MonsterGirl’s 150 Days of Classic Horror #117 Psychomania 1973

Psychomania 1973

Few films capture the offbeat spirit of early 1970s British horror quite like Psychomania, a supernatural biker movie that straddles the line between cult camp, Gothic fairytale, and psychedelic phantasmagoria. Directed by Don Sharp and shot by Ted Moore. Don Sharp was a Tasmanian-born filmmaker whose career spanned four decades and a remarkable range of genres. After starting as an actor in Australia and England, he transitioned to writing and directing in the 1950s, working on everything from children’s films and documentaries to musicals and comedies. Sharp became best known for his stylish and energetic contributions to British horror, particularly his work with Hammer Films, where he directed cult classics like Kiss of the Vampire (1963) and Rasputin, the Mad Monk (1966). He also directed the popular Fu Manchu films with Christopher Lee and brought his brisk, inventive style to thrillers, action adventures, and quirky cult favorites like Psychomania (1973).

Ted Moore was a renowned cinematographer best known for his work on seven James Bond films during the 1960s and early 1970s, including Dr. No (1962), From Russia with Love (1963), Goldfinger (1964), Thunderball (1965), Diamonds Are Forever (1971), Live and Let Die (1973), and portions of The Man with the Golden Gun (1974). He won an Academy Award and a BAFTA for his cinematography on A Man for All Seasons (1966). Moore’s career is proof that cinematic artistry, you can don everything from biker leathers and helmets to velvet doublets behind the lens. One moment, he’s conjuring undead hooligans tearing up the English countryside in this gloriously offbeat horror flick; the next, he’s bathing Tudor England in the stately glow of A Man for All Seasons.

Moore’s other notable films include: The Day of the Triffids (1962), The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie (1969), The Golden Voyage of Sinbad (1973), Orca (1977), Clash of the Titans (1981), and Sinbad and the Eye of the Tiger (1977). He was also a camera operator on classics like The African Queen (1951). Moore’s career spanned four decades, and his visual style helped define the look of British adventure, fantasy, and action cinema in the mid-20th century.

Psychomania, aka later as The Death Wheelers, is a film that feels both utterly of its time and strangely timeless—a wild collision of post-hippie mysticism, suburban malaise, and the anarchic energy of youth culture gone gleefully to seed. At its core, Psychomania is the story of Tom Latham (Nicky Henson), the charismatic but unhinged leader of a biker gang called The Living Dead. Tom’s home life is as peculiar as his gang’s name suggests: he lives in a stately English manor with his enigmatic mother (Beryl Reid), who conducts séances with her sinister butler Shadwell (George Sanders, in his final film). The recurring imagery of frogs, amulets, visions, and ultimately Mrs. Latham’s transformation is all tied directly to an esoteric deity. The family’s occult leanings are more than a hobby—Tom’s mother worships a Frog God, part of an occult mythology, which is not merely a symbolic figure or her ‘familiar’ spirit, but an actual deity with the power to grant immortality and exact supernatural punishment. This God possesses the secret to immortality, a secret Tom is determined to unlock.

On his 18th birthday, Tom enters a forbidden room, has a vision of the Frog God, and promptly commits suicide (in order to attain eternal power)—only to return from the grave, now invincible and possessed of superhuman strength. His resurrection sets off a bizarre chain reaction: one by one, his biker friends follow suit, gleefully committing suicide with the hope of returning as undead hellraisers. Only Tom’s girlfriend, Abby (Mary Larkin), refuses to join the death cult, providing a rare note of conscience in a film otherwise gleeful in its disregard for life and law.

The undead bikers, now immune to harm, unleash a surreal crime wave on the English countryside, their rampage punctuated by scenes of gallows humor and deadpan absurdity. The police, led by Chief Inspector Hesseltine (Robert Hardy), are baffled, and the town is soon gripped by panic. Ultimately, it is Tom’s mother who is disgusted by the chaos her son has unleashed. In the film’s climax, after Mrs. Latham breaks her occult pact to stop her undead son and his biker gang, she ends the pact with the Frog God, turning her son and his gang to stone at the film’s climax, while she herself is transformed into a frog as a supernatural consequence. This bizarre and memorable moment is a literal transformation, not just a metaphor or hallucination.

Don Sharp’s direction is both playful and atmospheric, never shying away from the film’s inherent absurdity but also imbuing it with moments of genuine eeriness. The film opens with masked bikers weaving through a foggy stone circle—a sequence that feels like a pagan ritual filtered through the lens of a biker movie.

Ted Moore’s cinematography is key to the film’s unique mood, blending dreamy, soft-focus shots of the English countryside with the kinetic chaos of motorcycle chases and supernatural visions. The recurring imagery of standing stones, frogs, and misty landscapes creates a sense of ancient, lurking menace beneath the veneer of modern suburbia. The tone is an ever-shifting blend of camp, satire, and the uncanny.

Psychomania is never truly scary, but its off-kilter energy and willingness to embrace the ridiculous give it a hypnotic charm. The film’s soundtrack, composed by John Cameron (The Ruling Class 1972, Night Watch 1973 with Elizabeth Taylor), is a groovy, prog-inflected mix of rock and eerie atmospherics.

Cameron fuses propulsive rock rhythms with eerie, experimental textures, giving the film its unmistakably surreal and otherworldly mood. The soundtrack leans on wah-wah guitars, upright bass run through pedals, wordless vocals by jazz singer Norma Winstone, and unconventional techniques like scratching the inside of pianos and using phase pedals—all conjured in a pre-synthesizer era, a sound that’s both driving and unsettling, perfectly straddling the line between British folk horror and American biker movie energy.

The score to Psychomania ripples through the film like a spectral echo, weaving psychedelic riffs and eerie organ flourishes into sonic washes that feel both not of this realm and unmistakably of its time. Cameron’s score possesses the ghostly pulse of ancient stone circles colliding with the wandering spirit of early ’70s counterculture—a groove-laden, hallucinatory soundtrack that turns every motorcycle race and ritual into a feverish, cinematic séance.
It’s as if the restless spirits of the swinging ’60s, the groovy ’70s, and the occult shadows of ancient Britain collided on vinyl, spinning out a soundtrack that shimmers with the mischievous pulse of a midnight ride—music that turns every motorcycle rev into a spell and every chase into a trancelike, funky, psychy trip along a windy road.

Nicky Henson, the film’s leading hunk, is all swagger and reckless abandon as Tom, making his nihilistic antihero both magnetic and unhinged. Beryl Reid brings a sly, knowing wit to Mrs. Latham, while George Sanders, as Shadwell, lends the proceedings a sense of faded aristocratic menace—a fitting swan song for the legendary actor. Mary Larkin’s Abby is a rare voice of vulnerability and conscience, providing an emotional anchor amid the film’s gleeful nihilism. The supporting cast is a who’s-who of British character actors, from Robert Hardy’s befuddled police inspector to Ann Michelle’s aggressive biker Jane Pettibone (I love the name! you can see her British television and in cult horror films like Virgin Witch 1972, House of Whipcord 1974, Haunted 1977 and Young Lady Chatterley 1977). Their performances, sometimes deadpan, sometimes arch, contribute to the film’s unique tonal blend—a mix of straight-faced horror and sly self-parody.

Beryl Reid was one of those rare British actresses who could steal a scene with just a raised eyebrow or a perfectly timed quip. She bounced from radio comedy in Educating Archie to triumphs like The Killing of Sister George, originally a stage play written by Frank Marcus in 1964, with Beryl Reid originating the role of June “George” Buckridge on stage and later reprising it in the 1968 film adaptation directed by Robert Aldrich. Reid won a Tony Award for her performance in the Broadway production of the play.

Then sauntered onto film sets for everything from The Belles of St. Trinian’s 1954, Dr. Phibes Rises Again! 1972, and this gloriously oddball – Psychomania, to another hidden horror gem, The Beast in the Cellar 1970, alongside Flora Robson. Reid even made her mark in the Doctor Who universe and delivered a moving, BAFTA-winning portrayal of Connie Sachs in Smiley’s People. She had a knack for making eccentricity look effortless—whether she was playing a dotty medium, a spy’s confidante, or just the sharpest wit in the room. No formal training, just pure, unfiltered Beryl: a national treasure who made British screens a lot more interesting and a lot less predictable.

Psychomania is, in many ways, a quintessential cult film: overlooked on release, it found new life through late-night TV airings – which is how I stumbled across this unique offering of undead biker mayhem, sent by the midnight movie gods, headlights blazing and a menacing wheelie. I recommend the film for fans of British horror’s more eccentric corners. Its blend of biker rebellion, occult weirdness, and deadpan British humor is utterly singular, as English as cucumber sandwiches, or beans on toast, a spot of tea, on a rainy, ashen grey day.

If you were to watch it today, the film would strike you as a fascinating artifact of its era, capturing the anxieties and fascinations of early 1970s Britain: the rise of youth subcultures, a renewed interest in the occult, and the sense that the old order was crumbling, to be replaced by something far stranger. Psychomania stands not just as a quirky horror oddity, but as a psychedelic snapshot of a society in transition—a film where the living and the dead, the sacred and the absurd, all share the same haunted, stony road.

#117 down, 33 to go! Your EverLovin’ Joey formally & affectionately known as MonsterGirl!

A Trailer a Day Keeps the Boogeyman Away! Halloween A-Z

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Kronos 1957

“We have half of the equation; we can turn matter into energy. But up there, they have the second half; they can turn energy into matter.”

Kronos is a film I’ll be talking about with more gusto for my series Keep Watching the Skies: The Year is 1957. Stay tuned! 🚀

Kronos is a 1957 is an above average, intelligent American science fiction film directed by Kurt Neumann with a script by Irving Block and Lawrence L. Goldman. In a decade strewn with unrelenting hogwash, Kronos’s heroical special effects should stand for something. The movie centers on a giant extraterrestrial energy accumulator, essentially it’s a machine that consumes power – called Kronos that arrives on Earth with a mission to drain the planet of its energy resources. I remember this movie really making an impression on me as a kid, with Kronos stomping its way through the desert, its electrical currents snapping and crackling between its antennae as it pounded the earth.

A colossal flying saucer mistaken for an asteroid crashes fo the coast of Western Mexico. Scientist Leslie Gaskell has been tracking an asteroid, with missiles sent to intercept it, its path is only altered slightly off course, nearly hitting New York. It finally plunges into the ocean off Mexico. Les, his fiancee and associate Vera (Barbara Lawrence), and fellow scientist Arnie (George O’Hanlon) travel to Mexico waiting to see what develops, certain that this asteroid has been thoughtfully guided by an intelligence.

Soon, a domed-like crown rises to the ocean’s surface, and it emerges from the bubbling Pacific as a monolith metallic cube with multiple tiers. Its purpose is to voraciously siphon off the Earth's energy, and bring it back to its own distant planet. As it greedily absorbs energy the cube undergoes a mesmerizing transformation as this extraterrestrial machine over a hundred feet tall continues to grow larger in scale. It also has the power to influence unwitting people to serve it.

Scientists and military personnel are perplexed by its presence and its relentless energy-absorbing capabilities. Dr. Leslie Gaskell (played by Jeff Morrow) takes charge of the investigation, and he and his team work tirelessly to find a way to stop the alien machine before it depletes Earth’s energy and devastates the planet.

As the story unfolds, Dr. Gaskell and his colleagues develop a daring plan to confront Kronos and prevent the impending catastrophe. The film blends elements of classic 1950s science fiction with Cold War-era anxieties about the potential threat of unknown forces from outer space.

Kronos is notable for its portrayal of an enigmatic and seemingly invincible alien entity and the efforts of humanity to overcome this existential threat. It is a classic example of the science fiction films of its era and is remembered for its imaginative premise and special effects. It also stars Barbara Lawrence as Vera Hunter, and John Emery as Dr. Hubbell Eliot who is taken over by Kronos – apparent by his menacing stare and the crackling ball of electricity that enters his body at the time he needs to pull the strings and make the Dr. do his bidding. Then there is good ‘ole Morris Ankrum as Dr. Albert Stern, and George O’Hanlon as Dr. Arnold Culver.

The Killer Shrews 1959

The Killer Shrews is a 1959 low-budget science fiction horror film directed by Ray Kellogg. The story is set on a remote island, where a group of people becomes trapped by a hurricane. The island is infested with giant (small dog-sized giant), mutated shrews that are both aggressive and venomous due to a failed scientific experiment.

Captain Thorne Sherman (played by James Best) a scientist named Dr. Marlowe Craigis (played by Baruch Lumet) Dr. Radford Baines (Gordon McLendon) and Craigis’s daughter Ann (Ingrid Goude) must band together to survive the nightmarish ordeal. As the group struggles to defend themselves against the ravenous shrews, tensions rise, and they must find a way to escape the island before they fall victim to the deadly creatures who are running out of food.

“The Killer Shrews” is known for its low-budget production values, including the use of dogs dressed in shaggy costumes to portray the oversized shrews. Despite its limited resources, the film has achieved cult status for its campy charm. Close-ups of the giant shrews were filmed using hand puppets. The wider shots used dogs made up as the shrews.

Actor / co-producer Ken Curtis once commented that he had to force himself not to laugh during filming when the shrews attacked because they were basically just "dogs 
covered in shag carpet."
The man playing Dr. Baines is Gordon McLendon He was the uncredited executive producer and financier of this and its companion feature The Giant Gila Monster 1959. He owned radio stations and a chain of theaters in Texas.

Kiss of the Vampire 1963

Kiss of the Vampire, a 1963 British horror masterpiece by Hammer that unfolds under the masterful direction of Don Sharp, with Anthony Hinds at the quill. While not part of the legendary Dracula series, this cinematic gem bears the indelible mark of Hammer’s signature Gothic horror.

The narrative elegantly trails a newlywed couple, the dashing Gerald Harcourt (Edward de Souza), and his enchanting bride, Marianne Harcourt (portrayed by the captivating Jennifer Daniel), as they embark on a European trip. Their idyllic journey takes an unexpected detour when their car breaks down near a remote Bavarian village, leaving them stranded.

Fortune intervenes as they are graciously invited to take refuge within a nearby chateau, an architectural marvel shrouded in both splendor and sinister secrets. The chateau’s enigmatic resident, Dr. Ravna (Noel Willman), reigns as the formidable leader of a clandestine cult of vampires. With beguiling allure, he ensnares the couple in his nefarious designs, with Marianne poised to join his unholy family.

As Gerald’s realization of their dire predicament dawns, he endeavors to rescue his beloved wife from the clutches of these ravenous vampires. In his quest for salvation, he seeks the wisdom of a local vampire scholar, Professor Zimmer ( Clifford Evans), forging a desperate alliance to rescue Marianne from Ravna.

Kingdom of the Spiders 1977

Kingdom of the Spiders is a 1977 American horror film directed by John “Bud” Cardos. The movie is set in a small rural town in Arizona and centers around the terrifying invasion of the town by an enormous army of aggressive and deadly tarantulas.

The story follows veterinarian Dr. Robert ‘Rack’ Hansen (played by the intrepid William Shatner) and entomologist Diane Ashley (played by Tiffany Bolling) as they investigate a series of unusual livestock deaths in the area. Hansen lives in Verde Valley an Arizona desert town, who is baffled by the death of Walter Colby’s (Woody Strode) prize calf. After he sends samples of blood to Arizona State University, entomologist Diane Ashley arrives with information about the calf’s death. It had been poisoned by a massive dose of tarantula venom.

As they dig deeper, they discover that there is a mammoth hill on Colby’s farm which is housing thousands of deadly spiders and his property is the epicenter of a colossal tarantula population explosion. As the creeping terror escalates, the townsfolk are thrust into a nightmarish world. Ashley is puzzled by the behavior as tarantulas usually don’t attack as a militarized group and are not usually aggressive to creatures that aren’t their usual prey. But these spiders are driven by a monstrous bloodlust.

They find themselves under siege as thousands of venomous tarantulas begin to overrun the town, attacking livestock, pets, and even humans. With the situation escalating into a life-and-death struggle, Dr. Hansen and Diane work together to find a way to combat the arachnid invasion and save the town from being consumed by the “kingdom of the spiders.”

Kingdom of the Spiders is a classic creature feature that capitalizes on our primal fear of arachnids and the idea of nature striking back against human encroachment. It’s known for its suspenseful and creepy atmosphere, as well as its memorable scenes of tarantulas swarming en masse. William Shatner’s portrayal of the determined hero adds to the film’s B-movie appeal among fans of a slightly above-schlocky 1970s horror cinema.

The Kindred 1987

Directed by Stephen Carpenter, Jeffrey Obrow, and Joseph Stefano (Psycho 1960 and The Outer Limits)The Kindred is a 1987 science fiction horror film that revolves around a series of dark and disturbing genetic experiments.

Genetic scientist Amanda Hollins (Kim Hunter) awakens after three years in a coma. Her son John Hollins (David Allen Brooks) is summoned to her bedside at the hospital where she urges him to destroy all her journals and anything that remains of her research and the mysterious endeavor that involved a long-lost brother of John’s she named Anthony.
John and company arrive at the abandoned country house with his girlfriend Sharon (Talia Balsam) and a few colleagues including the mysterious Melissa Leftridge (Amanda Pays). There at Shelter Cove, they discover his mother’s secret genetically engineered creation, a hybridization that still exists. Working against Dr. Hollins is the profoundly unhinged Dr. Phillip Lloyd (Rod Steiger) a competing geneticist who wants control of Anthony himself. Dr. Lloyd has planted Melissa as a spy and seeks her help to stop the destruction of Hollins’s work.
As they delve deeper into the labyrinthine mysteries of her work, they unwittingly awaken a monstrosity that lurks in the shadows"”an abominable creature – a hybrid human a deep sea creature with tentacles that has a taste for human flesh. Anthony has emerged from the very cells taken from John’s tissues. This grotesque, aquatic entity, referred to as “John’s brother” stands as a testament to the macabre nature of his mother’s experiments. A battle takes place between the ethical scientists, the mad scientist, Melissa who in fact also shares some marine life DNA, and Anthony’s little squid-like buddies who can latch onto people. In one squishy gory scene, an angry gooey fetus leaps out of a clogged drain and attaches itself to someone’s face. And then there’s the little horrible beastie that springs out of a ripe watermelon and wraps its tentacles around a shocked grad student while she’s driving.

With a cinematic nod to the 1950s sci-fi genre, the scene with the creature inside the watermelon in the backseat of the car – and she is attacked with its tentacles is a bit of nostalgia.

Creative horror screenwriter Joseph Stefano (Alfred Hitchcock’s “Psycho”) contributed to the screenplay, most notably the sequence involving the creature hiding inside of a watermelon.

Rod Steiger performed his own stunts in a scene that involved him being doused with a 55 gallon drum of methyl cellulose “slime.

Killer Klowns from Outer Space 1988

Killer Klowns from Outer Space 1988 (Photo courtesy: Trans World Entertainment)

Curtis Mooney “They took your wife away in a balloon? Well you don’t need the police, pal, you need a psychiatrist!”

Killer Klowns from Outer Space is a 1988 cult science-fiction horror-comedy film directed by the Chiodo Brothers. The movie is known for its quirky offbeat and often comical premise. Not to mention as a society our collective primal, morbid fear of clowns!

The story begins when a small town is invaded by extraterrestrial beings who resemble creepy, colorful circus clowns from outer space. Even the spaceship has the appearance of a circus tent. These alien clowns, however, are not here to spread laughter and joy but instead to harvest humans as a source of sustenance. They capture people by trapping them in cotton candy cocoons and use outlandish, clown-themed weaponry to cause havoc. Killer Klowns is seriously outrageous, demented, and hilarious!

Debbie Stone -We were up at “the top of the world” and we saw this shooting star and we decided to go look for it. But instead of finding the shooting star we saw this… this circus tent. And that’s when we went inside, and that is when we saw those people in those… those pink, cotton candy cocoons. Dave, it was not a circus tent. It was something else.

Dave Hanson What? What?

Mike Tobacco It was a space ship. And there was these things, these killer clowns, and they shot popcorn at us! We barely got away!

Curtis Mooney Killer clowns, from outer space. Holy shit!

A group of young people, including Mike Tobacco (played by Grant Cramer) and Debbie Stone (played by Suzanne Snyder), discover the bizarre and deadly threat and take it upon themselves to stop the Killer Klowns. As they face off against these colorful, goofy yet terrifying otherworldly foes, they must find a way to save their town from being completely devoured by the extraterrestrial circus. Busy character actors Royal Dano as Farmer Gene Green and John Vernon make appearances in the film. Both actors appeared in The Outlaw Josey Wales together in 1976.

Killer Klowns from Outer Space is known for its dark humor, imaginative and campy special effects, and the sheer absurdity of its premise. It has become a beloved cult classic, appealing to fans of both horror and comedy for its unique blend of genres.

Tidbits:

The scene in which a car is thrown over a cliff was initially intended to be far more spectacular – the car was to fly over the cliff and crash down to the ground. Unfortunately, the sling rope snapped because effects crew members neglected to remove the stoppers from underneath the car’s wheels. The result was what is seen in the final film, the car slowly tumbles over the edge and becomes caught on a tree.

The iconic Killer Klowns March was originally written by John Massair for his high school rock band, Crisis. The band members did not like it because the notes of the song spelled out an F major 7th chord which they felt sounded too much like Jazz.

Around the same time, MGM began production of two low-budget horror films, one of them being “Killer Clowns from Outer Space” and the other “Clownshouse” by Victor Salva. Both films are very different but with the concept of Killer Clowns. Salva creator of the controversial “Clownhouse” expressed that there was a certain rivalry between both productions to know who copied whom, but in the end the films were very different from each other.

Mooney’s (John Vernon) fate is foreshadowed early in the film when he says “Nobody’s going to make a dummy out of me”. A Klown winds up making him a human ventriloquist dummy.

Originally, Klownzilla was supposed to be made with stop motion animation. But due to production costs and limited time to shoot, they made a suit instead

This is your EverLovin’ Joey sayin’ K…  I’ll be back with the letter L -hoping these trailers will LURE you in!

Hysterical Woman of the Week! Jean Marsh in Dark Places (1973)

DARK PLACES (1973)

dark places

Director Don Sharp’s outre creepy foray into the old dark house trope, as Robert Hardy (You might recognize him as Cornelius Fudge in The Harry Potter series) plays Edward Foster / Andrew Marr a man who inherits an estate where a fortune lays hidden. Visited by the malevolent ghosts of two small children, Edward recently released from the asylum begins to inhabit the former owners tragic and violent past… Genuinely atmospheric British horror gem from the 70s!

Co-starring Christopher Lee, Herbert Lom, Joan Collins and Jane Birkin…

Predates many of the films utilizing evil ghosts and various modes of carnage there after!

Jean Marsh plays the truly tightly wound wife Victoria who’s homicidal tendencies are passed onto her two impish yet dangerous children… watch as this fine British lady starts to unwind on husband Andrew. This aint Downton Abbey…!

Stay calm and carry on-Your Everlovin’ MonsterGirl!