But it was only… Corruption (1968)

 

In the same way as science fiction is really more about the present than the future, horror films have a lot to say about the time in which they were made. Here there are lots of heavy-handed nods to the swinging London of the year before, as well as deliberate referencing of Blow Up; photographers, models and a narrative that may or may not be the actuality. It’s a “psyche-sploitation” film which may or may not shoot itself in the foot with an improbably-powerful laser beam but, what they heck, it has some style.

It also has some good actors, notably Peter Cushing, as Sir John Rowan, a plastic surgeon finding himself in the unlikeliest of happenings thanks to his young model fiancée named Lynn played by Sue Lloyd who always manages to carry across the complex emotion with just a tinge of irritation. Here she encourages her husband to be to make the effort to attend a party at her photographer’s fab flat.

Sue Lloyd

The snapper is Mike Orme, “randy Scouse git” Anthony Booth, yes future father-in-law to Labour’s most-successful PM… here he’s a shallower/shabbier version of David Hemmings’ character in Antonioni’s classic and clearly here to show the gap in age, style and attitude to Sir John. While Mike makes like Bailey with Lynn, Sir John tries to make small talk with a wide-eyed young woman called Kate (Vanessa Howard) who’s already so far gone with the spirit of the evening that she’s far too high above the light fandango to trip over it.

Kate is just a passing character… or is she? Anyway, events take an unpleasant turn for the worse when Sir John, trying to pull Lynn away from the attentions from Mike only succeeds in starting a fight during which a huge, hot lamp falls onto Lynn’s face, scarring her for life.

Vanessa Howard

It’s a tragic accident and one caused entirely by Sir John’s jealousy and as Lynn struggles bitterly with her disfigurement with the help of her rather striking sister Val (Kate O'Mara, who does have a lucky face…), the surgeon focuses all his energy on devising a cure.  There is no known cure of course but you know he’ll find one and, when Sir John is caught hanging around the morgue with his bag and some sharp knives you know he’s up to no good. His colleague, Noel Trevarthen (Steve Harris), overlooks the mild infraction of stealing a small body part form a dead person… but that’s his last warning (probably).

Cushing, Booth and Lloyd... before things blow up!

Soon after Lynn appears and her face is restored to its former beauty; it’s astonishing and Noel cannot believe it fast enough… But, of course, it’s only a temporary fix and soon Lynn requires more treatment and, John being barred from the dead has only one choice, to take what he needs from the living. He heads off to old Soho to find someone morally less deserving of life… it’s gruesome and the next day whilst the papers are full of stories on the new “Ripper”, medically trained and everything, whilst Lynn reappears ready to resume her modelling career.

The more she’s cured the more she wants to be cured and you know that this life will only lead the couple to more and more desperate straits. Sir John pursues a young woman onto a train (Valerie Van Ost), the type with carriages and no walk-way, he traps her and their struggle is genuinely quite unpleasant to watch.

Wendy Varnals runs for her life

Worse is to come as the couple hide away from the febrile world of metropolitan suspicion in a seaside cottage but even there, they find the temptation of young flesh as they spot a lone girl on the beach, Terry (Wendy Varnals). They invite her in just as your screaming at the screen for Terry to run for her life, but there’ll be time for that later as there’s more to the youngster than meets the eye. During the night she invites her boyfriend in through her bedroom window, it’s Rik (future Bill star Billy Murray) and they too are not alone as events start to spin faster and faster towards a devastating conclusion that earned the film its alternate title of “Carnage”!

There’s another horrific scene in which Terry runs for her life pursued by both John and Lynn on the beach; Wendy Varnals acts her socks off here and it is again genuinely unsettling, trapped on a Sussex beach with little chance of escape, the basest of animal pursuits. And, far worse is to come…

Dusty Verdict: Corruption is fast-paced, uneasy and a super vehicle for Peter Cushing to mix it with The Youth. Directed by Robert Hartford-Davis it is, of course, of its time and features many familiar tropes all mashed or rather mangled together.  By the end and a twist so massive you could see it from space… you’re left with less certainty than you’d expect… exploitative yes but amusing none-the-less.

Cushing’s great as is Sue Lloyd and Kate O'Mara and the whole is improbably just about greater than the sum of the parts. I also like the marketing which claims the film shouldn’t be watched by women on their own… or men for that matter: we all need to hold hands on this one!

Sour times… The Ipcress File (1965)

There was a moment listening to John Barry’s splendidly expressive and inventive score to The Ipcress File, when I realised that Portishead had sampled it or at least borrowed its sound and spirit.

I shouldn’t be surprised as the downbeat disconnections of Sidney J. Furie’s, distinctly un-swinging, 60’s spy film fit perfectly with the off-kilter beats of the Bristol miserablists (well… they are splendidly thoughtful). As with Portishead, this film looks for the more difficult narratives that often lurk just out of sight. It’s the height of the 60s, spies are cool, they have gadgets, girls and guns but they also have mundane sadness, confusion and everyday betrayals alongside the quirks and cruelties of the trade.

A modern spy...

Len Deighton’s Harry Palmer was created not so much as the anti-Bond but his more believable cousin. Harry has a way with the ladies, is pretty smart but he isn’t that polished: things happen to him and he reacts… Harry’s just about keeping up whereas James’ is always one step ahead.

Michael Caine makes for the perfect screen Palmer, a former criminal who now makes real coffee and cooks cordon bleu in the kitchen of his small flat in Formosa Street, Maida Vale. Harry’s game involves lots of investigation and patience – it’s a proper procedural with even the more obviously-dramatic moments down-played in a way that makes them somehow more credible. His gambles don’t always pay off in the boys own way of Bond, but he’s a non-conformist and his rough-edged intuition may just be what can save the day.

Michael Caine and Nigel Green

The film’s backdrop is the grime of a car-choked London barely recovered from the Luftwaffe’s beating… not a yacht in sight, but all the better for it.

At the film’s start, Harry is lifted from slow-moving surveillance to help investigate the mysterious disappearance of a British scientist. There’s an abnormal brain drain with a succession of leading British boffins packing it in for unknown reasons and this is just the latest in a series of unfortunate events.

Officer's club: Nigel Green and Guy Doleman

Harry is regarded with scorn by true blue Colonel Ross (Guy Doleman) who gladly hands him over to Major Dalby (Nigel Green) who seems less than thrilled. It’s not a red letter day for Harry either as there’s only the promise of a small pay rise to go with this change of duty.

Harry meets his new team who include Carswell (Gordon Jackson) and Jean Courtney (Sue Lloyd) - Furie’s direction is so downbeat and knowing he’s not going to signal any obvious intentions with these or any other characters. Never-the-less, Carswell quickly becomes and ally for Harry whilst Jean responds to his less than suave overtures to come to his flat for dinner.

Sue Lloyd

Clearly, nothing is that clear and you really can’t trust anyone in this business or rather, can’t really be sure of who not to trust. And through all of this there’s an undercurrent of class prejudice as the natural officers struggle to impose themselves on the uppity rank and file.

Harry gradually begins to make headway, locating one of the likely kidnappers, Grantby - codenamed Bluejay (Frank Gatliff), and his lieutenant Housemartin (Oliver MacGreevy).  He follows Grantby into a library near the Albert Hall (The Science Museum Library) and calls a number Grantby given which proves to be false. The camera is close-up on Harry’s face but as he leaves the phone box, the camera view remains through the windows as Harry engages Housemartin in hand-to-hand combat. It’s typical of the film’s understated edge and we see that Palmer can handle himself, even though the birds manage to fly away…

Harry's eye-view

Playing a hunch, Harry orders a raid on a warehouse but finds nothing other than a strange tape… it’s scant consolation but buys him a little time. Played back the tape emits atonal noise and it’s unclear what this means… on it is written the word Ipcress.

Eventually Dr Radcliffe (Aubrey Richards) is returned in exchange for a payment but in the chaos immediately after the swap; Harry succeeds in shooting an American spy…

 Things speed up as Radcliff turns out to have been brain-washed and cannot function as a scientist. Then Caldwell makes the connection that will explain what Ipcress really means and people start dying, from another American sent to spy on Harry to Caldwell himself who is shot waiting at traffic lights in a very grimy Upper Thames Street…

Dirty old town

Harry realises he is being set up and following Dalby’s advice to make himself scarce, boards a train for Paris… but the enemy, whoever they may be, are already ahead of him.

Up till this point the film plays its cards reasonably close to its chest and is a novelty of surprises set against Bond-ian preconceptions. The closing third of the film sees a shift towards more typical action albeit with the focus firmly on the psychological…with a twist or two I won’t reveal. Harry has to pull himself together against all odds… to decide who to trust and, in the end, who to kill.

It’s all done grubbily well and Caine is, of course, superb: an actor who always holds enough back to pull the watcher in – he’s that uncertain hero we all hope to be. Nigel Green is another performer who smuggles a lot of meaning under an intense gaze and snarling stiff upper lip as does Guy Doleman albeit with rather more disdain.

Barry’s score flavours the film with enigmatic flourishes that takes turns in revealing narrative intentions with the actors, from Harry’s early morning coffee grinding to more clearly dramatic moments. He must have enjoyed the chance to show more compositional subtlety.

His score also works well with Furie’s angular direction and Otto Heller’s cinematography: through low and off-kilter angles, they create a world of disquiet even in the sparse, emotionally-empty rooms of the secret service. These high ceiling-ed imperial left-overs reflect the under-funded and shabby British service, still recovering from the War twenty years before. In the corner next to Colonel Ross’ desk, is a rickety camp-bed: needs must…it's one of the film's many telling details.

Dusty verdict: There’s a shift in Barry’s score during the meeting with Granby, when questing flute themes are pierced by the spidery sound of piano strings being plucked, the brass section builds the tension and then suddenly there’s a pause, deep piano chords and an eerie distorted guitar line repeats and repeats sending shivers of dread anticipation through the viewer… something is very wrong.

Gordon Jackson and Michael Caine

No Aston Martins but at least Major Dalby drives and MG