~~And Now The Screaming Starts
1971

Coming across as a gory, shock-filled remake of The Black Torment (complete with the same period dress - you know, daft hats, acres of heaving bosom, tight trousers, shiny boots and more daft hats), Amicus's ~~And Now The Screaming Starts can these days be watched as a typical load of old tosh. Back in '71 it must have looked totally out of place next to The Wicker Man.
But there's lots to recommend ~~And Now The Screaming Starts (those squiggly lines are important, apparently). For one thing, it lives up to its gaudy, exploitative title - about half way through the audience is invited to turn to each other and comment: "Aha! This is the point where the screaming starts, I reckon" as Catherine (Stephanie Beacham) fills her lungs and, erm, ~~starts screaming.
To be fair, she's actually managed to hold off screaming through a variety of nasty situations which would have seen grown men not only screaming, but weeping like babies and longing for the warm busom of mother.
In marked contrast to other films the future Sable Colby was making at the time (ie the execrable Dracula AD72), she actually acts in this one as well, which is nice. And considering that the whole film hinges (or unhinges, ho ho) on her performance, it's a good thing too. She looks gorgeous, as well - liberated from the bad-wig-and-shapeless-nightgown ensemble of the Dracula film, you can actually see why she was cast as the romantic lead. Fwooarr.
The film starts with Catherine being taken to her new home by husband-to-be Charles Fengriffen (Ian Ogilvy). After a brief voiceover narration from Beacham, where she describes her "days filled with fear… nights filled with horror" that are to come, she arrives at the house and enquires whether it's haunted. "Ghosts galore," replies her hubbie. "Headless horsemen, horseless headsmen…"
Hilarious. I see why she agreed to marry him.
But, despite such jocularity, it's scant seconds before an actual haunting begins. Bloody hands erupt from paintings (quite frightening, that), others crawl across floors (not quite so frightening, more laughable), and a mysterious figure with bloody holes for eyes menaces the poor girl from the other side of a variety of stained-glass windows, waving his stump at her for effect.
Is it some kind of "they're trying to drive me mad" conspiracy by the household of Fengriffen, or something more spooky, possibly involving that portrait of Charles' grandfather Henry (Herbert Lom), which Catherine finds herself strangely drawn to? Whatever it is, the people around her are dropping like flies - first the family solicitor (axe in head) then a couple of maids (unconvincing falls down stairs) - most of them at the point where they're about to reveal some dreadful, unspoken secret about the house. After diagnosing pregnancy, the family doctor (Patrick Magee, of course) admits he can't deal with the psychosis the by-now-laughing-hysterically Catherine is suffering from, and it's time to call in a psychiatrist. Yup, it's Cushing Time, and not before time, either. Shame he's wearing the most hideous green jacket and pink jodphurs combination ever committed to celluloid (perhaps I've got it wrong and this is the point the ~~Screaming is supposed to start, as any semblance of taste finally goes out of the window).
Muttering about "sexual relations with demons" he starts trying to find out what's going on, Sherlock Holmes-style, with Magee getting strangled by the disembodied hand before he can spill the beans.
Finally, Charles decides to come clean, although he does believe that "the legend… is mere superstition" (like most legends, then?). The "legend" involves granddad Henry, who, after holding a student rugby club party at the house (or "filling it with debauchery", as Charles puts it) decides that a bit of rape and hand-lopping will round the evening off nicely, effectively bringing a curse down on the household.
As the rain-soaked climax unfolds, Ogilvy is left to reprise his "now totally mad and brandishing an axe" finale from Witchfinder General, and Beacham gets ever more mental, with Cushing appearing to just give up on the pair of 'em. Strangely for one of these films, everything is wrapped up nicely and all the plot strands actually make perfect (if daft) sense.
~~And Now The Screaming Starts is a bit slow in places, but there's much to recommend it - not least Beacham's chest, I mean performance. Even the creeping hand (complete with bloody stump) isn't too badly done - which, it has to be said, is a first.

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