Crucible of Terror (1971)

For a brief period in the very early seventies Mike Raven, former DJ on both pirate radio and BBC Radio One, was pushed as a UK horror star.  Raven's imposing looks and voice seemed to make him a natural for villainous roles and he had, earlier in his career, been an actor (not to mention also a dancer and flamenco guitar player).  His first two roles, though, were in supporting roles - a non-speaking appearance as Count Karnstein in Hammer's Lust for a Vampire (1971) and a slightly more substantive role in Amicus' I, Monster (1971) - but his third film of 1971, Crucible of Terror, offered him top billing and something more of a central role.  Produced by Peter Newbrook's Glendale Films and directed by TV director John Hooker, Crucible of Terror clearly owes something to House of Wax (1953), with its focus on a deranged sculptor quite literally transforming his subjects into sculptures.  Rather than wax, though, Raven's Victor Clare works in bronze, with a striking opening scene showing him encasing a prone female model in plaster, before pouring molten bronze through an eyehole in order to create a cast of her body.  After which the film flashes forward many years to an exhibit of Clare's works being staged in London by struggling art dealer John Davies (James Bolam), with the sculpture created from the cast seen in the previous scene the star attraction.  It transpires, though, that the works on display are there without Clare's knowledge, having been purloined by his feckless son Michael (Ronald Lacey), who is desperate for money.  When the works prove popular, though, Davies persuades Michael to introduce him to the elder Clare, with a view to organising a larger exhibition.  Davies, Michael and their wives, therefore, head to Clare's home and studio in Cornwall.

Once in Cornwall, the plot begins to fall into familiar horror film patterns, with a remote, spooky old house, a crazy wife who dresses and behaves like a child, Davies' wife suffering bizarre and unsettling dreams.  Inevitably, people start getting murdered by an unseen assailant, (actually, we've already had the first murder in London, as yet undiscovered, when one of Davies' patrons being killed as he caresses that bronze sculpture which he has become obsessed with).  When it is mentioned in passing that Clare's previous model, the Japanese girl he turned into a sculpture earlier in the film, who apparently disappeared years ago had been leader of a cult which believed that the living could be possessed by the souls of the dead, it becomes obvious what's coming.  Clare inevitably starts to fixate upon Davies' wife as his next potential model for a sculpture but, of course, she's possessed (via a kimono) by the murdered model and just as she's about to go the same way she transforms into the image of the badly burned model and shoves Clare into his own furnace.  Unfortunately, the ending feels somewhat rushed and confusing in its execution, lacking the impact it should have had.  The film's main weakness is a script which succeeds in being simultaneously both confusing and obvious - from early on, it is quite obvious that the spirit of that murdered model is behind all the strange goings on and that she is going to get her revenge.  But the execution is confusing, with too many sub plots that never really develop into anything.  Hooker's direction is competent, if not terribly inspired, although there is some good use of the glowering Cornish landscapes which help build up the sense of isolation for the characters.  Some of the performances are also pretty decent, particularly Bolam and Lacey, but the film is dominated by Raven's Victor Clare, despite him being offscreen for a large part of the movie.  

I recall that at one time it was very fashionable for critics to deride Raven's horror film appearances, with critics seeming to think that he was some kind of amateur interloper because of his DJ background, despite the fact that he had, earlier in his career, been an actor.  But his earlier performances had been under his real name, thereby allowing hostile critics to ignore them.  The truth is, though, that with his distinctive voice and looks, he had a very real screen presence, which hadn't been exploited by either Hammer or Amicus.  Put centre stage, as he is here, in Crucible of Terror, playing an eccentric, egotistical and ultimately immoral character, he is actually very effective.  Certainly, he is the film's main asset.  Sadly, though, he was only to make one further film, Disciple of Death (1972), (directed and produced by Crucible's producer, Tom Parkinson), which fared poorly at the box office.  Interestingly, in later life Raven actually did become a sculptor - in Cornwall - and had his work exhibited, (although I'm pretty sure that none of his sculptures involved murdering women).  An eccentric by nature, even after death Raven defied convention, being buried in a grave he had already dug for himself.  Crucible of Terror stands as probably the best film of his short cinematic career, with his performance helping to lift an otherwise unremarkable but competent low budget film slightly above the average.