By Hank Reineke
I much prefer writing about obscure or little-known items of celluloid than attempt to tackle a bona fide film classic as The Quatermass Xperiment. The best chroniclers and historians of science-fiction and horror film history have proven to be a distinguished, thoroughly immersive, and informed band of researchers, commentators and authors. Which, sadly, leaves also-rans such as myself little insight to add to what discourse exists already. But in the rare event that someone who reads Cinema Retro is unfamiliar with Val Guest’s classic of British sci-fi, I’ll press on and attempt at a simple synopsis of The Quatermass Xperiment:
The nose end of an intact rocket ship crash lands in an open misty field deep in the English countryside. Within minutes, police, fire vehicles, ambulances and curious locals gather to view the wreckage. Among those taking command at the scene is the irascible and cocksure Professor Quatermass, barking orders that override even those of the assemblage of police and military officials. Quatermass, we soon learn, was the primary architect of this wrecked three-crew space mission. We also learn via the protest of an upset official from the Ministry of Defence, that Quatermass’s interstellar space voyage was unsanctioned by the British government.
Only one of the three astronauts originally launched, Victor Carroon, has seemingly survived this orbital freefall. Truth be told, it’s hard for scientists to determine conclusively. Two of the astronaut’s spacesuits are still aboard the craft, but now curiously empty of their occupants. Carroon is unable to explain what went on prior to the spacecraft’s unceremonious crash to earth. Carroon has returned in a near-catatonic state. He’s unable to speak… save for a desperate, mumbled plea asking his rescuers to “Help Me.” Unfortunately for all involved, they are mostly unable to.
To make matters more peculiar, upon close examination it becomes unclear to his caregivers if Carroon actually is Carroon. The fingerprints taken upon his return do not match that of the pre-flight astronaut. One doctor suggests the prints examined are not “even human” in form. It’s determined that whomever this “shell of a man” is, he’s being slowly transformed into something decidedly non-human.
As one might expect, this faux-Carroon manages to escape from his hospital quarantine. He roams the streets and riverbanks of London and surrounding areas, searching for food and scaring locals in the process. Quatermass, the police, and the military are in pursuit, helpfully assisted by Carroon’s continual shedding of human-form to something more gelatinous. As the ill-fated astronaut continues to devolve, he conveniently leaves behind a luminous path of radioactive waste in his wake for his pursuers to follow in trail. The film climaxes with a climactic showdown between earthlings and alien in the hallowed chamber of Winchester Cathedral.
The Hollywood Reporter was among the first of the trade papers in the U.S. to confirm that production of The Quatermass Xperiment was to commence in October of 1954. (Technically speaking, the earliest reports first offered details under the film’s working title of Shock!) It was announced that Val Guest would direct the extravaganza, a film soon to be trumpeted as “The Most Fantastic Story Ever Told!” Hammer Films’ Michael Carreras and Anthony Hinds would produce, with the picture’s U.K. distribution to be handled by London’s Exclusive Films. The screenplay of Shock! – based on the characters created by writer Nigel Keane for the Quatermass BBC television series of 1953 - was reported as a collaboration of veteran screenwriter Richard Landau and Guest.
Bringing Quatermass to the big screen seemed a sure bet. The earlier BBC series had proven wildly popular, millions of UK viewers tuning into their parlor sets to watch the extra-terrestrial exploits of the Professor. In a 1973 interview with Chris Knight (later published in the June 2018 issue of Richard Klemensen’s seminal Little Shoppe of Horrors magazine) Rudolph Cartier, the producer-director of the original BBC television series gave the lion share of credit to Kneale’s brilliantly conceived scenarios.
Cartier thought Kneale’s cliffhanger scripting was the deciding factor in the success of the television series. The producer was equally impressed by Kneale’s ability to write the natural dialogue of “real people,” which exhibited an unerring “ability to play on the underlying fears of the human soul.” In that very same issue of LSOH, director John Carpenter – no slouch in creating totemic horror and sci-fi films himself – equally acknowledged Guest’s big screen version of The Quatermass Xperiment as “horrifyingly groundbreaking.” Carpenter thought the film version offered well-executed and thoughtful explorations of “the fear of the unknown.”
On one of the supplements included on this release from Kino Lorber, Carpenter on Quatermass: On Camera Interview with Legendary Director John Carpenter,” the auteur recalls catching The Quatermass Xperiment (under its U.S. release title of The Creeping Unknown) as a youngster in Kentucky. He thought the film both “profound” and mind-blowing, arriving timely on the heels of a world post-atom bomb and on the cusp of American and Soviet interest in space exploration. Carpenter was of the opinion The Quatermass Xperiment was the “first powerful gift” of Hammer Films’ fright factory.
Perhaps. But in 1955 the original creators of the television series didn’t share that rosy view. Cartier acknowledged that Kneale was particularly unhappy with Hammer’s adaptation of his work. So much so that the scenarist even cautioned Cartier “not to go” to the cinema to visit the film upon release. Kneale might have been – perhaps understandably - over-protective of his personal vision, but he was not alone in his assessment. Upon the film’s release, one London-based critic mused while the first Hammer Quatermass film certainly offered cinemagoers the “full horror comic treatment,” he thought “Some of the TV Tension” of the original BBC series was “lost in this film’s extravagant chiller gimmicks.”
Today only aged folks with long memories can say whether Kneale’s The Quatermass Experiment series was greater than Hammer’s The Quatermass Xperiment (with an “X”). Sadly, only two of the original six-episode summer of 1953 BBC broadcast are extant, so comparisons aren’t possible. Oh, but about that “Experiment” versus “Xperiment…”
Guest was aware his picture would likely be given an “X” certificate designation – no child under the age of sixteen admitted into the cinema due to alleged “explicit” content. Such branding was not unexpected given the temperature of the times. Guest had previously submitted a sample copy of the script to a censor at the British Board of Film Classification who, upon reading, advised as such. But Guest chose to press on regardless of losing an important audience demographic. “Some people thought we were mad to go ahead, but I had faith in it,” he offered to Picturegoer. One BBC feature writer suggested the prominent “X” in the film’s “Xperiment” title was purposeful, Hammer Film’s sly rebuke of the picture’s undeserved “X” classification.
Upon the film’s release, it appeared Guest’s gambit had paid off. London’s Picturegoer was particularly enthused with The Quatermass Xperiment, enthusing that a British studio had - at last - managed a production, “to make Hollywood’s Frankenstein’s and Dracula’s curl up in their crypts.” That might have been so, but Guest nonetheless cautioned the film not be preemptively tagged as a run-of-the-mill “horror” movie. Such designation brought with it expectations. “We didn’t really set out to make that kind of film, you know,” Guest corrected. “I’d prefer it if you call the film a ‘chiller.’”
Picturegoer noted there were plans to release the film in U.S. markets under its provisional title of Shock! But that re-title wouldn’t happen. In March of 1956, Variety reported that Robert Lippert of United Artists had paid a flat fee of $125,000: he believed this “thriller-type film” held “potential value” in the U.S. market. The brief item also noted the film’s U.S. domestic release title change would be The Creeping Unknown. Upon its U.S. release - and following its scoring of “fancy” box-office returns for United Artists - a Variety critic acknowledged, The Creeping Unknown (“a gelatinous octopus-like mass that absorbs all plant and animal life that it touches”) was a “competently made drama, containing sufficient suspense and frightening elements.”
The film’s success in the U.S. was not assured. As neither Nigel Kneale’s Quatermass BBC serial – nor the Professor Bernard Quatermass character – were generally on the radar of American couch-sitters, United Artists retitling The Quatermass Xperiment under the far more provocatively sinister and exploitative name of The Creeping Unknown made sense. (On a special feature included here that compares the differences between the U.K. and U.S. cuts of the film - the latter running approximately two and-a-half minutes shorter - it’s noted that a surviving continuity script titled the film in pre-release as Monster from Outer Space).
The Creeping Unknown was paired in the U.S. as the undercard of a ballyhoo “Double Horror Show! of “Two Terrific Horror Pictures!” (of which Reginald LeBorg’s The Black Sleep (1956) would top-line). The LeBorg film, while no venerable classic, was certainly the more marketable of the two – at least in the U.S. The cast of The Quatermass Xperiment were peopled with faces mostly unfamiliar to U.S. moviegoers. In contrast, The Black Sleep offered an illustrious cast of familiar and beloved genre actors: Basil Rathbone, Lon Chaney Jr., Bela Lugosi, John Carradine and Tor Johnson amongst them.
United Artists certainly wasn’t about to gamble on its investment in this British undercard. Under the title banner of The Creeping Unknown, the U.S. marketing department was tasked to play up the film’s more exploitative angles. The art department conjured up a garish one-sheet poster featuring a crashed rocket ship and gigantic demonic creature hovering above the heads of a terrified, fleeing populace. The poster’s caption read: “You Can’t Escape It! Nothing Can Destroy It! It’s Coming for You from Space to Wipe all Living Things from the Face of the Earth! Can it Be Stopped?”
It was a prudent time for United Artists to release the film in the U.S. as the 1950s “Silver Age” of cinematic science-fiction in full bloom. In 1956 alone, theater cash boxes were stuffed with receipts from such pictures as Earth vs. the Flying Saucers, Forbidden Planet, Godzilla, King of the Monsters, Invasion of the Body Snatchers, It Conquered the World, The Creature Walks Among Us, The Mole People, and World Without End – and that’s to name only a few. Interest in sci-fi would continue to blossom and explode throughout the 1950s, with 1957 and 1958 being particularly banner years for the genre.
According to the film’s U.S. pressbook, director Val Guest had helmed no fewer than seven motion pictures in a twelve-month span, The Creeping Unknown being the seventh. Guest had been, all things considered, an odd choice to be asked to direct. Guest admitted he was a mostly disinterested observer of science fiction of any sort. So he expressed surprise when producer Anthony Hinds had approached him to helm the film. Most of the films Guest had previously directed - and was best known for - were straight-on comedies. Since Guest admitted honestly to having not watched the wildly popular BBC series, Hinds pressed copies of Kneale’s original tele-scripts to help familiarize him with the material. On holiday with his wife in Tangiers, Guest – at first, reluctantly - began to read through the scripts. He would acknowledge Kneale’s storytelling left him “pinned to his deckchair.”
There was certainly interest that Hammer test the viability of The Quatermass Xperiment/The Creeping Unknown playing overseas. There was one major hurdle. Should the film employ only or primarily a British cast, the main players would be practically unknown to U.S. moviegoers. Guest noted it was mostly at the insistence of the American distributor that an actor of some marquee standing in the U.S. be given the lead role. So the producers brought in the American actor Brian Donlevy to play Professor Quatermass.
Donlevy was well known to American film audiences. The actor had worked regularly and steadily in Hollywood, more often than not in rough-and-tumble tough-guy roles: prize-fighters to cowboys to soldiers to film noir detectives. But certainly not as an egg-head scientist. (As a completely irrelevant aside – but a fun fact all the same - Donlevy would later wed the widow of Bela Lugosi). The casting of Donlevy was the only major talent concession. Most folks cast were familiar faces of past Guest productions, the director preferring to work alongside the dependable professionals of his own repertory company.
Both Carpenter and Guest suggest that Kneale was particularly unhappy with the casting of a brash, somewhat tactless Yank as Quatermass. Kneale’s Quatermass was, in Guest’s reading, “a very English, Professor-like character,” a model of British gentility. Donlevy exhibited none of these qualities, but Guest welcomed bringing the actor’s tough-guy persona to the fore – even if that meant partly re-creating the character as envisioned by the dissatisfied Kneale. Carpenter too recalled Kneale’s obvious displeasure in the Donlevy casting, but personally found the actor’s performance as suitable. Having worked with the scenarist on two projects (an ultimately unmade remake of The Creature from the Black Lagoon and on Halloween III: Season of the Witch (1982, for which the writer’s contribution was uncredited), Carpenter reminisced that Kneale - while certainly talented - was a “handful” to work with.
In any event, the film was a success. By spring of 1956, Donlevy was already back in London to work on a second Quatermass film, X the Unknown (also co-written and directed by Guest). As this follow-up would cost $140,000 to produce (a 60% increase over the more economically-budgeted The Quatermass Xperiment), Exclusive Films, the United Kingdom distributor, entered into a partnership with United Artists – the latter agreeing to put up 75% of that cost for a 50/50 box office share.
In some manner of speaking, the American had been upstaged in the first film. Donlevy’s co-star Richard Wordsworth was mostly unknown to U.S. moviegoers, the actor having only recently graduated from stage to television to film acting. Indeed, The Quatermass Xperiment would log as his first big-screen credit. His performance as the alien-infected mute Victor Carroon received good notices: quite a feat considering his character spoke nary a line of dialogue. In many respects, Wordsworth steals the show, delivering a frightening, tortured portrait of the empty-shell astronaut. Guest thought Wordsworth “brilliantly” acted the part, relying solely on the conveyance of haunted facial expressions and gentle physical movements to emote.
Though now long heralded as a sci-fi classic – the film that sparked
Hammer Film Productions as the preeminent horror and science-fiction
film factory of the late 1950s through the mid-1970s – I sheepishly
admit The Quatermass Xperiment was mostly off my personal radar for
nearly four decades. The original double-bill of The Black Sleep/The
Creeping Unknown played the metropolitan New York City area during the
summer of 1956 - long before my time. And I somehow missed catching any
of the subsequent television broadcasts. So I was not introduced to
the film until the United Artists Sci-Fi Matinee – Volume 2 Laser Disc
box set was issued in 1997. That version of The Quatermass Xperiment
excitingly promised an additional “3 minutes of footage
never-before-seen in the U.S.”
In any event, The Quatermass
Xperiment has a checkered home video history in the U.S. There was the
aforementioned Laser Disc - though that release had been preceded by
gray-market issues by the likes of Sinister Cinema. Such dodgy dupes on
VHS sated fans in the years prior to the official MGM/UA VHS release of
the film in 1996. The film was made available again in 2000 on VHS –
in decidedly more colorful packaging - as part of MGM’s beloved “Midnite
Movies” series. (It was also, regrettably, one of the few films of
that series not to be reissued digitally as part of the “Midnite Movies”
DVD series). The Quatermass Xperiment was finally made available in
the U.S. on DVD-R in 2011, if only as a MOD released as part of MGM’s
“Limited Edition Collection.” The film finally received the HD respect
it deserved when Kino Lorber made itavailable on Blu-ray in December of
2014.
Now, nine years following that first Blu release, Kino has
chosen to reissue the film as a “Special Edition” Blu-ray. I imagine
the primary question for fans now is whether or not a double-dip of the
Kino edition is worthwhile. I’d say of course there is, especially if
you missed out on the first edition pressing. There was certainly
enough bonus features on that first edition – carried over here - to
entice. This includes:
Carpenter on Quatermass: On Camera
Interview with Legendary Director John Carpenter” (2014), a nine plus
minute conversation), an audio commentary by director Val Guest that’s
moderated by Hammer Historian Marcus Hearn, an eight-minute long camera
interview of Guest by Hearn, the eleven-and-a-half minute featurette The
Quatermass Xperiment: From Reality to Fiction (2004), The Quatermass
Xperiment: Comparing the Versions (2004, a just-short-of-seven-minute
featurette contrasting differences in the U.K. and U.S. release
versions), and a Trailers from Hell segment featuring director Ernest
Dickerson briefly (in two-and-a-half-minutes) recounting the film’s
backstory).
The new set also dutifully includes the original
trailer for The Creeping Unknown as well as the trailers of five
additional science-fiction Blu-ray titles offered by Kino. So what
exactly is brand new on this newly issued Blu release? Well, there’s
now a second and worthwhile commentary track as provided by the
screenwriter (Pumpkinhead) and film historian Gary Gerani. There’s also
now a double-sided insert which can shelf display your preference for
either The Quatermass Xperiment or The Creeping Unknown and, of course,
the newly fashionable color slipcase. Otherwise, the technical specs
are the same, fine grain present on the monochrome image with only
occasional white speckling. Whether or not such additions will entice
hardcore fans of this title to add second edition to their collections
remains to be seen. But, as I said, this release is certainly a
must-have for fans without a copy of the previous release.
Click here to order from Amazon
(Hank Reineke is the of "Rising Son: The Life and Music of Arlo Guthrie".)