THESE ARE THE DAMNED
Icons of Suspense: Hammer Films
U.K. | 1963
Directed by Joseph Losey
Starring
Macdonald Carey
Shirley Ann Field
Oliver Reed
B&W | 95 Minutes | Not Rated
Format: DVD (R1 - NTSC | 3-disc set)
Sony Pictures Home Entertainment
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Review by
Troy Howarth

Film:10
: DVD:9
NOTE: DVD Rating is for entire 6-film set
Simon (Macdonald Carey) is an American on holiday in England. He becomes infatuated with a Lolita-like girl named Joan (Shirley Ann Field), much to the ire of her gang member brother King (Oliver Reed). When they accidentally stumble across a top secret military installation, their lives are forever altered...
    Joseph Losey was born in Wisconsin in 1909. He made his directing debut with a short film for the 1939 World's Fair, titled Pete-Roleum and His Cousins. The short didn't lead to feature assignments, and he spent the better part of the '40s knocking about the studios, directing the occasional short, before being handed his first feature assignment, an unusual parable titled The Boy With Green Hair (1948). He would go on to direct a handful of B thrillers, establishing himself as a promising talent, but his career was derailed by Senator Joseph McCarthy and his HUAC witchhunts. Branded as a communist sympathizer, Losey found himself blacklisted in the U.S.; desperate for work, he left for England... It may sound callous to say it, but in a way this was the best thing that could have happened to him. In the U.S., Losey was just another B filmmaker — he displayed style and panache, but he was already into his forties and his career wasn't exactly on fire. His early years in England were a struggle; he was forced to work under a pseudonym, frustrated as various projects slipped through his fingers, but his anger found a voice in his work. These Are the Damned was something of a gun-for-hire assignment for Losey, but it emerged as his angriest film to date — and inevitably ran into distribution troubles as a result.
    The script was adapted from a novel called The Children of Light, by H.L. Lawrence. It passed through a number of different hands before Losey came on board, but he saw in it the chance to make a personal statement. The director insisted on a complete overhaul and contributed a great deal to writing the final draft (without credit), but his commitment is a testimony to what can happen when a talented artist immerses himself in a project that originated long before they were involved in it. The film is by turns angry, self-righteous, moralistic and tragic. It digs deep into the psyches of its central characters, establishing the tone that would come to fruition in the director's more celebrated later work with screenwriter Harold Pinter: The Servant (1963), Accident (1967) and The Go-Between (1971). On the surface, it may be a B sci-fi film — certainly Losey himself was prone to representing it as such in later interviews — but like so many of the director's films, there is much more to it than might initially be apparent.
    The cast mixes actors familiar from Losey's previous work with faces familiar to British genre buffs of the period. Macdonald Carey was long past his prime as a leading man in Hollywood, and he's been criticized for being miscast as Simon. On the contrary, he's perfect for the role, and he brings a passionate intensity to it that is surprising, given the generally passive presence he had conveyed in other films. Carey had worked with Losey on the director's second feature, The Lawless (1950), and he would never appear in another Hammer film — it makes sense, therefore, to theorize that he was hand picked by the director. Simon is something of a loner, and a wanderer. His disposition is affected by a growing cynicism, but he is still capable of true emotion. When he becomes infatuated with Joan it would be easy to dismiss him as a dirty old man, but seen as a final act of desperation it makes perfect sense. Joan represents his final attempt at establishing a normal romantic relationship, and he ignores common sense in favor of trying to establish a connection with her. Shirley Ann Field (Peeping Tom) has often been criticized for her work in the film, and there's little question that she's the film's weakest link — but she improves as the film unfolds and does a better job of playing a surrogate mother figure than she does as an addle-brained flirt. That there is no discernible chemistry between her and Carey is as it should be — this is a relationship that is doomed from the start. Oliver Reed gives one of his finest early performances as the psychotic King, whose incestuous yearnings for Joan drive him to fits of apoplectic rage. Reed was at the start of a promising career when he made this film, and it came on the heels of numerous appearances in Hammer pictures; together with Curse of the Werewolf (1960), it was the only film that really tapped into his potential, and it compares favorably with his later, celebrated work in the films of Ken Russell. The second strand of the plot is carried by Canadian Alexander Knox (You Only Live Twice) and Swedish Viveca Lindfors (Creepshow); the former had already worked with Losey and would reunite with him again, while the latter claimed to have been involved in a relationship with the director. Both do superb work. Knox is ideal as the chilly, distant Bernard, who heads up the secret military project. Lindfors brings a touching mixture of romanticism and cynicism to her portrayal of the avant-garde artist Freya, who was formely involved in a relationship with Bernard. Indeed, it's tempting to view their dynamic as being modeled on that of Losey and Lindfors in real life. It's doubtful the director intended for this, but given his reputation as a humorless and aloof authoritarian, it's entirely possible that the actors picked up on this and decided to layer it into the picture. Supporting roles are filled by such excellent character actors as James Villiers (Repulsion) and Walter Gotell (The Spy Who Loved Me); the children who figure so unforgettably into the final act are also first rate, notably a very young Nicolas Clay (Excalibur, 1981). Anthony Valentine (To the Devil... A Daughter) can be glimpsed as a member of Reed's gang of thugs.
    These Are the Damned is a difficult film — it takes a few viewings for its passion and intensity to really come to the surface. Like so many Losey films, it is ultimately 'about' much more than is specified in its plot, but elements of speech-making do emerge in the dialogues between Bernard and Freya. It has been suggested that the film made an impression Stanley Kubrick, whose later A Clockwork Orange (1971) evoked elements of this film; whether or not this is the case, it remains one of its director's most powerful anti-authority diatribes. The film is damning in its commentary but is distinguished by a vein of humanism — even Bernard is to be pitied to some degree, making the film less about 'the good guys versus the bad guys' than it is about a society that is doomed precisely because people's principles will lead them astray. It is arguably the finest film Hammer ever made, and it ranks alongside Accident as Losey's most consistently engaging film.
These Are the Damned finally makes its R1 DVD debut thanks to Sony's Icons of Suspense: Hammer Films collection. The film ran into difficulties soon after Losey submitted his final cut to Hammer. Its release was held back for two years in the U.K., and it took two years longer than that for it to be released in America. The U.S. release was shortened by 10 minutes (these cuts were reportedly suggested by Losey, meaning that he either felt the film was too long or he was trying to preserve its message by collaborating on the cutting) and it was this version that emerged, all-too-infrequently, on TV for many years. The uncut, widescreen version finally played on TCM in 2007, but it took until now for it to emerge on DVD. Given its complex history and its place in Losey's filmography, one could argue that it deserved its own stand-alone, special edition release. But the film's the thing, and it's great to finally have These Are the Damned on DVD. The 2.35/16x9 transfer is first rate. Print damage is negligible — there's some scratches evident in the final credits crawl, but beyond that the film is in excellent shape. The cut material amounts mostly to dialogue between Simon and Joan and between Bernard and Freya, but it's great to have it back in the picture. Losey's terrific use of landscape really comes to life in this widescreen transfer. The mono soundtrack packs a punch, and it really shows off James Bernard's achingly melancholy score (which gets my vote as his best work ever). A fullscreen trailer is also included; given the tacky way it was advertised in the U.K., it's no surprise that it failed to find an audience until well after Losey established himself as an arthouse favorite. 4/20/10
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