Psychomania (1973) Black Magic, Low Budgets and glorious British camp (Review)

Rational thought is the last thing in the world you should bring to B-movies, so much so it’ll be difficult to even pass the title card of Psychomania – the latest release on BFI’s wonderful Flipside brand – before the hokum hits the fan. Don Sharp (Rasputin, the Mad Monk) tells the tale of black magic and occultism in 1970s upper-class England. Setting the scene is something that scriptwriters Arnaud d’Usseau & Julian Zimet had next to no interest in, instead opting to jump straight into this bewildering pool of ideas in which Nicky Henson stars as Tom Latham, son of Mrs Latham (Beryl Reid) – occultist and psychic medium – who lives with her equally mysterious butler Shadwell (George Sanders). Tom’s second family sees him lead a violent and over-zealous biker gang called the Living dead.

This is when any notion is rationale is discarded after a mere five minutes. This occult manor house is home to more than Shadwell and the Latham’s, there is also the idea that if you kill yourself there is a way that you can come back as an immortal, both with super strength and impervious to harm. After a bizarre vision from a mirror, it turns out that the way to achieve this is to kill yourself safe in the belief that you know you’ll be coming back to life soon after. A second of hesitation and the only thing waiting is death.

Ignoring how incredibly dangerous a message that is: this concept gave birth to one of the most iconic images of 1970s British cinema in which Nicky Henson drives his motorbike from his grave, exploding from the ground. After his resurrection, Tom (Henson) tenaciously convinces his gang to follow his lead and commit suicide; these scenes are offset by an ineffectual police investigation fronted by Robert Hardy trying to solve the spate of murders caused by the literal Living Dead.

Sharp made his name directing for Hammer Horror, who coincidentally is the perfect reference point for this BFI Flipside release. If such an audacious and dark concept was developed in any other country at any other point in time and the result would be awfully bleak; the 1960s and 70s in England were very different, Sharp’s film is a few shades darker than that which made Ealing such enduring success with a few decades prior. For this in practice, look no further than the means the gang uses to terrorize their community and how that positions them and their skeleton helmets within the wider canon of cinematic biker gangs. While they do murder without remorse, eventually, before that they tease people on the local high street like a Dennis the Menace would – chasing, pushing people over who are carrying bread, largely being nuisances. This is biker gangs and black magic as channelled through those cheeky seaside postcards of yore.

For many counter-culture means rallying against ‘the man’ and a key part of that is music. Other youth orientated films of the time opted for broad pop numbers, effectively dating a movie the second the popular trends subside for the next to take its place. Psychomania opted for psychedelic rock and while that was rendered unfashionable by the then upcoming punk rock, there is still accessibility to the psychotropic end of rock music whereby it’s still popular to this day. John Cameron composed the score and for the most part, it’s typical 1970 psychedelics, save for one scene.

Tom’s funeral is in key with what the biker gang wants rather than kowtowing to any of the establishment’s traditions, keeping up their proto-punk designs, even going as far as abandoning the coffin. Part of this final act of rebellion has one member of the gang, Chopped Meat (Miles Greenwood) sat by a tree with an acoustic guitar singing a folk song about how Tom was a true renegade who will never be understood. Surreal may be the incontrovertible rod by which Psychomania is ruled, nevertheless, that scene is out of place. The trick with surrealism is if there isn’t a consistent character the oddities can easily stray into the nonsensical. Luckily any wild tonal deviations in Psychomania are confined to this one instant.

In the extras, Nicky Henson explains why the film all takes place during the day despite it including things like black magic, murder and biker gangs. And, if cinema has taught us anything, those are activities that take place under the all consuming cover of night. In Henson’s interview, he states that he was in a play nearby at night, so the only time he or any of his fellow cast members was available was during daylight hours. This is kind of a perfect summing up of Psychomania, it’s cheap, badly edited and has members of the same gang wearing different costumes – not what we’d expect from a biker gang. Yet, despite all that, it was done with all the enthuasiasm in the world and it’s that which makes this such a fun little low-budget oddity.

Far from ill-intent, nonsense is honestly the best word to describe Psychomania and 90% of those films aligned to the midnight movie idea. Whether it’s the inconsistencies of the gang’s outfits, the fantastical displayed through less-than-stellar editing or any of its other incongruities, it ultimately matters little to the newest addition to the Flipside roster. File Psychomania in the same class of entertainment as classic Dr Who, Blaxploitation and Hammer horror and all will become clear. Its action may be badly framed and its supporting actor’s performances inflated but the worst thing that could ever be said about Don Sharp’s stupendously silly re-appropriation of British folklore is that is joyously good fun.

Thanks for reading our review of Psychomania

For more Movie talk, check out our podcast CINEMA ECLECTICA