The Most Important Thing about Birthdays…
Birthdays are always tricky, aren’t they? A cause for celebration and consternation. A time to party, and privately ponder. Emily Dickinson wrote, ‘We turn not older with years but newer every day,’ which sounds great until you stop to analyse it and realise she was probably just trying to console someone hitting a milestone birthday. Bob Hope, on the other hand, said, ‘You know you’re getting old when the candles cost more than the cake,’ which lacks the solemnity of Dickinson’s comment, but feels more authentic.
Hammer turned 91 this week. That’s a lot of candles. A lot of years. It’s also a gentle, prodding reminder that we can focus on what lies ahead whilst still cherishing legacy. Sure enough, now more than ever, Hammer is looking to the future, but simultaneously embracing and celebrating its past and everything it’s ever been.
The studio’s earliest days reveal a fizzing, youthful impetuousness as Hammer zinged from one genre to another. Comedy with its first film, the breezy The Public Life of Henry the Ninth (1935), horror and whodunnit with its second, The Mystery of the Mary Celeste (1935), and a musical drama with its third offering, Song of Freedom (1936).
Paul Robeson, star of Hammer’s Song of Freedom.
This was a company giddy with the potential of talking pictures. Ambitious and unafraid, with major stars like Bela Lugosi, Paul Robeson and the flavour of the month, Leonard Henry, gleefully brought onboard. An early review for The Public Life of Henry the Ninth called it, ‘Amusing entertainment’ as if that was nothing, but there’s a sense that this is exactly what Hammer’s founders were shooting for. A little condescendingly, Picturegoer noted the movie had, ‘…the virtue of being unpretentious’. But this proved a virtue that would serve Hammer well, retained – celebrated, even, by the likes of James Carreras and Jimmy Sangster - for all its best endeavours throughout the decades that followed.
Pre-war Hammer was a fun, fearless youth that could do anything. Anything, but continue, that is. The financial downturn meant the organisation stalled in 1936, entering a hiatus that only ended in 1947.
Post-war Hammer in those pre-Quatermass years was ostensibly the serious teen. Cautious and concentrated in many respects, focusing on established characters, some taken from popular books, but mainly lifted from successful radio shows. It’s a period often dismissed by film historians, as through it was little more than a prelude to the studio’s gothic horror ‘glory days’.
And yet look again at those films and we uncover a mad fireworks display of audacious ideas and breathless storytelling. Brutal murder in a chi-chi little fashion shop. A crime solving ‘rev’ who could more than give the clerics of Grantchester a run for their money. Dick Barton and a death ray beamed from the top of Blackpool Tower! The supernatural chills of The Man in Black (1953) and the glamour of Tom Conway in the dazzling Blood Orange (1953). All these productions and many, many more formed a rich, compelling era of Hammer’s relative youth. These were not wilderness years. They were wild years.
Marketing material for the US release of Blood Orange.
Execs like Tony Hinds kept a tight hold on the studio’s purse strings whilst letting imaginations run riot. From the feel-good frolics of The Men of Sherwood Forest (1954) to the noirish nightmares of The House Across the Lake (1954) this period became a brilliantly varied menu offering dishes to delight every cinematic palate.
The stone cold classic, The Curse of Frankenstein (1957) ushered in an era that resulted in the phrase, ‘Hammer House of Horror’, and the organisation remains justifiably proud of its heritage and strong connections with that genre. But even as Dracula stalked his prey across a number of chillers, even as the Mummy marauded and the werewolf werewolfed, other things were afoot at Hammer. Evergreen comedy with the likes of Up the Creek (1958) and A Weekend with Lulu (1961); psychological suspense with The Nanny (1965), Fanatic (1965) and others; caveman capers typified by One Million Years B.C. (1966) and… And so many more.
In short, Hammer was never just one house. It was a home to all these genres and more.
The Creature looms large… New artwork for The Curse of Frankenstein.
Another hiatus followed in the 80s. After The Lady Vanishes (1979) the studio vanished (in terms of feature films, at least) until the new millennium. A number of films including The Woman in Black (2012) and The Quiet Ones (2014) lit up the early 2000s, before another pause. Hammer has since resurrected once more, giving us the well-received Doctor Jekyll (2023), and Ithaqua, an upcoming horror directed by Casey Walker, is eagerly anticipated.
And with John Gore at the helm of Hammer, a man who prizes the studio’s legacy so highly, the past that’s outlined above is looking more alive than ever. A project to restore and release archive titles together with a sumptuous array of support material, much of it new and bespoke, illustrates the company’s commitment to this cause. And the fact that many of these 4K restorations are receiving cinema runs right across the UK (and at International Festivals beyond!) means that audiences can enjoy them on the big screen, often for the first time since their original release. We feel all the legendary industry figures who’ve contributed to the studio’s story would heartily approve.
Captain Kronos – Vampire Hunter (1974) was the first title in Hammer’s Limited Collector's Edition Range.
Speaking about the Limited Collector's Edition Range, Hammer’s Steve Rogers recently said, ‘The public response to the mix of titles that we’ve released so far has been very positive. Our rolling 4K restoration programme is allowing us to share the full spread of the Hammer archive, including some films that few people would ever know are Hammers without it being pointed out. Fans and collectors are loving that they are effectively able to see "new old" Hammer films for the first time, in brand-new restorations and released as these definitive editions. Luckily, for them and for us, this is just the beginning.’
And this, more than anything, touches on the most important element of Hammer’s 91st. Because a birthday may be a time to reflect on past years and future promise, but what’s the most important part of any birthday party? Not the cards or the cake, or even the speech you make. It’s the people you make your speech to. The friends by your side, or those that remembered to drop you a message.
At recent events, including the premiere of the restored version of The Curse of Frankenstein, the MCM London Comic Con and this year’s Festival of Fantastic Films in Manchester, the Hammer team has had the pleasure of meeting fans and hearing first-hand how much the movies mean to them. The studio’s first films, back in the 1930s, were hailed as unpretentious entertainment, and that’s what Hammer continues to provide to audiences right across the world. It’s one reason why, after over nine decades, the future feels brighter than ever.
So, happy birthday, Hammer. 91 years old. That’s a lot of candles. A lot of years. But to quote Steve again, this is just the beginning.
