Richard Greene Rides Again as Robin Hood

Richard Greene as Robin Hood.

Sandwiched between The Men of Sherwood Forest (1954) and A Challenge for Robin Hood (1967), Hammer Films produced Sword of Sherwood Forest (1960). This action opus about the legendary English outlaw stands out for one big reason: It stars Richard Greene, famous for playing the title role in The Adventures of Robin Hood TV series. As all Robin Hood fans know, that's the one where he's "riding through glen with his band of men."

One might think that Sword of Sherwood Forest is a big screen continuation of the TV series that ran from 1955-59. However, that's not the case in terms of the storyline and the cast (with the exception of Greene and some minor players). The film features veteran actors in most of the major roles: Nigel Green (Hercules in Jason and the Argonauts) as Little John, Niall MacGinnis (Night of the Demon) as Friar Tuck, and Hammer regular Peter Cushing as the Sheriff of Nottingham. 

Peter Cushing as the Sheriff.

Screenwriter Alan Hackney wisely dispenses with the typical Robin Hood origin story. His tale has the Sheriff of Nottingham collaborating with the greedy Earl of Newark (Richard Pasco) to steal land by manipulating the court system. Maid Marian, who is the Sheriff's niece in this version, gets wind of their scheme. When her uncle won't change his evil ways, she seeks help from the Chancellor of England, who is visiting the area in his other capacity as Archbishop of Canterbury. 

Meanwhile, Robin is trying to figure out why the Sheriff killed an unknown traveler. Along the way, he happens on Marian, who has just bathed in a lake (it's a Hammer film, after all). Despite her feeble protests, there is an instant attraction between the two (although Robin is almost twice her age). But before they can get together, the Earl of Newark must be stopped before he can assassinate the Chancellor.

Hammer's most renowned director, Terrence Fisher, keeps Sword of Sherwood Forest moving briskly through its 80-minute running time. There are a plethora of outdoor scenes, perhaps in an attempt to keep production costs down. Contemporary reviews call it colorful, but, unfortunately, the print used for Mill Creek's Blu-ray disc (part of the Hammer Ultimate Collection) is a muted one. 

Sarah Branch as Marian.

Greene still has the required panache to play Robin, but, at age 41, he lacks the physicality required for the role (it's easy to spot his stunt double). Chemistry is definitely lacking between his Robin and Sarah Branch's Marian. The former model had little prior acing experience at the time and, though she tries, she seems miscast as a spunky heroine.

Peter Cushing and Richard Pasco excel as the villains. The problem is that, in a movie this short, there's only room for one villain. As a result, Cushing's Sheriff of Nottingham gets nudged into the background all too often. It's a shame to waste an actor of Cushing's caliber.

Finally, it's always fun to see who pops in British films of the 1960s. In uncredited roles, look for the following:  Desmond Llewelyn (Q in many Bond films) as the "wounded fugitive" at the beginning; Derren Nesbitt (Von Hapen in Where Eagles Dare) as Martin, one of the merry men; and Oliver Reed as Newark's henchman. I am convinced that Oliver Reed was dubbed, even though some sources contradict that claim.

Christopher Lee Battles Charles Gray in The Devil Rides Out

Christopher Lee as the hero.

Upon his return to London, Rex Van Ryn learns from the Duc de Richleau (Christopher Lee) that their mutual friend Simon has been a mysterious recluse for the last three months. The duo motor over to a country estate recently purchased by Simon and interrupt what their friend claims is an astronomical society meeting. It's apparent that something else is going on and de Richleau confirms his suspicions when he finds satanic symbols on the observatory's floor and animals awaiting sacrifice.

It turns out that Simon and a young woman named Tanith are about to be baptized into a satanic cult led by a powerful black arts practitioner named Mocata (Charles Gray). Knowing that the following night is a sacred one for the satanists, de Richleau tries to devise a rescue plan while Rex struggles to understand what is happening.

Nike Arrighi as Tanith.

Set in the 1920s, The Devil Rides Out (aka The Devil's Bride) ranks as one of Hammer Films' finest motion pictures. Richard Matheson--an acclaimed writer in his own right--adapted Dennis Wheatley's 1934 supernatural novel. The result is an intelligent script with Hitchcockian overtones.

Hammer's best director, Terence Fisher, ramps up the suspense with three thrilling scenes. The first is when de Richleau and Rex interrupt Mocata's bloody ritual to nab Simon and Tanith from his clutches. The following morning, a dapper-looking Mocata visits the house where Simon and Tanith are being guarded. In a scene straight from Hitchcock's playbook, Mocata exudes charm as he chats politely with the house's owner...and slowly bends her to his will. Charles Gray, who gives a masterful performance as Mocata, uses his penetrating eyes and smooth, controlling voice to great effect.

Charles Gray as Mocata, looking dapper and then in his ceremonial robes.

Fisher's final big flourish occurs in the climatic scene where Mocata uses all his tricks--and the Angel of Death--to lure de Richleau and his friends from a circle of protection. The scene is hampered slightly by merely passable special effects. A giant spider doesn't look all that big--the result of the film's modest budget, no doubt. However, as de Richleau, Christoper Lee's ominous warnings create a general air of unease.

It's no surprise that Christopher Lee considers The Devil Rides Out one of his best films. The sets are convincing and the English country houses--connected by narrow, empty roads--add to the feeling of isolation. Perhaps author Dennis Wheatley gets the credit here, but the decision to stage the satanic baptism ceremony in the woods at night was a brilliant one.

Christopher Lee and Charles Gray give commanding performances as powerful figures at opposing ends of the good-and-evil spectrum. The supporting cast is convincing in their roles, especially British TV veteran Sarah Lawson, who plays the woman who confronts Mocata in her home.

No review of The Devil Rides Out would be complete without mentioning one of the greatest shots in Hammer history. When Tanith is driving a car, Mocata appears to her--with only his eyes visible in the rearview mirror. It's an incredibly creepy image that lingers from one of the best horror films of the 1960s.

Charles Gray's eyes in the rearview mirror.

You Can't Keep a Good Mummy Down

As monsters go, I've never been a big Mummy fan. After all, the Mummy basically follows orders, kills people, and walks...very...slowly. For some reason, people tend to fall down a lot when he's stalking them. Otherwise, I'm not sure the Mummy would be very effective at accomplishing his deadly tasks.

Still, I am a fan of Hammer Films' The Mummy (1959), which features an imposing Christopher Lee as possibly cinema's most fleet-footed mummified monster. This version is not a remake of the interesting, but plodding, 1932 Boris Karloff original. It does borrow some elements, but Jimmy Sangster's script also gleefully dips into other Universal Mummy movies. In the end, it's sort of a "Best of the Mummy" and that works surprisingly well.

The plot begins in 1895 with three British archaeologists discovering the tomb of Princess Ananka. When left alone in the tomb, elderly Stephen Banning (Felix Aylmer) reads the scroll of life and inadvertently revives a mummy called Kharis. Banning suffers a stroke and winds up back in England in the Engerfield Nursing Home for the Mentally Disordered. He never says a word to anyone for three years. 

An atmospheric shot of the Mummy
emerging from a bog.

Hence, his son John (Peter Cushing) is surprised when he learns his father wants to see him. Dad tells John that there's a mummy roaming the English countryside. John doesn't believe him until the elderly Banning is found strangled in his room at the nursing home--the bars to his window bent like putty.

As mentioned earlier, many familiar plot elements are interwoven into Hammer's The Mummy. There's the sinister Egyptian scholar who wants to punish the men who desecrated Princess Ananka's tomb. There's the expected reincarnation subplot, this time involving Banning's wife (French actress Yvonne Furneau).  And there's a lengthy flashback that explains how Kharis, a high priest to Ananka, became a vengeful mummy.

Apparently, Mummies don't knock.

However, director Terence Fisher freshens up The Mummy with two marvelous set-pieces and some atmospheric visuals of the formidable monster traipsing through the English countryside. The film's best scene has Kharis bursting through the double doors of Banning's stately manor and killing a relative as Banning fires bullets into the impervious creature. A similar later scene is just as effective when Kharis plunges through a floor-length glass window and shrugs off two blasts from a shotgun. 

The reliable Peter Cushing.

As he did in Hammer's Dracula films, Cushing brings intelligence and physicality to his role as a monster adversary. But more than that, he brings conviction to the point that his character can discuss a living mummy committing murders and not sound silly. As the Mummy, 6' 5" Christopher Lee makes a pretty scary monster, assisted by effective make-up and those penetrating eyes. He gets some face time, too, as Kharis in the flashback sequence.

It's a shame that the budget prevented on-location filming for the Egypt footage. It's woefully apparent that these scenes were shot indoors. On the other hand, set designer Bernard Robinson creates some highly effective sets for the scenes taking place in England.

Valerie Leon--she's no mummy!

The Mummy doesn't belong in Hammer's top tier of films (which includes the likes of Brides of Dracula, Frankenstein Must Be Destroyed, and The Devil Rides Out). That said, it's a very satisfying take on the Mummy pantheon and recommended for horror fans. Hammer made three sequels (of sorts). Skip The Curse of the Mummy's Tomb (1964) and The Mummy's Shroud (1967) and go straight to Blood from the Mummy's Tomb (1971). In lieu of a mummy, you get the stunning Valerie Leon in an intriguing adaptation of Bram Stoker's novel The Jewel of the Seven Stars.

The Gorgon: A Stone-Cold Hammer Chiller

During the mid-1960s, Hammer Films briefly diverged from its Frankenstein and Dracula series to produce a quartet of underrated little chillers: Kiss of the Vampire, Plague of the Zombies, The Reptile, and The Gorgon. All four films featured strong casts, impressive set design (amazingly done on a modest budget), and first-rate technical credits. While Vampire has gained the most fame over the years, The Gorgon has remained largely forgotten. In truth, it never received due respect, not even when Hammer first released it as a double-feature with the vastly inferior Curse of the Mummy's Tomb.

Set in the European village of Vandork, The Gorgon opens with a young painter named Bruno learning that his model/lover, Sascha, is pregnant. When Bruno storms out to discuss his intentions with Sascha's father, she follows him. Weaving through the woods on a bright moon-lit night, Sascha passes near Castle Borski where she sees something horrifying--even as she screams, she cannot refrain from looking at it.

The next day, Dr. Namaroff (Peter Cushing) of the Vandorf Medical Institution prepares to examine Sascha's body. As the sheet-covered corpse is wheeled into the laboratory, a gray-colored hand brushes against an iron basket--and a finger breaks off like a piece of plaster.

Hands turn to stone as a dying victim
writtes a letter of warning.

However Namaraoff doesn't mention this incident at the inquest. He implies that Sascha died at the hands of Bruno, who was subsequently discovered to have hanged himself. The coroner rules it a homicide and suicide...a tidy decision for everyone except Bruno's father. He is determined to proves his son's innocence and, in the process, explain why Vandorf has been the site of seven unsolved murders in the last five years.

Fisher's use of shadows contributes much to
the film's eeriness.

Running a snappy 83 minutes, The Gorgon generates a genuinely creepy atmosphere where much is left to shadows, reflections, and one's imagination. Interestingly, director Terence Fisher's early work (such as Curse of Frankenstein) has been criticized for its emphasis on visual horror. That's not giving Fisher proper credit; he was a polished craftsman who adapted his style to fit the film. The Gorgon is a low-key film and its best scenes achieve an eerie, other-worldly quality, such as when Bruno's father enters Castle Borski--a withered collection of stones, its floors covered with pigeons and dead leaves that swirl as the whistling wind cuts through the structure.

If there's a connection to Fisher's earlier work (he's considered an auteur in France), it's a pervading sense of gloom. No character is safe and it quickly becomes evident that there's a strong likelihood of a downbeat ending. In Fisher's films, the heroes sometimes perish or, if they survive, they are scarred by their experiences. It's no surprise that Victor Frankenstein, the "hero" of Hammer's Frankenstein films--most of which were directed by Fisher--is also a villain.

Barbara Shelley as Carla...is she
the Gorgon?

The Gorgon benefits from a solid cast, led by the always-reliable Cushing and the talented Barbara Shelley in one of her meatier Hammer roles. Richard Pasco as the nominal hero and Michael Goodliffe as Bruno's father are both convincing in supporting roles. Christopher Lee makes an appearance well into the film, as if Hammer thought The Gorgon needed more star power.

John Gilling, a Hammer veteran, penned the screenplay from a short story by J. Llewellyn Devine. He claimed his original screenplay was altered by producer Anthony Hinds. Even so, what remains is an above-average script with one puzzling part. The three Gorgon sisters are identified as Medusa, Magaera, and Tisiphone. However, in Greek mythology, Medusa is the only one of that trio who is a gorgon; Magaera and Tisiphone were two of the three Furies (or Erinyes), whose heads were also adorned with serpents.

Magaera, when she is shown in The Gorgon, looks less than impressive. Fortunately, her appearances are few and do not detract from the film. For while it may not rank with Hammer's finest horrors, such as Brides of Dracula, The Gorgon is a sharp little film that relies on mood and a sense of dread to create a memorable viewing experience.