If there's one theme that seems to run through nearly all the classic Hammer gothic horror films, it's that the upper classes back then weren't only useless in fighting the forces of evil--they were pretty nasty specimens themselves, all in all.  After all, Count Dracula was a nobleman, Victor Frankenstein was definitely of the upper classes, and if anyone was going to do some monster hunting in those Hammer flicks, it was least likely to be the blue bloods who were supposed to be in charge of things.  In fact, the aristocracy in Hammer films often formed its own kind of evil force and this will be seen plainly as we reveal...

By JOE WINTERS

As the saying goes "the rich get richer/the poor get poorer." Throughout history, from Holy Wars to Enron, the fortunes of some have indeed been made off the suffering of others.

In fiction, we see the point stressed to painful extremes as the unfeeling ambitions of some individual or group have an adverse effect on the so-called common man. From time to time, however, the common man…and woman…would strike back.

We’ve read about it in our history books and seen it happen on our evening news. Revolutions of one sort or another often set off by one indefensible spark that ignites emotions already brought to a head.

It’s no different in films, and especially films of a fantastic nature, where the consequences of an immoral act can be terrible indeed. Scores of horror movies have depicted the plight of average honest folk caught in the fallout of the sins of the ruling class. Britain’s Hammer Films almost consistently focused on this theme. From the very start of the studio’s horror cycle, the well-to-do as represented in these films have imposed their will on those whom they consider inferior and thus expendable.

A life of privilege helped enable Baron Victor Frankenstein (Peter Cushing) to pursue his passions resulting in The Curse Of Frankenstein (1957). In this first film of the series the Baron’s quest for the creation of life ironically left him with little regard for those already living. It began with the murder of the old professor whose brain was needed for the experiment. When the new life was created, it too was treated cruelly by its creator. The disposal of the housekeeper/mistress who refused to realize her place as merely a sexual plaything further evidenced Victor’s sense of superiority.

This attitude segued into The Revenge Of Frankenstein (1958) with the Baron avoiding execution through the substitute decapitation of the priest. Soon after, the good work of "Doctor Stein" at the Poor Hospital provided a front and a convenient source of the raw materials (body parts) needed to further his experiments.

By the time of The Evil Of Frankenstein (1964) he was not only on the run, he had all but run out of money, and perhaps as a result was less contemptible, though no less determined. Finding himself a member of the lower class and on the defensive against corrupt officials who had prospered at his expense, he forgets himself upon sighting his confiscated ring on the finger of the town Burgomeister. Despite the film’s title, the evil (robbery and murder) is done by the Monster (Kiwi Kingston) at the command of the egotistical and impoverished hypnotist Zoltan (Peter Woodthorpe), striving for instant affluence through one of the more unsavory methods left open to the needy. 

In Frankenstein Created Woman (1967) a trio of young aristocrats taunts disfigured Christina (Susan Denberg) and later frames her lover Hans (Robert Morris) for the murder of the girl’s father. Frankenstein (Cushing), bent on transferring the soul of the executed Hans to the body of the surgically improved Christina, creates a new and seductive kind of monster and becomes the unwitting cause of tragedy which he tries in vain to prevent. Throughout the film, Frankenstein avoids doing direct harm to anyone and restricts his experimentation to himself and to those already beyond help. Most of his efforts are well-intentioned, even heroic.

Well, no more Mister Nice Guy. Frankenstein Must Be Destroyed (1969) opens with the severing of a gentleman’s head, and from there to a swirl of violence, manipulation, blackmail, deceit, rape, and murder. Victor is at his most ruthless, and again playing a malevolent God with the lives of lesser mortals. Though not in the chips, he has a roof over his head, a new lab, an able and unpaid lab assistant (Simon Ward) and a beautiful hostess (Veronica Carlson) to make coffee.

Hammer’s other chief example of a titled personage used to getting his way was Count Dracula (Christopher Lee), who went through human beings the way a thirsty villager might go through pitchers of beer. Beginning with Horror Of Dracula (1958) and in each film appearance thereafter, the Count doesn’t hesitate for a moment to use anybody he chooses as a source of nourishment, as a servant, or for sexual gratification.

In Lee’s final appearance in the series, The Satanic Rites Of Dracula (1973), he exploits the greed of a small group of prominent and powerful men, temporary allies in his own secret plot to destroy the World’s population with plague, apparently with the aim of ending his own existence. The modern-day Doctor Van Helsing (Peter Cushing) obliges the Count with the latter while preventing the former.

In Hammer’s series of otherwise unrelated Mummy films, the catalyst is always some sacred sovereign dead for thousands of years whose legacy spells doom for the living. In The Mummy (1959) it is Princess Ananka, whose guardian lover Kharis (Christopher Lee) emerges to destroy those who dare desecrate the tomb. In Curse Of The Mummy’s Tomb (1964), wealthy American entrepreneur Alexander King (Fred Clark) finances an expedition to unearth another tomb, and pays dearly for it.

Another movie, another tomb, another mummy, another moneybags; the pompous and cowardly Stanley Preston (John Phillips) in The Mummy’s Shroud (1967) even has the ailing archeologist (Andre Morell) who actually finds the tomb placed in an asylum, possibly to avoid sharing credit for the discovery. The usual Mummy rampage results in the death of Preston and several of his associates.

Blood From The Mummy’s Tomb (1971) spills forth following the ancient entombment of Queen Tera (Valerie Leon), whose supernatural powers span the centuries to imperil desecrators and ultimately the source of Tera’s resurrection, a modern-day twin (also played by Miss Leon).

And what of all the other twisted twigs of aristocracy whose malevolent machinations would cause pain and suffering to the innocent as well as those not so innocent?

While Sir Hugo Baskerville was not a Hammer creation, screenwriter Peter Bryan and director Terence Fisher’s interpretation of the depraved Sir Hugo was particularly sadistic and of course set the stage for The Hound Of The Baskervilles (1959). Peasants were brought to Baskerville Hall for the amusement of Sir Hugo and his guests. A young woman’s father was held over an open fire, and the woman herself tracked like a fox when she dared to flee and offset the night’s entertainment. Her murder at Hugo’s hand unleashed a legend of divine displeasure in the form of a "hound from Hell."

The curse, whether real or imaginary, would claim several lives before Sherlock Holmes (Peter Cushing) would put it, and the hound, to rest.

In director Fisher’s Curse Of The Werewolf (1960), the Marques Siniestro (Anthony Dawson) lived a life of luxury by raising taxes on the already-poor villagers. During the reception in honor of his marriage to a woman much younger than he, the Marques humiliated a hungry beggar (Richard Wordsworth) as part of the evening’s merriment, and then had the man imprisoned for life for making a suggestive hint about the wedding night.

Years later a servant girl (Yvonne Romain) rebuffs the widowed Marques’ lecherous advances, and is likewise thrown into a cell…with the now-deranged beggar, who rapes the girl, his last act before dying. Though later the girl revenges herself by stabbing the Marques to death, it is again the whim of the wealthy which sets in motion the unholy events that follow. The girl’s illegitimate child born on Christmas Day is cursed to become the doomed lycanthrope (played as an adult by Oliver Reed).

In Fisher’s Phantom Of The Opera (1962) it is the strutting, self-righteous womanizer Lord Ambrose D’arcy (Michael Gough) whose casual theft of the musical life’s work of a kindly and struggling composer (Herbert Lom) leads to the creation of the crazed title character. But as the actual villain of the piece, Lord Ambrose, by right of privilege, feels thoroughly justified in signing his own name to another man’s accomplishment. And so once more, the selfish act of a rich scoundrel begins a snowball of intrigue, romance, kidnapping, tragedy and death.

Throughout all this, D’arcy continues to maintain a routine of intimidating his servants and insulting his employees, while he wines, dines and delights in debauching prospective ingénues, preying on their ambitions with hollow promises.

An example of powerful women in Hammer films is portrayed by Ursula Andress as the immortal Queen Ayesha. She (1965) who must be obeyed will sacrifice anyone who stands between her and her lover (John Richardson). From slaves on up to the High Priest himself (Christopher Lee), many die before Ayesha meets her own end in the eternal flame.

H. Rider Haggard’s novel had been filmed several times before it got the Hammer treatment, most notably in 1935 by R-K-O, and led to Hammer’s ill-received sequel The Vengeance Of She (minus Andress) in 1968.

The wealthy are tools in the hands of the ambitious Rasputin, The Mad Monk (1965). Christopher Lee as the title character uses his "healing" powers to ingratiate himself into the family of the Russian Czar. The film is based on the true exploits of Grigori Efimovich Rasputin, whose influence and scandalous behavior helped make him an object of widespread hatred just prior to the Russian Revolution, which resulted in the overthrow of the royal family. In film, as in life, Rasputin was assassinated, a lesson perhaps to those who seek to overstep their place and play in the big leagues.

Hammer’s Plague Of The Zombie (1965) offers yet another person of privilege, this time English country Squire Clive Hamilton (John Carson), who evokes the power of voodoo to create an undead workforce to man his tin mines, while the occasional female convert might presumably be used to satisfy the carnal urges of the Squire and his living minions. Sir James Forbes (Andre Morell) would be one of the rare titled individuals to actually foil a sinister plot, rather than start one.

Aristocratic heroes in Hammer horrors were rare indeed. They include the Duc de Richlieu (Christopher Lee) in 1968’s The Devil Rides Out. Armed with sufficient knowledge, de Richlieu scuttles the satanic plans of Mocata (Charles Gray) and his affluent sect of Devil worshippers. Most of Hammer’s aristocrats indeed were filthy rich rogues, lechers, murderers and worse.

Countess Dracula (1970) was based in part on the exploits of real life Seventeenth Century Countess Erzsebet Bathory, who was found guilty of the torture and murders of over three-hundred girls and women. Bathory is most renowned for bathing in the blood of peasant girls in order to remain young herself. In the film the aging Countess Elisabeth Nasdasy (Ingrid Pitt) uses this process to pose as her own daughter, whom she’s had kidnapped, and proceeds with plans to marry the girl’s fiancée!

Dracula’s disciples and imitators throughout Hammer history would include Baron Meinster (David Peel) in Brides Of Dracula (1960). In between putting the bite on his own mother and on Van Helsing himself, Meinster took time to introduce himself to the Principal of the finishing school which the Baron owns, along with most of the territory no doubt. The Baron congratulates the pompous Principal for maintaining such an excellent school and grounds, and then adds "at so low a rent," thus reminding a tenant of his place.

And let’s not forget Dr. Ravna (Noel Willman), his children and cult in Kiss Of The Vampire (1962); Count Karnstein and his family in The Vampire Lovers (1970), Lust For A Vampire (1970) and Twins Of Evil (1971); and Count Mitterhaus, whose curse propels the dark doings of the Vampire Circus (1972). Yes, the filthy rich continually got away with worse than murder. Working-class beauties and blokes went like lambs to the slaughter until some working-class benefactor came to the rescue with wooden stake in hand.

The characters of Hammer’s contemporary psycho thrillers were not exempt from greed and ambition, either. Money proved to be the root of all evil plots involving murder and insanity; bread and butter for Jimmy Sangster who hammered out screenplays for The Snorkel (1958), Scream Of Fear (1961), Paranoiac (1963), Nightmare (1964), and Fear In The Night (1972). Sangster himself didn’t get filthy-rich off all this, but for a working writer, death can be a living.

A more disturbingly believable Hammer psycho drama is Never Take Sweets From A Stranger (1960) where an elderly child molester (played by Felix Aylmer) is considered above the law, simply based on his family’s standing in the community. To complain to the authorities is to risk one’s own livelihood; until the problem finally becomes too terrible to ignore.

All the on-screen depravity of Hammer Horrors was in direct contrast to the generally warm, family atmosphere of the studio itself. From their humble beginnings, the true aristocracy of Hammer Films earned their accolades and fortunes from a wealth of films geared toward the masses. Many workaday filmgoers and filmmakers see nothing wrong with occasionally blaming the idle rich for our own woes. And on occasion, the not-so-idle rich might just deserve it.

Thanks, Joe.  One could say that in the classic Hammer gothic horror films, the rich got meaner and the poor got deader.  It's this "class struggle," one that mirrors the still visible lines of class distinctions in England, that helps give the Hammer horrors their unique panache.  And it all made sense in an economic sense...after all, who would have had the moneyed leisure time to play neck- biting games or to animate cadavers back then?  Not the working man, that's for sure. 

Article copyright © Joe Winters

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