The
Beast Must Die was produced in
1974 by Amicus – rather wonderfully described on the DVD cover as
“the studio that dripped blood.” It is a classic in the
“eccentric millionaire invites guests to secluded mansion, horrible
deaths ensue” mould. The eccentric millionaire in this case is Tom
Newcliffe (Calvin Lockheart), who invites people he suspects of
being werewolves to his country estate (fully equipped with
surveillance equipment) in order to fulfil his hunter's ambition of
bagging the ultimate predator. Newcliffe gathers his guests and
explains to them the reason for his certainty that one of their
number is a werewolf – all have been in the vicinity when unsolved
animal-like killings have taken place. There is also a werewolf
expert, Dr. Lundgen, on hand to enlighten all as to the nature of the
beast (a splendid performance by Peter Cushing's cheekbones.)
Our intrepid hero does his best to rile his
potentially lupine guests – he points out the full moon, serves up
almost raw meat, sprays wolfbane pollen liberally about, and
instigates the the exceptionally awkward parlour game of
Pass-The-Silver-Candlestick. The wolf thus baited, night falls and
the hunt begins...
This is truly a cracking movie. It's
short, punchy, entertaining and does exactly what it sets out to do.
One of its notably quirky features is the gimmick of the “werewolf
break”. At the start, an ominous voice informs the audience that
one of the characters is a werewolf, and they must figure out who it
is. Helpfully, we the viewers are provided with a thirty second
pause in the action to gather our thoughts and decide on a culprit.
The film stops and a clock appears, ticking away the seconds in a
scene so reminiscent of Countdown that one feels a slight but
distinct urge to tackle an anagram or do some mental arithmetic.
Special mention must go to Mr. John
Hilling, for providing Lockheart with such superb costumes – his
wardrobe including an impressive array of jumpsuits, diamante-studded
shirts, PVC jackets and the widest flares ever seen on someone not
performing in a glam-rock band.
The
Beast Must Die has a thoroughly
enjoyable effervescence to it – from the funk-sountracked opening
chase to the final dramatic reveal of the identity of the werewolf.
It is a film unlikely to ever be regarded as one of the great
classics of horror, but by my reckoning is well a worth 80 minutes of
anyone's time.
