Review #1,419: 'Gothic' (1986)

The story goes that during the summer of 1816, renowned British poet and philanderer Lord Byron invited fellow poet Percy Bysshe Shelley and his wife Mary Godwin to stay at his grand Villa Diodati in Switzerland. As the weather took a nasty turn and a storm raged outside, the threesome, along with Byron's physician Dr. John Polidori and Mary's stepsister Claire Clairmont, gathered around the fire to share ghost stories. This event allegedly spawned two incredibly influential works of literature, although they didn't come from the poets. Mary Godwin, who would become Mary Shelley, released Frankenstein, or the Modern Prometheus in 1818, and Polidori would go on to pen The Vampyre, the first published vampire story and obvious inspiration for Bram Stoker's Dracula. It's the kind of myth rooted in fact that has filmmakers licking their lips. James Whale used this gathering as a framing device for The Bride of Frankenstein, but Ken Russell took his own idea and ran with it, and the result is a strange, psychosexual horror that fails to really fit into any discernible genre.

We begin with a group of socialites gossiping amongst themselves as they spy on Lord Byron's mansion through a telescope. I supposed this is meant to be us, the viewer, as we giddily peak behind the doors of a known rascal as he awaits the arrival of some of the most soon-to-be-revered writers in Britain. Percy (Julian Sands) and Mary (Natasha Richardson) arrive, and Byron, played by Gabriel Byrne, watches them with indifference. His mistress Claire (Myriam Cyr) and physician Polidori (Timothy Spall) are already there, enjoying the freedom of Byron's home. As the drinks start to flow, Byron start to read excerpts from Phatasmagoria, a book containing many horror stories, and the group decide to have a seance around a human skull. Immediately after, Claire has a seizure and strange events start to take place. Paintings come alive, odd noises can be heard around the house, and Polidori attempts suicide after experiencing paranoid episodes. Is Byron behind it all? Are supernatural forces really at work? Or are the literary darlings simply seeing their unpublished work come to life?

I'm a huge fan of Ken Russell and his unique, easily-distracted style of film-making, but Gothic is the first film I've seen of his that didn't quite work. He seems to have a million different directions he would like to take Gothic but heads towards all of them at same time. There are dark sexual undercurrents at play, particularly with Byron and Claire's apparently violent and toxic relationship, but they are never fully developed. It seems to have aspirations to be a horror, but Russell simply isn't disciplined enough to follow the genre rule-book. This refusal to conform can often achieve greatness, but Gothic ends up as little more than a collection of slightly camp vignettes involving characters running and screaming down corridors or making spooky statements as the thunder rumbles outside. It also isn't helped by Julian Sands' uniformly terrible performance, whose interpretation of a Romantic poet is to prance around shirtless and blubber like a child. Byrne is perfect casting as the bored poet yearning for new experiences, as is Spall as the creepy, reptilian Polidori. It also looks beautiful, from the sets to the costumes, but it isn't enough to save this from being a rare miss from Russell.


Directed by: Ken Russell
Starring: Gabriel Byrne, Julian Sands, Natasha Richardson, Myriam Cyr, Timothy Spall
Country: UK

Rating: **

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,068: 'Crimes of Passion' (1984)

Opening with Kathleen Turner's 'China Blue' facing the camera spreadeagled while a man performs cunnilingus on her, Ken Russell's barking mad Crimes of Passion starts as provocatively as it means to go on. A nightmare for the censors (as Russell's films generally were), Crimes of Passion had to undergo heavy cuts even to pass for an R rating upon its original release, when it was met with generally unfavourable reviews. Years later, it's still a somewhat baffling oddity with some terrible dialogue, but its certainly an interesting, one-off experience.

Fashion designer Joanna Crane (Turner) is a successful, emotionally cold businesswoman by day, but by night, she is China Blue, the most sought-after and beautiful prostitute to walk the streets. We see her pleasure a variety of men in a variety of ways, and she seems to enjoy her work. Her biggest fan is fanatical street preacher Rev. Peter Shayne (Anthony Perkins), a lunatic who watches her through a hole in the wall and wants to 'save her soul', carrying with him at all times a massive, blade-sharp dildo. Middle-class electrician Bobby Grady (John Laughlin) is married to his childhood sweetheart (Annie Potts) and is bored with her frigid ways. When he is assigned to spy on Joanna by her boss who falsely believes her to be stealing, he discovers her alter-ego and falls for her.

Although it explores themes of emotional detachment and sexual discovery, it's difficult to unravel just what Crimes of Passion is truly about. One moment the film will deliver a moment of tenderness between Joanna and Bobby, and suddenly shift the tone and focus onto Perkins' sweaty, nitrate-sniffing deviant. But if anyone can add an artistic bend to such a sleazy subject matter, it is Ken Russell, who manages to find neon-lit beauty in even the grimiest of locations. Turner and Perkins are terrific, while Laughlin fails to find any dimensions within his one-note character but, in his defence, is lumped with some wobbly dialogue. Laughably over-the-top and overlong at 110 minutes, it's a frustrating and sometimes silly experience, but one that I would recommend anybody to watch at least once.


Directed by: Ken Russell
Starring: Kathleen Turner, Anthony Perkins, John Laughlin, Annie Potts
Country: USA

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie

Review #323: 'The Lair of the White Worm' (1988)

The recently late Ken Russell is arguably Britain's greatest cult auteur. Although his works are very rarely seen in Great Movie lists (or even Great British Movie lists), I cannot think of any British director whose work is so distinctly and definitively their own. He has juggled genres - period piece (Women in Love (1969)), horror (The Devils (1971), Gothic (1986)), science-fiction (Altered States (1980)), musical (Tommy (1975)) - yet his fingerprints are all over them. It seems death has brought him legendary status, as his work has seen a recent resurgence, namely by British critic Mark Kermode, who described his work as "every bit as flamboyant as Fellini." He had a trademark obsession with religion (or the criticism of it) and sexual imagery, And although I've only seen a handful of his films, these themes have seemingly never been more prominent than in The Lair of the White Worm.

Based on the novel by Bram Stoker, it tells the story of an ancient mythical legend, the slain white 'worm', in a rural Derbyshire village. Archaeologist Angus Flint (Peter Capaldi) unearths the large skull that appears to be of a giant snake outside the Bed & Breakfast ran by two sisters, Mary (Sammi Davis) and Eve (Catherine Oxenberg). James d'Ampton (Hugh Grant) tells him the story of the d'Ampton Worm, a giant snake that was apparently slain by one his ancestors. When Lady Sylvia Marsh (Amanda Donohoe) hears rumours of this skull, she steals it and spits venom onto a religious picture. She later kidnaps Eve in order to sacrifice her to re-awaken the White Worm, while James investigates the strange events happening around the village.

Imagine Hammer handing the novel of The Lair of the White Worm to Russ Meyer and asking him to take some acid and make it into a film, and you'll have an idea into what this film is like. On many levels it does not work - it is utterly ridiculous, outrageously camp, and features some dodgy effects and model-work. Yet Russell has his tongue firmly in his cheek, and often I expected the actors to wink into the camera after delivering their double-entendre lines. And for this reason, I was completely powerless in enjoying the film. The actors completely buy into it, namely an extremely sexy Amanda Donohoe, whom Russell places into some outlandishly vampiric and dominatrix-esque costumes. It is also unbelievably (yet satisfyingly) offensive to Christians and the religious. Most people will hate this film, but fans of B-movies and camp trash will lap it up, as did I.


Directed by: Ken Russell
Starring: Amanda Donohoe, Hugh Grant, Catherine Oxenberg, Peter Capaldi, Sammi Davis
Country: UK

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie