Kenyan drama, Rafiki (2018), directed by Wanuri Kahiu, which was domestically banned following governmental disapproval of its subject matter: a lesbian coming-out story. In fact, this very prejudice towards homosexuality is, ironically, shown in the film to be a pervasive trait in the Republic of Kenya (exposed same sex relationships are met with prison sentences of 14 years). The film is adapted from a Ugandan short story entitled Jambula Tree by Monica Arac de Nyeko, and the setting is a Nairobi housing estate in which daily life is very much al fresco and privacy is limited. Kena (Samantha Mugatsia) and Ziki (Sheila Munyiva) are two girls who long for a life which goes beyond the archaic mantra: “Good Kenyan girls become good Kenyan wives”. In a sort-of riff on Romeo and Juliet, their two families are political rivals. However, they resist this difference and, as love grows between them, they are forced to pay the price of choosing between happiness and safety.
Rafiki was highly praised at the Cannes Film Festival, and elsewhere, and director, Wanuri, has been credited as the creator of the “Afrobubblegum” film genre, which represents, according to IMDb, “fun, fierce and frivolous black content that celebrates joy and hope”. Further to her work as a filmmaker, Wanuri has gone on to great things as a fellow of the TED (Technology, Entertainment and Design) organisation responsible for their increasingly popular TED talks made by influential individuals, which are widely watched online. She is also a cultural leader for the World Economic Forum.
Her film has been compared to Maria Maggenti’s The Incredibly True Adventure of Two Girls In Love (1995) and Dee Rees’s Pariah (2011), two much respected independent lesbian movies from America. Personally, though my knowledge of films in the LGBT category is very limited, I was put in mind of the cause célèbre that was Abdellatif Kechiche’s 2013 French-language award-garnering lesbian drama, Blue Is The Warmest Colour, in which high-school student, Adèle (Adèle Exarchopoulous) begins to explore her burgeoning sexuality and finds no satisfaction in the company of men. Much like Rafiki, this film also deals with interpersonal problems such as rejection and homophobia. Adèle sets eyes on Emma (played by the then little-known actress, Léa Seydoux), a free-spirited girl who is shunned by Adèle’s own friends due to her sexuality. Perhaps unsurprisingly, by association, Adèle is soon rejected by these friends herself. Thus, Adèle and Emma are similarly left alone to face a heady period of social isolation mixed with sexual experimentation.
Israelian director, Samuel Maoz’s drama, Foxtrot (2017) documents, in three segments, the malaise of present-day Israel. In the first sequence, a middle-aged married couple are visited by soldiers who deliver the news that their son, Jonathan, has been killed in action. The second, or “middle” section, brings us to a remote checkpoint in the desert where jaded soldiers pass the time, sharing stories, listening to music and, as the title suggests, dancing. (The trailer for the film features the cleverly incongruous scene from the film in which a soldier dances facetiously with his rifle in the absence of a dance partner).
The third and final sequence takes us back to Jonathan’s parents who are trying to make sense of their new lives. However, all is not what it seems, as lies and cover-ups bubble under the surface. Faintly reminiscent of Sam Mendes’ gulf-war drama, Jarhead (2005), Foxtrot picked up the Grand Jury Prize at the Venice Film Festival in 2017 and represents a follow up to Lebanon: The Soldier’s Journey (2009) which followed a dispatched paratroopers platoon as they search a hostile town during the First Lebanon War of 1982. This film is especially poignant as Tel Aviv-born director, Maoz, was himself, at the age of 20, a gunner in one of the first Israeli tanks to enter Lebanon in that war. For Lebanon (2009), Maoz also won the Golden Lion in Venice that year, so you could say that he is on a directorial winning streak.
The themes of loss and grief reminded me readily of Spanish director, Carla Simón’s largely autobiographical film, Summer 1993 (2018), shown at Lincoln Film Society early last year. This is a moving picture about life through the eyes of six-year old Frida as she attempts to navigate her “second life” with her extended family following the unexplained death of her mother. Following our original theme of conflict and its effects, I was reminded also of Simón’s compatriot, Victor Erice, and his film, The Spirit of The Beehive (1973) about a girl (Ana Torrent) who becomes obsessed with the film, Frankenstein (1931) after seeing it at her village cinema, and goes in search of the monster, fixating on the spectral presences of Spanish Civil War-era Spain. These films also attest to the significance of memory, however painful it can be.
Classically trained British actor Richard Johnson was allegedly Terence Young’s original choice for the role of James Bond and rumour has it that Johnson was, at one time, offered the part, before turning it down. Perhaps, therefore, it was fate that led him subsequently to the role of fictional hero, Hugh “Bulldog” Drummond, in two pseudo Bond films from the 1960s, Deadlier Than The Male (1967) and Some Girls Do (1969). Prior to these films, Drummond was a well-known character from literature, film, and radio, created by H.C. McNeile using the nom de plume, Sapper, for the original books. (Gerard Fairlie would continue writing the novels following McNeile’s death in 1937). The original Drummond character is a First World War veteran who, tired of his sedate lifestyle, becomes a gentleman adventurer on a quest for action, coming up against various nemeses, the most prominent of which is Carl Peterson.
(From left: Daliah Lavi; Richard Johnson; and Vanessa Howard (?)). A promotional shot for Some Girls Do (1969). Copyright: The Times/Rex Features
Released by British filmmaking institution, The Rank Organisation, the aforementioned films sport a reworked Drummond befitting the 1960s, a bon vivant who is also (somewhat humorously) an insurance underwriter. Like vintage Bond, he is something of a man of mystery who spends most of his time thrill and pleasure-seeking, whether he be relaxing in some exotic locale, practising karate, paragliding, or chasing beautiful women. Indeed, scantily-clad women are a prominent feature of the films (unsurprisingly given the titles – the scene at the beginning of Deadlier where “lethal lovelies” Elke Sommer and Sylvia Koscina come out of the sea with nothing but skimpy swimsuits and harpoon guns has undeniably embedded itself in pop culture history). The objectification of women would indeed give the contemporary so-called “woke” generation much to talk about. However, as with all things, I believe the films should be appraised with respect to the attitudes of the times in which they were made. Let’s not forget that the Connery and Moore Bond films were not without their share of “dolly bird” characters. Incidentally, considering Drummond’s rich appetites, perhaps we have a case of life imitating art as Johnson, the actor, is shown in an adventurous light water-skiing between takes in a featurette on the making of Deadlier (which can be viewed on the DVD/Blu-Ray of the film by Network Releasing) and was, reputedly, a ladies man, marrying several times, most notably to Hollywood actress, Kim Novak.
Firstly, Deadlier Than The Male tells of an oil tycoon, Henry Keller, who is killed by an explosion while journeying in his private company plane. Drummond (Johnson) is called in to investigate Keller’s mysterious death as his company was insured with Drummond’s firm. Drummond begins a quest to find out who would profit from Keller’s death and all tracks lead to the aforementioned Carl Peterson (reincarnated by British acting stalwart, Nigel Green) who is residing in a remote castle in Italy surrounded by a cohort of highly-trained female assassins, who try to derail Drummond at every opportunity. Deadlier has been wonderfully restored in high-definition for a Blu-Ray release by Network. The title itself has also embedded itself in popular culture, emanating from poet and novelist, Rudyard Kipling’s words: “The female of the species is more deadly than the male”, which had, in turn, inspired the fifth Bulldog Drummond novel, The Female Of The Species, published in 1928. Moreover, the film carries a Bondian opening sequence with a belter of a theme song by pop sensations, The Walker Brothers (the late Scott Walker would years later sing David Arnold and Don Black’s slow jazz number, Only Myself To Blame, on the soundtrack to The World Is Not Enough). Look out also for the cleverly constructed penultimate scene in which Drummond and Peterson, weapons cocked, chase each other through an electronically-operated life-size chess board.
Copyright: Amazon
If Deadlier Than The Male can be thought of as a pint of bitter, it is followed by the vodka chaser that is the euphemistically titled Some Girls Do, a headier film than its predecessor with hints towards the “sex comedy” which would become popular fare in the following decade. This time around, a more world-weary Johnson as Drummond is called into action to investigate the accidents befalling people connected to the development of the world’s first supersonic airliner (SST1). The man who seeks to gain financially from the project’s ruin turns out to be, predictably, Carl Peterson (played this time with considerably less aplomb by veteran British actor, James Villiers, who would go on to have a small role in For Your Eyes Only as M-substitute, Tanner).
Hot on his trail, Drummond eventually ends up at Peterson’s Bond-esque lair atop a cliff, which is surrounded by armed yet suggestively dressed female robots at his command. Peterson’s right hand woman is Helga (played by 60s film regular, Daliah Lavi, who also starred in the James Bond spoof, Casino Royale, as one of several iterations of “007”). It’s not hard to see where Mike Myers and co. got inspiration for Austin Powers years later. Despite the heavier tongue-in-cheek vibe of the sequel, the film does sport a catchy opening song by the relatively unknown Lee Vanderbilt sounding uncannily like Johnny Mathis, and penned by lyricist and Bond regular, the aforementioned Don Black (who wrote the themes for Thunderball, Diamonds Are Forever, The Man With The Golden Gun,Tomorrow Never Dies (Surrender) and The World Is Not Enough – copies of the original record release on the United Artists label are few and far between these days).
Copyright: Amazon
Furthermore, the film has some amusing and redemptive Bond-esque one-liners. While Drummond is sat having dinner with an elaborately costumed Peterson and his entourage, the latter says: “History repeats itself. Napoleon dreamt of the entire universe thronging to his door. Now I shall fulfil his dreams”, after which Drummond asks quizzically, “Dressed as the Duke Of Wellington?” Peterson replies: “Well of course, my dear fellow. Never back a loser”. This is only slightly funnier than the incident in Deadlier when one of the scheming women’s hair-pieces turns out to have an explosive device inside it, prompting Drummond to quip: “that’s what comes of letting success go to your head”. Some Girls Do has also been released by Network Releasing and still only exists, in moderately restored form, on a DVD double-bill with Deadlier. Let’s hope a Blu-Ray rerelease is in the pipeline. While considerably outmoded, I still believe Deadlier and Some Girls Do are both entertaining fare for any Bond fan and are something of a tribute to the liberal culture of the late 1960s and Connery-instigated Bond mania. (Trailers below).
Nadine Labaki’s Capernaum is a brutally honest look at the impoverished existence of 12-year old Beirut slum-dweller, Zain (played by the precocious Zain Al Rafeea) as he takes matters into his own hands and sues his neglectful parents for “being born”. Capernaum has been the recipient of many awards worldwide including, significantly, the Jury Prize at Cannes in 2018. The film’s synopsis led me to thinking about the modern concept of childhood in general. Though the conditions which Zain is fighting in Capernaum are exceptional, it is interesting to note how children across the world, at an increasingly early age, are acting more like adults, to the point where an innocent childhood is perhaps bypassed completely. This fact is, questionably, the fault of technology.
On planes and trains, there is the increasing sight of tablets and other technical paraphernalia being thrust into the hands of children to keep them quiet, some of whom are so young they can barely hold the things. And, there is s a danger, is there not, in letting children have unfiltered access to a wealth of information online which their brains are surely too young to compute? I was recently in earshot of some preadolescents who were talking with their parents about the recent Extinction Rebellion protests. This precocious intelligence was indeed scary.
Having said all this, returning to the cinema, it’s not the first time the movies have embraced the idea of children becoming premature adults through circumstance. More than half a century ago, Italian director Vittorio De Sica came to the fore with his Neorealist masterpiece, Bicycle Thieves (1948), in which a little working-class boy called Bruno (Enzo Staiola) helps his father Antonio (Lamberto Maggiorani) to find his bicycle after it’s stolen. This, in turn, gave inspiration to French New Wave director, François Truffaut, who a decade later produced his chef d’oeuvre, The 400 Blows (1959), about a young Parisian adolescent, Antoine Doinel (Jean-Pierre Léaud) who is forced into premature adulthood at the hands of neglectful parents who leave him to fend for himself to the point of making him run away from home completely.
Returning to modern filmmaking, this theme runs again in Sean Baker’s wonderful pseudo-documentary, The Florida Project (2017), about the precocious 6 year old, Moonee (Brooklynn Prince) who lives with her troubled mother Halley (Bria Vinaite) in a cramped motel room in the shadow of the lucrative mecca that is Disneyworld. While all these films are sad, they are successful precisely because of the precocity of their child stars.
It’s amazing how time can change a person. When I recently saw Renée Zellweger’s interview with Lorraine Kelly on ITV1, I was amazed how she had very much matured as a person and as an actress. In my view, she can no longer be associated with the ditsy Marilyn Monroe-esque parts that she played years ago in Chicago (2002) and Down With Love (2003). Nor, do I think, would she longer be quite right for the role which made her a household name, the romantically afflicted Bridget Jones.
it’s public knowledge that Zellweger took a substantial break from acting for personal reasons. And the decision to take this sabbatical is very much to her credit as she comes back refreshed and wonderfully uncanny in the part of Judy Garland in this year’s hotly anticipated biopic directed by Rupert Goold, known principally for his work in English theatre. Having seen Lorraine Kelly’s interview with Zellweger after the film, I observed that she still appeared to be articulating the idiosyncrasies of Judy which she pulls off so well in the film. So perhaps, if Zellwgger did indeed make some spiritual connection with her alter go in her research for the part, it seems clear that the spirit of Judy, powerful as it seems, has not yet left her…
The film begins slap bang in the swinging 60s with a world weary Garland and her two young kids travelling around as she tries to make what money she can performing different theatre shows in America. Facing great financial difficulties, she makes the heartbreaking decision to leave her children with their financially stable but stony father, Sidney (the always understated Rufus Sewell) and accept the offer of a season in London at the famous Talk Of The Town theatre under the direction of renowned British theatre impresario, Bernard Delfont (the ever faithful Michael Gambon) and his associate, Rosalyn (the brilliant rising star, Jessie Buckley, recently acclaimed in Wild Rose).
Arriving in London, the prescription drug-addled Judy struggles to keep it together, nearly missing her premiere performance completely, and thereafter turning up late and often incoherent to performances, to the disappointment of Belfont, and the horror of uncomprehending audience members (who, on one occasion, throw things at her on stage as if she were some pilloried criminal and not the beloved star of The Wizard Of Oz). Speaking of which, the film is cleverly peppered with flashbacks to her adolescence in which she was insidiously groomed by studio staff for her role in the classic film, suffering emotional blackmail at the hands of the imposing studio boss, Louis B. Mayer (a small but brilliant performance by Richard Cordery) and given countless pills instead of food to supposedly “keep her weight down” for the role, setting her lifelong addiction in motion.
Amongst the bleakness, there are true moments of joy, such as when Judy sings on stage (Zellweger’s actual voice, which can be both powerful and velvety, and can be heard anew on the film’s soundtrack) and her courtship with her eventual second husband, the hip, young, Mickey (Finn Wittrock). Though Judy’s was a largely sad life, the love for her children is clearly what gave her strength and purpose in later life, even while she was fighting back the tears. As she aptly says before performing her beloved standard, “Somewhere Over The Rainbow”, “This is a song about hope. And we all need that”.
Following the vapidness that is the recent technicolor yawn of “superhero” films in the Marvel franchise, where the characters are often clumsily thrown together, it’s nice to see a stand-alone character, this time from the DC universe, given proper, serious biopic treatment by director and co-writer, Todd Phillips. The enigmatic Joaquin Phoenix stars as Arthur Fleck, an ill-fated wannabe comedian bullied by those around him and afflicted with a condition whereby he lets out an uncontrollable, maniacal laugh at the most inappropriate of moments. Fleck is a man approaching middle age who still lives with his now ailing mother. With political unrest and violence in Gotham city reaching breaking point (we assume by the decor and paraphernalia that we are in the 1970s/early 1980s), coupled with Fleck’s dismissal from the employ of a small comedy agency, the atmosphere of madness, and the madness within the character, builds insidiously.
Slowly but surely Fleck cultivates the image of the “Joker” in the days before he becomes Batman (Bruce Wayne’s) adversary. Phoenix’s performance is considerably studied and appropriately unnerving, though he is not quite a match for Heath Ledger’s incarnation in the 2008 film, The Dark Night, part of Christopher Nolan’s revamped Batman series. (That is, if we’re comparing at all. Perhaps we shouldn’t, given that we’d have to include Jack Nicholson and Cesar Romero in that discussion, among others). What is true, however, is that Phoenix’s Joker is deliberately more anti-heroic than Ledger’s. The majority of the film immerses the audience in the problems of Fleck as a man with mental health issues who is let down by the system. It’s interesting how this film is both knowing fantasy and a timely allegory concerning society and its responses to mental health.
Watch out also for the small appearances by Robert De Niro whose involvement, as many critics have pointed out, conjures up memories of him in Martin Scorsese’s similarly dystopian Taxi Driver (1976). The sporadic moments of violence are eye-wincing and may be too much for many but, that aside, one cannot deny this film represents a welcome return to realistic, gritty superhero-world fare rarely seen since Nolan’s The Dark Knight Rises (2012). Hildur Gudnadottir’s original music is nicely understated and is superbly off-set at moments by a selection of well selected songs. Go and see the film, it left me singing Frank Sinatra’s That’s Life for days….
When I heard over a year ago that a Mamma Mia sequel was in the pipeline, I thought…indeed, here we go again. The sequel will take away from the original, I thought, and there would be an expectation in the theatrical world to create another musical stage play that would correspond to the film sequel, and so on, and so on. With the more recent news that the original ABBA have reformed with another album on the way, a much talked-about prospect that people thought would never become a reality, I thought, are we not getting a bit carried away with this seeming ABBA mania some thirty years on from the original glory days? Don’t get me wrong, I love ABBA’s music – let’s face it, who doesn’t!?
So, I took my seat in the cinema on the much-fevered opening night and prepared myself for a disappointing sequel since, let’s face it, many do not surpass the original! I have to say, Mamma Mia: Here We Go Again, is a rare exception to this notion. Not only is it a better conceived film cinematically, it also tugs on the heartstrings in ways that the original doesn’t.
The film begins several years after the point at which Mamma Mia left off. Half of the film is resolutely in the present as we see a more mature (and pregnant) Sophie (Amanda Seyfriend) on the familiar greek island of Kalokairi struggling to maintain the dream projects of her mother, Donna (Meryl Streep) with one of her “fathers”, Sam (Pierce Brosnan), by her side. The other half of the film looks back to the 1970s and how the young, free-spirited Donna (Lily James) graduates from Oxford University and goes travelling in order to “find herself”, all the while encountering the men who would later become Sophie’s aforesaid “fathers”.
Lily James gives a fantastic turn as the young Donna (which is more than I can say for the younger incarnations of the fathers, who, in my opinion, have comparatively little personality). The old familiar faces are back again. Colin Firth and Stellan Skarsgard are back on form, and seemingly defy their age, as Sophie’s fathers, Harry and Bill. It gives me great joy to see the ever-dependable Julie Waters given the much more prominent comic role that she deserves as Rosie, one third of the original “Donna and the Dynamos”. Of course, I can’t mention her without also mentioning the other third, Christine Baranksi, who makes an equally splendid return as that understated cougar character, Tanya.
Ol Parker directs this film, replacing Phyllida Lloyd, and he indeed shows great attention to the musical numbers, of which “I Kissed The Teacher” and “Waterloo” are my firm favourites. The latter takes place in the surroundings of a Parisian cafe in which staff and clientele suddenly come to life – something straight out of the elaborate musicals of yesteryear. Also of note is the scene where a parade of boats come into the island, reminiscent of the first film, which shows unequivocally that the actors enjoyed every minute making this film.
Thankfully, the musical repertoire in the sequel is varied, and a younger generation (of which I am a part) are introduced to some lesser-known but equally brilliant ABBA numbers, the most poignant of which is “My Love, My Life”. For fear of spoiling the film, I am saying no more about that scene. For lads reading this……yeah, it’s one of those “I’ve got something in my eye” moments. Be prepared to surrender your machismo, this is a touching film. And not just for more obvious reasons. While the film sports youthful energy, it is also a reminder that a lot of our treasured film stars are getting older, and no surprise – it is ten years since the first outing….
Look out also for the wonderful Andy Garcia in an unexpectedly small part as Fernando (wink, wink) Cienfuegos, manager of the Hotel Bella Donna. And, of course, who can ignore the much-hyped appearances of the pop goddess, Cher – a revelation at 72 years of age. This film is much more than summer popcorn fare – go and see it, how can you resist it?
Dorota Kobiela and Hugh Welchman’s new film, Loving Vincent, is promising fuel for the theory that, in a world which is increasingly technological, some things are best done the old-fashioned way. It seems that a sizeable amount of the world’s population (and, in some ways, I include myself) have embraced a sort-of “counterculture”, a nostalgic refuge in vinyl records and vintage clothing, away from a fast-paced modern world that is ever more “sci-fi”. In a similar way, this film renounces digital effects, such as 4K wonderment, in favour of old-style hand painting, to absolutely marvellous results. Loving Vincent deservedly prides itself on being the “first fully-painted feature film” (lovingvincent.com). As the title partly suggests, the picture focuses on the events before and after the death of the famous Dutch post-impressionist painter, Vincent Van Gogh, through the investigative eyes of Armand Roulin (Douglas Booth), the son of one of Van Gogh’s friends. The film plays out as a sort-of detective story, in which reconstruction and flashbacks abound. This is the tragic tale of an artist, among countless others, who was not appreciated in his own time and who only gained much-needed acceptance posthumously.
It is true that, sadly, Van Gogh will be mostly remembered as a “nutcase” who cut off his own ear, which he subsequently gave, as a gift, to a prostitute. Adding fuel to this fire is the fact that he eventually committed suicide with a gun. However, the film could not be more timely in that it delves into the hot-topic of mental illness, and how problems in Van Gogh’s childhood led to him being plagued by thoughts of not being good enough at what he did and, worst of all, being a burden to others.
It is not hard to see that the film was a painstaking operation, the product of the work of a creative team of over 100 painters. It is no surprise that this feature was 6 years in the making! Each frame is worth its weight in gold and the physical likenesses of the real-life actors is breathtaking, so much so that one sometimes would not need a cast-list in order to make clarifications! Finally, although I have not seen the entirety of Martin Rosen’s 1978 animated film, Watership Down (a film, and, previously, a story, about the lives of a group of rabbits), I know there is more than a fleeting comparison. Both films deal with tragic death and the harsh realities of life. It is also perhaps no coincidence that Art Garfunkel’s song “Bright Eyes”, in Watership Down, is touchingly similar to Don McLean’s song “Vincent (Starry Starry Night)”, interpreted by relative newcomer, Lianne La Havas, for the end credits of Loving Vincent. In sum, this is a seminal work that transports you to another time, but is, paradoxically, also grittily contemporary. I, for one, am certainly “loving” Loving Vincent.
As a massive fan of the James Bond franchise, I have always seen Jason Bourne as the perfect antidote to the 007 hiatuses. We’ve had imaginative titles, courtesy of Robert Ludlum, such as The Bourne Identity; The Bourne Supremacy; and The Bourne Ultimatum – each chapter with a similar plot, an ex-CIA operative with severe memory loss trying to rediscover his past and seek revenge for those who manipulated him. However, after the series’ own hiatus, and after the disappointing spin-off chapter, The Bourne Legacy, with Jeremy Renner, which, for all intents and purposes, may as well disappear, comes the unimaginatively titled re-boot, Jason Bourne. This film teams Matt Damon (Bourne) with director, Paul Greengrass, a collaboration which lasted through Supremacy and Ultimatum. So, then, a tried and tested recipe for success? No. This really is Groundhog day. Trying to remember anything really distinctive or eye-opening about this film is a challenge. I was led to think that I was the amnesiac, not Jason Bourne. The only recurrence in the film that I welcomed was the incredibly catchy Bourne theme over the end titles, Extreme Ways, by Moby, which never gets old. Perhaps the film could have redeemed itself with its high-octane car chase on the Las Vegas strip, but the editing was so fast that the sequence was more headache-inducing than visually satisfying.
I have never been a devotee of horror films. Certainly when I was younger I would always shy away from gore, which seemed to appeal to some of my curious friends. What I prefer is a happy medium between “horror” and “thriller”. I suppose the name for this sort of film would be a “chiller”, and I feel Dr Jekyll and Sister Hyde (1971) fits that description. This is one of many films produced by the British company, Hammer Studios, mostly famous , I would say, for the career-making Dracula films of Christopher Lee and Peter Cushing. This film offers an alternative take on the classic story from 1886 of “The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr. Hyde” by Robert Louis Stevenson, in which a lawyer investigates strange happenings between his friend, Dr. Henry Jekyll, and the maleficent Edward Hyde, before it is discovered that, due to the dangerous miracles of science, they are one and the same.
In this film by Roy Ward Baker, Dr, Jekyll discovers a formula that, when drunk, transforms him into a dangerously seductive women, whom he dubs his”sister”, Mrs. Hyde. Playing with these two identities puts Dr Jekyll’s own love life in jeopardy and starts to arouse the suspicion of the neighbours, one of whom, Howard, develops an attraction towards the illusive “Mrs. Hyde”. All leads to disastrous consequences.
In terms of the acting, Ralph Bates is suitably sinister in the role of Dr. Jekyll, and has that particular look and general quality of a leading man of the 1960s//1970s. Apparently Bates went on to make several other pictures for Hammer, though I cannot comment as I have not seen them. Moreover, Martine Beswick is quite wonderful in the role of Jekyll’s alter-ego, “Mrs. Hyde”. She has very little dialogue, but her mystical presence is what does her credit. The film’s direction is very ably executed. Roy Ward Baker dabbled in many different genres and has many credits to his name, the most commendable of which is perhaps the Titanic film, A Night to Remember (1958). What stands out for me, however, is the soundtrack by David Whitaker, a man who is little known but who has a distinguished film music career all the same. Against the opening titles plays Whitaker’s main theme, a memorable and moving waltz. As for the rest of the soundtrack, Whitaker’s compositions are aptly suspenseful.
The film is generally frivolous and the premise is silly, but isn’t that true of most Horror/Chiller films? This is also a film which features some fleeting scenes of bare flesh, which is indicative of a time in which Hammer Studios started to mix so-called “horror” with bawdiness, to relatively ill effect.Cue lesbian vampires, etc. All considered, this film will perhaps not go down in history, and if it did, it would only be recognised in the context of the Hammer Studios canon, which is undeniably impressive. As a Saturday night’s entertainment though, I wouldn’t knock it.
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