Jamaica Inn (1939)

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Bah, stop crying! Stop it, you little fool! Be beautiful! Oh, ply those tears if you like, but you must be beautiful. Well, you have to be hard now. The Age of Chivalry is gone! England in 1819, the reign of George IV.  After the death of her mother, young orphan Mary Yellen (Maureen O’Hara) travels from Ireland to the Cornish coast to live with her Aunt Patience (Marie Ney). Stranded on a windswept, isolated road, Mary meets the bumptious Humphrey Pengallan (Charles Laughton), who escorts her to Jamaica Inn. There, Mary meets her aunt and bullying uncle, Merlyn Joss (Leslie Banks) – who secretly leads a band of pirates that pilfers the goods from wrecked ships. Suspicious, Mary turns to Pengallan for help, only to discover another dark secret… Why not a toast to beauty, Sir Humphrey?  Written by Alma Reville, Sidney Gilliat, Joan Harrison and J.B. Priestley, this adaptation of Daphne Du Maurier’s novel about wreckers still has some of that book’s atmospherics despite too much staginess and the overt theatricality of Laughton’s performance. O’Hara is luminous in her first major role and along with the gripping opening wrecking scene, it’s her scenes with Jem Trehearne (Robert Newton) that give this its tinge of excitement.  It’s disappointing in many production respects and Du Maurier reportedly wasn’t happy with the result.  It’s not really a Hitchcock picture – even he realised that, since it was produced by Laughton’s company – but it still has some touches of gallows humour and bright moments of dark humanity. That’s women for you – save your life one minute, frightened of you the next. I guess I’m not a very pretty sight at the moment, but I don’t bite, you know

The Reptile (1966)

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Half woman – half snake! England in the early twentieth century. Harry Spalding (Ray Barrett) inherits his brother Charles’s cottage in Clagmoor Heath following the man’s mysterious death. He moves in with his new wife Valerie (Jennifer Daniel). They are not welcomed by any of the locals save for the publican Tom Bailey (Michael Ripper) who tells him Charles died of the Black Death. The local crazy Mad Peter (John Laurie) may be the only person who knows what’s going on:  a Malayan curse has turned the daughter Anna (Jacqueline Pearce) of Dr Franklyn (Noel Willman) into a snake woman… You’re like your brother – obstinate! With a screenplay by Anthony Hinds (as John Elder), this was filmed by director John Gilling back-to-back with The Plague of the Zombies for Hammer and it shares its elegance and controlled atmosphere (and some of its major cast and sets) but let’s face it, it’s fairly silly. The actors are splendid – particularly Pearce as Cobra Girl and Laurie as Mad Peter, with Ripper great as ever – and there’s a flavourful score by Don Banks, making this a most enjoyable excursion into mind control with some terrific set pieces. This was cut to avoid an ‘X’ rating and was then passed in full in 1994.  If you take my advice you won’t live there

 

The Plague of the Zombies (1966)

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Please take care not to stray from the path.  In 1860 young local doctor Peter Tompson (Brooks Williams) cannot stop the spread of an epidemic in his Cornish village. He contacts his old professor Sir James Forbes (Andre Morell) who arrives with his daughter Sylvia (Diane Clare). She notices that Peter’s sister Alice (Jacqueline Pearce) is unwell. When the men disinter coffins and find them empty they link the plague to Squire Clive Hamilton (John Carson) and his voodoo practices which he learned in his time in the West Indies so when the men act against him it’s time to assemble his zombie army … Do you believe in life after death? A terrifically effective thriller from Hammer, beautifully made and endlessly influential:  the green-tinted zombie ‘mare an hour in is chillingly convincing. Screenwriter Peter Bryan had already written the studio’s Hound of the Baskervilles and The Brides of Dracula and the conventions of the graveyard standoff, the doctor’s intervention and the possessed women are all here in this restrained horror. Carson does a good vocal impersonation of James Mason. Stylish as heck. Directed by John Gilling.  I dreamed I saw the dead rise

My Cousin Rachel (1952)

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Because I love her and nothing else! It isn’t a little loving. It isn’t a fancy. It isn’t something you’d turn on and off. It’s everything I think and feel and want and know. And there’s no room in me for anything else. And never will be again.   England in the early nineteenth century. When Philip Ashley’s (Richard Burton) wealthy cousin, Ambrose (John Sutton), who raised him, dies suddenly following his marriage in Italy, his suspicions drift to Ambrose’s new and icy wife, Rachel (Olivia de Havilland), the widow of a Florentine aristocrat, who stands to benefit greatly from his cousin’s death. When Ashley is introduced to Rachel at Ambrose’s funeral, however, his fears are immediately laid to rest: how could such a beautiful young woman possibly be a murderer? When the estate is left to Ashley on his 25th birthday, he begins to fear for his life but is overcome by his feelings for the older woman whose outrageous lifestyle and expenses don’t arouse his suspicions and he plans on giving her everything … I haven’t the time to explain. But I’m convinced now that Ambrose was right. She not only murdered him but she’s done her best to kill me too. Novelist Daphne du Maurier was very unhappy with Nunnally Johnson’s adaptation of her book and so was director George Cukor so they both departed this, which was produced by Johnson and directed by Henry Koster. Perhaps de Havilland is too obviously suspect as the dark femme fatale luring men into her black widow’s web and young Burton, making his first lead appearance in an American production, isn’t the most attractive of suitors. The suspense element is too ambiguous, even at the film’s conclusion. However it’s a nicely sustained atmospheric outing for the most part, with attractive performances including Irish actress Audrey Dalton as Louise Kendall and Ronald Squire as her father. The masterful cinematography, blending studio work with backdrops shot in Cornwall, is by Joseph LaShelle.  Always remember, Philip, death is the price for murder

Straw Dogs (1971)

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If you can’t catch ’em … shoot ’em.  David Sumner (Dustin Hoffman) is a mild-mannered American mathematician married to Amy (Susan George), an Englishwoman. They have relocated to the small town in rural Cornwall where Amy was raised, to a house filled with her father’s belongings. David is writing a book because he has a research grant to do a project on astrophysics.  He is ostracized by the brutish men of the village who are renovating the garage beside the cottage, including Amy’s old boyfriend Charlie (Del Henney). Eventually the taunts and lewdness escalate, their cat is strangled and hanged and two of the locals rape Amy while they distract David by taking him out hunting and leave him alone for the day on the moor. When the village idiot Henry Niles (an uncredited David Warner) winds up at their house after accidentally killing the local slut Janice Hedden (Sally Thomsett) following a church social, the locals come a looking and lay siege to his house and the passive aggressive David finally takes revenge …  David Zelag Goodman loosely adapted the 1969 Gordon M. Williams novel The Siege of Trencher’s Farm with director Sam Peckinpah and its sustained atmosphere of unbearable tension and brutality shocks to this day. The campaign of harassment is inscribed in the titles sequence in which we open on a gravestone and children torturing a dog:  we are quickly introduced to the casual viciousness of the village, the acceptance of violence – mentally retarded Henry is bitch slapped by his brother John (Peter Arne) for playing ball with schoolchildren;  Tom Hedden (Peter Vaughan) breaks a glass into the publican’s hand when time is called despite the presence of the local magistrate (T.P. McKenna);  Hedden’s trampy daughter Janice (Thomsett) and son Bobby (Len Jones) watch David and Amy in bed together. The goons played by Ken Hutchison and Donald Webster are uncomplicated thugs who nonetheless question David about his familiarity with guns (the anti-Vietnam war poster and the animal trap indicate where the film is going textually). He makes it obvious that he is anti-violence. The gang rape is anything but simple:  Amy tries to pacify the first assailant because like most rape victims, she knows him and that’s what makes this so convincing, never mind that it’s brilliantly shot and constructed.  She has gone around the place without a bra – even David tells her to start dressing appropriately and stop complaining that the locals are making horrible remarks. The marital strains are echoed when the vicar (Colin Welland) gives his wife a condescending look because she doesn’t know who Montesquieu is;  Amy doesn’t understand binary numbers. The drama is then structured about the outsider intellectual amid backward yokels, of whom his wife still appears to be one;  the awful Hedden’s concern for his daughter reminds us that Amy’s father dominates her domestic surroundings and she resents David’s retreat to his study. This is where I live. This is me.  I will not allow violence against this house. This was much misunderstood upon release but it’s a genre mashup whose antecedents – the western, the horror film (isn’t this a Hammeresque village with a Frankenstein’s monster?), the home invasion movie – are delineated clearly. The crosscutting (Nic Roeg’s collaborator Tony Lawson is one of three editors, including future director Roger Spottiswoode) also clarifies the complex and ironic psychology. You simply cannot say, as many did at the time of this film’s initial release, that this celebrates violence:  the technique just does not permit it.  David’s shit-eating grin at the film’s conclusion is perhaps what bothers people but as someone who has suffered outrageous violence at the hands of my thick neighbours I can relate to his turnaround and wish I were in a position to emulate it. When I asked the local plumber what was behind it he told me an apocryphal tale which ended in the deathless words, Y’see, nobody wants someone with too much education in their neighbourhood. So when anyone asks me what it’s like to live in the countryside, I tell them, Watch Straw Dogs. As far as I’m concerned, it might be a documentary.

My Cousin Rachel (2017)

 

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Daphne du Maurier’s novels have never really gone out of fashion, certainly not Rebecca, but this nineteenth century-set variation on gaslighting and Gothic has not been a favourite. Already adapted in 1952 starring Olivia de Havilland and Richard Burton, it gets a run through in a new British version written and directed by Roger Michell. Sam Claflin is Philip the devoted cousin of Ambrose Ashley whose illness drives him to the sun and Italy where he falls for the half-Italian Rachel (Rachel Weisz) and his letters home indicate that she means him ill. When Philip goes to Italy he discovers his cousin is dead, Rachel has vanished and the house is empty with only a man called Rainaldi (Pierfrancesco Favino) to suggest what might have happened. Rachel then materialises at Ambrose’s estate in England where Philip is running the show. He wants to kill her and avenge this monster for his cousin’s supposed murder…. but she is stunningly beautiful and she bewitches first his dogs, then him. His godfather Nick Kendall (Iain Glen) warns him off her and his daughter Louise (Holliday Grainger) who is Philip’s presumed future wife also sees that he is enchanted by her. His own doltish undeveloped sexuality means he is wholly taken in by her – and then means to have her, at whatever cost. She prepares tisanes for him that seem designed to poison him but he rushes into a financial settlement upon his coming of age despite evidence that she is sending vast sums of money abroad: a marriage would seem to be the solution to his carnal needs and her avarice. The combination of two attractive players who nonetheless appear to be in parallel universes doesn’t help this interesting interpretation of toxic relationships and male paranoia that wraps around a mystery that isn’t particularly puzzling:  she is after her late husband’s money. The shock of what Rachel does after a bout of al fresco sex in a bluebell wood is one of the several juxtapositions that reminds one that this is a very modern take on a tale that is old as the hills:  marriages are never equal and relationships based on revenge are never going to end well.

Murder Ahoy! (1964)

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The final of the four Miss Marple film series starring the legendary Margaret Rutherford as a most unlikely Agatha Christie heroine – but who wants anyone else in the role?! This is only vaguely Christie, with a superficial reminder of one plot component in They Do It With Mirrors – a bunch of teenage tearaways supposedly being rehabilitated in an institution but actually being trained in burglary. Here they’re on a former naval ship run by a charitable trust.  When one of her fellow trustees is murdered, Marple infiltrates the boat … and a whole slew of deaths follows! Great fun, with the usual gang – Charles ‘Bud’ Tingwell is back as Chief Inspector Craddock, Stringer Davies (Rutherford’s real life husband) returns as Marple’s fellow sleuth and there’s Lionel Jeffries in a  highly amusing performance as Captain Rhumstone.  Derek Nimmo, Miles Malleson and Nicholas Parsons bring up the considerable rear. Directed by George Pollock from a screenplay by David Pursall and Jack Seddon. Word up for the amazing poster design by Tom Jung and that fabulous jaunty signature tune by Ron Goodwin.