Four Sided Triangle: Ahead of its Time?
There’s a moment in Four Sided Triangle (1953) when a dejected Bill contemplates his situation and claims, ‘It’s a paradox…’ quoting Richard Le Gallienne when he adds, ‘A paradox is just a truth standing on its head to attract attention…’
The question of whether Four Sided Triangle was ahead of its time, firmly of its era, or even a little old-fashioned for the early 1950s, presents us with another paradox. But this one isn’t standing on its head, demanding to be seen. Quite the opposite, the work’s contrasting elements serve to disguise its more progressive facets.
Dinner suits and a kind of coiffured elegance… It must be post-war Britain.
True. In some ways the movie does come across as typically 1953, presenting a facsimile of how filmmakers often imagined post-war Britain. Men wear impeccable dinner suits. Women wear adoring smiles. Doctor Harvey, even off duty, dresses like he’s en route to meet the Queen, and Bill’s idea of casual is a fetching little cravat. The Brits’ accents are routinely cut glass, and the social status of every character is unwaveringly on the nose; from the pompous Sir Walter (the local squire whom we meet whilst he’s doing a spot of pheasant shooting on his ‘well kept’ estate), to Bill’s lower class father, so disreputable he’s never permitted on screen, and is passed off as ‘the village drunkard’. What drove him to drink and the problems he faced aren’t touched upon, as if the script is reluctant to talk about someone so deplorable.
The film even begins by painting the village where the horror unfolds as a kind of idyll from another age. Doctor Harvey shows us Howdean’s ancient church, charming general shop, cosy old pub ‘where we all have our pints’ and just in case we don’t get the picture, a cricket pitch on the commons where chaps in whites are mid-over. The sequence rolls gently along to the accompaniment of music by Malcolm Arnold at his most Malcolm Arnoldish. Cinemagoers settling down to the movie in 1953 must have considered the price of admission to have been money for old tropes.
Stephen Murray as Bill, Percy Marmont as Sir Walter and James Hayter as Doctor Harvey line up in front of the beautiful old church.
But this initial, old-fashioned conventionality is a necessary ruse. The central premise of two young, borderline amateur scientists creating something which will revolutionise humanity is so extreme, so mind-boggling, that we need it couched in familiarity, otherwise it would seem insane. Director and co-writer Terence Fisher presents the story on a local level, decorated with everyday elements that are relatable and known, allowing him to smuggle through the futurism without it dominating and derailing the narrative.
In other words, the film’s overtly old-fashioned elements relieve the excesses of its sci-fi premise, enabling the audience to focus on what’s important to Fisher – the central relationships and resultant personal tragedies.
Lena (or it Helen?) entombed within the Duplicator.
So, could it be argued that Four Sided Triangle was actually ahead of its time? In terms of its place within Hammer’s progression and Terence Fisher’s career – certainly, as previously discussed.
It’s also worth noting that sci-fi films of the 50s dealt predominantly with invasions and large scale horror. Giant ants in Them! (1954), a giant person in Attack of the 50 Foot Woman (1958) and a conveyer belt of invasions with The War of the Worlds (1953), Earth vs. the Flying Saucers (1956), Invaders from Mars (1953), The Thing from Another World (1951) and so on. Four Sided Triangle looks ahead to more thoughtful sci-fi fare and its drama is intimate as opposed to inter-planetary. As Hammer’s Steve Rogers put it, ‘…the horror in this film is of a very human and personal kind – not special effects or monsters’.
The plot was also new and daring in an understated kind of way. It’s a spin on the Frankenstein myth, of course, but crucially, Helen is more of a clone than the Baron’s reanimated ‘creature’. Bill isn’t simply seeking to create life. He’s desperate to create a life. A specific individual born of the woman he is striving to replicate, and later refine. In this regard, the film breaks new ground and can be seen as an antecedent to movies ranging from The Resurrection of Zachary Wheeler (1971) to The Boys from Brazil (1978).
And the fact Bill is a scientist trying to engineer the ‘perfect woman’ to service his own fantasies, throws up a fascinating parallel to Bryan Forbes’ much debated horror classic, The Stepford Wives (1975).
Percy Marmont plays the odious Sir Walter. Marmont’s career spanned over half a century, stretching from silent movies to sixties cinema.
In his favour, Bill initially emerges as a principled firebrand, openly sceptical of how those in power would use the breakthrough ‘Duplicator’. His contempt for authority is open and forceful. ‘This is something for all mankind, not just for one country!’ he insists to Sir Walter, who’s just proposed a member of his family guides the invention’s progression. ‘If Lloyd Grant wants to keep it just for ourselves, I would resist that with all my might!’ At a time before James Dean had made counter culture fashionable in East of Eden (1955) and Rebel Without a Cause (1955), here’s wild Bill Leggett, sticking it to the man!
British movies with protagonists who have a sneering disregard for authority have been commonplace for years, but in the 40s, 50s and to a lesser extent the 60s, dramas like The First of the Few (1942), Odette (1950), The Dam Busters (1955), Reach for the Sky (1956) and Sink the Bismarck! (1960) all presented central characters who happily worked with and alongside the official authorities.
Tellingly, these upper echelons were sympathetically drawn. The ‘high ups’ may have been stuffy and without vim, but they were decent sorts whom the heroes respected. Four Sided Triangle rejects this approach and its depiction of the people in charge feels modern and depressingly authentic. Sir Walter, who represents authority, is a man with privilege and power, but without vision, charm or a genuine grasp of how the Duplicator should be used.
Doctor Harvey and Robin may pander to him, but Bill doesn’t bother to hide his disdain. His predicament of having to work within an officialdom he despises brings to mind Bernard Quatermass and other later scientists who are forced to tolerate, but never trust their paymasters.
Lena will be replicated perfectly, or rather, imperfectly.
Perhaps the film’s subtleties, so at odds with other sci-fi movies of the decade, resulted in it being overlooked for so long. For instance, one critic decried Bill’s folly in not foreseeing Helen would share Lena’s emotional makeup, observing that the audience can predict this, making the inventor appear foolish. But the whole point is exactly that – we can see the tragedy looming, even when Bill, so brilliant in many other ways, remains blind to his scheme’s glaring flaw.
From the moment we’re shown the burnt out barn in the opening minutes, we’re aware that his plans will ultimately go up in smoke. The fascination lies in seeing how the heartbreak and calamity will develop and spiral out-of-control as he becomes increasingly fixated with creating his perfect partner.
Do replicants dream of duplicated sheep? (With apologies to Philip K. Dick…)
Four Sided Triangle stands as a fascinating piece of Hammer history, signposting the studio’s road ahead in terms of rogue scientists, the moral decline of once-good men, and its overall handling of the forlorn, Frankenstein figure. Ahead of its time or emblematic of the 1950s fear of the future? Or a paradox that embraces both descriptions? The film’s 4K restoration, with its raft of extras, finally allows you to decide for yourself!
