The Psychopath 1966 – I Have My Doll Now!

Dolls, with their lifeless gazes, imprint in our collective phobias and on Robert Bloch’s & Amicus’s narrative — and like clowns, and zombie children– dolls have always given us a dreadful feeling of unease that lingers in our psyche. It’s their dead stare and their cold watchful eyes – like soulless little polymer devils. Cinematographer/ Director Freddie Francis who previously worked at Hammer, makes use of the accursed doppelgänger dolls as macabre iconography. Bloch likely viewed the British-based Amicus as the substantial alternative worth embracing, signing a three-picture deal with Paramount.

Horror filmmakers have explored this causality of jitters for decades. In Amicus’s The Psychopath 1966 – it is the symbology of dolls that gives the film its creepy attraction to what is essentially a crime drama and creative whodunnit with a few unsettling moments while trying to unravel a tale of a homicidal maniac who leaves a unique signature—the very likeness of the victims.

The Psychopath was made midway in the decade, featuring the mellifluous tagline “A New Peak in Shriek,” The film marks Freddie Francis’s foray into colour psycho-thrillers and with its use of vibrant reds, it’s a departure from his previous repertoire of haunting black-and-white psychological horror tales crafted for the illustrious Hammer.

Elisabeth Lutyen’s beautifully carnivalesque score washes over the opening as dismembered doll parts accompany the credits. The film sticks to the classic crime procedural script, but it’s not afraid to paint it with a touch of horror, throwing in the voodoo-like doll motif for that extra dash of macabre flair. It’s your standard crime fare, just with a wicked twist. Bloch’s script presents the crimes using the doll fetish in such a way – that remains formulaic – though it does succeed in having a moody impact by the end.

Bloch’s story is a variation on the old thriller – ‘a collection of interrelated victims’ involved in a revenge plot. In this particular scenario, it includes ex-members of a corrupt Allied War Crimes Commission who get knocked off one by one. Eventually, it becomes quite clear who’s behind the deadly crusade to carry out their vendetta.

The killer likes to change up their murders, from death by automobile, to poison, a stabbing, the stark brutality of a blowtorch, and then hanging by a noose. In each fatal episode, the murderer’s calling card is left – dolls- miniature effigies that are molded with waxen heads, meticulously fashioned into uncanny replicas down to the features of the unfortunate victims, complete with their authentically relevant clothing and matching accessories.

The impressive waxen effigies were sculpted by Irene Blair Hickman.

Patrick Wymark’s fairly nuanced performance as Inspector Holloway tries hard to find his place within the plot as the stereotypical cop on the hunt for a disturbed killer who utilizes the dolls as their chosen fetish of death.

Undeterred, Patrick Wymark bravely charges forward in this cat-and-mouse horror – thriller that includes his unforgettable visit to the widow’s doll haven, where thousands of little faces stare eerily, like a chorus of tiny suspects and culminate in the shadows of the boat factory and ultimately the mystery’s grand finale which hits you with an unprovoked, uncanny, nasty and icky sensation.

Freddie Francis has a knack for crafting shots that are evocative of burlesque – here it takes center stage, with a few visually captivating moments. For instance, the walk through the creepy dollhouse within the ‘Old Dark House’ setting and the suffocating atmosphere of the gloomy boat factory; where Mark winds up being wrapped around by a giant boa constrictor-like heavy anchor chain that crushes his spine. It is reminiscent of the brutal scene in Lewton’s The Ghost Ship 1943. At the same time, Francis, Oswald Hafenrichter (The Third Man 1949, The Fallen Idol 1948), and cinematographer John Wilcox cut to a plate of spaghetti simultaneously being twisted around a fork. It is a sinister and queasy touch.

Ledoux -“Come on Inspector do I look like someone who would play with dolls?” Holloway -“Someone isn’t playing.”

There is also the murder scene involving a blowtorch at Ledoux’s sculptor’s art studio filled with the contorted echoes of the sculptor’s unfinished dance with form and forge looming like eerie artworks in progress. Like Von Sturm’s society of creepy dolls, Ledoux’s studio showcases a landscape of morbid metal figures. The scene is lit very much in neon primary colors that evoke the early works of Mario Bava.

Margaret Johnston takes a flamboyant approach as the wheelchair-bound Ilda Von Sturm, injecting a delightful burst of theatricality flare and delicious threat. Enter the cliché trope of the “Crazy Old Grande Dame Cinema’ that was emerging at that time, conveniently equipped with her red herring wheelchair and a penchant for collecting those damn dolls. She lurks around growling guttural curses at those who have wronged her family within her dark house lit in deep reds. Like a fairytale witch who creates ritualistic dolls, she emerges from the shadows or contorts that Margaret Johnston unique face into a quiet scream.

“Her world collapsed when my father died, so she built a new one out of her imagination.’’

An embittered war widow, Mrs. Von Sturm is surrounded in a parlor, crammed to the brim with an unsettling array of toy figures, she proudly declares, “They are my children,” as if conducting a rather eccentric family gathering.

John Standing who portrays her son is perfect as he induces a nervous pit in your stomach – a whiff of perversity as Von Sturm’s son Mark exudes a similarly ‘queer’ aura in the same way other British psycho bad boys and pretty oddballs like Hywell Bennett, Simon Ward, and Shane Briant do.

Mark happily informs Holloway about his life at home… “The dolls and me!”

Critics have not held back in their commentary, with considerable attention directed towards the notably stiff performances by some of the cast. The female romantic lead, Judy Huxtable, has been singled out for her underwhelming portrayal of Louise Saville – a role attributed to her father’s financial backing. I don’t find her presence particularly lacking in her role as the leading heroine, though I do agree about the poor casting choice of the American actor, Don Boriensko, as her wooden boyfriend.

One of the best performances is the cameo by Colin Gordon as the disgruntled Dr. Glyn and Harold Lang as the quite theatrical toy shop owner Briggs (Roy Castle’s agent in Dr. Terror’s House of Horrors) who wages war against modern toys – he exclaims with a bit of camp, “All bombs and rockets – aggressive plastic in rather vindictive colors -Personally I wouldn’t want to sell anything you couldn’t cuddle.” Also part of the cast is Alexander Knox as Louise’s disapproving father Frank Saville. And murder victim Martin Roth is played by Thorley Walters.

The curtain rises on a rather gripping opening murder scene.

Reinhardt Klermer (John Harvey) is a middle-aged musician and amateur violinist who belongs to a musical chamber quartet and is on his way to a rehearsal. As he strolls to rendezvous with the remaining trio of music-loving comrades, fate decides to throw a murderous melody into the mix. He meets his fate in a dance of vehicular madness.

Klermer is relentlessly pursued by a red Volvo pirouettes onto the scene targeting Reinhardt Klermer like a conductor zeroing in on a sour note. The car acts like a prowler who goes after Klermer its prey.

The scarlet sedan follows him slowly down a deserted rainy street. Once he is cornered at a dead end, the car shines its bright headlights blinding Klermer. The car speeds up and smashes him into the brick wall as Wilcox’s camera delivers his death with a close-up of his eyes. The sound of the engine and the tires moving forward and backward are meticulously timed causing us to shudder in that tight dead-end alleyway as Klermer is being crushed under the angry wheels.

The first over-kill murder unfolds in a drawn-out sequence, with the rhythmic motion of John Wilcox’s camera as it deliberately follows a red Volvo’s window slowly being rolled up after the unseen driver has flattened the tire of the victim Klermer’s automobile. The vehicle’s tires execute a symphony of tread marks. But this killer isn’t just satisfied with a hit-and-run crescendo.

The killer leaves behind a chilling testimonial—a doll, meticulously crafted to mirror Reinhardt. Complete with a pint-sized violin case, this eerie effigy serves as a haunting reminder that even the most ordinary notes can be orchestrated into a sinister sonata.

While the sequence doesn’t delve into graphic details, there’s poetic cruelty in the number of times Klermer is pressed under the car’s tires, as the violin he cradled is transformed into splinters beneath the unforgiving wheels—it’s a visually striking metaphor for the obliteration of harmony.

Enter Inspector Holloway (Patrick Wymark) arrives at the crime scene -“Hardly an accident Mr. Loftis. That car must have gone backward and forward across the body half a dozen times!”

Inspector Holloway in charge of the case believes the crime may have been committed by another member of the ensemble. Each offers an alibi for where they were at eight o’clock that evening. But, Holloway reveals that the murder happened at seven. The body was found at eight.

Holloway suspects each of the members until they also turn up murdered – assassinated in various ways -(poisoned, hanged, and stabbed) their lifeless bodies too, are accompanied by a doll left at each crime scene.

Next, Holloway tackles the question – is it Louise Saville (Judy Huxtable) the doll factory doll herself, and her penniless beau, Donald Loftis, who also snag a spot on the prime suspect list. Why? She happens to work at the doll factory and is the daughter of one of the quartet members, Frank Saville (Alexander Knox).

Later the silver-haired Satyr-like goatee sporting Victor Ledoux (Robert Crewdson) is stalked by a disembodied noose through the eerie expanse of a grungy junkyard in the daylight hours. With cheeky flourish, Ledoux’s lifeless body is left with his doll hanging by a tiny noose.

It seems Louise’s father who suffers from a serious heart condition, fiercely disapproves of his daughter’s relationship with Donald and becomes the next victim. Saville wasn’t exactly throwing confetti at the prospect of Louise and Donald tying the financial knot. When Frank Saville falls victim to poisoning, the murderer exhibits a chilling shrewdness by dressing the doll in the right choice of dressing gowns.

Saville ‘’Who are you?’’ Ilda Von Sturm ‘’Take a good look.’’ Savile ‘’Ilda Von Strum.” Von Sturm ‘’I’ve changed haven’t I?’’
Saville ‘’Yes after all these years.’’ Von Sturm ‘’Years can be cruel… but not as cruel as men.’’ Savile ‘’What do you want?’’
Von Sturm ‘’What I’ve always wanted. Justice’’ Savile ‘’You’re making a mistake you know. Didn’t Klermer tell you.’’
Von Sturm ‘’Klermer is dead!’’ Savile ‘’But I had nothing to do with that.’’ Von Sturm ‘’You are lying.’’ Savile ‘’It’s the truth I swear it.’’ Von Sturm ‘’Yes you swear. Just as you swore my life away! More than 20 years ago, did you think I could ever forget!’’

But it doesn’t seem too likely that Louise is a murderer, so Holloway turns his attention to the last person who bought similar dolls from that shop which are the perfect dolls that have been made into facsimiles of the victims. Holloway learns that Ilda Von Sturm purchased 6 dolls.

Hold onto your miniature violins, because the plot thickens faster than a doll collector’s catalog. Holloway learns that the quartet of victims had investigated Mr. Hedwig Von Sturm as a war criminal after WWII and that Von Sturm’s widow might not be the helpless invalid after all.

Turns out, the four victims were united by more than just a love for writing damning reports and giving false testimony. They were all key players in the questionable evidence given against a convicted war criminal, the patriarch Hedwig Von Sturm which has left a brewing hatred in Ilda Von Strum for the persecution of her husband and the ruination of the family name.

The musical quartet was a special committee assembled after WWII that falsified evidence and confiscated the properties of Nazi criminals. There were profits to be made. They convicted Von Sturm, who was a German industrialist – for using slave labor. They wound up confiscating his estate. Afterward, Mrs. Von Sturm and her son Mark fled to England.

The trail leads right to the house of none other than the wonderfully eccentric, wheelchair-bound widow Ilda Von Sturm, Margaret Johnston who gave a chilling performance in the atmospheric Burn Witch Burn aka Night of the Eagle 1962 with her cold stare and her imposing limp. The house is crowded with ghastly dolls adored by their fanatical ‘mother.’ Mrs. Von Sturm’s name I’m sure, was carefully chosen for the film. Sturm unt drahng translates to storm and stress.

The [German, storm and stress] A style of composition that communicates emotions of stress, fear, horror, anxiety, etc. Used mostly in German music of the Romantic era.

Von Sturm’s doting son named Mark, adds an extra tinge of peculiarity to the plotline. Mark (John Standing, a prolific British television actor known for his roles in “King Rat” (1965) and “Torture Garden” (1967)) is her only company next to her dead staring, glass-eyed children.

Mark frantic to cover up for his mother, pursues actress Olive Gregg who works at the doll factory. He tried to obtain 4 more dolls from her to replace those missing from his mother’s workroom. Olive wearing a shiny red slicker gets knifed for her trouble.

 

The family, already leveled by the hand of injustice, is surrounded by Ilda’s extensive brood of dolls that Ilda affectionately refers to as “Mein kinder,” breathing an eerie life into her distorted familial tableau.

The enigmatic llda confined to her wheelchair might provide her an alibi – as she rolls around the house teetering on the brink of derangement.

“This is the only life I know. It’s too late to begin again.” She cries to Mark.

Conflicted by his repressive life, torn by his devotion to his doll-collecting Mutter who spends her time making her unique dolls, Mark lurks on screen like a more swishy Londoner version of Norman Bates. When questioned by Inspector Holloway, Mrs. Von Sturm instantly recognizes one of the dolls left at the murder scene as being the likeness of her solicitor. Mark explains to Holloway… “Her world collapsed when my father died, so she built a new one out of her imagination.’’

Mark doesn’t linger in the shadows of his unreal siblings; instead, he seems to thrive as his mother’s cherished “Liebling.” Her cryptic yet tender son is outré modish with his dyed blonde hair, leather jacket, and mysterious pretense that shrieks of flamboyance.

Inspector Holloway pays Mark a visit at the boatyard where he works as a somewhat lackadaisical security guard. A peek into Mark’s shelf of books about ‘abnormal psychology’ at the boatyard hints at Bloch’s fascination with Norman Bates who in his novel had a penchant for collecting a similar study of unsettling literature. It is also there that Holloway tells Mark that his mother’s doctor has suggested her paralysis is only pathological. Is this a ruse to explain how Mutter Von Sturm can wheel herself across town and break into Saville’s house or facilitate the shocking climax? I’m left wondering.

Holloway asks Dr.Glyn “Why should she be pretending”  Glyn’s comeback to that, “Why should a madman be mad?”

While undeniably unsettling and unquestionably the film’s most inspired moment, the eerie resolution to the mysterious deaths is a gruesome counterpoint to Robert Bloch’s iconic Psycho in 1960 with its final scene subverting the classic ending to Hitchcock’s adaption of Bloch’s psychopathologic tale. It is a grisly and positively grotesque path to the end of The Psychopath!

The merchants of ‘60s kitsch Amicus offer up a gleefully underrated and obscure horror film that gives us an inkling of the serial killer genre to come and was released only a few years after Bava’s first Giallo.

In the realm of Italian cinema, one cannot deny the potential influence of The Psychopath on Dario Argento’s giallo masterpiece Deep Red with the film’s use of the onerously childlike music box motif – that can wind you up and drive you crazy. This musical strategy is reminiscent of the recurring refrain created by composer Elisabeth Lutyens’s very evocative score throughout The Psychopath.

The Psychopath is a cinematic gem that not only boasts eye-catching aesthetics but also culminates into one of the most unsettling final curtains that have stayed with me for years – like the tip of a bad dream – it leaves you with this last nail in the coffin- “I have my doll now!”

New Yorkers Milton Subotsky and Max J. Rosenberg are celebrated as American film producers and co-founders of the British film company – Amicus Productions established in the United Kingdom. The company gained recognition for its anthology/portmanteau-style horror/fantasy films comprised of multiple short stories featuring headline actors. Most notable are Dr. Terrors House of Horrors 1965, The House That Dripped Blood 1971, Asylum 1972, and  Tales from the Crypt 1972 based on the EC Comics series of the same name. Amicus was a beloved competitor to the British horror dynasty Hammer.

Together, Subotsky and Rosenberg formed a cinematic diptych, their collaborations have remained like a haunted canvas where nightmares mingle with dreams. Critics and historians, enchanted by the Amicus oeuvre, celebrate the duo as pioneers who dared to take risks with a distinct blend of horror, fantasy, and unbridled imagination. Their legacy, a tapestry of terror and suspense, continues to be unfurled by modern cinephiles, a testament to the enduring allure of their darkly fantastical creations.

Sadly, later in their careers the next batch of Amicus productions—The Deadly Bees, The Terrornauts, and They Came from Beyond Space—were a bit like diving headfirst into the cinematic dumpster.

At least with The Psychopath, Wymark’s stalwart presence, Francis’ directorial finesse, and Wilcox’s engaging cinematography manages to help the film steer clear of the abyss those other trashy features wallowed in.

Your EverLovin’ Joey will leave you with this… ”Ma Ma… Ma Ma…” Watch it and you’ll see why!