Hammer: Heroes, Legends and Monsters (2024)

Post by **bunniefuu** » 04/17/25 11:07

The following programme

contains some scenes of nudity.

(OMINOUS MUSIC)

(VOICEOVER MONTAGE)Hammer Films

set what I consider to be...

...the modern tone

of the horror genre.

Hammer was successful

because of...

...a certain alchemy

and a certain magic.

They were very...

...lurid, shocking, Technicolor.

You know, they were the opposite of

the old Universal horror pictures.

When Hammer came round, it

took it to a whole different level.

It just felt different

from everything else.

Hammer Films

gave us this amazing brand of...

...spooky castles and vampires.

And suddenly, this small British

studio was gonna become a force.

It was something people wanted...

they wanted to see more of.

CHARLES DANCE: A small

British film studio,

...born in the early 1930s,

came to define the entire genre

of horror cinema.

From humble beginnings,

it rose to legendary status,

...becoming

a cultural touchstone...

...that still entertains

audiences and creators alike.

We're about

to embark on a voyage...

...through the chronicles

of Hammer Films,

...exploring the lives of

the visionaries behind the scenes,

how and why they created

such groundbreaking films...

...and the lasting impact

they've had on cinema and culture.

This is the story of the heroes,

legends and monsters...

...of Hammer.

Oh, where did it all begin?

Hammer was my father,

surprisingly enough.

KINSEY: Hammer Film started

as the production arm of...

...a film distribution company

called Exclusive Films.

Nineteen, take one.

It was a family-run unit,

run by two families.

MICHAEL: My grandfather,

Enrique Carreras...

..and a man called Will Hammer,

or Hinds.

He was a...

...successful businessman

and a failed comedian.

He failed because

he wasn't really very funny.

He and another chap

did a double act years ago,

...comic double act, and...

...cos his...my father's business

was centred in Hammersmith,

they called themselves

Hammer and Smith,

...and the name Hammer

started from that.

William Hinds worked

in his family business,

...which was FW Hinds

the jewellers.

He was someone who...

...combined his hobbies

and his business skills.

In other words, if you like racing bicycles,

then, oh, maybe we'll do some of that.

He had a bicycle shop, but he also had

a particular interest in the theatre.

He had his own booking agency,

...used to book his own shows,

had his own theatres.

Gradually,

his theatrical interest...

started to take

a different direction...

...when the motion picture

company started.

He was very passionate

about filmmaking at that time,

which is why it was his idea...

to start the production company,

use his name.

Will Hinds gave his stage name

to the fledgling company.

But what of the other man

responsible for Hammer's creation?

Enrique Carreras was Spanish.

Then he came over here in 1909,

...and it seems to have

been a fairly bold,

...entrepreneurial kind of figure.

He had a chain of cinemas,

which was called the Blue Halls,

...which he'd sold to ABC.

And it was him

that had formed Exclusive Films,

...which was

now distributing movies.

Will Hinds joined with him.

And that was in 1929.

Hammer became two families...

...the Hinds and the Carreras -

all the way through its career.

Interesting family.

Very.

They made five films

between 1934 and 1936.

The two notable ones was...

The Mystery Of The Mary Celeste,

with Bela Lugosi...

I didn't forget you.

..and Song Of Freedom,

with Paul Robeson.

Paul Robeson was a massive artist.

I'd like to sing you

a fragment of a song,

which I've never sung

in public before.

So it was a real coup to have

those headlining their films.

Unfortunately, they didn't

do particularly well.

(SINGS) I hear the voice of my...

And the Hammer company was,

at that point, allowed to lapse.

They continued running Exclusive,

which did quite well during the w*r.

And after the w*r,

Enrique's son...

Lieutenant-Colonel Jim Carreras,

came back and joined the firm.

This is where the...

Hammer film company proper comes in.

PIRIE: It's often said...

that no-one succeeds

like a son who saw his father fail.

And I often think of that phrase

when I think of James Carreras.

Who is he?

I don't know!

James went

to Manchester Grammar School...

..where he left at 16 without

any qualifications of any kind.

He was a salesman...

absolutely personified.

There is even a story that

he sold a car without an engine.

He could sell

the proverbial ice cubes to Eskimos.

Well, James Carreras

was exactly the kind of man

who had what you call 'a good w*r'.

He was successful.

He was greatly loved by his people.

You couldn't have a nicer person

work for than Jimmy Carreras.

What a distinguished,

beautiful-looking man he was.

He wasn't a skirt-chaser.

He became a colonel

in a fairly short space of time...

and liked to be called the Colonel

for a time after the w*r too.

And then he came back,

and he took over the company.

The power is mine,

and I shall use it as I please.

Well, he was your typical sort of...

old colonel...type,

very well-spoken,

upright man - quite a nice guy.

And that's when Hammer began...

to accelerate

its commercial activities.

The idea of Hammer

was to make money.

And James Carreras was obviously

into the idea of making money.

Which is... Who can blame him?

My father was a businessman,

a salesman. He wasn't a film maker.

He was really good

at schmoozing people.

Our efforts...would be

considerably less effective...

without the cooperation

of you gentlemen.

Through his social life

and his work for the Variety Club,

which he loved, he made contact

with American producers.

Who needed what you might call

half-arsed British product

with fading American stars...

to produce what were called

'quota quickies'.

There's no question

that Jimmy Carreras,

in his backslapping, glad-handing,

Variety Club way...

was a genius of promotion.

Through James Carreras'

networking abilities...

he was able to take advantage

of the first key opportunity

that arose

for his new production company.

In a post-w*r move

to grow the economy,

the UK Government aimed to boost

the British film business

by taxing American movies,

creating greater demand

for home-grown features.

You're lucky it all worked.

Lucky? This is only the beginning.

So James Carreras...

reintroduced the Hammer brand,

Hammer Films was made again,

and they started making

little stocking fillers.

(DRAMATIC MUSIC)

d*ck Barton was,

in fact, a radio serial...

on the BBC Light Programme,

which pre-dated The Archers.

And from there, in a very small way,

we started to make a series

of radio-orientated characters

and bringing them to life

in the cinemas for the first time.

We actually had a production

programme of six pictures a year,

all based on the radio series.

And from that, slowly,

whatever the company policies were,

in changing names, but Exclusive

seguewayed into Hammer Films.

And we were then...

the first British company to have

a permanent American relationship

and actually get American release

for what were, really,

some very small British pictures.

Oh, we've done it!

(LAUGHTER)

The Hammer set up at that time

is that, really,

James Carreras

is leading the company.

And Will Hinds' son Tony,

who's now joined, Tony Hinds,

is Hammer's primary producer.

(GONG CLANGS)

TONY: I went to see Jim Carreras.

We seemed to get on alright.

And he said why didn't I join.

I'd just come out of the air force,

and I really hadn't anything to do.

So we got together,

and I joined the firm.

On the production side,

and later, screenwriting side,

Anthony Hinds was...

extraordinarily important force

at Hammer.

He was born in 1922, in London.

When he came out of the RAF

after the w*r,

they were making a film

called Death In High Heels,

and the Producer disappeared,

went AWOL.

They got Tony Hinds in to do it.

He did a good job, and that

was the start of it. From then...

..something really extraordinary

happens - a creative flair...

I don't think anyone

had dreamt was there.

And in a sense,

that is where we identify, I think,

the uniqueness that was Hammer.

Tony Hinds was a filmmaker.

I mean, Tony Hinds,

was a better filmmaker than I was.

He was, you know,

a definitive filmmaker.

Tony only lived to make films.

Anthony, in particular,

is what you might call

a producer-auteur,

because his handprint

is definitely visible

on all of the films he worked on,

whether it was in a production

capacity, a producer role...

or whether he wrote the screenplay,

which he often did

under the pseudonym John Elder.

And it was a joke on an old

Art Director that worked for Hammer,

called James Elder Wills -

he took the name from that.

PIRIE: He was described by

the Daily Cinema as looking like

'a doctor of divinity

about to take his finals.'

There was one thing he did

which enraged everybody.

He decided to put a microphone...

on the stage...

linked to his office,

so at any time he could listen down

what was going on on the set.

And if he felt,

'Hang on, they're not filming,'

and there was a bit of a lapse

and things had slowed down a bit,

and he knew what the schedule was...

he would then race down onto the set

and get them to sort it out.

Nose to the grindstone.

(DOOR CLOSES)

It was often said that if

they were running behind schedule,

he would get the script

and tear a page out.

There you are.

You're back on schedule now.

And he was quite a revered producer

within the Hammer company.

And Michael Carreras

started off as his assistant.

I would say the monsters

of Hammer...

..like all monsters,

are good and bad.

And I'd say they're James Carreras

and Michael Carreras.

You know, men who created greatness.

And yet something within them...

kept them from communicating...

or achieving peace

within themselves.

And that's the essence

of what a monster is.

When I first reported for work

as an office boy in Wardour Street,

I soon, luckily with influence,

became Director of Publicity,

which entailed putting

six black-and-white stills,

and a poster,

into an envelope and...

sending it off to the cinema that

was going to show an Exclusive film.

And that...

As nobody else was doing it,

I was Director of Publicity within

minutes of joining the company.

The fastest promotion

you've ever heard of.

Michael Henry Carreras

was born in London,

on 21st December 1927.

His parents were James Carreras

and Vera Smart.

There seemed to be a very uneasy

relationship between father and son.

James Carreras was very much

the architect of Hammer from the...

business point of view.

Michael had...

..you know, multiple talents.

He wasn't his father.

I wasn't a businessman.

Michael was a creative force

at Hammer.

The different skills brought

by the father-and-son team

were initially of great benefit

to Hammer.

But in time, Michael's focus

on creativity over business

could well come back to bite him.

Michael was born

when James was only 21,

and I think it was

very much a surprise.

Their family history

is steeped in horrificness,

and in things

that are almost Gothic.

I'm not sure if James really

wanted to have a kid at that age.

Did James want to be a father?

I suspect he did, in fact,

but not at that time.

I don't know why

I put up with you at all.

I should have drowned you at birth.

Thank you, Father.

His father, James,

ended up putting his mother, Vera,

into a sanitorium for a while.

That's a Gothic trope.

And Michael had to come

and live with his grandparents.

I'm going to disown my son

and send him away to the country.

It's a Victorian-slash-Gothic

horror movie,

which is exactly

where they found their...

ironically,

their power and their strength.

The most curious family history.

Michael was a kind

and jovial character.

He got involved, stuck in,

with all the films,

and all the people

that worked on the films.

He was very good at bringing

creative people together.

He was a Producer

that was hands-on.

Michael Carreras

was doing everything - he was...

playing with electrics,

with sound, with casting.

He had the best sense of humour.

Oh, my God.

He made me laugh so much.

Michael Carreras' and Tony Hinds'

skill sets and personalities

turned out to be an unlikely...

but successful pairing.

We're totally opposites,

and that was great too, because...

certain types of films

that he enjoyed making, I didn't,

and certain types of films

I liked making, he didn't.

They kind of had

a sort of instinct for genre,

I think, adventure,

suspense, swashbuckling -

all that are ingredients of Gothic.

They made one film at a time,

and the same crew came back,

film after film after film.

And their crew were the envy

of the British film industry.

REYNOLDS: You realised you was

working at...a special company.

When we went to various offices,

you said you was from Hammer Films.

Then they all knew

who you were talking about.

The changing winds

of the media landscape

were about to blow

in Hammer's favour.

Although they didn't yet realise it,

Hammer's cottage industry approach,

utilising the same crew

again and again,

was starting to pay off.

It was about to allow them to take

advantage of another opportunity.

We are on the edge

of a new dimension of discovery.

It's a great chance

to leave our vices behind.

So, 1953 is really a pivotal year

for British television,

and historically,

radio had always been...

the medium that was

the sort of nation's favourite.

But the big thing

that happened in 1953

was that a lot more people

got television sets

because of the Coronation.

More people got hold of a television

in the two months

in the run up to the Coronation than

in any of the preceding two months.

In 1953, until...

for another few years after that,

television is BBC television.

There is nothing else in this

country, just the one channel.

And a lot of the plays

that were on were adaptations...

of stage works

or had a literary basis.

So there wasn't much

that was truly original.

And the BBC script unit

was two people -

Nigel Kneale and George Kerr.

Nigel Kneale was an enormously

talented writer. Enormously.

My name is Matthew Kneale,

and my dad was...

uh...Nigel Kneale.

WOMAN: Eleven, take one.

Nigel Kneale was a... Boy.

He had a falling out with...

famously, with John Carpenter

in Hollywood.

He was not a nice man.

Not a nice man at all.

HADOKE: I wish Nigel Kneale had

had a happier time of everything.

He created Quatermass, which is

one of the seminal sci-fi texts.

It's a landmark of television,

and then it's a landmark of film.

It spawns so much that came

after it.

(CACOPHONOUS CLANGING AND RINGING)

VOICEOVER: Three men went into outer

space. Only one of them came back...

came back a strange,

distorted creature,

haunted and possessed by something

beyond human understanding.

And it doesn't seem

to have made him...

particularly happy,

and I think that's a shame.

Don't cry, please.

Probably The Curse Of Frankenstein

would never have been made

had not Nigel Kneale done

the Quatermass series on television.

My father was actually

born in Barrow-in-Furness,

and both his parents

were from the Isle of Man.

The Isle of Man

is steeped in legend,

and steeped in folklore,

and steeped...

if we're thinking about how

he writes dialogue for people,

steeped in the oral tradition.

MURRAY: He actually developed a form

of skin sensitivity to sunlight.

Which he regarded almost

in a Manx way as a kind of curse.

For the whole of his life, really,

he had to stay out of the sun.

His brother gave me

a wonderful phrase -

'Nigel was always walking

in the shadows.'

(SCREAMS)

I think it's fairly easy

to make the link

that somebody has to stay out

of the sunlight - what do you do?

In those days, you sit and read.

What does that do

to your imagination?

Kneale was always writing stories,

a lot of which are embedded in

the Manx folklore of his childhood.

He was a very interesting writer...

and forward thinker.

He went to London

and trained as an actor at RADA,

and around the time he finished,

his short stories

were published as a volume.

I think he was interested

in the meeting point

of the rational and the irrational.

And he won

the Somerset Maugham prize

and thought he was set as a writer -

a book writer, a prose writer.

He went travelling around Europe

with the money he got from...

the Somerset Maugham prize.

Came back expecting to be...

rich with royalties -

found there was nothing.

Where's my money, then? Where is it?

He looked around for a job

and found something in the BBC.

And he became a scriptwriter.

In 1953, there was a gap

in the schedules...

of six weeks, where he needed to...

provide them with something,

and it was to be an original work.

He had a relatively free hand

and...

came up with the idea for a science

fiction series called Quatermass.

And...that was

the beginning of it all.

It might be significant.

The original Quatermass Xperiment

was the most modern...

present-day science fiction thriller

that had been put on television.

Kneale was definitely

kind of influenced by...

by what was going on

in the real world.

1953 is the time when...

that kind of idea of the Space Race

was just starting to come along.

That idea of, 'OK,

we're sending rockets into space.

What happens if we do that?

What will they bring back?

What will they encounter?'

When Kneale first wrote

the synopsis for the story,

it was a character

called Professor Charlton.

As he fleshed it out, he wanted

to give the character a better name.

When he looked in the phone

directory, and in the Isle of Man,

a lot of the names -

in fact, almost all the surnames -

begin with a K or a Q-U,

and he found Quatermass.

He had a good eye for the name,

and I suppose 'mass'

sounded slightly scientific.

And it's a dramatic name,

so it was a good choice.

The original TV series

of The Quatermass Xperiment

was a real success.

Viewing figures were good,

the reviews were very good.

Even before it finished going out,

there was conversations going on

about...can we turn this

into a film?

Tony Hinds and others at Hammer

pricked up their ears,

and then Hammer put in an offer,

which was way over what

they should have, perhaps, put in.

I've seen people refer to it as

a bad business decision. It wasn't.

So at that point,

Nigel Kneale is very happy

that his television series...

is being looked at to be made

by a film company.

He is delighted by that.

History tells us that Nigel Kneale

didn't remain delighted for long,

and he remained undelighted...

for the rest of his days.

When my dad wrote the first

Quatermass television series,

for the BBC, he asked, 'Well, what

would happen if it was sold on?'

And he was told, 'Oh,

of course you'll be recompensed.'

And then after Quatermass

became such a hit,

the BBC rather...

changed their minds about this.

And my dad felt

that he'd been mistreated.

Hammer's newly acquired rights

to create films based on Quatermass

could be a turning point

for the company.

But how should they approach

this sci-fi feature?

Violence, gore and nudity...

would mean an X certificate,

restricting a film's

potential audience.

This could certainly

present a challenge

for Hammer's debut horror

sci-fi feature.

But where lesser men

saw only problems...

Tony Hinds saw opportunity...

..an opportunity

that could define Hammer forever.

The Censors, basically,

were a huge help to Hammer,

because it gave something

to push against.

It forced them to be creative.

The Quatermass Xperiment was called

The Quatermass 'Xperiment',

because they were

exploiting the X rating.

The X thing was still relatively

new, so now it's a thing of,

'This cannot be shown

in the presence of anyone under 16.'

HADOKE: The X certificate

was a very powerful thing

in terms of making people

come to see those films.

And marketing-wise, it was huge.

A young man died of a heart attack

during that movie,

but the whole thing...

was bathed in the music

of James Bernard.

I thought he was

an unbelievable composer.

The score for Quatermass...

is like a precursor to Psycho.

James Bernard is certainly a hero,

because the music is...

is often phenomenal.

His music is, like...

it's as important as the direction,

the setting, the actors.

James Bernard did actually have

some musical lineage in his family.

One of those was Thomas Arne...

..who was the composer

of Rule Britannia.

James Bernard was born

in the Himalayas.

He then went to

the Wellington College in England.

Eventually, he would actually

end up at Bletchley Park,

and he was part of the team

that were helping

to try and crack the codes

of the Enigma machine.

He worked with Christopher Lee,

who was actually stationed

at the same place as James.

And this is where he first ever

encountered Dracula.

I'd just become an officer,

and I was billeted...

in a sort of...in an old rectory...

adjoining an old church in

a remote village in Buckinghamshire.

It was a full Hammer set,

the whole thing,

and it was a terribly cold winter.

And I was reading Dracula,

Bram Stoker's original,

for the first time.

And I tucked myself up into bed

with Dracula...

with the book, I mean. (CHUCKLES)

And I was really enjoying it

enormously and totally engrossed.

I suddenly realised

I was freezing cold.

So I got out of bed and went

to the kitchen of this old rectory,

and made myself a hot water bottle.

And I filled this

with almost boiling water,

took it back to bed,

clutched it to my chest,

went on reading Dracula,

thoroughly absorbed...

fell asleep

with the book on my nose,

woke up in the morning and

the bottle was clutched to my chest.

So I removed it.

And underneath it

was a huge, angry, white blister.

And the blister went,

but the scar remained

for years and years and years.

And I think

it only finally vanished...

when I'd written the score

for The Scars Of Dracula,

which was my last Dracula film.

VOICEOVER: There is no escape

from...(BAT SCREECHES)

James first started working

in music for Benjamin Britten.

He would copy the sketches for...

Billy Budd the opera,

but after that...

Benjamin Britten told him

that he should make his own way,

because if he stayed with him,

he would just swamp him,

and he would not be able to,

you know, make his own way

as a composer.

James was very keen

to work in film.

He had to find a way in.

Television hadn't really started up

again properly since the w*r.

His way in was radio plays.

Now, he did a bunch of those

for what is effectively now

BBC Radio 3.

I think it was

The Death Of Hector...

was the first, which was...

directed by

Sir John Gielgud's brother.

One of the next ones he did

was called The Duchess Of Malfy.

It's basically a horror.

Everybody pretty much

ends up dead by the end.

And the Duchess Of Malfy

was actually recorded to tape.

The Quatermass Xperiment

was originally...

assigned to John Hotchkis,

and unfortunately, John fell ill...

and couldn't continue.

Tony Hinds, at Hammer, said to a man

called John Hollingsworth...

'We're in a real pickle here,

and we need a composer

as soon as possible.'

So John Hollingsworth

remembered James Bernard,

who had conducted the score

for The Duchess Of Malfy.

Now, because they had the tapes

to The Duchess Of Malfy,

He rushed to go retrieve these

and play them to Tony Hinds.

Tony Hinds loved it,

and immediately, on the spot,

James Bernard was hired and paid

the princely sum of 100

to write the score

for The Quatermass Xperiment.

If you listen

to The Duchess Of Malfy,

and you listen to

The Quatermass Xperiment,

you're gonna see

a lot of similarities.

Because James Bernard

was basically touching upon

what he already knew how to do,

and that was

writing for strings and percussion.

So they basically have

almost the same instrumentation.

When he then went on to do

The Curse Of Frankenstein,

he would actually quote, musically,

some of his themes and motifs

from The Duchess Of Malfy.

Hammer's Quatermass Xperiment

was successful across the board.

Pushing the boundaries

of what was acceptable in cinema

became one of

Hammer's driving forces.

The X certificate

was nothing to be feared...

but something to bear with pride.

James Carreras felt, instinctively,

that this was

the route to success for Hammer,

but were this band of British

creatives charting the right course?

After the success

of The Quatermass Xperiment film,

they speak to audiences, and they

speak to distributors, and they say,

'This horror thing, this is great.

This is what we want.'

So the obvious thing is

to try and do a Quatermass sequel.

INTERVIEWER: You tackled your first

feature, which was X The Unknown.

Right.

How do you feel about that?

We were sort of sitting around

the office one day

trying to come up with a story.

I was Production Manager

at the time, and...

..it was Tony Hinds

and Mike Carreras,

and we were batting around ideas.

And it seemed

at the end of a session,

I'd come up with the most ideas, so

Tony said, 'Go away and write it.'

I said, 'I'm not a writer,

I'm a production manager.'

And he said, 'Well, write it.

If we like it, we'll buy it.'

So I wrote it. And he liked it.

And he bought it.

Jimmy Sangster started

with Hammer in 1948,

on a film called

d*ck Barton Strikes Back,

as a Second Assistant Director.

He later becomes First Assistant,

and he's the youngest First

Assistant Director in the country.

And in 1954, he becomes a

Production Manager with the company.

Around this time...

..Milton Subotsky and Max Rosenberg

come to Hammer

with an old-fashioned

Frankenstein script.

It was called

Frankenstein And The Monster.

And it was recommended that they

make a film...along those lines,

probably just another

of their black-and-white quickies.

Studying the script, they realised

that it was actionably similar...

to the old Universal

Frankenstein films.

Anthony Hinds reads it and says,

'We can't use it, but this

is an idea - to do Frankenstein.'

So they paid off...

Rosenberg and Subotsky...

and launched with their own script.

Which was written by...

Jimmy Sangster.

I don't think I read

the Mary Shelley book, actually.

I mean, one knew

the Frankenstein story.

I don't think I read it.

I'd just seen all the...

all the old Frankenstein movies.

In the wake

of Hammer's newfound success,

Tony Hinds would need

to find the right director

to deliver his frightening Gothic

vision for their next picture,

particularly if they were

to unlock its financial potential.

Hinds needed a safe but creative

pair of hands for this vital role.

His solution was to turn to his

longtime collaborator Terence Fisher.

Terence Fisher being the Director

who's given us most of the classics.

I remember that he always

wore a jumper and a shirt.

RIGBY: Terence Fisher kickstarted

the Gothic trend at Hammer.

Probably a sort

of crimson-colour jumper.

And he was a really good director.

Possibly with a jacket.

I understand, originally,

Hammer wanted to...

knock The Curse Of Frankenstein out

in three weeks.

They offered it to my father, and...

he said, 'I can't possibly

do it in three weeks.'

He said, 'It's got to be six.'

He took a while to go away

and think about it, a long while,

and then came back and agreed.

But it wouldn't have

been the innovative,

extraordinary film that it was...

if someone hadn't said to Hammer,

'No, I can't do it in three weeks.

Give me six.' (CHUCKLES)

We don't want to be

over-hasty, do we?

He's the Director,

whether you know it or not,

you think about

when you think of Hammer, I think.

He went to boarding schools

at a very early age,

went to prep school

and then to Christ Hospital.

I think of the two results

that boarding school can have...

with pupils is that they either

get this arrogance and confidence,

or else they're...

just completely cowed.

He was such a dear...

kind, cuddly little man.

Very shy.

(WHISPERS) He was very quiet.

He talked like that.

So he gave direction.

'Would you mind very much if you...

moved over here...

moved over to there.

Thank you very much.

And then he would disappear.

A quiet one, are we?

You've hardly said a word.

My father joined the merchant navy,

and he travelled

all round the world...

but never talked about it

unless you particularly asked him.

After the merchant navy,

he went back to London...and

hadn't a clue what he wanted to do,

but...there was a shop

round the corner.

It was Peter Jones -

a big department store -

and he became

a window dresser there.

And he always said it was

quite a good introduction

into setting stuff into a frame.

Terence Fisher began

in the film industry in...

various different capacities, but...

I think he really

found his footing as an editor.

And I think it was his experience

as an editor or a cutter,

as he preferred to call it,

that really is the key to his work,

really, because he edited

the films in his head,

and this made him

a very prized collaborator,

because Hammer

liked to keep costs down.

You know, they were

a smallish operation,

and they were making

very lavish looking films...

but on a budget.

Their budgets were minuscule -

The Curse Of Frankenstein,

in 1956, made for 80,000.

Dracula, in 1957, made for 90,000.

Yet you look at those films,

and they look like

they have bigger budgets.

Anthony Hinds made

another huge jump here,

where he said

it should be in colour.

It was pretty amazing when you

consider James said yes to colour,

when colour would have cost 10%

of the entire budget,

just changing from monochrome

to colour, but he did.

Now you can see the blood,

and the blood is gonna be red.

And from a marketing point of view,

it's pretty genius.

This was an enormous breakthrough -

not a single person was thinking

of making horror films in colour.

The Americans

weren't doing it either.

The critics went mad, you know?

They thought this was vile.

But the public absolutely loved it.

And from there on,

I think you could say...

the Hammer brand is born.

It was the Gothic cycle

in colour for the first time.

World audiences were waiting.

And there's another wrinkle here,

which is very interesting -

by a strange, quixotic turn of fate,

colour was what allowed them

to evade the censorship,

which would otherwise

have prevailed.

Terence Fisher said, 'Oh, we never

had any problem with the Censors,'

which was the most ridiculously

disingenuous thing to say.

Because Hammer had titanic problems

with the Censors.

Hinds worked out if he showed the

Censor the films in black-and-white,

but he would say to them, 'Yeah,

of course it's in colour,' early on.

Then he'd show them

the black-and-white.

No-one remembered that in a letter,

six months earlier,

he said,

'By the way, it's in colour.'

And then the Censor

realises the film is in colour,

and they immediately say,

'You've got to show it to us.'

And there's a real problem.

Because the Censor

has a terrible reaction to the film.

That really was like, 'Argh!'

They nearly had a heart attack. At

that point, the real battle started.

And then they were able

to force through a few more things

than they would ever

have got before.

Hammer were really good at,

in the end,

getting what they wanted onscreen,

because Hammer would always...

they'd build in stuff they knew...

was gonna get cut out, and

they'd put a little extra in too.

So they'd go,

'Well, if we cut out...

the bit that you don't like,

can we have this in?'

And it'd become a bargaining point -

one of the examples you hear about

is the disintegration of Dracula.

There was a much longer version

that, for many years, was hidden,

because the Censors at the time

thought it was too much.

And they wanted to cut

some stuff out.

And so they did, but they

still got a lot of stuff in

because they'd piled

so much into that disintegration.

(DRACULA SCREAMS, GASPS)

(GRUNTS)

Phil Leakey was

a remarkably talented make-up man.

A very mild-mannered guy,

very much in the background,

very quiet.

Very skilled, though.

So, of course, what they did

was they hung onto him...

and hung on to him

for as long as possible.

And they were very lucky

he was still around

when the colour Gothic started up.

All make-up artists study anatomy,

and they study cuts and wounds.

But with Phil Leakey,

I expect that he had...

a more kind of

first-hand knowledge of it,

because of his parents,

who were in the sciences.

He knew exactly what to do...

when he had to create a wound

on someone's face or a bruise.

He'd know the bruise

doesn't stay the same colour.

It can change colours.

And I imagine that

that kind of medical background

would have helped him no end.

Though you think of him

as being a make-up artist,

in fact, he was the very first

make-up effects artist.

I think he was the first person ever

to get that title on film.

What are you going to do?

Take the head off.

It's no use to me, anyway.

He crossed a lot of boundaries -

for instance,

on Curse Of Frankenstein,

he had to make a head that could

be dissolved in a tank of acid.

Most make-up artists

would never be able to do this

or be able to think about

it in the right way. But...

that was Phil's job, and he said,

'OK, I can take that on.'

Using a cast of somebody's head,

he created it out of gelatine,

and he put some kind

of latex film over the top of it.

It had a skull in it,

a plastic skull,

that was buried beneath layers of

gelatine muscles and gelatine veins,

and even had a brain in the skull.

And because it was gelatine,

they heated the tank up...

so that it was basically

boiling water.

And of course,

what happens to the gelatine

when you put it

in boiling water is it melts.

So they did this great effect

where they put the head in,

and it looks like acid,

because the head just dissolves,

and everything

starts to come apart,

and the skin starts to melt.

It's so good...

that it's not in the film. (LAUGHS)

But to be able to think in that way,

sort of lateral thinking

about how these things could work,

and how the chemical compounds

of various things

can be put together to achieve

an effect is very, very clever.

The Curse Of Frankenstein

gave me nightmares,

because of the...

Phil Leakey's make-up.

Argh!

A lot of people up until that point,

if they thought of Frankenstein,

thought of

the Boris Karloff Frankenstein

and the Jack Pierce make-up.

We couldn't use the idea of a...

the Boris Karloff-type monster

with a bolt through his neck.

They had a copyright on the monster.

In the tiny bit

of pre-production that they had,

you had Phil Leakey

and Roy Ashton...

tried just about everything

they could think of

to make that creature -

you know, latex noses,

and scars in different looks

and things.

I did about three tests,

if I remember right,

but they were quite dreadful - I

mean, one of them made look like...

a combination between

a wolf and a pig.

And the other...

was actually, surprisingly,

quite close to the Elephant Man.

Part of me, you know,

definitely does sympathise...

with what Christopher Lee

was going through with those.

And then I think it was I,

or perhaps it was Phil Leakey,

the make-up man...

We put our heads together, and...

I think I said, 'Look.

It's bits and pieces

of other people, so...

it should be patched together.'

So there were lumps and these scars,

and the one dead eye,

and the stitch marks and everything,

uh...which was pretty unpleasant.

And the blind lens that he wore

over one eye as Frankenstein...

..would have made him blind.

Can't see anything!

Remarkably,

on The Curse Of Frankenstein,

Hammer, in one coup,

cast their two biggest male stars,

who were going to see the studio

through all their great horror days.

The simple pairing of Peter Cushing

and Christopher Lee was phenomenal.

They were blessed with those guys.

It's the kind of thing you dream

about. It's like RKO saying...

'OK, we have this tap dancer

named Fred Astaire.

He's sort of OK.

What are we gonna do with him?

We have this ingenue, named Ginger

Rogers, who can kind of dance.

What would happen

if we put them together?'

You know, and what happens is magic.

Peter Cushing, potentially

one of the greatest British actors.

REYNOLDS: He was a lovely guy,

very approachable.

Peter Cushing was the star.

He'd come from...

1984 on the BBC.

He was celebrated. He was handsome.

(STAMMERS) You know,

he was the guy at Hammer.

I think Christopher Lee

is a real legend.

When I first met Christopher,

I was just hypnotised by Dracula.

Like, he had such a beautiful,

amazing presence.

Christopher Lee in terms

of charisma and...

..sheer presence and...

behaviour onstage was unbeatable.

And Jimmy Carreras

needs to be very thankful...

the day that someone looked over

and said, 'There's this tall guy,

named Christopher Lee -

you think he could be our creature?'

All they were looking for

was a big guy.

It was nearly Bernard Bresslaw,

wasn't it?

But they lucked out and got somebody

who was not only a big guy,

a very impressive guy, but somebody

with great presence, who could act.

They gave these solid performances.

I tried to get...

both Christopher Lee

and Peter Cushing in my movies.

In Halloween, I wanted Peter Cushing

to be the Psychiatrist.

Christopher Lee complained

he didn't have any lines

in Curse Of Frankenstein,

and Cushing said,

'Well, you're lucky.

I've read the script.'

You're quiet. Cat got your tongue?

I think Jimmy Sangster

was of the opinion...

that the success of a screenplay

was down to 85% construction.

Construction, it's 85%.

Dialogue's not important.

I think he may have said that

because he was well aware

actors tended to rewrite

his dialogue.

The actors kind of change

the dialogue, anyway.

Peter Cushing in particular

did not like...

Jimmy Sangster's dialogue...at all.

At my early film classes at school,

we were given a script that had

Peter Cushing's annotations on it,

where he corrected the script.

I think he was

looking at lines, going,

'I wouldn't say it that way.

I wouldn't...

This needs changing round.'

Christopher Lee's scripts

are hysterical.

They're like,

'No! I will not speak! Absurd!'

And Peter Cushing was...

did, indeed,

rewrite the majority of it...

and the results were great.

So, the sort of...

Sangster-Cushing collaboration,

if you like,

you know, was a good one.

But, yes, Sangster was well aware

that Cushing didn't like his work.

Despite the creative differences,

tensions and challenges,

the Hammer team

managed to make one of

the most financially successful films

of all time.

The success of The Curse

Of Frankenstein led to a...

an expl*si*n of period pictures

that were inexplicably...

accepted by kids,

who, ordinarily,

would be watching hot-rod movies.

And obviously, they...

realised that they had found

lightning in a bottle

and decided that they'll go

through the old Universal catalogue

and revisit all the monsters...

except all gussied up

with great photography,

and classy looking sets,

and good actors.

And, of course,

the even bigger hit...

came the next year,

which was Dracula.

I remember seeing Dracula,

or The Horror Of Dracula,

as we called it America,

for the first time,

and it's this lurid colour...

that even the title

has this Kensington Gore blood

splattering all over Dracula's name.

It was a very, very shocking moment.

It seems so hokey now.

But in that moment,

it was just genius.

Dracula was like...

..it sort of became

a sort of thing with me.

Because I just thought it

was rather fabulous,

except that it was a bit bloody.

It...pretty much cemented

the entire run

of what the studio was

gonna be doing for the next decade.

RIGBY: Jimmy Sangster was given

Dracula to adapt.

What I remembered the most

about Dracula,

there's no wasted time.

It's smart.

And over the years, Jimmy was always

saying that people would ask him,

'Why did I write Dracula

in that way?

Why did I adapt the novels

in the way I did?'

And it was all down to money.

And he knew exactly

what he was typing...

..would cost.

If you read the novel,

if you see the Lugosi film,

it all starts in Transylvania.

And they jump on a ship,

and they come to England.

Sangster was well aware that Hammer

couldn't possibly afford that,

and that if they used stock footage,

it would look rubbish.

So he cut it all together.

Hammer's version of Dracula is...

to me, getting on

for the definitive one.

And yet it takes huge liberties.

I am Dracula,

and I welcome you to my house.

At this point,

the Censor was waiting.

They knew what to expect.

And Audrey Field, the implacable

opponent of Hammer, says,

'Right. We've seen this

in black-and-white.

There are six scenes missing, and

it's in colour. Show it to us now.'

So they did.

And there was, again,

horrific reaction.

Argh!The Censors

definitely asking for cuts.

Hinds putting things in

that he could then take out.

And it all boils down

to this moment...

when the Censor

says they cannot have Mina Harker...

looking at Dracula in this immensely

sexual way. We just can't have it.

And, basically,

it comes down to two shots -

Dracula approaching...

and her looking.

And Hinds and Carreras

desperately wanted it.

They desperately wanted

these shots in there,

because they knew

this would change everything.

I've seen some of

those Censor notes, going

'He can't lean over that way.

This is outrageous,'

and they push it and go,

'Well, no, he's a vampire -

he's gonna bite her neck.

Nothing else is going on.'

But to the audience member,

of course they're feeling

the sexual power of those moments,

and that's what

makes the film so strong.

And then Hinds sprang his surprise.

He said...

'When you saw this

in black-and-white,

you gave me to understand that

maybe you'd be able to pass this.

I can't see

it's any worse in colour.

And I'm sorry - I scored it.

I've set up an orchestra,

I've edited it, I've dubbed it.

It's gonna cost me

a fortune to change.'

There was a panicky meeting.

Hinds stuck to his g*ns. He said,

'It's gonna cost me a lot of money.

Censor was set up to protect them

from local authorities

banning films.

It was meant to save the industry

money, not create costs.

And he said, 'In this instance,

we're gonna let it go.

But don't do it again.' (LAUGHS)

And so Hinds had his shot.

And the extraordinary thing is,

you might say,

'Well, it was just an accident,

the looks.'

No. Fisher, on the set,

actually said to her,

'I want you to look at this...

this guy coming towards you

as if he's the greatest love

of your life.

You can't wait for him to be back.'

And he got a performance.

He was very pleased

with the performance

he got from Melissa Stribling.

It's gone down

in movie history, actually.

This is a really crucial moment,

because this was the point

at which the vampire becomes erotic.

There is no going back after that -

the floodgates had opened.

Three hits in a row had led Hammer

to concoct a winning formula,

a specific blend of the Gothic,

the violent and the teasingly erotic.

But while the discovery

of this formula

may have been somewhat accidental,

this serendipity would

never have happened

without the right people...

in the right place at the right time.

Their creative achievements

were the result of collective effort

and hard work.

The success of Hammer's

early Gothic horror films

was very much founded on the team...

..that Hammer had got together.

They were...

like minds, if you like.

You had Terence Fisher directing,

Jimmy Sangster writing,

Tony Hinds producing.

Very often, James Bernard scoring.

The thing that I know

about the Dracula score,

and how the Dracula theme

came about.

It was James Bernard,

and Paul Dehn the Writer...

who suggested to James,

who was stuck on a theme,

'Why don't you just say...

"Dra-cu-la" musically?'

(SINGS) Dracula.

I mean, those big chords

would come in.

(BOMBASTIC MUSIC)

(SINGS) Dun-da-da.

That's the score.

I can still hear it in my head.

And then he builds

the rest of the theme on that.

And that went all the way through

a lot of his scores.

You could always hear the name

of the film being stamped out.

(DRAMATIC CHORDS FOLLOWING VISUALS)

The film scores were just

one of the creative facets

that Hammer was becoming famous for.

The visual and design aspects

were also drawing in audiences

ever more deeply.

Other members of the team

were making their mark.

The real stars of Hammer,

in my opinion...

..were people like Bernard Robinson,

the Art Director.

Bernard was

quite a thrifty person at heart.

Hammer loved that

because it meant he didn't

squander the art direction budget.

But I guess some of that thrift

was a hangover from the w*r days.

You've got to remember

that a lot of people...

working for Hammer

had just come out of the w*r

and had brought their experiences

with them.

The Camera Operator Len Harris

was filming the beaches of D-Day

the day after the landing.

Harry Oakes the Focus Puller

was one of the first person

to go into Auschwitz

when the doors opened.

One classic example is Les Bowie,

special effects pioneer.

Now, Les was a POW during the w*r.

He could draw like life.

He used to forge passports.

So in Dracula, Hammer built

the downstairs of Castle Dracula.

When you see those turrets

and the mountains in the background,

that's a glass painting, which

has been produced by Les Bowie.

Bernard Robertson started

in the film industry in 1935.

During the w*r, he became

a camouflage and deco expert

at Shepperton Studios.

And after the w*r, he met...

a chap called Tony Keys.

And Tony Nelson Keys later became

an Associate Producer at Hammer.

I think he started

on a Tod Slaughter film in 1939,

called Crimes At The Dark House.

And if you watch that film, you can

see the sort of nascent Hammer sets,

you know, nearly 20 years too soon,

as it were.

Hammer learnt very early on

that it was cheaper...

to rent a country house...

and sh**t the films in the rooms,

and in the gardens,

than renting out expensive space

at the established film studios.

And the most famous one

was Oakley Court in Bray.

MAN: Oakfield Tower...

Right next door to Oakley Court...

was another country house

called Down Place.

And in January 1951,

Hammer move into Down Place

and convert it into Bray Studios.

COURT: There was

a terrible thunderstorm.

Oh, God.

The rain came down in sheets.

The roof's leaking,

everything's leaking.

And Terry Fisher says, 'Carry on!'

I feel, already, this is my home.

The first proper home of my life.

Bernard Robinson was able

to revamp a lot of his sets,

both in a production

and between productions.

They had that studio to themselves.

So he could build things,

leave them up,

and that's what saved them money.

Bernard Robinson's genius...

in so many Hammer films,

was to reuse elements,

to redress them, reposition them,

redesign them, but nevertheless,

very cost effectively use the same

stuff again and again and again.

When you look at Hammer films...

in, like, a series...

you see it's all Bray. And...

you see how cleverly

they keep using the same rooms.

The classic example of this

is in Dracula.

There was one particular set,

and they used it six times

just by redressing it.

It started as a graveyard,

and they redress it as a garden.

They then redressed it into the hall

and stairs of Castle Dracula.

Mr Harker.

I'm glad that you've arrived safely.

And by sh**ting

from a slightly different angle,

they manage to get an entrance lobby

and the second flight of stairs.

And then after that,

they redressed it totally, again,

to the library

where Dracula dies at the end.

And then, believe it or not,

that library turns up,

practically the same,

in The Revenge Of Frankenstein.

..was sentenced to death

on the guillotine.

It's impressive, actually.

There's a funny story of Bernard,

about his thrift.

Sometimes, he would...

he would be a bit cheeky

and order

an extra roll of wallpaper.

And at the end of the production, he

would take that home and use it...

in his own house.

He got busted when he made a film

called The Two Faces Of Dr Jekyll.

He went to the premiere with his

wife, and his wife was not happy,

and wanted to know

why the new lounge wallpaper...

was deemed fit to be

the prost*tute's bedroom wallpaper

in The Two Faces Of Dr Jekyll.

A lot of the success

of those early Hammer films

is down to the way

his sets were lit by Jack Asher.

And it was often said

that Asher painted with light.

And the films look gorgeous.

When you look at even a still from

the pictures that Jack Asher shot,

the lighting is so subtle

and so colourful.

He was a perfectionist.

The dreadful shame about it

is that, eventually,

they felt he was too slow -

or, rather,

he wasn't quick enough for Hammer.

And behind the scenes, the Hammer

bean counters didn't like that.

Eventually, unfortunately,

they brought in another chap

called Arthur Grant.

He was a lot more commercial.

Still very good results,

but he was faster than Jack Asher.

Which is a shame because the only

time that Hammer ever got...

a BAFTA nomination

for colour photography

was in a film called The Scarlet

Blade that Asher did for Hammer,

which was his second-from-last film.

At the end of the day, time mattered

and the schedules mattered.

Even in the face

of financial constraints,

Tony Hinds and Michael Carreras

had sculpted the perfect team,

which was working

like a well-oiled machine.

Now the studio's challenge

was to continue turning out films

that had the Hammer magic...

while keeping up with

a global audience's shifting tastes.

Success was not guaranteed.

The right choices needed to be made,

or all Hammer had worked for

could quickly come crashing down.

The notion of sequels

was going to be...

terribly important for Hammer

down the road,

and that was what, actually,

James Carreras loved.

He loved a pipeline. That's what

he wanted - a pipeline of product.

And he would just roll it out.

And then we can do more,

and we can do more,

and let's saturate the world

with it.

And, obviously, that is

the law of diminishing returns.

It was, ultimately,

very, very positive,

and it was ultimately the beginning

of the creation of the brand.

But that was, perhaps, in there,

a slight harbinger of doom.

(NOISY CLATTERING)

I'm sorry, something's wrong here.

Not all of the Hammer team

believed in James Carreras' strategy

of creating a succession of sequels.

James's own son was questioning

some of his father's choices.

I think Michael had a difficult

relationship with horror films.

Michael Carreras was very keen

to get beyond the Gothic,

or when he was making a Gothic film,

he wanted to add other...

other spices, other elements.

PIRIE: And he really,

desperately, wanted to create.

He wanted to be an artist,

and he never quite succeeded

on the level

that he would have liked, I think.

I liked to diversify.

If I couldn't diversify the company,

I certainly liked

to diversify my own...

participations where possible.

But James wasn't interested

in that at all.

Sadly, some of the other streams

that I tried to instil...

into the company's product line

just didn't work.

And some of those

were just dreadful.

Oh, Lord, they hurt.

They hurt to watch.

(EXAGGERATED SCREAMING)

Oh, can't you leave me alone?!

I'm doing the best I can!

Then I went off and did my thing

for a couple of years -

made a...I did a musical.

ALL: (SINGING) ..crazy world

we're living in.

Things I would never have

been able to do at Hammer.

ALL: (SINGING) ..we're living...

And that would be...

Things were beginning to go a little

bit pear-shaped for the company.

Bray was shut down for a short time

in the early '60s,

and people had to go off

and get other jobs.

And then, of course, Hammer actually

moves out of Bray Studios...

in September 1966, I think it was.

A very particular feature

of that Bray flavour...

..is lost at that moment.

Once they left Bray, you're making

films like any other company does

at Pinewood, Elstree

or anywhere else.

The last film at Bray

was The Mummy's Shroud in 1966,

and the films they made afterwards

at Elstree...

don't look a patch

on the Bray films.

The reason they had to move

to Elstree was a lot of their films

were being released

by the ABC Cinema company.

And ABC owned and ran Elstree,

and they were saying,

'If we're gonna release your films,

you've got to make

the films at our studio.'

They were starting to make

exterior sets on interior stages,

with a painted backlot

outside Castle Dracula,

which just looked fake

and looks awful,

and they started to look cheap.

External forces

began to affect Hammer.

With its move from Bray,

the iconic production company

had lost its spiritual home.

The things that imbued Hammer with

its magic were starting to erode.

Its previously confident steps...

were now beginning to become

stumbles in the dark -

stumbles that only worsened

as key crew members

began to move on as well.

The team that's headed

into the depths of the 1960s

was a little bit different.

And the moment some of them

are moving on to doing other things,

and it starts being diluted,

it's easy to lose your identity

at that point.

It had such

a strong identity, and...

..I don't know

where it kind of went.

WOMAN: My father had

broken his leg just after...

Frankenstein Created Woman, I think

it was, and it became difficult,

for insurance purposes,

to be on the set.

And he was getting older.

When Phil Leakey

was asked to work for Hammer,

they put him on a retainer,

which I think was pretty much

unheard of at that time.

And then he discovered, one day,

that they'd taken it away,

and he didn't have it any more.

And so he decided

that he was gonna part company.

But Phil Leakey and Terence Fisher

were not the only ones

to depart from Hammer.

Over the next few years,

many more of the key members

of the team also moved on.

Each exit dealt a damaging blow

to the company,

but no departure shook the

foundations of the house Hammer built

as much as the one

that was still to come.

VOICEOVER: Prepare yourself

for the greatest shock of all.

The loss of Tony Hinds

was a blow to Hammer.

The reason he left Hammer

was because of two events.

In 1968,

Hammer has collaborated on...

a TV series

called Journey To The Unknown.

ABC decided they wanted

to have a named producer above him,

which was Joan Harrison, who was

Alfred Hitchcock's assistant.

And Tony Hinds nose

was put out of joint quite a lot,

because he found himself,

effectively,

working almost as her assistant.

And she took all control from him.

Now he had to make every decision

with her, and she had to agree.

And he found that very frustrating,

and it disenchanted him.

A year after that, in 1969,

he writes the script for

Taste The Blood Of Dracula.

The son of Freddie Francis

had submitted a script to Hammer

called Dracula's Feast Of Blood.

Now, there was some talk...

that Hinds had lifted two scenes

from someone else's script

and put it in.

If that ever happened,

I can only suppose he assumed...

that the script was fair game,

that they owned it.

Tony Hinds was obviously

quite upset, and he'd had enough.

And so he took retirement at the...

enviably early age of 48.

Creatively, that was a blow.

I think he left

at just the point when...

things were becoming

more permissive.

As Tony Hinds departed Hammer,

the wider world was changing,

particularly in the film industry.

The British film censors relaxed

their outlook on the horror genre,

drastically reducing the power

of Hammer's shock

and titillation armoury.

If Hammer wanted to keep

the proud badge

of an X certificate on their films,

they would need to step up

the levels of violence,

gore and sex on screen.

But doing so could threaten

to disrupt Hammer's magic formula.

Hammer had an elegance,

and no matter what kind

of bloodletting went on,

there was always backed up

by an elegance...

until they started ripping off all

the clothes and showing everything.

The mystery had gone.

Their films had

always been teasingly erotic

as far as the Censor would allow.

But now that

censorship barriers were collapsing,

the eroticism was stepped up.

GORE: You could put

a lot more nudity on screen.

A lot of the things that Hammer

were brilliant at suggesting,

and not having to say, almost like

existing within their own code,

suddenly became permissible

in everything.

And I think they started pursuing

that level of filmmaking,

and, probably,

they shouldn't have done that.

According to Tony Hinds,

Jimmy Carreras said to him,

'It's incredible, Tony,

you can do anything now.'

Tony Hinds said,

'I'm not sure that doing anything

is what it's all about.'

Their push to more nudity,

I think, was the demise of Hammer.

They wanted to keep

and X certificate on the film,

so they had to boost up

a bit more of the gore...

and a bit more

of the sex and violence generally,

to make it to get that certificate.

They're losing their identity

more in a quest to remain relevant

than in the quest

to remain shocking, I think.

The real monster that emerges

is the sexploitation nature

that the films turn to.

All these films,

the more nudity in it,

and more sex in general, I think -

they threw it in

whether the story needed it or not.

I mean, no, sorry. No.

Those l*sbian vampire films.

Lust For A Vampire, Vampire Lovers.

It was Jimmy Carreras who...

..was keen to jump on that.

But at the same time, they were

bringing in independent producers.

And those were,

in fact, made by Harry Fine

and Michael Style of Fantail Films.

Just abominable.

VOICEOVER: Welcome

to the finishing school...

where they really do finish you.

(SCREAMS)

I was on set when Michael Styles

was walking around

with these short stockings, and

he's walking around pulling them.

The next minute,

the Assistant Director had them.

And I said, 'What's going on?'

And he says, 'Oh.

He wants one of the girls

to be pulling these on,

but she's got to be topless

in one of the bedrooms.'

I'm gonna mention one monster -

Michael Style...

imported from who knows where.

With his sausage on set.

His portfolio of p*rn*graphy.

His whispering in my ear...

..all sorts of uh...obscenities.

His unkindness.

And so he disgusts me.

Michael Style, in particular...

had a very different approach

to the rather gentlemanly

Hammer approach of old.

I'm dying in the bed,

because the l*sbian vampire

has bitten me.

And Michael Styles comes up to me

and he whispers in my ear,

'You better hot this up,

because everybody will be

falling asleep in the aisles.'

And Roy Ward Baker got hold of him

and pulled him off the set,

quite literally.

I mean, he was vicious to me,

and I didn't know what he meant.

But what it actually meant was I was

meant to writhe about in the bed,

have orgasm after orgasm.

Of course, I didn't know what

that was. I was so, so innocent.

Nobody can believe it.

Roy Wood Baker came up to me.

And he said,

'Maddy, forget all that.

Just pretend you're having

a nightmare.' And that's what I did.

(SCREAMS)

So that's Vampire Lovers.

MAN: Yes.

Which I think was

a smashing little film, actually.

We could have done without

the bare...

I th... In my personal view,

I think everybody would have

been quite happy without that,

but there we are.

Hammer didn't really

entertain these guys for very long.

But nevertheless, it's a...

that sort of reputation stuck.

While some within Hammer

were looking to exploit women,

others wanted to give female actors

more significant roles

that they could really

get their teeth into.

I think that

when they chased the certificate

and moved from blood to sex,

one of the things they did

that was really interesting is

they gave women a much bigger part.

BURTON: The female parts

all very striking, you know?

It's quite an amazing repertoire.

They allowed women to be villains,

and not just because

they're controlled by Dracula,

but they have their own agency.

It gave rise to characters

like Ingrid Pitt's characters,

you know,

villains who are in control.

And that's not something

you see very much,

those femme fatales,

in the history of cinema.

You have Barbara Shelley,

Caroline Monro.

I was a very shy girl.

I suffered a lot with um...

Well, I suppose, not...

Would you call it anxiety now?

But not very much confidence.

Martine Beswick, Ingrid Pitt.

My favourite was Ingrid Pitt.

Of course, she was lovely

on The Vampire Lovers.

I gave her a piggy back at one time

to get her up to the set.

And that was lovely.

(SCOFFS)

They were like,

'Well, if we need more nudity,

at least let's give those actresses

something to do.'

And that was entirely motivated by

the fact they were trying to shock.

I did three films with Hammer.

First one was One Million Years BC.

You know, that was impressive.

I definitely remember in Burbank

going to the theatre,

you know,

to see One Million Years BC.

There was a big line

around the block. (CHUCKLES)

We went down the line - you see all

the kids talking about the dinosaurs

and all the teenagers

talking about her. You know?

The conversation would go

up and down

compared to what the age group

of the person in line was.

And the second was

the brilliant film...

Why did you come?

I can only believe...

the Fates brought me here.

And they brought you to me.

(CHUCKLES) One of the greats.

And the third was

Dr Jekyll And Sister Hyde.

Dr Jekyll and Sister Hyde is,

in large part, perhaps, because

it was scripted by Brian Clemens,

Dr Jekyll And Sister Hyde

is an enormously witty film.

I think the responsibility

for expressing bolder genre ideas

and bolder carnality

in the Hammer movies

can almost entirely be...

put at the door of Brian Clemens.

Brian Clemens was a visionary.

He was cheeky. He was saucy.

And he said, 'Well, in my script,

Dr Jekyll And Sister Hyde,

Yeah, I'll give you

some exploitation,

but damn, is it gonna have meaning.

Damn, is it gonna be cool.

It's gonna be as cool

as g*dd*mn Emma Peel.'

He happened to be, I think,

in the restaurant in the studios.

Jimmy Carreras

was at the next table.

Brian suddenly writes down

on a scrap of paper

at the table...

Dr Jekyll And Sister Hyde.

Jimmy said,

'Come see me in my office tomorrow.'

By the time Brian

gets back to his office,

they've already

commissioned a poster.

He hadn't put one word on paper

at that point.

One of the classic stories

about Hammer,

you know, is Jimmy Carreras'

fondness for commissioning posters.

He would go over to New York.

He would meet...

all the bosses of all the majors -

20th Century Fox, Columbia, Warner.

And he would ask them for ideas,

and they would feed him with ideas.

He would then come back to England

with those ideas,

and he would cherry-pick

which ones he thought were good.

And then he would get his poster

artist to make a teaser poster.

And took it to America and said,

'That's our next movie.'

And everybody

fell over themselves to...

put money into it.

I said, 'You wanna see a script

or know who's in it?

'Don't bother about that.

This is a Hammer film.

And we know it will be alright.'

And he came back to me and said,

'That's our next movie. You've

gotta go away and write it now.'

I said, 'What do you mean?' He said,

'We start sh**ting in six weeks.'

And that's really

how they operated.

He would sell an idea

based on a teaser poster

before a word of script

had been written.

There's a wonderful

treasure trove of...

..wildly lurid posters...

for films that very often

turned out to be...

much more sedate

than those initial posters.

But Dr Jekyll And Sister Hyde

is an example of a movie

examining gender within genre.

VOICEOVER: Dr Jekyll, Sister Hyde.

Man or woman.

Or both?

When I read the script, I thought,

'This could be really interesting.'

I am one who believes that all of us

have male and female in us.

And I would like to have

explored it more, actually.

But at that point, they were

so busy trying to get me to be...

..um...full nudity,

which was not in the script.

I was quite happy

to show my breasts,

because the point is

that if he turns into her,

she's gonna have to figure out...

what is the power?

And that was

very interesting to do.

That was really interesting to do.

And I wish we had gone deeper

into it and kind of done...

because we would have...

should have had more confusion...

from both sides.

It is I who exists, Dr Jekyll.

Not you.

LOGAN: Brian Clemens

was able to bring a sort of...

different kind of sexuality to that.

And Martine Beswick

was so commanding and so powerful,

that even though she is exposed,

it is fitting for the script

as the character learns about

what her new identity,

her new gender identity is.

Clemens was on the cusp

of taking Hammer

in a bold and exciting new direction,

but the company was about to be dealt

yet another devastating blow.

In 1969, the American studios

begin to withdraw,

because they're suffering

bruising losses at home,

and it's no longer

financially viable...

to be quite so heavily invested

in the British film industry.

James Carreras runs to his friends

at the Variety Club,

principally Bernard Delfonte at EMI,

and he agrees to finance

Hammer's films in the '70s.

But now the budgets are tiny.

The budgets are 100,000 for a film.

To put it in context,

12 years before,

The Curse Of Frankenstein

was 80,000.

In 1957, Dracula was 90,000.

12 years on, with inflation, they've

now gotta make a film for 100,000.

And the budget doesn't

stretch as far at Elstree,

where they were making

these films now,

than they did it at Bray Studios.

In autumn 1970,

James Carreras invited his

son Michael back into the company

in his old role

as executive producer.

Michael doesn't

want to do that again.

He's done it, so he says no.

And this causes another major rift

between father and son.

Of course, Jimmy Carreras

was well aware of the straits

Hammer was heading into by 1970.

I mean, he was there

doing the deals, and by 1970,

they tended to be non-existent deals

with American studios.

And now James actually says,

'Why don't you come back?

But you can be managing director.'

And Michael starts

on 4th January 1971

as the Managing Director of Hammer.

As soon as Michael Carreras

takes over, things look up.

They decide to completely abandon...

the sexier films they'd been making,

with Frankenstein

And The Monster From Hell.

They bring Terence Fisher back

to make his last film.

Peter Cushing's

last go as the Baron.

It's a kind of callback

to the older Hammer Gothic mode.

And then they started

trying to mix the Gothic horror

with the Satanic panic elements.

Hammer had to hustle

to try to stay relevant,

and they become kind of 'throw it

at the wall' kind of movies.

One that stands out to me

is Dracula AD 1972.

I'm one of those many people who

have a lot of patience for that one.

It's something that I've just

always been interested about,

cos there was something

very transitional about it.

But you can tell that they're

starting to lose their way

and moving into something that...

is quite different from what

they used to be really good at.

They're no longer

based on classic stories.

Once they didn't know

where they were going any more,

the spirit of adventure

that had marked the early '60s

was nowhere to be found,

because a lot of the personnel

were nowhere to be found.

The celebrated creatives

that had crafted Hammer's success

through the 1950s and early 1960s

had all but disappeared.

Only Michael Carreras and his father,

James, remained...for now.

James was on, I think,

a sea cruise or a vacation,

and Michael learnt his father was

trying to sell the family company.

APPLETON: James Carreras was

in discussion with this company

called Studio Film Labs

for a while about a merger.

At the same time, James was talking

to Tony Tenser from Tigon Films

about Tony potentially

taking over Hammer

and engulfing it into Tigon.

Michael knew about

the first discussion,

but he didn't know about

the discussion with Tony.

Michael, obviously, was very annoyed

that this decision

was taken out of his hands,

especially at the point...

that he was the Managing Director,

and he wasn't even consulted.

So he launched his own bid

to buy the company.

They went to the PFS, which is

the Pensions Funds Subsidiary,

and asked for a 400,000 loan,

which they granted,

on top of 200,000 extra

to make two films...

to set them going.

So he was able to hustle enough

money to make a counteroffer...

..waited for the boat to dock.

His father walked off the boat,

and he handed him the contract.

So it was a fait accompli...

with no communication

between them.

It's almost like the cold w*r

had just calcified

everything in that relationship.

James took the bid.

And Michael became the Director.

The irony is Michael Carreras thinks

he's buying a solvent company.

He thinks he's buying

Hammer Films backed by EMI,

you know, so the bank account's

gonna be full.

And he finds out that that bank

account went with James Carreras.

When Michael took over

the company in 1972,

the one thing that happened

straight away was all the...

the American studios

pulled their financing.

This is potentially due to...

James's advice.

Or, I mean, I think

it's also to do with the fact

they were really

good friends with James,

and they just

didn't really have a...

relationship with Michael

in the same way.

RIGBY: I have the impression

that Michael had no idea...

just how...of the paucity

of Hammer's resources at that point,

whereas his father was well aware,

and nevertheless, still handed

the company over to him.

I need some money, Father.

You can't have any.

I think James had

a real disdain for his son.

I think he was ferocious, and tough,

in a way he didn't need to be.

He basically...

left him on a sinking ship.

Seemingly deceived by his own father,

Michael was determined

to keep the family business alive.

Following his deal

to take over Hammer,

he put the business ahead

of any personal vendettas,

hoping to recapture the Hammer magic.

He immediately went into production

on a vampire film,

a feature that had been commissioned

by the very man he felt betrayed him.

Captain Kronos is a really

interesting watershed moment,

I think, in Hammer,

and what could have been

and what might have been,

because Brian Clemens wrote

and directed a very sort of...

quirky, cheeky, interesting...

vampire movie unlike any vampire

movie that had ever been made.

Brian was very much in charge

of that because it was his baby.

He'd written it.

He was gonna direct it.

To be honest,

he was thrilled to bits.

I mean, he desperately

always wanted to direct.

LOGAN: It was a little folk horror.

It was a little, like, 'I don't get

what's going on in this, exactly.'

It had sword fights.

It was genre blending...

in a way that's very popular now.

So it was a really exciting

piece of work.

I enjoyed that film very much,

partly because

it was all shot outside.

And my passion is to be outside.

Got to be outside.

And it was great,

because I'd turn up in the morning,

and I remember

the hairdresser saying,

'You haven't washed your hair, have

you?' 'No, you told me not to.'

'Don't wash it for a week.

We need it kind of yucky.'

I said, 'OK, alright, then.

I won't. Great.'

And Michael Carreras

should have been smart enough

to realise that was an exciting way

to keep building his brand,

to keep the Hammer brand going.

Maybe he felt threatened. Maybe it

just wasn't his sensibility.

It was a bit too esoteric. It was

basically ahead of its time, really.

He was very sniffy about Brian

Clemens, you know, in terms of...

'He's not quite understanding

our style or what we do here,'

you know, as if he's his father,

you know,

putting his old school tie up.

And I'm like,

'Michael, no. Don't do this.'

There was

a great opportunity there...

for Brian Clemens

to become the new Jimmy Sangster,

the new Terence Fisher, the new...

idea man behind Hammer.

Michael Carreras should have

gotten so behind that movie

and said, 'Look what Hammer

can do now. This is different.

Here's the man who made it,

Brian Clemens.

He's an artist.'

But he didn't do that.

It just sort of...crept out.

And it wasn't given

a proper release.

It came out, apparently,

about a year or so later.

Brian's directorial debut,

in essence,

was sort of...shoved at

the back of a cupboard, basically.

How stultifying that must have been,

how debilitating

it must have been to an artist.

If I could go back into Hammer

history and arrange a meeting,

I would sit down Michael Carreras...

and Brian Clemens and say,

'Boys, work it out.'

Company politics, and the absence

of any new creative vision,

were beginning to suffocate Hammer.

Meanwhile, other filmmakers

around the world

were breathing new life

into the horror genre.

Problems for Hammer...

probably started with The Exorcist.

(SCREAMING, CLATTERING)

Suddenly no-one's interested

in what's going on

in Transylvanian castles.

People want to see what's

going on next door,

down the street, inside your house.

That's where horror moved,

and that's where horror still is to

this day, whether it's The Exorcist,

or another big hit that they're

trying to emulate, it's too late.

Michael, even as much

as he was being creative

and trying to diversify

the Hammer output,

I'm not sure even he knew

the direction it was

going to go in in the '70s.

I think what we were

seeing then in the '70s

was the decline

of the British film industry.

Within a few years,

British commercial filmmaking,

at the end of the 20th century,

would be more or less wiped out.

It's always the challenge

with art...

to make money, to stay solvent.

And Hammer,

like every other British studio,

was at the mercy of the marketplace.

To Michael Carreras's credit,

he kept the thing going...

when, obviously, they were not

on the same track as the audience.

And so...

even the movies that were supposed

to be good, like...

..which on paper, looks like

it would be a pretty good movie.

It was trying so desperately

to be The Exorcist...

that it lost its own individuality.

And not only don't they work,

they don't make any money.

It's like any studio,

whether Disney or any of them,

they try to move with the times.

It's easier said than done.

Despite this significant downturn

in creative output

during the mid-1970s,

which led to disappointing

financial outcomes,

Hammer's legacy

has remarkably endured.

The magic forged over the prior

two decades managed to persist.

Lesser studios

would have faltered sooner,

and lesser leaders might have

let the company fade away.

But Michael Carreras' unwavering

never-say-die attitude...

kept the Hammer flames burning.

Michael Carreras's tenacity during

the '70s in keeping Hammer alive,

I think, is key to the fact

that it's still alive now.

And he made movies,

which is, let me tell you,

it's no mean feat to get movies made

and released - it's a big deal.

The fact the last Hammer film was

a remake of a Hitchcock picture...

VOICEOVER: Now you see her...

(TRAIN WHISTLE BLOWS)

..now you don't.

Never a good idea, by the way.

And it's not such a bad movie,

but nobody wanted to see it.

And it doesn't have

anything Hammer-esque about it.

APPLETON: And Michael really thought

that Hammer would come back to life.

I'll give you life again.

He literally thought

that he would be able

to save Hammer

right up to the very end.

That's what I admired most

about Michael Carreras,

that with everything falling apart,

without the support of his father,

he hustled like crazy.

He won't give up.

Can't you see?

Michael didn't want to give up

because apart from anything else,

it was his family business.

And I think nobody wants

to admit defeat, ultimately.

Maybe he wanted

to prove something to his dad,

who never really

believed in him, particularly.

In the '70s, Hammer is surviving

on British finance.

Almost exclusively.

My name is Mitch Wicking.

And I'm the son

of Christopher Wicking.

I wrote screenplays for Hammer

in the mid-'70s.

So it seems to be, from Dad's

diaries, a long catalogue of...

..Michael spending money

to raise money.

There was tales of waiting for...

the fat man, as he calls him.

I think it's Michael Klinger.

It was a German

who was ready to fund projects,

but they wait and wait,

and there'd be a telex.

'He's on his way.

He's on the plane.

He'll be coming with

a suitcase of money,'

as Dad puts it in the diary.

And then right at the last minute -

it's always the last second...

(EXHALES) ..doesn't turn up.

So he ploughed a lot of money,

including some of his own,

into building up a number of...

big budget films, such as Nessie,

Vampirella, Vlad The Impaler,

which, of course,

didn't see the light of day,

and all that money was lost.

Apart from Nessie and Vampirella,

there were three or four, five, six,

seven different smaller movie ideas.

And there was the big one.

They approached Stan Lee

at Marvel Comics

with the idea of doing a franchise.

You've got Iron Man in there,

and Doctor Strange,

and quite a few others.

Stan's reply is, 'Oh, yeah. Great.

Lovely. Let's take the next step.'

And then there's some reason

why they couldn't do it.

So you can imagine...

what kudos that would have been

if that had have come off.

Michael can't carry on any longer,

and the Official Receiver

takes charge.

So the fact that Hammer

goes under definitively in 1979...

for a time, is not

entirely surprising, because...

most other sectors of the British

film industry are doing so as well.

He kept the company alive

and enabled all this stuff,

decades later, merely by...

by that dog-with-a-bone quality

that he had.

And it was a dog-with-a-bone quality

that was largely based on,

you know, a sentimental reaction

to the fact

that his whole life had been Hammer,

and he didn't want to see it die.

When you make something that's

so specific and so idiosyncratic,

it's not gonna work for 40 years.

I suppose I wasn't in tune.

I have to take the blame for this.

I was in charge.

We should have had new thinking.

We should have had

completely new writers.

We should have had new directors. We

should have had all sorts of things.

Michael Carreras passed away

in 1994 from cancer,

just four years

after the death of his father.

All of the men who'd steered Hammer

through its golden years were gone.

For many, it marked

the final curtain for a company

that had brought so much fear,

wonder and excitement to the screen.

As we look back,

decades after his death,

Michael Carreras stands tall

against the Hammer backdrop.

A man whose fingerprints were across

nearly all of the Hammer films,

having worked in so many departments

and taking on so many

different responsibilities.

In a world of heroes,

legends and monsters,

Michael Carreras

was a very human being.

At the end of this chapter

of the Hammer story,

one man's struggle

kept the Hammer name alive.

Michael Carreras succeeded.

The fact that

Michael Carreras was able

to keep the company

through that period...

I'm sure is why we're able

to still talk about it today.

In the years since

Hammer's near-death experience

at the end of the 1970s,

it has been kept alive

in various iterations,

producing films

and television series...

from the Hammer House Of Horror

to blockbuster films

like The Woman In Black.

Despite all of the trials and

tribulations the company has faced,

Hammer has risen to legendary status

in the world of film.

Those films were made by people

who cared. They loved them.

They made them

with great care and attention.

Those films will last forever.

I get asked time and time again,

in letters and interviews

and things,

'When is Hammer gonna return

or will Hammer return?'

and certainly the answer

doesn't lie with me.

But I would be very happy

to see it return.

Definitely.

It is the desperate irony

that Hammer, as a company,

now reflects its most

famous character, Count Dracula.

You can never k*ll it. It just has

a way of reviving again and again.

And, boy, have we seen some

convincing deaths in the films.

And yet, somehow,

it always comes back.

(DRAMATIC MUSIC)

Life after death. Indestructible.

(MUSIC SWELLS)

MAN: Cameras rolling.

WOMAN: All good.

Yeah.Hammer, Hammer.

(LAUGHTER)

So we'll do... We'll do an easy one

to start with.(LAUGHS)

Just try.We'll start and work it

out.We'll see how easy it is.

And all we ever did

was dissect bunnies.

A little higher.Happy there?

A bit higher.

Cool. Mark it.

Yeah. Joe Dante, take 1.

It says John Carpenter.

(LAUGHS)

You can pretend.

You know, it's like Howard The Duck.

Didn't anyone see that

little duck suit, you know?

What a great question.

I'd like it noted that was two

great questions.Yeah. Within one.

In forty-five minutes, that

makes two great questions.Yeah.

It's like an Old Spice commercial.

You know, it really changes.

So, yes, my mum gave me

this pamphlet with penguins in it.

(LAUGHTER)Oh, no, stop it!

I'm gonna have to get up.

(LAUGHTER)

WOMAN: It's got worse!

It's like The Godfather.

Just when you're out,

they drag you back in.

So you and Edna read the book.

Read the pamphlet.Pamphlet.

Well, week after week, she'd always

come over on a Sunday morning.

She lived at the bottom of

my garden, as did Nigel and Jeremy.

Just stop it! (GIGGLES)

You had somebody

living in your garden? (LAUGHS)

But I did!

(LAUGHS)

Right. Can we cut?

Cos I can't chat to her any more.