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Disciple of Death [1972] If Christopher Lee was the Sultan of Shriek and Vincent Price the Merchant of Menace, then ex-disc jockey Mike Raven was the Tosser of Terror. In the early 70s, the South African-born Raven [aka Austin Fairman] tried to establish himself as a horror star with cameos in Lust for a Vampire [dubbed by Valentine Dyall] and I, Monster, and leading roles in Crucible of Terror and this, his second and last vehicle. Tall and gaunt, with percing eyes and a pointy beard, Raven strikes an imposing figure but is cursed with a reedy voice that strangles the most high-flown dialogue. His broad-strokes acting style makes him come over as a prissy, humourless Tod Slaughter, with occasional detours into the grinning fiendishness made familiar by the villains of H.G. Lewis's films. Like Crucible of Terror, Disciple of Death [the on-screen title card reads Once upon a time there was a ... Disciple of Death] was shot in picturesque Cornwall and tries to balance Raven's amateurishness by casting him opposite the solidly pro Ronald Lacey. Whereas the earlier film was a lurid mad sculptor effort, this is a very low budget period piece, perhaps intended to evoke Blood on Satan's Claw in its setting and costuming. It opens with the Squire's daughter Julia [Marguerite Hardiman] and her honest farmer boyfriend Ralph [Stephen Bradley] pledging their love, despite the disapproval of her snobbish parents, with a 'mixing of our blood' that goes awry when a drop falls on a suicide's grave and calls back from Hell a black-bearded Stranger [Raven] whose 'task on Earth is to supply my master Satan with an endless line of virgin sacrifices', though there's a get-out clause to his damnation whereby he will be released if he can 'find a maiden willing to accept her death and spend eternity with me in my dark palace in the depths of Hell'. The Stranger starts luring village maidens to his supposedly impressive but actually cramped Satanic lair and finds them unsurprisingly not keen on accepting his deal. First to suffer is Betty the maid [a pre-Doctor Who Louise Jameson, essaying a lawks-a-mercy Mummerset accent], who is spirited off after the mid-snog murder of her lover and reappears as one of the Stranger's white-faced, black-lipped, white-shifted undead babe servants. Next to go ['then die and be my slave!'] is Ralph's sister Ruth [Virginia Wetherell], who has her heart ripped out Blood Feast-style on the evil altar before joining the zombie pack. Ralph consults the blustery local parson [a frog-faced Lacey], who brings in the film's unusual Van Helsing figure, 'the old Cabalist Melchizadech [Nicholas Amar]. The Jewish mystic potters around his lair, spying on the Stranger with a magic mirror and uttering lines like 'I'm not meshuggineh' and 'Trinity shminity, this is none of your Christian schmitters, this is your kosher yiddische magic.' The Stranger summons up an unimpressive infernal dwarf in a red hat [Rusty Goff], who hinders Ralph and the parson with pantomime zapping and chortling gestures but only delays a confrontation. Ralph saves Julia from the altar, which really annoys the Stranger since 'she was the key that could have unlocked the chain of my damnation'. In revenge, he strings hero and heroine up on a rack and sets the zombie Ruth on a treadmill to torture them to death over 'seven days and seven nights' so that 'long before your sinews crack and you are torn apart, you will have prayed for death a thousand times'. Ruth has enough humanity left to knock over a candle and free her brother and his popsy, wherupon the story just grinds to a halt as the Stranger keeps on ranting among the flames. Instead of an end title, there's a Devilish squiggle of some sort. Director/co-writer Tom Parkinson sometimes seems to be trying to make
the best of what he's got, but this is rendered hopeless by Raven's
antics as the nameless disciple. As in Stoker's Dracula, the
villain grows younger or older depending on how recently he has performed
a heart-ripping, blood-drinking sacrifice, but for the most part he
has talcum-powder hair and beard and a pasty, blue-lit look as he presides
over the cheesy rituals. A supposed suspense sequence like the climactic
racking goes for nothing as shots of turning wheels and agonised faces
are repeated beyond endurance. Some of the lighting effects [highlighted
faces against deep black backgrounds] and atmosphere scenes [dead-faced
Wetherell lurking outside the window] are Bava-esque and the use of
out-of-copyright Bach themes [mostly the Toccata and Fugue in D
for Raven's ominous glowers, but also - for the racking - 'Jesu,
Joy of Man's Desiring'] is at least unusual if also cost-effective
and ultimately annoying. If it weren't for Raven, this might almost
be endearing. As it is, it's hard not to lose patience with lines like
'no doubt we shall meet again ... in HELL!' First Published In: Ten Years of Terror Visit Kim's Official Website at www.johnnyalucard.com
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