Persecution

1974's "Persecution" was the debut feature of producer Kevin Francis and his Tyburn Films company, a short lived outfit that doesn't exactly hit the ground running with this sluggish psychodrama ("The Ghoul" and "Legend of the Werewolf" are clearly a step up). Born and bred on the great Hammer tradition (his father was cinematographer-turned-director Freddie Francis), the younger Francis sought to keep the British end up with Tony Tenser's Tigon out of the way, and both Hammer and Amicus on the wane, but this initial effort was universally panned and suffered numerous title changes that hurt the box office ("The Terror of Sheba" and "The Graveyard" to name but two). Actor Robert Hutton had virtually retired in front of the camera since relocating from Hollywood to England in the mid 60s, most often seen in movies by director Freddie Francis ("They Came from Beyond Space," "Torture Garden," "Trog," and "Tales from the Crypt"), and decided to turn his dislike of cats into a script that went through numerous other writers before it was shot by director Don Chaffey ("Jason and the Argonauts," "One Million Years B. C."). It's sad to think that what emerged on screen was deemed suitable by any self respecting filmmaker, but Hollywood glamor queen Lana Turner signed on to play the lead (a former glamor queen), what amounted to yet another 'horror hag' outing begun by "What Ever Happened to Baby Jane?" (more recent efforts cast Agnes Moorehead in "Dear Dead Delilah" and Debbie Reynolds in "What's the Matter with Helen?"). 52 year old Lana Turner still looks majestic as Carrie Masters, a woman still clinging to her wealth and fame, still bitter over being crippled by a jealous husband (Patrick Allen), and continuing a reign of terror over her illegitimate son David (Ralph Bates), whose irrational fear of cats led him to drown her favorite feline in a bowl of milk as a child, because the love she had to give was lavished upon it rather than him. The boy's idea of an appropriate Christmas gift was a handmade ashtray that he was quite proud of; in response, she offered him a coffin to bury the cat in a pet cemetery filled with felines, all of whom bear the name Sheba. David knows nothing about Carrie's husband nor the reason he left her, and is unaware that she has been blackmailing his real father (Trevor Howard) since the day he was born, unwanted by both self-serving parents. The now grown-up David has done quite well for himself, wed to loving spouse Janie (Suzan Farmer), with his own infant son to keep them busy and happy together. Unfortunately, they still live next door to the possessive, unrepentant Carrie, who freely admits that she finds babies 'too helpless,' her birthday celebration turning into a funeral for the defenseless child, suffocated by the current Sheba. Reeling from this disastrous turn of events, the grieving parents are further divided by Carrie's idea for a 'nurse' to take care of Janie, a seductive minx (Olga Georges-Picot) whose physical charms are meant to entice David into a compromising position. Though everything goes according to Carrie's diabolical plan, things just won't end well for anyone in this isolated dysfunction. Among the actors, the only disappointment is Ralph Bates, who made very few theatrical films, and wears the same dour expression from start to finish, but in his defense that sums up his character's downtrodden existence. There aren't any surprises in store even for patient viewers, and this unrelenting catalogue of misery was soundly rejected by audiences and critics alike, Lana herself labeling the picture a 'bomb,' as did Trevor Howard. Tyburn had nowhere to go but up, yet after barely one year only three feature films resulted from their efforts, two of which never even crossed the Atlantic; Kevin Francis deserved better, but so did the entire British film industry as well.

THE GRAVEYARD (aka: PERSECUTION) opens with young David Masters (Mark Weavers) drowning the family tabby in its own bowl of milk, due to David's belief that his mother loves the cat more than him. His mum, Carrie (Lana Turner) sets out to teach the lad a lesson.

Decades later, a sullen, adult David (Ralph Bates) is now married and a father himself. He takes his overwrought wife, Janie (Susan Farmer) and son to his mother's vast estate for his birthday. Mum's got a new cat, and goes about destroying David's life. Horror and death unfold, as we discover that Carrie's motives don't only involve her felines.

A nice, big ball of yarn, this movie is a perfect 1970's film, brimming with lunacy and senseless slaughter!

EXTRA POINTS FOR: #1- The cat cemetery at the center of the topiary maze! #2- The blazing hot Olga Georges-Picot as the new nurse, Monique! #3- Janie's hilarious trip down the stairs! #4- The utterly absurd, degrading finale!...

I saw this as Graveyard in a mediocre copy. The thing is producer Kevin Francis, I'm told, won't allow these movie he produced to be released now. Turner is good so it Bates, but the ending confrontation really goes on and on and drags out so much that when the very appropriate ending comes it lacks the impact it should have. Perhaps part of the problem is the lack of music and too talky a finale. The story is more disturbing than scary but the beginning is really the best part, then after an unexpected kill the movie becomes slower and less interesting. Deserves to be seen and seen in better form. Of the three horror films Francis produced I'd put this in the middle, The Ghoul is worse, the final Werewolf film is the least original but the most satisfying.

Also shown under the titles THE GRAVEYARD and THE TERROR OF SHEBA, this Gothic British horror movie stars Lana Turner as a maniacal mother who delights in making life miserable for her spineless son(Ralph Bates) who is slowly, but surly, tiring of his deranged mama and her wicked, wicked ways. With her beautiful face, every hair in place, her fashionable costumes, and her exquisite jewelry, Lana Turner, at age 53, is still the very essence of Hollywood glamour. But this is 1974 we're talking about, and her name didn't have the same sparkling effect on the box-office that it had in say 1947, so the film went mostly unnoticed by the movie-going public. The picture itself is a dreary and rather ghoulish retread of familiar BABY JANE-ish high jinks. But Turner has fun with her looneytunes character, and makes this otherwise derivative little film quite watchable. Lana personally regarded this as her worst performance, but she isn't bad at all. Actually she's quite good. I'm convinced she did more with the role than anybody else could have. In fact, she won the Best Actress Award at Spain's Festival of Horror Movies. I strongly recommend this film to her fans who should find it quite interesting to see Turner playing the kind of merciless, blood-curdling psychobitch that Bette Davis and Joan Crawford played in their Scream Queen days.

I found a copy of this movie in a thrift store, and since it only cost fifty cents, I figured what the heck? Probably I should mention that I'm not a die hard fan of British horror films, though I've seen a few that I've liked. I found this one unusual in several aspects. There's the casting of Lana Turner, of course, and she manages to be appropriately (and convincingly) hateful. But two other things struck me most about the movie, the first being was how effectively bleak the movie's atmosphere was; every scene felt grim and dark. Another thing was that the core story could have fit nicely in one of those notorious EC horror comic books. Note that I said, "the core" - as it is, the story in this movie is much too drawn out. While it never gets to be boring, it won't take viewers long to start asking the movie to simply get on with it, which it never does. This story may have worked as one of the stories in a horror anthology movie, but as it is, viewers will lose patience long before the movie reaches the end.