Friday, 23 October 2026

The Brides of Dracula (Terence Fisher, 1960)

Dr Abraham Van Helsing (Peter Cushing) returns in his mission to eradicate vampirism.


His latest adversary is the deceptively youthful Baron Meinster (David Peel), who has his eyes on the students of a local finishing school.



A few years ago, spurred on by the release of The Last Voyage of Demeter, I revived several different adaptations of the Dracula story.


After finishing off that little project, I thought I had scratched that itch.


A few months ago, I attended a local ballroom event, which featured a variety of performers - and attendees in various supernaturally themed costumes.


I stupidly did not wear a costume, and in between the performances, I was brainstorming costume ideas. I started whittling down to vampires, and started going through different iterations.


This is where I started thinking about David Peel’s performance in this film. 


If I am not mistaken, this is one of the first Hammer films I had ever seen - before I had even seen Peel’s more iconic predecessor.


The only Hammer Dracula film to not feature the man himself, the would-be Dracula II was reconfigured around his antagonist, Peter Cushing’s Van Helsing when Christopher Lee declined to return.


There are some differences - James Bernard is not on hand, nor is his imposing theme for the original title character.


The other quality which sets it apart: extremely vibrant colour.


I have read reviews that refer to this element giving the production the quality of a fairy tale (particularly the Grimm variety).


The first act of Brides of Dracula is fantastic.


We are introduced to the local village through naive young teacher Marianne (Yvonne Monlaur), who becomes the unwitting guest of the Meinster family.


The introduction of Baroness Meinster (Martia Hunt) is a similar misdirect to Lee’s disarming introduction in the original film: she enters with a single word (“Wine”) that plays on one of the more famous phrases from Dracula lore. 


With her restrained body language, staccato delivery and lack of appetite, she appears to be the antagonist (as the title refers - misleadingly - to a feminine threat). 


This is in stark contrast to the Baron, who is presented as a prisoner, standing on his balcony in contemplative pose.


As the villain’s jailor mother, Martia Hunt is fantastic - her breakdown when she realises her son has escaped, and the way she segues into despondency when he corners her, is one of the highlights of the film. She gives the film a sense of pathos, of the twisted family dynamic underpinning her love for her son.


He cannot quite bring the same sexual undercurrent or presence as Lee, but David Peel is an effective stand-in, at least for one film.


His smooth, understated menace is effective, particularly as he chivalrously woos Marianne in a parody of courtship.


Another interesting turn on a familiar archetype is Freda Jackson as Greta, Baroness Meinster’s obsessive servant. Fulfilling a similar function to Renfield, and later films’ take on the familiar (Klove in Prince of Darkness and Scars of Dracula), Greta is a gender-bent spin with a more complex relationship with her mistress and master. 


Seemingly torn between love and terror of the Baron, she ends up a pretty solid barometer for the film as a whole - a promisingly unique spin on a familiar character that is eventually reduced to type - while Jackson is effective, Greta turns into a minion - in a rather effective scene, she cackles as she draws a newborn vampire from its grave.


While it has some interesting stylistic distinctions from Horror of Dracula, this film also starts running with some ideas that would continue to feed through the franchise.


This film recontextualises the idea of Vampirism from a disease toward more of a cult, the legacy of a pagan, pre-Christian religion. The Baron’s transformation is the result of his Dionysian appetites.


Through the characters of the Baron and his mother, Brides also begins to deal with the idea of vampirism as a vehicle for Victorian-era hypocrisy, a theme that later films in the cycle would delve into more explicitly. 


Going back to my criticism of Greta, the reason I use her as a bellwether is because after the opening, the film deflates.


Ironically, the film loses steam once Van Helsing enters the frame. 


The script forces the character to be more reactive, and the plotting is devolves into various contrived delays to the inevitable confrontation - there are no surprises, such as Jonathan’s aborted ambush on Dracula’s coffin (or Dracula’s move of hiding his coffin in his enemy’s house). 


The film is also let down by some clumsy choreography - the Vampire’s escapes from Van Helsing come across as nonsensical (at one point, he runs straight into the Baron as he wacks him with a candlestick).


The last five minutes almost save it.


The  location is novel (a windmill), and there is some genuine peril for our hero: 


Van Helsing is bitten but improvises a solution to save himself by heating a poker and burning his neck wounds with it  and covering it with holy water.


One point: why do the Brides just watch him, rather than attacking or restraining him?


The Baron’s death is almost great - Van Helsing jumps on the windmill to make sure it tilts to cast the shadow of a cross on the ground where the Baron stands.


The Baron falls dead - not even a reprise of Dracula’s collapse into ashes from the previous film.


Some hold this film as superior to the original - I would not go that far.


Not even close. Stylistically it is fabulous, but after an energetic opening, it falls into a rut of repetitive chase scenes. 



Related


Nosferatu


Dracula (1931 Anglo version)


Dracula (1931 Spanish version) 


Horror of Dracula (1958)


Count Dracula (1977)


Dracula (1979)


Bram Stoker's Dracula


Let The Right One In


The Last Voyage of the Demeter 


Abigail


Nosferatu (2024)


If you are new to this blog, I also co-host a podcast on James Bond, The James Bond Cocktail Hour. 

You can subscribe on Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts.


If you enjoy something I wrote, and want to support my writing, here’s a link for tips!

Tuesday, 20 October 2026

NZ Horror: The Quiet Earth (Geoff Murphy, 1985)

Scientist Zac Hobson (Bruno Lawrence) wakes up alone - and not just in his bed. Overnight, every human being has seemingly vanished.


Stumbling through this familiar yet uncanny landscape, Zac has to fend for himself - until he discovers he is not as alone as he initially thought.



While I would not call The Quiet Earth a straightforward horror movie, when writing about New Zealand genre cinema, it cannot be ignored. Besides, if the existential dread of being alone, at the mercy of a seemingly godless universe, does not count as horror, I do not know what does.


When I was growing up, and reading about New Zealand cinema, Geoff Murphy was one of the filmmakers who stood out.


Not for his movies, but because there was a collection of his written thoughts that gave me an insight into the New Zealand new wave of the 70s and 80s.I remember an article he wrote covering the making of Goodbye Pork Pie, in which he talked about the difficulties of making the movie on the cheap, and bizarre euphoria of its success.


As a director, I was a little unsure of him. It was not in doubt that he had a facility for action (his Hollywood career is anonymous but I think he does a great job bringing Under Siege 2 to some kind of life). But he also has a goofy sense of humor which I felt undermined Utu.


My feelings might be a partial result of the one time I saw Murphy in person. It was in 2013, at a Q&A for the director’s cut of Utu. It was a fun occasion, with Anzac Wallace and Ian Mune acting as emcee - but every time someone would raise a question, Murphy would turn it into a joke. Because he did not take himself seriously, that bled a bit into how I watched his films in the years since.


I wish I had watched The Quiet Earth sooner. 


The first half of the film is remarkable - a slowly unraveling nightmare, as our hero goes from vaguely incredulous to completely unmoored at the abandoned world around him. 


The shots of empty Auckland streets filled with empty vehicles retain an eerie power. 


Anchored by Bruno Lawrence, his vibrant, by turns ribald and melancholy, performance is one of the greats of New Zealand cinema. Angry, terrified, and absurdist, he is absolutely hypnotising.


The character has the opportunity to do whatever he wants, and Lawrence plays these scenes (driving a train, playing saxophone while walking down Queen Street in the pouring rain) with a manic glee that feels like a release, or distraction from, his aching sense of loneliness.


With no one else to condemn or challenge him, Zac turns on the pillars of the fallen world - first, in a longwinded monologue he gives to an audience of cardboard cutouts of famous figures from recent history, he decries the choices that have led to this calamity. 


And in the second, iconic scene, he stalks through a church with a shotgun, demanding God to show up and prove its existence, before unloading his weapon into a sculpture of Jesus.


The film does not get bogged down trying to explain Zac’s predicament - he works at a secret government facility, and it appears the project he was working on may have led to this predicament.


It could also be more existential - it is hypothesized that Zac survived because he had attempted to take his own life. This macabre revelation is shared with the other survivors he eventually meets, Joanne (Alison Routledge) and Api (Pete Smith), who were similarly at the point of death when the ‘Effect’ occurred.


I have read some literature that criticises the second half of The Quiet Earth, feeling that the film loses its sense of existential dread, and the unique energy of Lawrence’s one-man-show.


I take it as a puncturing of the Pakeha ‘man alone’ myth that underpinned so many of New Zealand’s stories about itself - you can see variations on this theme in Sleeping Dogs and The Lost Tribe.


No longer alone, Zac’s personal crisis is put aside for a new group dynamic fraught with a different set of tensions, over sex, gender and race.


While Joanne ends up as a partner to both men, there is an undercurrent of sexual menace to the trio’s early interactions, as both men vie for her attention. 


Dressed in black leather and armed with weapons, Api looks like a racist’s nightmare of a young Maori man. Deliberately designed to echo the garb of a biker gang (or, considering the context, a post-apocalyptic raider), his costuming is a shrewd piece of misdirection. 


When the trio finally meet, Murphy stages the scene like the final showdown from The Good, The Bad and the Ugly, with long shots of the three actors in a circle, intercut with close-ups between Lawrence and Smith. 


Dropping his weapon, Api smiles cautiously. 


“Kia ora”, he says, before they all embrace.


Api’s presence means this new world is not solely the preserve of Zac, a white man. In the end, the literal future is in Api and Joanne’s hands. Shortly before the finale of the film, Api and Joanne have sex, and the camera holds on Pete Smith’s face as he finishes.


The idea of a man sacrificing himself after generating progeny is a familiar one in storytelling (see Andor and No Time To Die for recent examples), and while this example is not exactly subtle, it gives the ending - celebrated for its ambiguity - a sense of hope that feels particularly resonant to its local context.


Zac has left his companions to build a future together - one hopefully free of the white, colonial hubris and violence (the project is explicitly a product of the Cold War) which led to the Effect.


While Lawrence gets a lot of the spotlight for the acting in The Quiet Earth, his co-stars are not to be dismissed.


As Api, Pete Smith gives the character a weariness and sense of pathos that belay his strong front. He is the most understated of the trio, but he says a lot with very little.


Routledge gets the short shrift as Joanne - the character gets the least interesting arc, and almost becomes a symbol of the relationship between the two men. 


Overall, a fantastic film. One of the most unique genre efforts New Zealand cinema has produced, and worth a look.

Related


Sleeping Dogs 


The Lost Tribe


Bad Taste


If you are new to this blog, I also co-host a podcast on James Bond, The James Bond Cocktail Hour. 

You can subscribe on Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts.


If you enjoy something I wrote, and want to support my writing, here’s a link for tips!

Saturday, 17 October 2026

The James Bond Cocktail Hour: Fate of the Furious (F. Gary Gray, 2017)

Our heroes dissect the zombified car that is the eighth instalment of the Fast franchise. 


Check it out at the link below or wherever you get your podcasts.

Related reviews

The Fast and the Furious

2 Fast 2 Furious 

Fast and the Furious - Tokyo Drift 

Fast & Furious 

Fast Five 

Fast & Furious Six 

Furious 7 

Fate of the Furious

If you enjoy something I wrote, and want to support my writing, here’s a link for tips!