There is quite a difference between Freddie Francis the DOP and Francis the director. It is a paradox of his career that he was able to excel himself visually in the films of others and produce such indifferent results in his own films. The low budgets didn’t help of course, nor the interference of know it all producers. The only horror film he made that can compare to the visual brilliance of The Innocents (1961), The Elephant Man (1980) and The Straight Story (1999) is the Amicus production The Skull (1965). He had a very low budget then, so really there is no excuse for the flat, drab, unadventurous and unattractive horror films he made. Perhaps it was a case of contempt for the genre, or perhaps ineptitude? The Evil of Frankenstein does suffer from this drabness and paucity of visual enjoyment, but it is also a failure at a narrative level. A pointless flashback sequence which questions the continuity and thus the veracity of the first two films is one such blunder. A blunder on this occasion that can be attributed to the screenwriter Anthony Hinds. The film isn’t a total aesthetic failure though. The Baron’s laboratory in the flashback is the most impressive seen in the cycle, but this is mere decoration that fails to cover up for the stupidity of the sequence in the first place.

Any film featuring Peter Cushing has some redeeming qualities, but even the ever dependable Cushing struggles with the liberties taken with the Frankenstein character. He comes across as a petty crybaby, his quest this time merely a childish vendetta against those that destroyed his work and drove him into exile. On this occasion the Baron seems as much if not more concerned with the theft of his possessions than he does with discovering the secret of life. His relationship with the hedonistic hypnotist Zoltan is an interesting angle that remains unfulfilled. The make up for the creature isn’t a patch on The Curse of Frankenstein, but its not a disaster. It affords the film a very striking moment when we see the Creature entombed in a glacier (a plot development that is however utterly ludicrous). The inclusion of a feral deaf mute girl intended to function as a double for the Creature is also another half baked avenue. All these elements could have provided the film with interesting themes, but when left to limply hang as they do, they function more as pointless baggage. Even the usually reliable set design and art direction feels dated and tired adding little to the proceedings. In 1967 Terence Fisher would return to helm the fourth film in the series Frankenstein Created Woman, a far more successful and rewarding venture all round and The Evil of Frankenstein would begin its slow drift into the semi-obscurity it deserved. However its status as an ill conceived aberration makes it worth viewing.

The director was the criminally undervalued and underappreciated Terence Fisher. He was first and foremost an editor and he uses his skills in this area to create a number of sharp parallels and establishes with a marked degree of success the gothic trope of doubling. This exists at the level of composition and character, and a series of dualities and oppositions are explored through this trope. Aside from the obvious reflective doubles of Van Helsing and Count Dracula systems of opposition are created through gender, class and culture. These contrasts would become a fundamental thematic aspect of Hammer horror and remain undiminished up until the mid 1970’s. Jack Asher’s beautiful photography drapes the film in sumptuous and radiant colour, leaving aside the drab and dreary world of post war social realism. The colour achieves its greatest dramatic impact when droplets of blood drip off screen onto a concrete surface bearing the legend Dracula. You cant get much more of a statement of intent than this. The lavish gothic sets give the impression of a production far more expensive than its £81,000 cost. Castle Dracula is no longer the clichéd cobweb strewn crypt of yesteryear, but instead a well appointed, clean, and spacious domain presided over by a charming and dashing Dracula who speaks perfect English.

The narrative hares along at breakneck speed and is only briefly halted by one or two pointless and mistimed comedy moments. This is thanks to a pared down screenplay by Jimmy Sangster (Sangster would be responsible for a number of the early gothic horror screenplays) who opted to excise much of extraneous baggage of the bloated and ponderous Stoker novel (for example Harker arrives at Castle Dracula not as an innocent lawyer, but well aware of the Count’s taste for blood). No doubt purists of the novel would take exception to some of Sangster’s inspired alterations, but the result is space and pace and a film wonderfully lacking in Stoker’s obvious symbolism. If all of this is not enough we have the greatest close up in British horror history (a snarling and blood flecked Dracula) and the magnificent Peter Cushing leaping athletically onto a table, running its length and bringing the curtain down on Dracula. The film would make both Cushing (who received top billing) and Christopher Lee international stars. Future entries in Hammer’s Dracula series were never able to recapture the spirit and energy of this first film. There were however some interesting attempts - Brides of Dracula (1960) bravely went ahead without Lee in the title role, Taste the Blood of Dracula (1970) took Hammer’s critique of Victorian aristocratic hypocrisy to its logical extreme and Dracula AD 1972 (1972) attempted to place the gothic form in Swinging London. All of these films were hampered by the realisation that this first defining entry would never be matched. Horror of Dracula takes it place at the head of the pantheon of great British horror films.

The anthology format by its very nature presents micro-narratives that are brief, but offer short sharp shocks to the audience. Amicus would later on go on too employ talented scribes such as Robert Bloch and R. Chetwynd Hayes, and even mine the gore soaked world of EC Comics. Unfortunately Subotsky is more an ideas man than a brilliant writer. The basic kernel of each story is very good, and the bridging segment which concerns five passengers in a rail carriage having their fortunes told by a mysterious stranger known only as Dr. Schreck (German for ‘terror’ – played by the superb Peter Cushing) ultimately provides an excellent payoff. But generally the stories lack depth, detail, and any efforts at characterisation are purely cosmetic. This is not necessarily a criticism of Subotsky, with the anthology format he made a rod for his own back, but the strength of the ideas just about pulls the film through in the end. The fogbound railway setting is superb, claustrophobic train carriages often make for evocative spaces. This is probably the most successful setting in the film, the later stories all suffering from a weakness in art direction that would plague Amicus throughout its history.

The first tale of terror is set in a gothic mansion in the countryside of Scotland, and is a nice little story concerning a Werewolf. For once the production design works, with plenty of dry ice, eerie crypts and a few surprising plot twists. The second tale “Creeping Vine” is probably the films most notorious. The weakest segment by far it involves a family trapped in their horribly modern home by the rapacious plant life outside. Despite the presence of Bernard Lee (M in the Bond films) the premise is so utterly daft that one even forgets about the awful acting of British DJ Alan Freeman. Light relief follows in the shape of “Voodoo” – a tale of a musician (Roy Castle) who decides to plagiarise the music he witnesses at a voodoo rite in Jamaica. For some the over acting of Castle might be an issue, but at this juncture in the film this comedic segment is most welcome. What follows is the films most famous story “Disembodied Hand”. A pompous and pretentious art critic (Christopher Lee) gets his comeuppance for his withering reviews, when the disembodied hand of an artist takes its revenge on him. This might sound as daft as killer plants, but the performances of Lee and Michael Gough as the tormented artist make this a joy to watch. The final story “Vampire” featuring a young Donald Sutherland is a witty final entry, with a clever twist.

By requiring just a few days work from big star names Amicus were able to fill their marquee with actors who drew audiences without breaking their budget. Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee were at the pinnacle of their popularity in 1965, and Donald Sutherland was just on the cusp of stardom. Some of the casting choices such as Alan Freeman can seem peculiar now, but Freeman was also a very popular figure in mid 1960’s Britain. The stories are transparent genre clichés, but director Freddie Francis enthuses them with atmosphere and with a keen eye for visuals that echo his exemplary efforts as an Oscar winning cinematographer. Dr. Terror’s House of Horrors remains a popular and fondly remembered film from a golden age of British horror that succeeded commercially with mild scares rather than body horror and gore.

Further viewing – Amicus Anthologies
Torture Garden (1967), The House that Dripped Blood (1970), Tales from the Crypt (1972), Asylum (1972), From Beyond the Grave (1973), The Vault of Horror (1973), The Monster Club (1980).