Archive for Peter Cushing

Reincarnate

Posted in FILM with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on August 6, 2019 by dcairns

In Peter Sasdy’s NOTHING BUT THE NIGHT, Christopher Lee is stuffy, Peter Cushing is snippy, Diana Dors is stroppy and Georgia Brown is chippy, lippy and slutty. And little Gwyneth Strong is absolutely brilliant. Everyone is intense, fervid, all the time, like they were all fathered by Charles McGraw when no one was looking, which seems to be a Sasdy characteristic (see also The Stone Tape).

It’s Christopher Lee’s only film as producer, adapted from a novel by John Blackburn, a quite interesting genre writer though a very reactionary one. Reaching the screen, some of these attitudes are softened or switched, but some remain, so you don’t quite know what to think.

The plot centres on an orphan (Strong), seemingly traumatized in a bus crash, but there’s something sinister afoot with the foundation caring for her (Kathleen Byron is involved so it can’t be a purely charitable institution, can it?). Dors is a red herring in a red shiny coat, seen trudging through the Scottish heather for reels on end, the least inconspicuous person ever. She’s a fortune teller with a black cat decal on her Hillman Imp and she’s trying to get her daughter back. Tabloid hack Brown tells her, “You must admit she’d be better of with them than here,” which seems a bit unsympathetic. There’s nothing wrong with Dors’ clairvoyance pad: she has a phrenology head and an Emmanuelle chair, what more could any child ask?

Apart from class horror at Dors’ raging slattern, the film seems to share Lee and Cushing’s distaste for the pushy journo, yet she’s the one who sets them on the right trail. The great duo are at everyone’s throats all the way through, with Cushing in particular JUST VERY CROSS in every scene. It’s the Hammer films trope of the authority figures being righteous, correct, our only hope, yet deeply dislikeable. Only with the pitch turned up and a bit of a headache.

Gwyneth Strong can dislocate her jaw in order to swallow whole goats.

We enjoyed the Scottish locations — Edinburgh airport looks unchanged to me — the evil scheme is an intriguing one and the climax gets some real moral horror going, aided by Lee waking up and doing some proper acting as he faces a kind of payback for his role in THE WICKER MAN. He could really rise to the occasion, that man, and at six foot ninety he had a head start.

It all falls apart in the closing shots, where the script can’t come up with a good finish, calls for some effects that don’t quite make it, and the staging falls apart accompanied by mismatched dusk/dawn-for-night and night-for-night shots (NOTHING LIKE THE NIGHT, you could call it), and it looks as though Sasdy just ran out of time on top of everything else.

Night shoots are a bitch.

The music — a lush rephrasing of Nine Green Bottles — is extremely poor. A death-by-hatpin recalls Sasdy’s HANDS OF THE RIPPER. Strong’s performance is one for the ages — authentically terrifying.

NOTHING BUT THE NIGHT stars the Grand Moff Tarkin; Mycroft Holmes; Frau Poppendick; Frau Freud; Nigel Barton; Mackay; Albus Dumbledore; Aunt Beru; Victor Carroon; and Sister Ruth.

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This is the Universe

Posted in FILM with tags , , , , , , on February 16, 2019 by dcairns

This National Film Board of Canada documentary was sort of Kubrick’s Bible when making 2001. It’s a short doc in which everything is fake but everything is true, and it’s part of the NFBC’s ongoing project to make me feel small. The special effects are really terrific — I’d argue that their Moon is even superior to Kubrick’s. If you’ve ever studied the reddish moon seen during an eclipse, when it’s not flatly reflecting the light back like Oliver Hardy, you’ll appreciate how in circumstances other than the norm, it has real heft and dimensionality so that you wonder how it can stay up there. The makers of UNIVERSE achieve that by building a biggish miniature Moon, whereas I think Kubes relied on (beautiful) paintings.

The VO should also sound familiar. After Kubrick had trouble finding an actor who could sound bland enough to be a computer (and blander even than his lead actors), he reached out to Douglas Rain, who recorded the entire role in under an hour I believe, wearing his slippers so he would sound really relaxed. That other space killer, Peter Cushing’s Grand Moff Tarkin, also did most of his work in carpet slippers, because the jackboots George Lucas had obtained were a really uncomfortable fit. If I ever get appointed Grand Moff, or even Ordinary Moff, I’m going to wear slippers all the time too, because who’s going to stop me?

You?

Humonsters

Posted in FILM with tags , , , , on October 29, 2018 by dcairns

 

                  

Reminders:

The Shadowplay podcast, known as The Shadow Cast, is here. One episode so far, but it won’t be long now, comrades.

The Shadowplay blogathon, The Late Show, runs in December. Anyone got ideas for late movie themed posts?