TOWER OF EVIL (1972)
Director: Jim O'Connolly
Elite Entertainment

When ace producer Richard Gordon allied with executive producer Joe Solomon (recognized for drive-in sleaze like WEREWOLVES ON WHEELS and SIMON KING OF THE WITCHES), they set out to make a lucrative British horror film for the increasingly growing exploitative film market. Packed with blood, breasts, a cast of familiar faces and an enticingly gloomy set, TOWER OF EVIL succeeds on this level.

The story commences with two fisherman, John Gurney (George Coulouris) and his son, Hamp (Jack Watson) who are docking the fog-bound Snape Island, home to an abandoned lighthouse. Their inspection leads them to discover the mutilated body of three mostly naked teenagers-a boy lying among the rocks, a girl whose severed head bounces down a flight of stairs, and another boy (Robin Askwith) impaled by a massive lance.

When the elderly Gurney unsuspectingly opens up a shack door, he unleashes the hysterical Penny (Candace Glendenning). Nude, blood-soaked and crazed, she charges Gurney, repeatedly stabbing the poor old chap to death. Running away frantically, she is knocked unconscious by Hamp.

Penny is brought to a London hospital and is placed under the care of Dr. Simpson (Anthony Valentine). It turns out that these teenagers were vacationing Americans and the police believe that Penny-in a state of madness-viciously murdered her companions. In a series of cleverly edited maniacal scenes, the doctor helps Penny recount the events, giving us an ample dose of skin and slayings. The audience is now convinced of the girl's innocence and an unearthly being appears to be the culprit.

Learning that an ancient Phoenician spear killed Askwith's character, a museum curator (Dennis Price) sets up an expedition, believing that a Phoenician king was buried along with his treasure on Snape Island. He rounds up four archeologists (Mark Edwards, Jill Haworth, Anna Palk and Derek Fowlds) who are joined by a determined private investigator (Bryant Haliday) hired by Penny's parents to prove her innocence. Taking them to the island is Hamp and his young, longhaired nephew Brom (Gary Hamilton).

Bestowing us with a large enough troupe to set up a series of brutal killings, it is discovered that the last inhabitants of the island were Hamp's insane brother and his wife, who were lost at sea months before. The archeologists waste time conversing about their various extra-marital affairs with each other, while Haliday searches nonstop for answers at the hands of Hamp and Brown, who seem to be hiding some kind of secret about the island, but I won't reveal any more of the story.

Directed by veteran Jim O'Connolly (BERSERK, VALLEY OF GWANGI), TOWER OF EVIL remains his most visually satisfying film. The lighthouse set is very eerily effective, allowing the tense scenes of isolation amongst rotted corpses, strange whistle noises, secret caverns, goo-dripping claws and other clichés to somehow feel fresh when employed in this film.

Aside from agreeable Gordon regular, Byant Haliday (in his last film role), the cast is a mixed blessing of reliable stock veterans (Coulouris, Watson, Price), recognizable actors from past genre non-classics (Palk, Haworth, Edwards), and fresh-faced newcomers (Askwith, Hamilton, Glendenning).

Some of the great, very early 70s dialog includes Askwith (playing an American, but about as American as Al Pacino is British) spurting out lines like, "We got sounds, food and some great grass. This place is really far out!" When Hamilton is deemed a "rolling stone" by Haliday due to his leisurely lifestyle, he replies, "I wish I was, now that's the game; plenty of bread, and the chicks."

Joe Solomon's Fanfare Corporation released the film in the U.S. as HORROR ON SNAPE ISLAND, trimming some of the more sensational scenes, including the turbulent love making between Palk and Hamilton. It later played again as TOWER OF EVIL, and in the early 80s, Sam Sherman's Independent International re-released it as BEYOND THE FOG, to cash in on the success of John Carpenter's THE FOG. It then played on television, usually edited down to fit in a 90 minute time slot, and by the mid 80s, the film was released on home video by several companies. Alas, Elite Entertainment has come through once again, furnishing us with the definitive edition of TOWER OF EVIL on DVD.

The DVD's quality is truly breathtaking. So good is Elite's transfer, the film looks like it could've been made yesterday. Ironically, Anna Palk's hip-hugging, suede bell-bottoms and revealing top are quite back in style, and the fresh looking transfer makes her more edible than ever. The colors are extremely vivid, with blacks being very solid. There are no digital artifacts, and the 1.85:1 letterboxed presentation is free of grain and other noise. Evidently, the film's original negative was procured for this transfer, so the overall picture is virtually flawless. The Dolby Digital mono sound is also fine, complimenting the film's superb score and haunting sound effects to their full potential.

The only extras on the disc are very upbeat British theatrical trailer that depicts highlights from the film without revealing too much. The cover image is pretty bland and colorless, but it's actually artwork taken from the film's original theatrical release campaign.

With it's innovative depictions of graphic violence, TOWER OF EVIL is unquestionably an archetype-alongside Mario Bava's BAY OF BLOOD, produced the following year-of the "body count" slasher films that would become a Hollywood staple a decade later. Most of them are inferior, and I always regard HUMONGOUS, a terrible Canadian film from the early 80s, as a direct TOWER OF EVIL rip-off. At any rate, those British horror fans breast-fed on the comparably inoffensive efforts from Hammer and Amicus will want to snatch this baby right up! (George R. Reis)

 

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