The Creature (Christopher Lee)
attacks Baron Victor Frankenstein (Peter Cushing)
in The Curse of Frankenstein (1957).

Having gone into television production in the 80s before closing its doors for good, Hammer nonetheless remains the most successful British film studio ever, producing more than 200 features over five decades. The studio is best remembered for its thrillers, particularly gothic and singularly British retellings of Universal Studios classic monster franchises - Dracula, Frankenstein, the Mummy and the Werewolf. Martin Scorsese, Steven Spielberg, George Lucas and Francis Ford Coppola are just some of the more apparent filmmakers to have borrowed a few of their more lurid tones (and actors) from Hammer's colourbox. Hammer produced far more than horror films over their long run, but here I will focus on their more exploitive, though no less artful, genre pictures.

Founded in the mid-1930s in England by two pairs of fathers and sons, James and Enrique Carreras and Will and Tony Hinds, they took the name Hammer from the senior Hinds' earlier stage name as music-hall comedian Will Hammer. Carreras the elder had been a theater chain owner prior to their partnership, and while they initially formed an independent distributor wing called Exclusive Films, Ltd., Hammer Productions quickly became the focus. The first films Hammer produced were designed largely to put butts in seats for as small a cost as possible. Making war pictures, comedies, musicals, documentaries and news reels, among other films, these early works bear little resemblance to their subsequent genre pictures. It's likely that Hammer didn't realize they even had a particular speciality until the release of The Quatermass Xperiment in 1955.

The Creeping Unknown/Quartermass Xperiment

Hammer had attempted sci-fi as early as 1953's Spaceways, but the Quatermass series caught on faster. Released as The Creeping Unknown in the US, The Quatermass Xperiment was based on a BBC Quatermass drama. The story: When Britain's first manned rocket returns from space, only one of the pilots is aboard and seriously wounded. He's being consumed by an alien organism which, naturally, feeds on humans, growing ever more monstrous as it does so. Shot in black and white, the thematic elements familiar to fans of 50s drive-in sci-fi are in large supply here. A few army men, a gasping female, scientists who help whip the populace into a sufficiently paranoid state and an otherworldly monster from beyond (a fairly shopworn device). Unlike 50s American sci-fi, however, and regardless of the presence of tough-guy Yank actor Brian Donlevy as the British Prof. Quatermass, everybody in a Hammer film can actually act. Whereas Peter Graves would be about as good as Americans may have expected in a genre film, in England, even the more "low-brow" entertainments often starred Shakespearean actors.

Even with its daffy monster, Quartermass is quite suspenseful. Its success, despite - or perhaps to due to - a tiny budget, led to a pair of sequels. 1957's Quatermass II (aka Enemy from Space) has Quatermass suspicious of the government's new high-tech wonder food (perhaps because their goons kidnapped his lab assistant). If the first film bore a passing similarity to flesh-hungry monster movies like The Blob, the second film's menace may remind you more of Soylent Green.

Quatermass and the Pit

By the second sequel, Quatermass and the Pit (Five Million Years to Earth in the US, 1967), directed by Roy Ward Baker, we have an entirely new ages-old alien threat, as well as an entirely new Quatermass, this time played by the suitably professorial Andrew Keir. Not only do most Hammer fans prefer Keir's Quatermass to Donleavy's, the film is one of Hammer's most lavish productions. In this final Quatermass feature, a menace of extra-terrestrial origin is buried deep within the Earth, likely to do considerable damage if left to itself. Fortunately, one tweedy scientist stands between it and us. Less fortunately, the film was released theatrically in America in 1968, the same year as 2001: A Space Odyssey, and was lost in the shuffle. Q and the Pit was truly epic concept sci-fi and it's a shame more fans weren't exposed to it at the time.

Between the first two Quatermass films came X - The Unknown, an efficient monster sci-fi from 1957. It featured another American, Dean Jagger, as Dr. Royston, basically a polite Quatermass. (Hammer must have thought the average 50s American would only suffer through a movie featuring a scientist as long as he wasn't played by an Englishman.) The Doc discovers that radioactive sludge is headed our way from 20,000 fathoms within the earth. Which sounds like something Quatermass would have said, come to think of it.

Soon after the second Quatermass film came another thriller - The Abominable Snowman (1957). Not only was this more in the gothic horror-fantasy wheelhouse, it was the first Hammer production to star Peter Cushing (Grand Moff Tarkin in Star Wars). The film is noteworthy for beginning a tradition at Hammer - familiar to any fan of Roger Corman - of producing an arresting, often lurid poster before making a film, sometimes even before commissioning a script! Commercial response to the film was good, but more tellingly, industry response to the poster which preceded it was so high that Hammer decided to proceed with more horror projects, and here is where Hammer's House would be built.

Frankenstein

Before commencing production on the Curse of Frankenstein (1957), Hammer learned that Universal Studios would not allow any similarities between the new monster, to be played by Christopher Lee, and the valve-necked Hollywood version as represented by Boris Karloff. This led Hammer to envision a rougher patchwork version of Frankenstein's monster, one more faithful to Mary Shelley's literary rendering.

Peter Cushing's portrayal of the mad scientist Baron Victor Frankenstein is far crueler and more calculating than Colin Clive's just-plain-crazy Dr. Frankenstein from the classic James Whale films. Here, too, we're introduced to the visual aesthetic of the studio's pre-eminent director, the great Terence Fisher. The ways Fisher infused so much atmosphere into his films on the cheap serve as a lesson to filmmakers even today and anyone who hasn't yet dared enter Hammer's House of Horror would do well to enter here, or for that matter, with their next film, the excellent Dracula (1958, aka Horror of Dracula in the US), in which Fisher directed Lee and Cushing as Count Dracula and Dr. Van Helsing respectively.

With the foundations laid for two successful franchises, Hammer wasted little time in reuniting Fisher with Cushing in that same year's The Revenge of Frankenstein. Having established a new identity as Dr. Victor Stein, the mad creator transplanted a dwarf's brain into a new body, in the process creating a deranged cannibal. (Boy, if I had a nickel for every time that's happened to me.) The twist in this one is a doozy - as the doc becomes an experiment himself, setting the stage for a fresh start in sequels to come.

Mummies and Hounds

As the adage goes, if it ain't broke, don't fix it, and The Mummy from 1959 again assembled Fisher, Cushing and Lee. Lee plays Kharis, a 4000-year-old priest brought back to kill those who desecrated his ancient tomb, a team of unwitting archaeologists led by Cushing's explorer Banning. Banning's wife resembles Kharis's time-lost love (and cause of his entombment) Princess Anaka, giving the revenant even more reason for mayhem.

Also released that year, The Hound of the Baskervilles upped the crimson gore level in a remake of the Sherlock Holmes warhorse and made the titular hound sufficiently hellish. The ubiquitous Terence Fisher directed Peter Cushing, as Holmes and, in a masterful bit of casting, Christopher Lee as the film's romantic lead, playboy Charles Baskerville. Lee traditionally gets the more villainous and physical roles in the Hammer canon, using his superior acting skill to draw a character whole, though often limited to hisses and grunts in the way of verbal communication. It's a rare treat in a Hammer film to see Lee kiss a woman whom he doesn't later kill, and to hear him wrap his voice around some real lines. Though it failed to generate a franchise, to many, this version of Holmes equals or betters any other and is unquestionably more physically dynamic than the classic Basil Rathbone model.

The early 1960s

This period saw Hammer diving into rather creepy terrain, with Dracula, Jekyll, the Phantom, and the Werewolf all providing fodder for some interesting films.

Only one Hammer-produced Dracula film was made without the participation of Christopher Lee - The Brides of Dracula (1960). Also released as Son of Dracula, it featured David Peel as a sort of redheaded stepson of Dracula named Baron Meinster. Terence Fisher directed and Peter Cushing returned to play Van Helsing with physicality and panache. One of the most kinetic and action-packed films in the series, its fiery showdown between vampire and hunter is a high point.

The Two Faces of Dr. Jekyll (inexplicably titled House of Fright in the US) was a version of Robert Louis Stevenson's gothic tale of split personalities and starred Paul Massie as Dr. Jekyll and Christopher Lee along with Oliver Reed, who would perform the title role in the following year's Curse of the Werewolf. Both would be directed by Fisher, who also lensed 1962's The Phantom of the Opera featuring Herbert Lom (now more well-known for his hilariously deadpan role of Clouseau's boss in the Pink Panther movies) as the Phantom. Of the last three, only The Werewolf (US title) would spawn a sequel as such (although Dr. Jekyll would get a surprising update years later).

On the subject of sequels, the Hammer production machine was running at a healthy clip at this point, and 1964 saw them generate both The Curse of the Mummy's Tomb as well as The Evil of Frankenstein. But with such a prolific output, Terrence Fisher simply couldn't direct everything; so Michael Carreras directed Curse while ace cinematographer Freddie Francis directed Evil. Hammer films were distributed in the US by Universal for years and the arrangement was so lucrative it fostered enough goodwill that the classic Frankenstein make-up could be used without fear of infringement. Regardless, Evil stands on its own for introducing the character of Zoltan, a hypnotist who brings the creature back from the dead (yes, again), placing him at odds with a returned Baron Frankenstein. Their struggle for control of the monster is what drives the film.

Women in loincloths

1964's The Gorgon (not to be confused with his Gorgo) reunited Fisher with Lee and Cushing and introduced the lovely Barbara Shelley to British and American audiences (Shelley would also appear in Quartermass and the Pit). Gorgon is a relatively underrated and interesting Hammer entry. In the following year, the relatively large budgeted fantasy She, based on the H. Rider Haggard story, might have placed a temporary financial prohibition on new horror features, for none were made that year. Certainly She's cast was expansive enough, with John Richardson, Cushing, Lee and young Bond girl Ursula Andress as the immortal Queen Ayesha of lost city Kuma. It, too, spawned a sequel - Vengeance of She from 1968, with Olinka Berova playing the part of, well, She.

She was the template for Hammer's forging ahead with other sexier productions with heavy emphasis on the marketing of a picture. Hence, in 1966 One Million Years BC was unleashed on an unsuspecting public. It would be Hammer's most financially successful effort in their entire history. Starring Raquel Welch, unforgettable in an animal skin bikini, John Richardson (not in a bikini), Martine Beswick and the stop-motion dinosaurs of legendary American special effects artist Ray Harryhausen. With grunts in place of dialog, a cavewoman catfight and much of its budget spent on adhesive (to hold loincloths and beard in place), BC still holds up as one of the classic fantasy adventure films of the 60s or any other decade. The indelible poster image of Welch was a top seller for dorm-room walls (until Farrah Fawcett came along in her tank top).

BC's unbelievable success made a follow-up inevitable. 1970's When Dinosaurs Ruled the Earth went back to the well, with Victoria Vetri and a score of other model/actresses having it out with animatronic monsters. Although I find any film featuring a pterodactyl carrying off human prey to be fundamentally enjoyable, filmgoers' interest began to wane with this one. Even so, Hammer would produce two other prehistoric period pictures, Slave Girls (Prehistoric Women in the US; 1968) and Creatures the World Forgot (1971). Lamentably, both did without dinosaurs completely. Of the two, Prehistoric Women has the better animal-hide swimsuits and is recommended if only because the cave-folk actually speak English to each other.

Monks, Devils and Zombies, oh my

1966 also saw Hammer's return to strict horror fare with Dracula, Prince of Darkness, a typically stylish set piece directed by, yes, Terrence Fisher, with Cristopher Lee again playing undead. Lee's Count does little in the film but hiss menacingly, but there are some great set pieces, namely the climactic battle on ice and Dracula's wonderfully gory resurrection. Given considerably more to do with the title role in that year's Rasputin the Mad Monk, Lee chewed scenery throughout as the crazed, amoral and downright lecherous monk. His seduction of beautiful women in the service of his Tsar infuriates the local menfolk, but even after a hand-chopping bar-brawl (my kind of monk!), it takes Rasputin wooing the Tsarina herself (Barbara Shelley again) before they plot to destroy him.

Hammer had a system not unlike one that Roger Corman often used wherein sets built especially for one production would be used straightaway in another feature. The Reptile, for example, was filmed on the set of Plague of the Zombies, both in 1966; it should be noted that the underrated Plague predates George A. Romero's Night of the Living Dead by a good two years, well ahead of the zombie curve. Here, the dead are raised by Tahitian voodoo and some 19th Century creeps from Cornwall. Think of it as a low-budget Wicker Man prototype. In The Reptile, we're again in a small Cornish town where folks are mysteriously disappearing. The film is really a mystery, albeit one where you can reasonably expect (spoiler alert!) a reptile to show up at some point. Rounding out this fine Hammer year is The Witches, AKA The Devil's Own - which starts out in fine fashion but ends with a rather embarrassing mass orgy dance number.

The ingenious Frankenstein Created Woman from 1967 has the Baron in the possession of a beautiful young woman's body. Not one to leave the dead alone, he installs in it the soul from a freshly executed young man. Not surprisingly, the soul comes with its own axe to grind. Playboy model Susan Denberg plays Christina, the shell of the Baron's titular creation.

The Devil Rides Out, based on Dennis Wheatley's novel of the same name, centered on the Duc de Richeliu (Christopher Lee) and his conflict with a charismatic Satanist named Mocata who wants to sacrifice the Duc's niece. Any fans of gothic supernatural thrillers will be pleased with this film; I'd easily place it within Hammer's top five.

Hammer used Wheatley as source material again that same year with The Lost Continent, which was based on his novel Uncharted Seas. Directed by Michael Carreras, it's an entertaining blend, a sort of Poseidon Adventure meets Arthur Conan Doyle's The Lost World.

In 1968, Freddie Francis directed Lee in his third outing as the Count, Dracula Has Risen from the Grave, also starring Veronica Carlson. In this very enjoyable outing, Dracula seeks vengeance on the Monsignor who exorcised his castle. Taking for a bride the holy man's niece seems as good a way as any.

The only Hammer Horror film released in 1969 was Frankenstein Must Be Destroyed (yes, you guessed it, directed by Terrence Fisher), in which the good doctor again comes across a bodily vessel in which to put a brain - though the brain itself may leave something to be desired. Not great Hammer, but worthy.

Continue to Part 2...