Between 1957 and 1974, Hammer Films produced some of the finest horror movies ever to grace the big screen. Sometimes they broke new boundaries or gave a fresh lease of life to old monsters whose cinematic sell-by date had long since passed, other times they were just cynical exercises in getting bums on seats or exploiting the latest fad. Either way, they left a legacy unparalleled in genre cinema that continues to be felt today, whether it's the latest Tim Burton blockbuster or TV series like Penny Dreadful.
Now Halloween's upon us again and you can expect to wade through endless clickbait articles about which films you should watch or why Michael Myers is scarier than Freddy Krueger, Jason Vorhees, Chucky, Leatherface and the entire Kardashian family put together, this is as good a time as any to leave the rest of the herd behind and join WordJam as we present a countdown of Hammer's top ten monsters. Trust me, it's better than reading yet another review of the pointless Halloween Kills, or getting mad at some 12-year old who thinks just 'cos he's seen every episode of Stranger Things he has the nous to tell you what makes for good horror.
Before we begin, though, it's worth mentioning that instead of fawning over the actors who played these roles (which would otherwise have taken up a considerable amount of each entry), I've tried to keep my comments in-universe with reference to the actual production side only when necessary. As such, you can take it as read that Peter Cushing, Christopher Lee, Ingrid Pitt, etc are all bloody marvellous.
So without further ado, bring on the monsters...
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10.
Prem
(The Mummy's Shroud, 1967)
It could've been poor, lovelorn Kharis from
The Mummy or evil sorceress Tera from
Blood from the Mummy's Tomb, but as far as undead Egyptian menaces go Prem wins out on the sheer poetry of his monsterousness. In a film where all the male characters are blinded by self-deception, conceitedness or greed, there's something beautiful about the way he reveals himself to his victims through mirrors and other reflective surfaces, mocking their vanity before going in for the kill. And my God, what kills! Defenestration, immolation, strangling, crushing; Prem's certainly no slouch when it comes to methods of dispatch. His backstory may be perfunctory (bodyguard to a young Pharaoh, out to avenge his master's death, etc, etc), but what does that matter when you've got a monster who's this creative at his job?
9.
Count Dracula
(Dracula: Prince of Darkness, 1966)
Let's be honest, Hammer never really knew what to do with Dracula after his glorious Eastmancolor debut. Most of his appearances either involve taking prolonged, poorly thought-out revenge against people who've wronged him (cf. Taste the Blood of Dracula) or plotting convoluted, often insane schemes to destroy the entire human race (who could forget his unlikely turn as a venture capitalist in The Satanic Rites of Dracula?), leaving him resembling a pantomime villain instead of the force of nature Bram Stoker created. In Dracula: Prince of Darkness, however, the stock, Lugosi-esque figure of a thousand punchlines and parodies is replaced with something more elemental, mysterious and alien than any other Dracula we've seen before. And he's not even out for revenge, just the desire to cause chaos. Pure nightmare fuel.
8.
Anna Franklyn
(The Reptile, 1966)
It stands to reason that if Dr. Franklyn hadn't stuck his nose into that Malayan snake cult's affairs then they probably wouldn't have kidnapped his daughter Anna and transformed her into a hideous Cobra-like creature with a penchant for blood and central heating. Or maybe they would, who knows? Either way, the point is when you've got a monstrous parody of a human being like this roaming the Cornish countryside the last thing you want to do is invest in property in the area. Sadly, though, young newlyweds George and Valerie Spalding find that out the hard way in The Reptile, an unapologetic creature feature that's also an excellent pastiche of Victorian gothic fiction. But to be fair to Anna, she's not quite the neighbour from hell I'm making her out to be. When she's human she's quite friendly, and she plays a mean sitar. Having said that, I wouldn't trust her with your pets.
7.
Elizabeth Nádasdy
(Countess Dracula, 1971)
Hammer were never sticklers for historical accuracy (the brilliant but bonkers Rasputin the Mad Monk leaps to mind), so when it came to making a film based on the life of Hungarian noblewoman and serial killer Elizabeth Báthory it was a no-brainer her story would enjoy at least some embellishment on its trip to the silver screen. Here, she doesn't just bathe in virgin's blood out of some twisted belief it keeps you young - it actually works. It even allows her to win the heart of a young hussar betrothed to her own daughter, who she later tries to kill - in full view of her court, no less - just to restore her beauty when it fades at an awkward moment. But despite her homicidal selfishness, there's something quite tragic about Elizabeth. All she really wants is to live her time over again and on her own terms, and it's that utterly relatable desperation that makes her such a fabulous monster.
6.
Christina Kleve/Hans Werner
(Frankenstein Created Woman, 1967)
When Baron Frankenstein's assistant Hans is executed for a murder he didn't commit, his distraught lover Christina drowns herself in the river. Never one to miss a trick, the Baron makes use of these tragedies to further his latest experiment in soul transference. But once they're joined together in one body, the question is who's really in control - Hans, Christina or both? This intriguing concept is the engine that drives
Frankenstein Created Woman, and although Hammer would return to similar gender-swap territory in the enormously entertaining
Dr. Jekyll and Sister Hyde they never quite recaptured the same air of romanticism so ably evoked through Hans/Christina in this film. Their thirst for revenge never obscures or overshadows their fairy-tale tragedy, and not even the Baron with his neurological expertise can truly comprehend the agony and ecstasy that motivates them.
5.
Mocata
(The Devil Rides Out, 1968)
If Hammer had set their films in a shared universe, you just know there'd be an evil genius waiting in the wings to rally all the monsters together to wreak havoc on the world. But who would it be? Well, since planning's not exactly Dracula's strong suit and Frankenstein can't even keep his own monsters under control, I'm plumping for the arch villain of
The Devil Rides Out. Suave, calculated and completely unflappable, as satanic cult leaders go this guy's genuine Ruler of Hell on Earth material. Just look at
the amazing scene when he hypnotises Mrs Eaton; you're not telling me he couldn't pull that off on a global scale. In fact, I don't know what this says about me but I get really pissed off when the Duc de Richleau manages to gets the better of Mocata at the end because a) he looks like a right twat with that goatee beard, and b) he cheated by turning back time.
#Mocatawon - the campaign starts here.
4.
Martians
(Quatermass and the Pit, 1967)
While Arthur C. Clarke may have originated the whole 'devils are really aliens' shtick in Childhood's End, it was Nigel Kneale who took this concept to its logical and terrifying conclusion. In Quatermass and the Pit, ancient astronauts didn't just inspire our belief in supernatural evil, they made our ancestors into biological proxies for their own warlike appetites - and all it takes for that inheritance to come bubbling to the surface is the chance discovery of a mysterious object during renovation work on the London Underground, an army officer who won't let old grudges lie and, of course, a television crew who have no idea of the hell they're about to unleash. The fact that the Martians themselves only appear as corpses or as a grainy trace memory recorded onto Professor Quatermass' This'll-Get-Us-Out-of-an-Awkward-Plothole Machine (sorry, Nigel, but it is a bit deux ex machina) doesn't diminish their impact one iota. After all, we're the Martians now.
3.
Nanny
(The Nanny, 1965)
The Nanny isn't just one of the finest films Hammer ever produced, it's also one of the best British films of the 1960s. Indeed, this story of an upper-middle class family so dependent on "the help" that they risk falling apart without her stabilising influence more than holds its own against the likes of Clive Donner's
The Caretaker and Joseph Losey's
The Servant when it comes to class-based satirical bite. But it goes deeper than that.
The Nanny is about a battle of wits between a boy blamed for the accidental death of his sister and the adult who may actually have caused it. The fact that this adult is the family retainer who knows everyone's secrets, how to manipulate them into getting her own way and may even be clinically insane means that far from this being a simplistic portrait of an upstairs-downstairs relationship, it's actually a very complex Freudian assault course with the titular Nanny acting as both villain and victim. Some may chafe at her inclusion in a list of great monsters. But she
is a monster - and like Karloff's patchwork Promethean, one of the most misunderstood in film history.
2.
Megeara
(The Gorgon, 1964)
The early 60s weren't very kind to Hammer, bringing with them low box office returns and accusations of creative stagnation. Something had to be done, and what better way to revise the studio's fortunes than raiding classic myths for inspiration. Turning to the legend of Medusa (although, in typical Hammer fashion, the character's name is actually derived from one of the Furies in Homer's
Illiad) not only allowed them to put their own spin on a well established monster, it also brought back a certain freshness to the company's output that had been sadly lacking for a while. And Megeara is a truly terrific creation, stalking the mist-strewn ruins of Castle Borski, waiting for the next unsuspecting victim to enter her lair. But of course, that's not the full story. She lives in the minds of all those women who've been downtrodden or dismissed as insane over the centuries, and now she's set up home inside a former psychiatric patient turned nurse, and death is coming to the sleepy village of Vandorf one statue at a time. Admittedly, the rubber snakes on top of her head look a bit crap, but what can you do.
1.
Victor Frankenstein
(Frankenstein Must Be Destroyed, 1969)
Yeah, it had to be the good Baron, really. In many ways, his big screen adventures mirror Hammer's own story as a production company, taking in success, failure, bold experiment, blatant cash grab and, finally, long overdue but well-earned recognition. But which iteration of the character to choose, though? Each film presents a variation on a theme, ranging from hubristic single-mindedness (
The Curse of Frankenstein) to sly self-interest (
The Revenge of Frankenstein), taking in heroism (
The Evil of Frankenstein) and lecherousness (in The One Starring Ralph Bates Hammer fans don't like to talk about) before crashing out at insanity (
Frankenstein and the Monster from Hell). But for me, the greatest depiction of the character has to be in
Frankenstein Must Be Destroyed: arguably the best film in Hammer's gothic cycle. Here we're introduced to a cold, calculating, utterly ruthless bastard, the likes of which we've never seen before in this franchise. It's bad enough that he blackmails a young couple into assisting him on his latest madcap enterprise, but to go on to brutalise them so thoroughly and needlessly, almost for his own amusement, is the mark of a true monster. It's a testament then to the richness and complexity of the Baron's character that even at his most unwatchable he's never less than engaging.
