Master of horror lifts mask of movie roles

Press, 9 July 1986, Page 16

Master of horror lifts mask of movie roles

By

PAUL MAJENDIE,

Frankenstein, Sherlock Holmes, and Dracula’s killer have all emerged from behind a mask that shields a gentle, courteous figure of old-world charm and elegance.

The master of horror, Peter Cushing, could not be more different from the characters he

has portrayed in countless mistshrouded Hammer films, prowling through the woods in search of his next hapless victim. At the age of 73, the pale and gaunt Cushing has joined the ranks of actors writing their autobiographies.

He offers no light-hearted "kiss and tell” recollections of the movie industry. Titled simply “Peter Cushing — an autobiography,” his is a poignant and bitter-sweet tale of a man whose life became empty and without meaning since the death of his wife Helen after 27 years of marriage.

"It was written as a form of therapy to stop me going stark raving mad,” said Cushing, who was finally cajoled into publishing the book by fellow actor and 4

of Reuter, in London

friend, Sir John Mills. After years of grappling with lung disease, his wife died in 1971 and Cushing, who decided in the book not to detail his career beyond that heart-rending

scene, said “My life as I knew and loved it ended with the passing of my beloved wife.”

Cushing, whose acting career has spanned 50 years, has written an autobiography tinged with amazement at people’s continuing reaction to his classic roles such as “The Bride of Frankenstein” and “The Hound of the Baskervilles.”

"Today’s statistics reveal that these pictures, produced over 25 years ago, are shown on television or in cinemas somewhere in the world every day or every night of every year, seen by a new generation — not born when they were made — who imagine they are watching recent productions,” he writes.

“This time-gap is brought home during my travels when complete strangers look at me curiously and say ‘Excuse me, V- but are you Peter Cushing’s

dad?’ ” he adds. During his childhood in a suburban family, Cushing’s heroes were not those great horror film actors such as Bela Lugosi and Bbris Karloff, but Tom Merry, the star of a comic which Cushing bought every week. Cushing described his idol as “true blue, eye on the ball, no cribbing, no smoking” — hardly the mentor you would expect for the man who brought Baron Frankenstein chillingly to the screen six times.

The young Cushing elbowed his way into acting by bombarding provincial reportory theatres with letters until he was accepted. With boundless optimism, he then left virtually penniless for Hollywood in 1939. His determination paid off, winning him enough roles to keep penury at bay, including a stint with Laurel and Hardy on “A Chump at Oxford.” On return to England, he appeared in London’s West End, in Laurence Olivier’s film “Hamlet,” and then toured with Olivier and Vivien Leigh to Australia. Next came a big following on

British television for assorted dramatic roles.

International recognition followed with the line of Hammer films. He played Sherlock Holmes 16 times and six times he appeared as Professor van Helsing, the intrepid Victorian gentleman who drove a stake through Dracula’s heart. Perhaps his best known role after that was as Moff Tarkin, the captain of the Death Ship in the hugely successful space epic, “Star Wars.”

Cushing was once asked what effect his Frankenstein and Sherlock Holmes portrayals might have on impressionable adolescent minds.

He concluded: “I shudder to think of the number of embryo mad scientists I may have engendered who could be skulking around the countryside in search of human limbs in order to string them together like some monstrous Do-It-Yourself kit A hairraising thought / "On the other hand, there could be some less-gruesomely occupied, wearing deer stalker hats, smoking a pipe and carrying magnifying glasses.”