Directed by: Peter Collinson. Starring: Susan George,
Ian Bannen, Honor Blackman, Horror, UK 1971, 87mins, Cert 18.‘How do you spell that word “psychotic” sir?’
“You
might have to spell it M.U.R.D.E.R., murder if you don’t get someone over there
quickly!”
Who’d want to be a babysitter in a horror film? 7 years before a Captain
Kirk mask would become the iconic face of a babysitter-stalking bogeyman, and 8
years before Carol Kane would be invited to go upstairs and check the children,
doe-eyed Susan George assumed the mantle of the vulnerable teenage babysitter
in Peter Collinson’s very British proto quasi-slasher. (A pertinent follow up question
therefore might be: who’d want to be Susan George in 1971 given she went
straight from this to Sam Peckinpah’s STRAW DOGS...?)
On the anniversary of her divorce from psychotic (check spelling) ex-husband
Brian (Ian Bannen), Helen Lloyd (Honor Blackman) and new hubby Jim (George
Cole) decide to go into town for a celebratory prawn cocktail at a mock Tudor
pub. Needing someone to take care of 3 year-old son Tara - played by the
director’s real life son – (who should have got himself a better agent after this), and
with their usual nanny unavailable, (too busy making her husband’s supper
apparently) – instead along comes cute blonde college student Amanda (Susan
George) arriving at the creepy isolated old gothic mansion. Unfortunately, Helen’s
deranged ex-husband (and biological father to her child) has escaped from a
nearby mental institution and is making a beeline for an unwelcome family
reunion...
Director Peter Collinson (THE ITALIAN JOB, STRAIGHT ON TILL MORNING),
together with writer Tudor Gates (THE VAMPIRE LOVERS, LUST FOR A VAMPIRE, TWINS
OF EVIL) map out a basic template of tropes for the babysitter in peril
sub-genre which, whether coincidentally or not, have been imitated, refined and
regurgitated ad infinitum ever since.
Accompanied by an unsettlingly ominous song entitled ‘Ladybird’, our
scantily-clad college babe Amanda (Susan George) walks through the sprawling
overgrown grounds of the Lloyd’s country house stalked by the camera as it
peers through the spiked gates and railings. Collinson and veteran cinematographer
Ian Wilson carefully frame her behind bars at every opportune moment, whether
through these gates, through the bars of the child’s crib or the bars of the stair
banisters – foreshadowing her impending entrapment. A grandfather clock’s
reflective pendulum is also deployed as a ticking reminder of fate (for both
main protagonists). There’s also a nice little additional wink of foreshadowing
in the discarded child’s doll with the slash on the right cheek discarded in
the kitchen.
Once he’s got our babysitter alone in the creepy house, Collinson wastes
little time in deploying the gamut of spooky stock sound-effects: creaking
doors, dripping taps, rotating washing-lines (ok maybe that one’s not
standard). Then there’s the face at the window, the unseen passing silhouette
outside, but strangely enough the family cat is not enlisted to provide a fake
jump scare (too soon?) As Romero’s NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD wasn’t in the
public domain back in 1971, Amanda watches PLAGUE OF THE ZOMBIES on the TV to
calm her nerves. (Given scripter Gates’ credits, perhaps he wanted a change
from vampires?)
After necking back some sherry, Amanda immediately brews a cup of tea,
which made me feel a tad queasy if I’m honest. Not as queasy however as I felt
when Dennis Waterman’s charisma-bypass of a boyfriend pitches up as the
red-herring intruder wearing an implausible cardigan and suffering from a
severe case of blue balls syndrome as Amanda isn’t putting out. (Can’t possibly
see why she wouldn’t wish to lose her virginity to such a suave suitor courting
her with such enticingly come hitherto compliments such as: “"I reckon you
got a lovely pair of Bristols!".)
Whilst the basic suspenseful set-up is workable, the film begins to lose
its way and falls down once psychotic (check spelling) Brian shows up, at which
point it’s all over the place. Contriving to gain the trust of Amanda by
conveniently showing up as a concerned neighbour (really?) just as she’s taken
delivery of a blood battered boyfriend (reminding me of how Betsy Palmer’s Mrs
Voorhees initially ingratiates herself with final-girl Alice Hardy in FRIDAY THE 13TH
(1980)), the hitherto threat of the unseen stalker is somewhat dissipated by
Ian Bannen’s countenance. To be fair he makes a half-decent stab (no pun
intended) at it until he starts to call Amanda by the name of his ex-wife.
What built up tension remains is then further diluted by Collinson
cutting back to the excruciatingly naff scenes at the pub where an overwrought Honor
Blackman and an underwhelmed George Cole dance groovily to mutual career-lows. Their
‘fun’ is soon cut short however thanks
to their psychiatrist dinner companion, Dr Cordell (John Gregson) who is treating
Blackman’s nutty ex-husband. Firstly he tries (unconvincingly) to reassure that
strangler Brian is safely incarcerated in the mental institute, and then, upon
checking, discovers he’s actually escaped,but not to worry there’s
absolutely no way the mad ex would think about heading to the house. (Dr Loomis
he certainly isn’t).
Meanwhile, back at the house where psychotic (enough of that joke now)
Ian Bannen’s Brian is pretending to massage the supposedly stopped heart of
Amanda’s boyfriend, events are about to get decidedly and uncomfortably nasty when
our babysitter wants to check on her little charge upstairs. What follows is a
troubling scene in which Susan George’s character is sexually assaulted (partially
off-screen) in the child’s bedroom. Thankfully, although highly unlikely,
youngster Tara appears to sleep right through undisturbed as Amanda’s piercing
scream heralds her violation.
However, Tara (Tara Collinson) is not spared further potentially disturbing scenes, notably
where a large shard of glass is held to the child’s neck. Although the child
was the son of the director, and actress Susan George had carefully crafted a
rapport with Tara prior to filming, these must surely have been questionable
choices even so, and they certainly elicit sharp intakes of breath when viewed
today.
The final third disintegrates into a frankly laughable siege scenario involving
the most inept police marksman ever portrayed on screen, and some dreadful
dialogue such as: “What about the gas gun?, “Well it’s easy enough to lob one
in but it just might hit the kid”. Time has also not been kind to the sight of
‘Trigger’ from TV’s ‘Only Fools and Horses’ as a moustached police constable.
At least the George Cole and Dennis Waterman ‘Minder’ association is limited to
Cole stepping over the bloody corpse of his future co-star. Cole for the most
part under-eggs his ostrich-in-the-sand husband role, whilst, on the other
hand, Honor Blackman over-eggs to the level of omelette with her ‘terrible
secret’ nervous ticks right from the get go. When Amanda asks her: “Is there
anything I ought to know Mrs Lloyd...?” I half expected her to suffer an aneurysm
from over-acting.
Susan George is of course poutingly gorgeous as the screaming-at-hanging-laundry babysitter-in-peril, although what attracted her to what rapidly
descends into an increasingly lurid sexist piece of exploitation (beyond
loyalty to a director who helped kick-start her career) will remain a mystery. Actually, I may have answered my own question there.
Whilst it lacks any sort of body count, overt gore, or even actual
scares, Collinson’s unique mise en scène fashioned a modest visually arresting
fore-runner for better known and more celebrated directors to hone the urban
legend of the escaped killer and the vulnerable home alone teenage babysitter
blueprint.
***(OUT
OF 5*)
Paul
Worts
This review was originally published by FrightFest.
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