1974's "Persecution" was the debut feature of producer Kevin Francis and his Tyburn Films company, a short lived outfit that doesn't exactly hit the ground running with this sluggish psychodrama ("The Ghoul" and "Legend of the Werewolf" are clearly a step up). Born and bred on the great Hammer tradition (his father was cinematographer-turned-director Freddie Francis), the younger Francis sought to keep the British end up with Tony Tenser's Tigon out of the way, and both Hammer and Amicus on the wane, but this initial effort was universally panned and suffered numerous title changes that hurt the box office ("The Terror of Sheba" and "The Graveyard" to name but two). Actor Robert Hutton had virtually retired in front of the camera since relocating from Hollywood to England in the mid 60s, most often seen in movies by director Freddie Francis ("They Came from Beyond Space," "Torture Garden," "Trog," and "Tales from the Crypt"), and decided to turn his dislike of cats into a script that went through numerous other writers before it was shot by director Don Chaffey ("Jason and the Argonauts," "One Million Years B. C."). It's sad to think that what emerged on screen was deemed suitable by any self respecting filmmaker, but Hollywood glamor queen Lana Turner signed on to play the lead (a former glamor queen), what amounted to yet another 'horror hag' outing begun by "What Ever Happened to Baby Jane?" (more recent efforts cast Agnes Moorehead in "Dear Dead Delilah" and Debbie Reynolds in "What's the Matter with Helen?"). 52 year old Lana Turner still looks majestic as Carrie Masters, a woman still clinging to her wealth and fame, still bitter over being crippled by a jealous husband (Patrick Allen), and continuing a reign of terror over her illegitimate son David (Ralph Bates), whose irrational fear of cats led him to drown her favorite feline in a bowl of milk as a child, because the love she had to give was lavished upon it rather than him. The boy's idea of an appropriate Christmas gift was a handmade ashtray that he was quite proud of; in response, she offered him a coffin to bury the cat in a pet cemetery filled with felines, all of whom bear the name Sheba. David knows nothing about Carrie's husband nor the reason he left her, and is unaware that she has been blackmailing his real father (Trevor Howard) since the day he was born, unwanted by both self-serving parents. The now grown-up David has done quite well for himself, wed to loving spouse Janie (Suzan Farmer), with his own infant son to keep them busy and happy together. Unfortunately, they still live next door to the possessive, unrepentant Carrie, who freely admits that she finds babies 'too helpless,' her birthday celebration turning into a funeral for the defenseless child, suffocated by the current Sheba. Reeling from this disastrous turn of events, the grieving parents are further divided by Carrie's idea for a 'nurse' to take care of Janie, a seductive minx (Olga Georges-Picot) whose physical charms are meant to entice David into a compromising position. Though everything goes according to Carrie's diabolical plan, things just won't end well for anyone in this isolated dysfunction. Among the actors, the only disappointment is Ralph Bates, who made very few theatrical films, and wears the same dour expression from start to finish, but in his defense that sums up his character's downtrodden existence. There aren't any surprises in store even for patient viewers, and this unrelenting catalogue of misery was soundly rejected by audiences and critics alike, Lana herself labeling the picture a 'bomb,' as did Trevor Howard. Tyburn had nowhere to go but up, yet after barely one year only three feature films resulted from their efforts, two of which never even crossed the Atlantic; Kevin Francis deserved better, but so did the entire British film industry as well.
1 out of 1 found this helpful.
Was this review helpful? Sign in to vote.
Permalink
