the battlements as he fiddles with the TV aerial.
Were malign vibes emanating from an especially scary-looking fetish doll he had recently added to his collection of African art to blame? Well, we’re watching ‘Hammer House of Horror’ here, so what do you think?
In the aftermath of what seems to have been an unexpectedly contentious ‘reading of the will’, we join Sir Jack’s nephew, struggling aspirant movie producer Graham (Leigh Lawson), as he picks out a few favourites from the art collection he’s now inherited, whilst setting the rest aside to be flogged.
Much resentment is seemingly in the air, on account of the fact that Graham’s smug and entitled older brother Mark (Michael Culver) has been assigned the house and most of the dough, whilst Sir Jack’s loyal and long-serving housekeeper (and assumed romantic partner) Gwen (Frances Cuka) has been effectively disinherited - a situation exacerbated by the fact that Mark has cruelly decided to sack her with immediate effect for ‘getting ideas above her station’, thus cementing his reputation as a massive twat.
Whilst all this familial bother is brewing however, Graham’s girlfriend Sarah (Angela Bruce) finds herself unaccountably drawn to - yes - that same sinister fetish doll we saw the camera lurking around during the opening. Naming it “Charlie Boy”, she decides that the foul thing (which comes complete with the teeth of former victims hung around its neck and slits in its side for knives to be shoved into) is coming home with the couple to their swankily upholstered (yet comparatively modest) flat in Barnes.
Much could of course be made of the fact that writers Bernie Cooper & Francis Megahy decided that this week’s evil artefact from the darkest heart of the Congo should be latched onto by a black British character, but for better of for worse, this aspect of the story is never really explored.
To the episode’s credit - I suppose? - Sarah’s race is never exploited (or indeed even mentioned) by the script, and any suspicion of questionable intent is further undermined by Angela Bruce herself, who delivers a strong and engaging performance, her Geordie accent and no bullshit attitude clearly marking Sarah out as someone cut from a very different cloth to the sorry stereotypes of black characters generally featured in older British horror films (on the rare occasions on which they appeared at all).
Indeed, one of the key strengths of this episode is the fact that Sarah and Graham are such likeable and unconventional protagonists. For his part, Graham initially seems like a cardboard cut-out of the kind of ‘smarmy yuppie arsehole’ archetype which would become ubiquitous over the coming decade, but as we get to know him, he becomes a lot more sympathetic. He has turned away from a lucrative job in advertising to pursue a more satisfying (but far less profitable) career in the arts, and his choice of a black, working class life partner speaks for itself vis-à-vis his disenchantment with the expectations of his aristocratic family.
The same cannot be said however of brother Mark, who, in the grand tradition of Hammer horror’s own strange brand of Class War ideology, is a bullying, plummy-accented bastard who seems entirely fixated on breeding horses (never a good sign). And so, when he casually breaks off a handshake agreement he had previously made to provide funding for Graham’s dream of a new film studio, well… no prizes for guessing who’ll be first to get the chop.
Although ‘Charlie Boy’s “I inherited a voodoo doll” plotline is old as the hills, and the clumsy scripting necessitates some extraordinary leaps of logic on the part of the protagonists (“why, the doll must be killing people in the exact order in which they appear in this photograph”) - but, that aside, this episode’s execution is generally top notch.
In addition to the aforementioned cast of likeable/unusual characters, we’ve got some excellent production design (not least the fetish doll itself, which is quite a piece of work), plenty of satisfyingly bloody violence (Mark’s demise is an especially good ‘un, as you’d hope), and very strong, imaginative direction from Robert Young (which is perhaps no surprise, given that he had previously directed one of Hammer’s very best ‘70s films, ‘Vampire Circus’ (1972).)
For me, the highlight of the whole affair was probably the vaguely ‘Performance’-esque sequence in which a scar-faced East End villain who had previously menaced Graham & Sarah in a ‘road rage’ incident finds himself stabbed to death in a nightclub basement on ‘Charlie Boy’s behest. Bluntly intercut with footage of the lead couple making love, reflected in the glistening eyes of the fetish doll, his murder makes for a startling psychic juxtaposition of sex n’ violence which any theatrically released ‘70s/’80s horror film would have been proud of.
In short, best episode of HHoH thus far, I reckon.
No comments:
Post a Comment