While Hammer Studios has been in business since 1934, it was between 1955 and 1979 that it towered as one of the premier sources of edgy, gothic horror. On top of ushering the famous monsters of Universal’s horror heyday back into the public eye, resurrecting the likes of Frankenstein, Dracula and the Mummy in vivid color, the studio invited performers like Christopher Lee, Peter Cushing, Ingrid Pitt and so many more to step into the genre limelight. Spanning a library housing over 300 films, Hammer Studios is a key part of horror history that until recently has been far too difficult to track down.
In late 2018, Shout Factory’s Scream Factory line began to focus on bringing Hammer’s titles to disc in the US, finally making many of the studio’s underseen gems available in packages that offered great visuals as well as insightful accompanying features. Over the course of this column, I will focus on these releases, gauging the films in context of the Hammer Studio story as well as analyzing the merits of the release. It’s time to highlight the power, impact and influence of Hammer Studios and ignite new conversation surrounding some forgotten classics.
Welcome to the Hammer Factory. This month we dissect Dracula: Prince of Darkness (1966).
The Context
Dracula (1958) had been a massive hit for Hammer, helping to establish the studio’s footprint as a new, defining voice in horror, so it was a foregone conclusion that the creatives in charge would quickly begin work on a second outing. In the months that followed its release, screenwriter Jimmy Sangster submitted Disciple of Dracula, a story focused on one of the Count’s progenies, which went on to shed the title villain from its runtime and become Brides of Dracula (1960). Immediately following the success of Brides, Hammer started work on a third Dracula film, Kiss of the Vampire (1963). Combining elements from multiple unused scripts and discarding continuity altogether, Kiss excises stars Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee and embraces the morally ambiguous occult as opposed to the anachronistic morality tale presented in Terence Fisher’s original film.
The trajectory of Hammer’s vampire films mirrored Hammer’s general output as the studio ventured further and further away from the unique brand of gothic horror that had made them so successful in their early years. Meanwhile, much of the industry had taken note of Hammer’s successes and forged a similarly gothic path. By the mid-1960s, with movies like Robert Wise’s The Haunting (1963), Mario Bava’s Black Sunday (1960) and Roger Corman’s profitable run of Edgar Allan Poe adaptations, Hammer was no longer the only name in premiere gothic dread.
Despite their slipping position in the box office landscape and financial troubles at home, it was at that same time that Hammer forged a new partnership with 20th Century Fox. Their homestay of Bray Studios had become far too expensive to maintain and it was clear that their next slate of films would not only have to distinguish the studio as the number one name in gothic horror, but that the films in question would have to be produced more quickly and with less money than ever before. All of that aside, even with a major American distributor to back them, the studio needed a surefire hit, one that both Hammer and Fox could believe in.
It seemed clear to all parties involved that there would be no better way to appease their new American distribution partner and guarantee a financially successful return to gothic form than by resurrecting the franchise that the studio had once been so keen on perpetuating. As before, they dusted off their unused Dracula screenplays and, writing under his oft used pseudonym John Elder, Anthony Hinds set to work resurrecting Dracula for a sequel that would go on to be released just under a decade after the original helped make Hammer a household name.
With Terence Fisher again at the helm, Christopher Lee back in the cape and a slew of behind-the-scenes Hammer staples in position, the production was to be completed along with three other films [The Plague of the Zombies (1966), Rasputin the Mad Monk (1966) and The Reptile (1966)] back to back in the span of several weeks. The grueling production schedule, pitting the same cast and crew across multiple projects, was an experiment in budget filmmaking that would allow the studio to remain at Bray while delivering on the expectations that their partnership with 20th Century Fox demanded.
What emerged was Dracula: Prince of Darkness (1966), a veritable greatest hits of all the gothic tropes and trappings the studio had become so known for. The only Dracula film shot in scope (a wider aspect ratio, providing a more ample frame and allowing for a distinctly cinematic look), the film was intended to be able to play in theaters for as long as possible. The film puts forth a more snarling, animalistic Dracula, wordlessly stalking his victims and bringing about an even starker contrast between the duality of good and evil Terence Fisher was always so keen on expounding upon onscreen.
The film performed well, as did its partner picture The Plague of the Zombies, allowing Hammer to usher in and solidify a healthy partnership with Fox as well as ensure the future and stability of the Dracula franchise. While it would be Terence Fisher’s final turn at directing a Dracula picture, much to his chagrin, the film works as a conclusion to his own particular trilogy of blood-sucking films that managed to adapt with the changing times. Each picture offers up a different perspective of the kind of ultimate good and evil humanity is forever subject to. In this context, Dracula: Prince of Darkness serves as his final word on the subject, explicitly exploring the prim repressions that bottle humanity’s sexual and sensual passions, breeding a blind lack of awareness and birthing the ideal victim for evil’s ever insatiable appetite.
The Film
Alan Kent: “You’ll forget about all of this in the morning, you’ll see.”
Helen Kent: “There’ll be no morning for us.”
A diamond window appears through a haze of billowing smoke as Van Helsing and Dracula face off against one another in the familiar climax of Dracula (1958). A new voice, that of Father Sandor, provides context as the battle ensues, speaking of Dracula’s reign of terror, those who had sought to defeat him and the man who finally did, leaving Dracula as nothing but a scarring memory on the world he had so brutalized. As Sandor’s speech concludes, the dust of Dracula’s hand scatters in the beam of sunlight where he met his ultimate demise.
The prologue, while there to pad the runtime, serves as a refresher course for audiences who had not seen Christopher Lee’s infamous Count in eight years. At the same time, it sets up the legacy that the treacherous beast has left seared upon the land. Indeed, as the title Dracula: Prince of Darkness appears in the wake of the villain’s death and as James Bernard’s iconic score thunders to life in the background, the disconcerting notion that evil can never truly be quelled pervades the mind and dread enters in.
The lasting impact of Dracula’s reign becomes immediately apparent in the following scene, where a funeral march carries the body of a young girl to the middle of the forest with the intent of staking her corpse. Although a decade has passed since the Count’s death, his vile influence weighs heavily on the communities he terrorized and, even still, they feel the need to desecrate the bodies of the deceased lest some malevolent evil seep in to corrupt the vacant vessel.
With a shout of “Barbarians!”, Father Sandor interrupts the collection of townspeople just as the hammer is about to connect with the stake, presenting the film with its morally righteous warrior to serve as a proxy for the absent Van Helsing. Andrew Keir plays Sandor with surly forcefulness, crafting a more brusque and blunt authority figure than Peter Cushing’s Van Helsing while still upholding the same sense of moral correctness that Cushing’s character always stood so strongly for. He hastily condemns the group for their superstitions, particularly the Priest, positing that it’s not enough to fear evil, one must be able to properly distinguish when and how taking a stance against such forces is appropriate.
It’s such a theme that lies at the heart of Dracula: Prince of Darkness along with Terence Fisher’s other two Dracula outings. Occupying the same reserved gothic space as Dracula and Brides of Dracula, Dracula: Prince of Darkness takes the time to establish its characters and build the level of dread necessary to earn back the presence of Christopher Lee’s iconic Count. While it employs more graphic violence and overtly suggestive sexual material than any of Terence Fisher’s films that had come before it, the film manages to match the pulse of the genre at the time while still maintaining a healthy distance from the realm of shock-value exploitation.
Much of this is due to Fisher’s assured direction. Never a believer in “self-conscious” cinema, Fisher’s direction is often driven by practical composition as opposed to narrative action. Low angle shots provide power to Father Sandor and wide images of empty hallways with otherworldly lighting peppered throughout create atmosphere while providing the viewer with a sense of character ever-present in what might otherwise be a vacant backdrop. Each frame is infused with Dracula’s sinister spirit, slowly infecting the cast and bringing them ever closer to corruption.
The bulk of the film concerns four travelers, Charles, Diana, Alan and Helen Kent, as they make their way to Karlsbad. Their journey is fraught with the usual Hammer hallmarks: a warning from a stranger in a pub; a driver unwilling to take them to the castle he so fears; an unmanned carriage that somehow knows exactly where to go; and a dedicated manservant in an empty manor ready to receive guests that he couldn’t have known were coming.
Francis Matthews plays Charles with all of the wit and charisma one has come to expect of a leading man in a Hammer gothic. Suzan Farmer is Diana, his wife, and too offers a wonderful turn, clearly in love with Charles and far too trusting of his instincts. Charles Tingwell is Alan, a stuffy, pragmatic man whose lack of faith dooms them all. But the standout performance of the group, and perhaps the film, is Barbara Shelley’s Helen.
A perfect vision of the repressed, demure, Victorian housewife, Helen’s journey from prim and judgmental to a state of uninhibited carnal passion is bolstered by Shelley’s nuanced approach to her character. She wields her transformation with subtlety and grace, at times manifesting volumes of emotion with just the briefest flitter of a smile or ghost of a glance.
Eerie interactions with Dracula’s servant Klove, played with unsettling stoicism by Philip Latham, lay the creepy groundwork for the more action oriented final half. While the middle minutes of the film’s brisk runtime do meander, the attention to character and disconcerting atmosphere that Fisher and cinematographer Michael Reed created are flourishes that allow the film to evolve and hold attention well before a vampire ever creeps into the frame. Of course, this all kicks off with Dracula’s resurrection, introducing a new variation of the Count than what had come before while stretching the boundaries of on screen violence for Hammer at large.
Treated more like a religious rite than an act of outward depravity, Klove captures Alan and strings him up above a large stone basin. There’s a carefulness and calmness to Klove’s actions, a reverence as he slices Alan’s throat and watches the blood pour into the pile of his master’s ashes below. The bright red blood and the gray ash form into a tar-like concoction and slowly Dracula’s body materializes. Brought to life by the great Les Bowie, the effects work is completed frame by frame, giving the grotesque reformation a classic sensibility to it, harkening back to the work present in the Universal monster films from decades earlier.
When Dracula’s long-fingered hand finally crawls out of the basin, its spindly digits exploring the terrain as a tarantula might feel around its web for its next meal, it becomes clear that what will emerge from the stone is not the Dracula last seen battling Van Helsing. This is a different creature, a carnal, animalistic thing. Gone are any remnants of feigned humanity, left to smolder amongst the brimstone of Hell, in their place nothing but the life-hungry demon that always resided beneath the Count’s commanding visage.
While it’s unclear whether Christopher Lee refused to read his given dialogue or if Jimmy Sangster never wrote any in the first place, Dracula’s silent, snarling form is easily the most frightening that had ever appeared onscreen. Lee brings an untethered, otherworldly fury to the frame, seeming more as a phantom of darkness there to mine the souls of his victims than a traditional vampire. This dynamic is most apparent with Barbara Shelley’s Helen, who looks as excited as she does frightened as Dracula descends down upon her.
What had only been hinted at in the prior Dracula outings becomes more than subtext in the finale of the film. Incorporating lesbianism and overtly sexual encounters, as in a scene where Dracula invites Diana to suck blood from an open vein on his chest, the film embraces its themes in ways that would go on to be the norm for Hammer in the years to come. Even Helen’s death, what would be the first vampire to be held down and staked while conscious in a Hammer film, serves as a harrowing metaphor for rape and the forceful repressing of an emotionally freed woman by the religious right.
Dracula: Prince of Darkness ultimately amounts to much of the same that had been seen in the previous films. Sandor and Charles chase the Count down and find a way to purify and defeat him, this time by way of rushing water. Once again, a stake is too simple an answer to the problem of Dracula— perhaps so simple as to be ineffective. That question is never answered in this or any of the franchise’s subsequent entries. But, if nothing else, this film makes it clear that pure evil is not as easily defeated as the darkness it propagates.
No, as is evidenced by the climactic battle that took place in the film that came eight years before this one, evil can not be destroyed. However, it can be held, slowed and arrested for a time. It is not humanity’s duty to be in a constant state of judgment, rather their responsibility to maintain an internal sense of moral vigilance begetting honesty, first and foremost, to one’s very soul.
Dracula: Prince of Darkness is a film that offers much of the same that the Hammer vampire films which preceded it brought to the table, but it does so with expert craft and vision. While the film takes its time to travel to its destination, what it sacrifices in pacing, it makes up for in dread. It’s in large part because of that choice that Dracula’s resurrection and subsequent presence generates a fear that is all the more deeply felt as a result. Sometimes a return to form requires more of the same and, with Dracula: Prince of Darkness, Terence Fisher provided Hammer enthusiasts just that while still maintaining his trademark ideologies regarding good, evil and the human struggle that rages between the two.
Like Father Sandor insinuates to the group of people ready to hammer a sharp piece of wood into a young girl’s unmoving chest at the beginning of the film, barbarism does not become mankind. Such is the peril of evil’s influence: even when the danger has passed, the compromising fear it elicits lingers. And, as the wary priest befalling Sandor’s condemning, righteous gaze can attest to, barbarism can come as naturally to the good as it can to the evil. It simply hinges on one’s perspective.
The Special Features
This release comes equipped with both the UK and US versions of the film for the first time on Blu-ray, presenting the latter in a new 4K scan of the original film elements from Shout!, presented in its original 2.35:1 aspect ratio. The US version is less saturated and more naturalistic, maintaining heavy grain and a slight jitter indicative of the age and condition of the print. The UK version was provided by Studio Canal and was released on region B Blu-ray in 2012 and in the US by Millennium in 2013. The UK print is cleaner with brighter, less natural colors, but an image that pops nonetheless (and is my preferred print). With a runtime difference of only 12 seconds, the alterations between the two cuts fall mainly to when scenes fade in and out of one another as well as the addition of 20th Century Fox’s logo to the opening titles.
The DTS-HD Master Mono track (available for both cuts) is very strong, presenting crisp dialogue, ambient effects and James Bernard’s rousing score in a manner befitting its power. As has been the case with all of Shout! Factory’s Hammer releases thus far, this is the definitive audio and visual package of the film.
Audio Commentary, by Troy Howarth
(New: 2018, produced by Shout Factory)
Author and Historian Troy Howarth provides an entertaining, detailed look at the film, its players and its themes in this commentary track.
Howarth spends the runtime reflecting and theorizing on different aspects of the production, such as why Peter Cushing might’ve been excluded, the cost on the late-in-the-day addition of the opening prologue and why Christopher Lee never spoke in the film. He details the journey it took to get into production beginning with the unmade Disciple of Dracula in 1960 and following it all the way through to the 20th Century Fox partnership and provides thoughtful opinion on Terence Fisher’s filmmaking and lighting techniques pertaining to atmosphere and tone.
The track is informative, entertaining and well worth the listen for those interested in the film and its history.
Audio Commentary, by Constantine Nasr and Steve Haberman
(New: 2018, produced by Shout Factory)
Filmmaker Constantine Nasr and Writer/Producer Steve Haberman once again provide an invaluable look at the making of the film, its themes and its creative forces that serve to shed more light and understanding on the picture than even the included making-of documentary on the disc.
Topics discussed are the making of the film and the unique ways in which the story’s characters differ when compared to Hammer’s past vampire films. They spend a great deal of time dissecting Terence Fisher’s style and artistic approach, highlighting his influence on the genre and other titans of filmmaking operating at the time (such as Alfred Hitchcock and Roman Polanksi). They dissect the progressive thematics (moving away from heterosexuality to just sexuality, for example) and talk about the film as being “Hammer at its most entertaining”.
While some of the content of their discussion appears in the other commentaries and features found on the disc, it is here that the information feels the most organic and easy to follow. While I think each of the three commentary tracks have merit and are worth listening to, this is the strongest.
Audio Commentary, by Christopher Lee, Suzan Farmer, Francis Matthews and Barbara Shelley
(2012, produced by Studio Canal)
Actors Christopher Lee, Suzan Farmer, Francis Matthews and Barbara Shelley reflect on their time making Dracula: Prince of Darkness in this commentary track ported over from the 2012 UK Blu-ray release by Studio Canal.
This track is more of a general dialogue between the old friends, trying their best to recall the plot, the people and the places that comprise their shared histories as players in Hammer’s storied past. Of note is Christopher Lee’s honesty regarding the Dracula character and his issues with how he was ultimately handled and a brief conversation about the sorts of extreme horror that would come in the 70’s— including a moment where Christopher Lee condemns The Texas Chain Saw Massacre (1974) to which Barbara Shelley responds, “I thought it was a masterpiece.”
All in all, the track has some pregnant pauses and jumps around quite a bit, but it’s a genuinely entertaining listen as the titans of a bygone era of horror filmmaking reflect on the genre. Fans of these actors, Hammer or the movie itself would do well to give it a listen.
Back to Black — The Making of Dracula: Prince of Darkness (30:34)
(2012, produced by Flashpoint Media for Hammer and Studio Canal)
Historian Marcus Hearn, actors Francis Matthews and Barbara Shelley and several others talk about the making of the film and its lasting legacy in this brief documentary ported over from the 2012 UK Blu-ray release from Studio Canal.
The ever mounting cost of Bray Studios and the experimental four film production cycle is discussed, highlighting the ambition and pressure behind the scenes of the project that simply had to succeed. Shelley and Matthews talk about how much fun they had on set and what it was like to work with Terence Fisher, a director who “didn’t push” but encouraged and allowed the actors to find their performances naturally. Author and musician David Huckvale discusses James Bernard’s reprised score, pointing out the different orchestration and walking through his musical style.
The feature concludes with a look at its restoration and the struggles that go into cleaning up a decaying print as well as the legacy of Hammer films in general. It’s an enjoyable, informative watch that provides a fairly quick and digestible view into the behind-the-scenes components of the production and its players.
World of Hammer — Dracula and the Undead (24:53)
(1990, Hammer Film Productions)
Included here is an episode of the 1990 television series World of Hammer narrated by Oliver Reed, running through some of the vampire films that spanned Hammer’s impressive reign.
Featuring clips from Dracula, Brides of Dracula, Captain Kronos— Vampire Hunter (1974), Dracula: Prince of Darkness, The Legend of the 7 Golden Vampires (1974) and more, this is a fun and nostalgic way of reflecting on Hammer’s vampire works with the added bonus of Oliver Reed’s gravelly perspective.
Behind the Scenes Footage (4:38)
Shot by Francis Matthew’s brother Paul Shelley with an 8mm home movie camera during the filming of Dracula: Prince of Darkness, this handful of minutes of footage plays as a fascinating fly-on-the-wall point of view of what it would’ve been like to step into Bray Studios in the mid 1960s.
Christopher Lee, Barbara Shelley, Suzan Farmer and Francis Matthews provide commentary for the footage, conversing, recollecting and trying desperately to jog their memories around names and situations that have long since left their minds. Although brief, it’s well worth checking out.
Theatrical Trailers (6:10)
Multiple trailers are stitched together here. In the first, “Four travelers find themselves abandoned at nightfall” and discover a table already set for them, when an announcer asks, “why should a dead man be interested in entertaining guests?”
The title Dracula: Prince of Darkness bleeds onto the screen as images of the Count’s resurrection accompany the words “the reincarnation of Dracula!” The trailer shows a condensed version of the movie, walking through the plot and even revealing the climactic chase.
The second trailer depicts Dracula beside the voodoo master of The Plague of the Zombies claiming that “These are the overlords of death!” A more condensed version of the previous trailer plays out and is followed by one for Plague begging the viewer to “come to a place of fear where even an innocent corpse can find no peace”. The trailer concludes with the promise that boys will get their “Dracula fangs free as you enter the theater” and girls will get their free pair of “zombie eyes”.
The final trailer is all text over loudly colorful title cards, featuring a horror double program of Dracula: Prince of Darkness and Frankenstein Created Woman (1967). This one is short with no images or stills from the films, just text advertising the features.
Still Gallery (7:05)
An impressive collection of lobby cards, on-set photography, stills, candid photographs and character headshots that provide an engaging look at the classic moments and people that comprise Dracula: Prince of Darkness.
Poster Gallery (4:50)
A collection of posters, international artwork, double feature one sheets, newspaper advertisements and production stills used as poster art, offering a window into the extensive advertising campaign for the film that helped lead to its financial achievements.
Final Thoughts
Despite Dracula’s immense popularity, it would take eight years for Christopher Lee’s title character to again appear on screen after the first film’s hugely successful 1958 debut. It came in the wake of some years containing mixed success for Hammer at the box office, amidst mounting costs at Bray Studios and the forging of a new financial partner in 20th Century Fox. It seemed that during a time of great change, the best decision the studio could make would be to go back to what it knew best.
With Christopher Lee on board and the return of Terence Fisher to the director’s chair, Hammer reunited the roster of creatives responsible for the bulk of their best gothic works. With people like Bernard Robinson designing and repurposing the sets, Anthony Hinds writing the script and James Bernard providing a new spin on his classic score, Dracula: Prince of Darkness was poised to hold its own against the competition that had emerged in the gothic horror landscape in the preceding years.
The film’s success in the face of the pressure to perform, the financial constraints and the near unreasonable time frame to complete it and move on to the next project, is a testament to Hammer’s capability when it was firing on all cylinders. Hammer was a studio that knew how to arrange its talent, positioning vision and skill in a way that bred creative execution that was as taxing as it was fulfilling for those who helped to birth it.
While Dracula: Prince of Darkness was the third in the franchise, in many ways it was the film that led to what the franchise would become— both the good and the bad. It not only set the stage in terms of structure, tone and the positioning of Lee at the forefront, but it proved the viability of the themes and gothic atmosphere the Dracula films so represented. And while Terence Fisher would not return to helm a Dracula picture again after Prince, his fingerprints remain attached to the series which is such a defining component of Hammer’s legacy.
The following years would continue to see Hammer shift more toward the explicitly sexual, the violent and the occult, attempting to transition alongside a dramatically changing genre. All of these years later, it’s clear that Dracula: Prince of Darkness may not fit squarely inside the exploitation milieu. Still, it served as yet another transitionary feature in Hammer’s journey toward relevance, combining the reserved, gothic atmosphere with the more bombastic grotesquery and sexual thematics that would go on to define Hammer in their later years.
Ultimately, the film stands as a grand distillation of the eternal war waging between good and evil, punctuated by Terence Fisher’s unique, cinematic point of view. It may not be altogether original or even the best Hammer had to offer, but it certainly is representative of those films that are— sharply executed and incredibly entertaining. All things considered, the color gothic was alive and well in 1966 and, despite the distraction of imitators, it was a category in which Hammer still very much reigned supreme.
