THE FEARLESS VAMPIRE KILLERS: Blu-ray (MGM, 1967) Warner Archive
Suffering from an exhausting expenditure of navel-gazing T&A humor and a dearth of genuine suspense,
Roman Polanski’s The Fearless Vampire Killers or Pardon Me, But Your Teeth
Are in My Neck (foreshortened, simply to The Fearless Vampire Killers
from its original title, Dance of the Vampires in the U.K. – 1967) is a
glammed up, but thoroughly feckless and unevenly paced farce, bedecked in
traditional hammer horror trappings. Indecisively directed for most of its 107
minutes, and, to the point where abject tedium would actually be a welcomed
afterthought, The Fearless Vampire Killers is largely celebrated for the
appearance of Sharon Tate as the luminous Sarah Chagal (a part originally
penciled in for Jill St. John). Indeed, Tate – especially in the ‘bathtub’
sequence is a knockout for the eyes. Aside: I have a soft spot for the voluminous,
as luminous Tate, who met Polanski on the set of this movie, wed him shortly after
its premiere, on Jan. 20, 1968 - in one of the most swingin’ mod fairy-tale
marriages of the decade – but tragically met with the most gruesome end, barely
one year later. Tate’s casting in The Fearless Vampire Killers was at
the behest of producer, Martin Ransohoff, quietly smitten with the actress ever
since ‘discovering’ her on the set of TV’s Beverly Hillbillies in 1962. Even
with Ransohoff’s clout and decided push (he featured her in several walk-on bit
parts in other pictures he was producing), Tate’s film career options were few
and far between as many a casting director, immediately stricken by her curvaceous
figure, was not nearly as impressed with her lack of experience as an actress. Tate
was no dummy. But she sincerely required finesse, and was seemingly at her best
when allowed to simply be herself and say her lines as written without any embellishment.
In addition to
his directing duties, Polanski is in this one too, playing an effete and
foppish vampire hunting apprentice named Alfred. But the screenplay by Polanski
and Gérard Brach is a badly bungled affair, not even salvageable, with a more
than credible performance by Ferdy Mayne as the infamous Count von Krolock.
Douglas Slocombe’s gorgeous cinematography is deprived even an ounce of worthwhile
dialogue and or semi-comedic/semi-tragic plot developments to move the story
along. Even in its truncated 88 min. U.S. cut, The Fearless Vampire Hunters
seems to drag on…and on…and on – as no movie ever should, but this one
interminably does, lending nothing to its charm as a vintage Hammer knock-off,
but rather incessantly, to take away every last virtue its production had until
the entire edifice is drained bloodless and boring, even at a glance. Is Polanski going for an all-out crass comedy or
an homage to Hammer? We are never entirely certain. Worse – I don’t think
Polanski is either. The comedy basically revolves around a series of failed
flagrante delictos and falls flat, while the beginning and end of Polanski’s reverence
to Hammer’s interminable cycle of vampire movies rests with Slocombe’s ability
to show off the snow-covered Alpine locations, Fred Carter’s superb production
design and Sophia Devine’s exquisite costumes. These are, to be sure, impressive.
However, somewhere along the way, Polanski has either set aside or absolutely
forgotten a basic tenet of both the horror and comedy genres; that ‘horror’
needs to have at least a few blood-curdling moments to chill and thrill, and ‘comedy’
must possess irreverent bits of good – even naughtily raw – humor in order to
lean – one way or the other – and thus make the hybrid gel with viewers. The chief
problem with The Fearless Vampire Killers is that it never chooses ‘horror’
over ‘comedy’ or vice versa, becoming increasingly incapable of straddling
the chasm between these polar opposite ambitions. The characters are more cartoonish than scary
- virtual cardboard cutouts who never establish much of a repartee or even remotely
play off each other. They merely exist, in a sort of creative vacuum as stick
figures with no soul or modus operandi. There is no chemistry here either – not
even between the impish Alfred and amply-endowed Sarah; nothing for the
audience to pin an interest, hope, or even a prayer on for a rollicking good
time.
Polanski, in his
first work in color and widescreen, appears more the novice who has only just
decided which end of the camera is to be pointed at the action, but even so, may
still be contemplating he might have made an error in judgment. Given the movies that were ahead of him – Rosemary’s
Baby (1968), Chinatown (1974), The Ninth Gate (1999) and The
Ghost Writer (2010) among them – each, a masterwork in its own right and
genre, one would have supposed The Fearless Vampire Hunters as an early
edition and proving ground, where at least faint glimmers of Polanski’s
pictorial greatness could be seen to creep in from the peripheries of the
screen. Alas, no – not for an instance does Polanski debut even a morsel of
prospect and/or promise to mark his emergence as one of the preeminent
directors of the latter half of the 20th century. If anything, he
appears to be taking dead aim at a sort of ‘European’ sophistication meets undiluted
English farce; the movie, caught in the cross hairs of a colossal ‘gag’ that tickles
more the ‘reflex’ than the ‘funny bone’. The comedy teeters on slapstick, but
the jokes are more cornball than cavalier. One can choose to blame the bulk of
the picture’s failings on its shoddily assembled screenplay, taking its merry
time to get to Count von Krolock’s Transylvanian castle, while squandering its
first and second acts on a mesmerizingly silly cacophony of ‘cute meets’ of the
over-sexed Benny Hill ilk. But really – it’s Polanski’s fault.
Arguably,
Polanski had an entirely different movie in mind, starting with his sincere
ambition to shoot all of The Fearless Vampire Killers on location in
Switzerland, at a castle he had previously stayed at while on holiday. As,
logistically, this proved impossible, several alternatives were used for long
shots, with interiors built on sound stages at Shepperton Studios back in
England. Hiring local artisans to craft the inordinate number of coffins needed,
the blowback and rumors from tourists, suspecting a mass plague recently broken
out, had to be calmed. The highlight of
the movie features a lavish costume ball in which only three attendees are not
vampires. To stage the moment when Alfred catches a glimpse of Count Krolock’s ballroom
teeming with guests, the reflection of only three ‘human’ subjects reflected
back in the mirror, Polanski had a portion of the ballroom recreated on the
other side – the ‘mirror’ actually made of transparent glass, with uncanny
stand-ins dressed to replicate the principles inside the actual ballroom set. Predictably
the action takes place in yet another fictional amalgam of that time-honored Transylvania.
Our story begins with an introduction to Professor Abronsius (Jack MacGowran), formerly of the University of Königsberg, and his
befuddled and bumbling apprentice, Alfred who are on ‘the hunt’ for vampires. Ancient
and withering, Abronsius barely survives the frigid trek through these wintry
forests. The two men take up refuge in a tiny hamlet after a lengthy – and seemingly
fruitless – investigation of the region. Ensconced at the local inn, Abronsius
and Alfred quietly deduce the townspeople are full of ancient superstitions practiced
to ward off unseen evil.
Alfred is immediately
attracted to Sarah, daughter of the overprotective tavern-keeper, Yoine Chagal
(Alfie Bass). Upon witnessing the girl taken hostage by Count von Krolock – who
also happens to be a vampire, Shagal feebly plots her rescue, armed with talismans
and garlic. He is quickly captured, drained of all blood and vampirized. After Chagal
rises from the dead to attack the tavern’s gorgeous maid, Magda (Fiona Lewis), Abronsius
and Alfred trail him in the snowy peaks of Krolock's castle, a foreboding stone
edifice situated atop the white-blanketed mountains. Breaching the castle walls,
Abronsius and Alfred are taken hostage by the Count's hunchbacked servant,
Koukol (Terry Downes). The Count affects a sinister air as he interrogates
Abronsius. The men also encounter the Count's homosexual son, Herbert (Iain
Quarrier). Meanwhile, completely taken over to the dark side, Shagal plots to
transform Magda into his vampire bride. Despite misgivings, Abronsius and
Alfred accept Krolock’s invitation to remain at the castle as ‘his guests.’ At
dawn’s first light, Abronsius plots to unearth Krolock’s secret crypt and destroy
him with a stake through the heart. Alas, the crypt is guarded by Koukol.
Abronsius’ attempt to climb through a skylight fails when he gets stuck in its aperture.
Thus, Alfred must complete the task of killing the Count in his slumber. Too
bad, Alfred loses his nerve. Retreating with the intent to first free
Abronsius, Alfred encounters Sarah having a bath in her room. Apparently
unaware of the danger they are in, Sarah informs Alfred of the grand ball to
take place later in the evening. Only briefly taking his eyes away from her,
Alfred is startled when Sarah vanishes into thin air.
Rescuing the
half-frozen Abronsius, he and Alfred re-enter Krolock’s castle. In search of Sarah,
Alfred is interrupted by Herbert who fancies him. This homo-erotic seduction
turns from odd to sour when Alfred realizes Herbert too is a vampire who is
intent on sucking the life-blood from him. Abronsius and Alfred flee up a darkened
stairwell, but are suddenly trapped behind a locked door in a turret. As night falls,
the inhabitants of graves all around the castle stir to attend the Count in his
ballroom for a lavish party. Krolock wickedly taunts Abronsius and Alfred who,
along with Sarah, are to be the latest human sacrifices in this annual
ritualized reunion of the vampires. Substituting
steam pressure for gunpowder, Abronsius and Alfred escape from the turret and
attend the ball in disguises. Exposed by their reflections in a huge mirror,
they nevertheless manage a daring escape, taking Sarah with them. Racing
through the woods in a horse-drawn sleigh, Abronsius and Alfred are quite
unaware Sarah has already been transformed into a vampire. She stirs and sinks
her fangs into Alfred, thus allowing the rest of the vampires to be released
into the world.
To suggest the
American cut of The Fearless Vampire Killers was not the movie Roman Polanski
intended to make is an understatement. After the first week’s shoot, the original
spherical widescreen format was abandoned in favor of the much wider Panavision
process. With no budget for retakes, the spherical shots were merely reframed
and cropped to conform to the new widescreen format. In addition to the
alteration of its working title, Dance of The Vampires, producers
ordered nearly 20 min. cut from the release print, rendering whole portions of
the plot completely incomprehensible. In its place, a brief animated sequence
was added to clarify dangling plot points. But most egregious of all, actor,
Jack McGowran, Iain Quarrier and Polanski were all sloppily dubbed by English
actors. Polanski’s original cut remained intact for the British release, and,
apart from its title change to The Fearless Vampire Killers (for which
no justification has ever been duly noted), more or less came to represent the
picture as Polanski intended it to be seen. And yet, rather inexcusably, even
Polanski’s version fails to enthrall us; its spoof, more salacious than silly,
and its terror, more horrifyingly pedestrian than potent. Production values
alone are not enough to buoy this creaky throwback, as lethally lethargic as
the bewhiskered Abronsius. There is a turgidity that sets in almost from the
moment the MGM logo is transformed into a bat, the ‘haunted house’ milieu giving
way to an uncharacteristic ennui that proves a genuine snore.
The best actors
in the film - Ferdy Wayne and Terry Downes – are underused as the hackneyed
writing concentrates on Alfred’s clumsily unresolved affair du Coeur with
Sarah. Whether viewed in its original 107 or 88-minute cut, The Fearless Vampire
Killers is so tediously misspent, it proves a luster-less caricature of
Hammer’s horror – not even worthy of being considered as ‘camp’ on its own
terms. In Polanski’s autobiography, he all but lays blame for the picture in
its last-minute decision to move production from Austria to Italy. And yet, a competent
director could have dealt with this relocation. The worst of it is Polanski has
gone on to illustrate what a master craftsman in picture-making he is - well
beyond competent. So, what happened here? Cinematographer, Douglas Slocombe’s
reassessment of the picture as Polanski’s “personal statement of his own
humor” is a problematic and incomplete assessment, as only Polanski seems to be
in on his joke. By the mid-1970’s, the U.S. cut of The Fearless Vampire
Killers all but vanished from view, perhaps, as Polanski’s reputation grew into
a far more international renown as an established film-maker of quality films. Even
so, various reissues of the Euro-cut to colleges and repertory houses has
failed to rechristen The Fearless Vampire Killers as one of Polanski’s
most influential strokes of genius. Indeed, not even a live musical adaptation
under its original title, Dance of the Vampires to debut in Vienna
on October 4, 1997, managed to reestablish its preeminence as a sort of ‘Rocky
Horror Picture Show’ derivative. Viewed today, The Fearless Vampire
Killers remains a horrible flub – a movie, unloved and seemingly unworthy
of such renewed affections, even if Polanski’s name appears both above and below
its title.
Warner Archive (WAC)
offers us another pristine 1080p Blu-ray transfer of a movie I would sincerely
argue does not warrant such treatment. Warner has so many high-profile horror
movies still MIA in hi-def – Todd Browning’s Freaks (1932), Rouben Mamoulian’s
memorable, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (1931) and Victor Fleming’s 1941
remake to star Spencer Tracy, Jacques Tourneur’s I Walked With A Zombie
(1943), and, Mark Robson’s The 7th Victim (1943) among them,
that the wellspring of Halloween fodder remains, as yet, untapped of its best
efforts. The Fearless Vampire Killers looks spectacular, with rich and
fully saturated colors, a light smattering of film grain indigenous to its
source, and, very solid contrast and black levels: surely, never to disappoint.
If only one could say as much for the movie itself. The DTS mono audio is dated
and reveals with clarity the awful dubbing job afforded the movie in 1967. We
get a vintage ‘making of’ featurette, an alternate title sequence and the
original – and badly worn – theatrical trailer. None of it helps. The
Fearless Vampire Killers is a flimsy and fancifully defeating movie with
few – if any - redeeming qualities. To paraphrase the late John Candy: “You
got the right ta-ta, but the wrong ho-ho!” On a personal note: it was 107-minutes of my life that I can never get back. Pass and be glad that you did.
FILM RATING (out
of 5 – 5 being the best)
0
VIDEO/AUDIO
4.5
EXTRAS
2
Comments