Anyone with an interest in horror movies probably knows something about "Hammer horror", the strain of movies put out by the English production house for some twenty years beginning in the 1950s, which produced its own versions of the classic Universal monster films and made cult stars of such actors as Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee. Hammer had its own wayward, dark cousin--the films made in the 1960s and 1970s by Amicus Studios, which might easily have been mistaken for Hammer product by twitchy-eyed buffs on a misspent matinee weekend, or later, by kids parked in front of the TV on a Saturday. As Will Hodgkinson recalls, Amicus was the result of a handshake deal between "a socially inept scriptwriter called Milton Subotsky and a fast-talking hustler called Max J Rosenberg". Subotsky was the hands-on, on-set presence during the company's salad days. Everyone who met him seems to remember him as a very sweet man and a bit of a social misfit and oddball--which kind of figures, very sweet men being in short supply in film production circles. Ironically, he is also remembered as a true horror buff, in contrast the the bosses at Hammer, who happened to find a commercial niche and beat it into an assembly line. "Had it dealt in garbage disposal," the director Freddie Francis once said, "it would have been just as successful." And Subotsky, Hodgkinson writes, was "driven by a deep-rooted hatred for Hammer. In 1956, Hammer had rejected a script he wrote called Frankenstein and the Monster, only to go on and have huge success with a similarly themed film called The Curse of Frankenstein. To Rosenberg, this proved there was money in British horror movies. To Subotsky, the gauntlet had been thrown down." It must have pleased him considerably to feel that he was eating into Hammer's market share, making films pitched to Hammer's audience that sometimes featured actors who were identified with Hammer, such as Cushing and Lee, while telling interviewers that his own stuff was better.
While Subotsky wrote scripts and hung out on sets overseeing the filming and driving the directors crazy, Rosenberg stayed in America, cutting distribution deals and shoveling money across the Atlantic. Not that he shoveled in great quantities; Amicus gave their movies a top-grade look while pinching pennies by hiring actors, ranging from horror stalwarts such as Cushing, Lee, and Vincent Price to the likes of Jack Palance, Burgess Meredith, Denholm Elliott, Terry-Thomas, and Joan Collins, by hiring them for only a few days at a time. Their first real production, the 1965 Dr. Terror's House of Horrors (directed by Francis and written by Subotsky), was an anthology film, with five short stories contained in a wraparound framework with Cushing telling the fortunes of a group of men in a train car. (Subotsky claimed the idea was an homage to the 1945 omnibus film Dead of Night, Ealing Studio's classic fling with the horror genre.) Amicus would later turn out a string of horror-anthology movies, including three with scripts that Robert Bloch adapted from his own stories--Torture Garden (1967), The House That Dripped Blood (1970), and Asylum (1972)--as well as one, 1973's From Beyond the Grave (1973), that was derived from the ghost stories of R. Chetwynd-Hayes, and two, Tales from the Crypt (1972), with Ralph Richardson as the Crypt Keeper, and The Vault of Horror (1973), based on classic EC horror comics. (Comics freaks might almost think of Amicus as the movie equivalent of Warren Publishing to Hammer's EC.) The company almost made one or two unsuccessful stabs at penetrating the art house market, hiring William Friedkin to film the Harold Pinter play The Birthday Party. But Subotsky also had his pragmatic, philistine-studio-boss side; he wrote an ambitious version of the Jekyll-and-Hyde story called I, Monster and demanded that the director, Stephen Weeks, make it in 3-D, despite the fact that "the sets had been built the wrong way round. The script called for the action to go from left to right, but the building lines went the other way." But when the money ran out with the picture unfinished, Subotsky "simply told Weeks to cut whatever scenes he had filmed into something resembling a finished movie. The film was released to terrible reviews - but, like most Amicus films, it made a profit."
According to Hodkinson, Subotsky ended up walking away from the company "for reasons that remain unclear", just when it was branching out into adventure fantasies based on the works of Tarzan's creator. "In 1975, the studio released an adaptation of Edgar Rice Burroughs' lost-world adventure The Land That Time Forgot. It had proved a difficult film to shoot: its star, Doug McClure, was drinking heavily after the collapse of his marriage, while Subotsky was rumoured to be spending more time at Hamleys buying toys than running the studio. His only real involvement with the production was to turn up at a screening with his four-year-old-son, announce that the boy could tell there were men inside the dinosaur suits, and leave." Amicus produced a sequel called The People That Time Forgot (1977) as well as At the Earth's Core (1976), which is best remembered by some of us eternal adolescents for the way that the leading lady, Caroline Munro, really filled out her me-Jane costume, but by then Subotsky was long gone. After working as a producer on one more horror omnibus, 1977's The Uncanny (a linked series of story with the common theme that cats secretly run the world--I didn't know it was supposed to be a secret), the 1980 TV miniseries The Martian Chronicles, and a number of Stephen King-based properties (including King's sole directing job, Maximum Overdrive), he died in 1991. Rosenberg died in 2004. Two years ago, the company name was revived by producer Robert Katz; the first movie from the new Amicus Entertainment was last year's Stuck from director Stuart Gordon.