Corruption (or Laser Killer, as it is known on the continent) is a distinctly odd little film. Although it looks very dated, and the level of on-screen gore is mild in comparison to today's horror fare, it is nevertheless a disturbing work - not least because it features the gentleman - gentle man, indeed - of horror, the legendary Peter Cushing - behaving unspeakably.
What on earth was dear old Peter thinking when he signed up for the role of bonkers surgeon John Rowan, who ends up murdering his way to a "cure" for his disfigured girlfriend? (What, for that matter, was he doing with the girlfriend in the first place? He's almost 30 years older than her, and a stuffed shirt compared to her hedonistic party animal. But I digress ...) I won't bother going into the subtleties of the plot - mainly because there aren't any (the story is pretty much as old as horror movies themselves). And I won't mention the god-awful 60s would-be psychedelic jazz soundtrack, which is a) rubbish, b) horribly incongruous - a funky accompaniment to sadism, and c) really annoying; so much so, in fact, that it almost ruins the film. Neither will I dwell on the extraordinary antics of the low-rent, English seaside version of the Manson family who turn up at the end to torment Cushing and his fiancé (David Lodge's performance is simply indescribable).
But what I will do is ask how director Robert Hartford-Davies ever managed to persuade the infallibly polite, kind, nay saintly Peter Cushing to butcher a topless prostitute and then wipe his bloodied hands on her exposed breasts before hacking off her head. Peter as Dr Frankenstein, yes. But Peter the sex murderer? No way, Pedro. I just can't understand it. Admittedly this scene only appears in the European version of the film - there wasn't a cat in hell's chance of the BBFC letting such explicit nastiness through uncensored in 1968 - but that's not the point. The point is that Peter did it.
According to one biographer, Peter thought the script was very good (which it isn't, to be honest). But it is still the most amazingly out of character bit of acting you're ever likely to see. It makes Julie Andrews showing her bazookas in SOB seem distinctly normal in comparison.
There is a tacky cop-out ending which was presumably included in a vain attempt to atone for the sordidness that preceded it, but it doesn't work. You come away from Corruption with a slightly foul taste in your mouth, shaking your head in incomprehension that it was ever made. Bizarre in the extreme.
What on earth was dear old Peter thinking when he signed up for the role of bonkers surgeon John Rowan, who ends up murdering his way to a "cure" for his disfigured girlfriend? (What, for that matter, was he doing with the girlfriend in the first place? He's almost 30 years older than her, and a stuffed shirt compared to her hedonistic party animal. But I digress ...) I won't bother going into the subtleties of the plot - mainly because there aren't any (the story is pretty much as old as horror movies themselves). And I won't mention the god-awful 60s would-be psychedelic jazz soundtrack, which is a) rubbish, b) horribly incongruous - a funky accompaniment to sadism, and c) really annoying; so much so, in fact, that it almost ruins the film. Neither will I dwell on the extraordinary antics of the low-rent, English seaside version of the Manson family who turn up at the end to torment Cushing and his fiancé (David Lodge's performance is simply indescribable).
But what I will do is ask how director Robert Hartford-Davies ever managed to persuade the infallibly polite, kind, nay saintly Peter Cushing to butcher a topless prostitute and then wipe his bloodied hands on her exposed breasts before hacking off her head. Peter as Dr Frankenstein, yes. But Peter the sex murderer? No way, Pedro. I just can't understand it. Admittedly this scene only appears in the European version of the film - there wasn't a cat in hell's chance of the BBFC letting such explicit nastiness through uncensored in 1968 - but that's not the point. The point is that Peter did it.
According to one biographer, Peter thought the script was very good (which it isn't, to be honest). But it is still the most amazingly out of character bit of acting you're ever likely to see. It makes Julie Andrews showing her bazookas in SOB seem distinctly normal in comparison.
There is a tacky cop-out ending which was presumably included in a vain attempt to atone for the sordidness that preceded it, but it doesn't work. You come away from Corruption with a slightly foul taste in your mouth, shaking your head in incomprehension that it was ever made. Bizarre in the extreme.