#99: The Gorgon
Hammer provides the proof: Monsterfuckers, your love is out there
This review was originally posted to Twitter on May 1, 2019.
Initial release: October 18, 1964
Director: Terence Fisher
Hammer Films, like Universal Studios, American International Pictures and other studios between 1930–1970, is well known for looting classic gothic horror for its films, with Dracula and other vampire fiction being probably the biggest source. But as this movie proves, sometimes it’s worth digging into much older mythology.
Terence Fisher is well known for his contribution to the Hammer canon; a sizable portion of his decades-long film career was dedicated to making horror films for Hammer, almost singlehandedly reviving the use of classic gothic horror for the early color era. His directorial style, while quaint and superficially similar to the likes of Roger Corman (at least during the 1960s when most horror films were confined to soundstages), had a somewhat transgressive quality that drew ire from critics, despite its relative mildness today. Fisher is why Dracula is often portrayed as a kind of vampire sex god now — his depiction in Hammer’s 1958 adaptation, with Christopher Lee as the title character, had a raw sensuality to it that had never been done on film before, and audiences loved it. Basically what I’m saying is that Fisher is why we have Twilight.
In any case, while there’s plenty of material in gothic horror to mine, much of it’s already been picked over, over and over and over again. How many Dracula movies are there? Or Frankenstein? Or adaptations of The Phantom of the Opera? It’s endless. Entering into this arena is The Gorgon.
It’s 1910 in Germany and there’s been a murder, the seventh in five years, the body turned to stone. When an artist from out of town, dead of an apparent suicide, is blamed for it, the coroner neglects to mention the whole “turning to stone” bit at the inquest, confusing his assistant.
After the artist’s father, who wants answers, is also found dead and turned to stone, the artist’s brother arrives in an attempt to seek out answers. While he’s there, he strikes up a relationship with the coroner’s assistant, while trying to get to the bottom of things.
The Gorgon is a surprisingly complex movie that brings a gothic vibe to an otherwise purely original tale based on Greek mythology. The idea of one of the three Gorgon sisters of legend living on to terrorize people in the modern day is a cool concept. There’s plenty of material in Greek and Roman mythology that could be mined for horror, goodness knows Castlevania certainly likes having Medusa as a recurring character. (For the record, it’s her sister Megaera in the film.)
In spite of the obvious use of soundstages, the set design is particularly nice with better attention to detail than many other films of the era, for example the artist’s palettes hung up on the wall in the house he rents.
it’s interesting to see Christopher Lee and Peter Cushing on opposite sides from their usual roles; usually it’s Lee as the villain, especially in the Dracula films where he plays opposite Cushing as Van Helsing. In this film, Cushing is shrewd and evasive as the coroner, and Lee is a brusque Van Helsing knockoff.
The Gorgon is not a film that will scare you, though it has its creepy moments, for example when a strange singing summons the father to the abandoned castle, or when the brother sees the gorgon’s reflection in the small fountain in the house’s garden.
The soundtrack is worth mentioning, using a little known early synthesizer called the novachord, that gives it a slightly more sinister, dreamlike vibe compared to the standard orchestral wash that so many horror movies used at the time.
Setting it in a German village in 1910 is an interesting choice, because it accounts for the atmosphere of fear and paranoia, and the wall of silence that confronts the protagonists. There’s even a brief argument over the fact that it’s effectively a police state, though the chief of police insists that it’s a democracy, which is immediately thrown in his face. While at first glance it’s a puzzle why this setting was picked (the start of World War 1 had just had its 50th anniversary at the time) if nothing else it’s a good mix of the gothic (the “true” or original era of gothic fiction arguably didn’t stop until the war broke out, after all) with the paranoia of a more modern world. This flows nicely with the gorgon herself, a creature from 2000 years ago who lives on to terrorize people in the modern day… a bit like how we’re still suffering the effects of the Great War. It’s a stroke of narrative genius, and credit must be given to John Gilling, the screenwriter.
Unfortunately the worst part of the film is the gorgon herself. A bad makeup job combined with a laughably fake rubber snake hairdo explains why Fisher went to some length to hide Megaera for most of her early scenes, because when she’s shown in her full glory it’s… it ain’t good. It’s a bit of a black mark on a movie that’s otherwise an interesting glimpse at the lives of monsters, and how sometimes the nightmares of legend just want to be left alone.
All in all, while this film isn’t going to be winning any awards, it’s a rather complicated, restrained outing compared to many of its more lurid contemporaries, both within the Hammer studios and without, and if nothing else, is a decent execution of a good idea.
