Reading about cinematographer/director Freddie Francis in film
publications, you could come to the conclusion he was a Jekyll
and Hyde-character: Depending if the magazine is high brow or
fan-operated, he is either described as a brilliant director of photography
who only worked with the best but who had a shameful past in horror
cinema, or he was a likeable to borderline ingenious genre director who
after the decline and eventual demise of British horror cinema had to
shoulder a camera to make a few bucks ... and eventually he won an Oscar
(his second) rather by chance. The truth of course lies
somewhere in-between: Even before his career as a (genre) director,
Francis had made himself quite a reputation as a director of photography
and had won his first Oscar. As he had worked his way up in the industry
from clapper boy, it was somehow inevitable that he would eventually land
in the director's chair - and for some reason or other, he soon became
attached to the horror genre (or did the genre become attached to him?).
But while his films were usually just genre fodder and could have profited
from better, more sophisticated, more original scripts (which is not to
say Francis' films were not pretty good as what they were), they were at
the same time almost flawless in the visual department, and effortlessly
managed to combine atmosphere and playfulness into a coherent whole. On
top of that, as a director (much more than as a cinematographer), Francis
had to see where he got the money from and what he got the money for, and
if that was primarily genre output for horror studios, so be it ... And
then there's of course the fact that (especially in his second career) as
cinematographer, not all the films he made were as high-brow as names like
David Lynch or Martin Scorsese might suggest: Sure, his films for Lynch (Elephant
Man [1980], Dune [1984], The Straight Story [1999]) are
all great films (even if genre fans love to hate Dune, probably
without even having seen it), but Cape Fear (1991) is not exactly
the film Scorsese will be forever remembered by, the Tom Selleck-Paulina
Porizkova-vehicle Her Alibi (1989, Bruce Beresford) and the Brooke
Shields-Timothy Dalton-starrer Brenda Starr (1989, Robert Ellis
Miller) are anything but classics, and even Francis' second Oscar film Glory
(1989, Edward Zwick) isn't totally kitsch-free - even if the shortcomings of
all of these films are hardly Freddie Francis's fault of course. But as
usual, I'm getting far ahead of myself, let's start at the beginning ...
Early Life, Early Career
Born in 1917 in Islington, London, England, Freddie Francis initially
set out to become an engineer. An essay he wrote at school about films of the future
which won him a
scholarship to the North-West Polytechnic in Kentish Town already
showed the shape of things to come though, and at 16 he dropped out of
school to become the apprentice of a stills photographer. He quickly rose
through the ranks, soon becoming a still photographer himself, then
clapperboy, camera loader and focus puller. In 1939, with the outbreak
of World War II, Freddie Francis joined the army, where he was soon
assigned to the Army Kinematograph Unit at Wembley as a cameraman and director,
which is where he truly learned all aspects of his trade. After
the end of the war, Freddie Francis returned to civilian life as a camera
operator, as which he soon rose to the top of his profession, working for
such big names as Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger (The Small Back
Room [1949], Gone to Earth/The Wild Heart and The
Elusive Pimpernel [both 1950], The Tales of Hoffmann [1951], Twice
Upon a Time [1953, this was a Pressburger-solo-effort], The
Sorcerer's Apprentice [1955, a Powell-solo-effort]), Carol Reed (Outcast
of the Island [1952]), John Huston (Moulin Rouge [1952], Beat
the Devil [1953]), and René Clément (Monsieur Ripois [1954]).
Freddie Francis,
Cinematographer - Part 1
With Francis excelling in his job
as a mere camera operator, it was only a question of time until he would
take the next step on the career ladder, becoming a cinematographer -
which meant of course having (a certain) creative control over the camerawork
instead of just holding the camera under someone else's command.
Francis'
career as a cinematographer sort of began with John Huston's Moby Dick
(1956), on which he still worked as a camera operator but also was the
director of photography of the second unit work.
Freddie Francis finally
came into his own as a director of photography in 1956 with A Hill in
Korea/Hell in Korea (Julian Amyes), a relatively routine war
movie that deserves mention mainly for giving a young Michael Caine his first credited film
role.
Francis's assignments soon got better though, with films like
Joseph Losey's Time Without Pity (1957), The Scamp (1957,
Wolf Rilla), Charles Crichton's The Battle of the Sexes (1959)
starring Peter Sellers, the Hammer
courtroom drama Never Take Sweets from a Stranger (1960, Cyril
Frankel) - Hammer
would become a very important studio later in Francis's career -, Saturday
Night and Sunday Morning (1960, Karl Reisz) and of course Sons and
Lovers (1960, Jack Cardiff), for which he won an Oscar for best (black
and white) cinematography.
(Arguably) More defining for his later
career than his Oscar-winner though must have been Jack Clayton's Henry
James-adaptation The Innocents (1961), Francis's introduction to
the horror genre, which he also considered his finest work up to then. By
the early 1960's, Freddie Francis had mastered the art of (black and
white) cinematography, for which his Oscar is of course only proof.
Francis' quality was that he did not just photograph whatever was thrown
at him, but use the camera and lighting to create atmosphere, and even
tension and suspense at times, in a word his visuals always served the
narrative as best as they could - and thus it was inevitable that Francis
would eventually take the next step and move into the director's chair,
circa 1962, and in the next almost 20 years, he would only return to
cinematography once, for Night Must Fall (1964), mainly out of
respect for that movie's director Karl Reisz.
Freddie Francis, Director - Part 1 (the
1960's) Especially in
hindsight, Freddie Francis' first film as a director seems to be an odd
choice, genre wise - the romantic comedy Two and Two Make Six
(1962), and later he himself admitted that he wasn't too happy with the
outcome, and didn't even like the script he was given all that much, yet
figured as the celebrated cinematographer that he was he could make
something worthwhile out of everything ... but sadly failed (which he also
later admitted). Two and Two Make
Six was (allegedly) followed by some uncredited additional work on Day
of the Triffids (1962, Steve Sekely), but there is no actual
record concerning the amount of Francis' work on that film, or even his
actual function, and since visually, Day
of the Triffids has little to do with Francis' other work, his
contribution probably was neglectable. The British/West German
co-production The Brain/Ein Toter sucht seinen Mörder
(1962) however was the first film in which Francis really showed his
mastery: Being based on Curt Siodmak's already twice-filmed novel Donavan's
Brain [Curt Siodmak bio -
click here], Francis turns his source material into an elegantly
filmed, atmospheric and suspenseful murder mystery with science fiction
undercurrents (a brain kept alive in a jar and the like), a film that
looks much better than its slightly pulpy script might suggest (though if
pulp horror is your thing, you will love the movie for its plot as well).
It should be noted here that Freddie Francis did not like to be
pigeonholed as a horror director, and did not have any particular
affinity to the genre (or so he said later in life) - but it's of course
also true that no other genre is in such need of atmosphere as horror,
thus his directorial style veered towards the genre almost naturally ...
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Francis' elegant and highly effective genre effort The Brain
caught the eyes of the heads of Hammer,
then the leading horror production house of the UK by a longshot, and it
wasn't long before Francis was offered two black and white thrillers by
the studio, at a time when the studio already filmed mostly in colour: Paranoiac
(1963) and Nightmare
(1964). Both of these films are very effective and again elegant
mysteries/suspense pieces that Hammer
made at the time besides their more famous gothics to cash in on the success of Alfred Hitchcock's Psycho
(1960). Of course, neither of these films was any real competition on a
quality level to Hitchcock's classic, but they were very decent genre
efforts nevertheless.
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Hammer
also assigned Freddie Francis to make his first colour film, The
Evil of Frankenstein, later in 1964 - and Francis created a quite
passable film, too, injecting black humour and a certain light-footedness
into one of the studio's signature series ... which is exactly why in the
eyes of many (not in my eyes though), The
Evil of Frankenstein is pretty much a failure and Freddie Francis
a lesser director than Terence Fisher [Terence
Fisher bio - click here], who has made the Frankenstein-saga
into one of Hammer's
hottest properties with Curse
of Frankenstein (1957).
The truth lies somewhere else of course: Fisher was always dead serious
about his horror films, which almost invariably revolved around big
subjects like good-vs-evil, and his direction, while elegant, was also
very straightforward as if to emphasize on that.
Freddie Francis on the other hand was above all else a very visual,
less story-driven director, and especially with his transition into
colour, he also became very playful, stylistically, and often his movies
used circus-, sideshow- and carneval-elements, which in turn of course
made the films much more light-hearted than Fisher's, and while he was
able to create atmosphere just as well as Fisher, his emphasis was more
diffuse and less focussed on the very central themes of humanity.
That's not to say though that The
Evil of Frankenstein is a better film than Fisher's Curse
of Frankenstein, because it clearly isn't, it's just to explain
that these two directors had very little (but their signature genre) in
common and why Terence Fisher found his home in Hammer
while Francis eventually moved on to put his stamp on another British
horror studio's output, Amicus
[Amicus history - click here]
- but more about that below.
Before Freddie Francis moved to Amicus,
he made a film for German production company Rialto,
Das Verrätertor/Traitor's Gate (1964), part of the studio's
Edgar
Wallace-series - and one of the few films of the series
actually co-produced with a British production house. Traitor's Gate
however is not one of Francis' better films, as though scripted by
Francis' frequent collaborator at Hammer,
Jimmy Sangster, was a bit of a convoluted mess on a narrative level, plus Rialto
put too much of their own stylistic seal onto the film to allow Francis
much creative freedom, plus the film being a heist movie, Francis was a
bit of a fish out of water.
After Traitor's Gate
though, Francis would make the film that
would ultimately become his signature film - but first a little background
information: In the early 1960's, American film producers Milton Subotsky and Max
J. Rosenberg
came to the UK to relocate their operations here for both artistic and
financial reasons. Eventually, they founded a studio called Amicus
[Amicus history - click here]
and produced a handful of musicals for the teen-market, which were not
exactly failures but also no big successes both on an artistic and on a
financial level. But the early-to-mid 1960's were also the time when rival
studio Hammer
was putting out one horror movie after the next, all to great audience
approval. Subotsky, who was in charge of the artistic aspects of Amicus,
had always been a fan of the macabre, and he figured he could come up with
something that could at once cash in on the success Hammer
had with its horror output and be different enough in approach to not be a
mere cash-in. Always having been a fan of short stories with
surprise/twist endings, Subotsky resurrected the concept of the horror
anthology (or omnibus
movie, as the Amicus-anthologies
came to be known), which was besides all else something Hammer
had never tried. Of course, Subotsky also did not want to stray too far
from the usual Hammer-productions
with his concept either, thus several Hammer-regulars
were hired, first and foremost of course Peter Cushing and Christopher
Lee, and a prolific Hammer-director
was brought in to handle the direction ... which of course leads us back
to Freddie Francis.
Freddie Francis was probably the perfect choice to handle omnibus
movies, given his light-footed and playful approach to
directing, his attention to macabre detail rather big themes and even his
predilection for circus, sideshow and carneval elements.
The first omnibus
movie - and arguably also the best - was called Dr.
Terror's House of Horrors (1965), an extremely likeable and highly
entertaining mix of genre clichés ranging from voodoo to vampires,
werewolves to climbing plants, framed by a story of Death himself (Peter
Cushing) taking a quintet of train passengers to the beyond, and it was at
least in part Freddie Francis' achievement that the film became quite as
good as it was, a light-hearted yet macabre and at times even ironic
journey through genre mainstays.
With Hysteria (1965), Francis returned to Hammer
for another black-and-white thriller pretty much in tune with Paranoiac
and Nightmare, but
with Dr.
Terror's House of Horrors it had already become clear that
Francis had found his creative home with Amicus
(though he never worked for that studio exclusively).
Amicus,
it should be noted here, would eventually become famous first and foremost
for their omnibus
movies (and for a good reason), but after Dr.
Terror's House of Horrors, the studio did not immediately embrace
the formula but had Francis try his hands on a handful of movies with
feature length narratives, covering the various subgenres of horror:
- The Skull (1965) is
a supernatural thriller in which Peter Cushing plays a collector of
macabre memorabilia who falls victim to his latest acquisition, the
skull of Marquis
de Sade.
- The Psychopath (1966) is essentially a murder mystery with
horror elements.
- The animal horror The
Deadly Bees (1967) was quite obviously inspired by Alfred
Hitchcock's The Birds
(1963), and even if Hitchcock's film is slightly overrated, Francis'
film is no match for it.
- They Came
from Beyond Space (1967) is an a tad silly and at best so-so
alien invasion flick - and science fiction never was either Amicus'
or Freddie Francis' strength to begin with.
Now none of these films was an actual box office failure or an artistic
disaster, but they were of varying quality, and while they helped
establish Amicus
as the only serious competition to Hammer
considering horror movies and pigeonhole Freddie Francis as a horror
director (something he was not too happy about), they're at the same time
no classics, and deservedly so, and the fact that most of them have been
re-issued countless times on video and DVD is more due to nostalgia than
due to their actual status in cinema history.
In 1967 though, Amicus
decided to dust off its (by now only 2 years old) omnibus
horror formula and give Freddie Francis another crack at
making a horror anthology - Torture
Garden.
This time, Francis' love for sideshows becomes even more apparent as
the whole framing story (basically the devil predicting the macabre deaths
of a bunch of people) is set in one. Perfectly acted and directed in
Francis' usual light-footed and playful style, Torture
Garden is nevertheless no match for Dr.
Terror's House of Horrors, mainly due to a terribly uneven script
by the much overrated Robert Bloch (who by the way also had his hands in
the writing of Francis' The Skull,
The Psychopath and The
Deadly Bees). Nevertheless, Torture
Garden is still good fun to say the least.
In the latter part of the 1960's though, British horror was
increasingly losing momentum, which is why Francis did not make another
film for Amicus
for the rest of the decade, and the studio itself turned its
attentions away from horror for the most part (but with little success [Amicus history - click here]).
Francis in the meantime returned to Hammer,
turning out a passable yet less than great series film, Dracula has
Risen from Grave (1968), with which he took another series over from
Terence Fisher [Terence
Fisher bio - click here], against whom he would again lose out in
direct comparison (but direct comparison only).
Francis also tried his hands on slapstick comedy with the dialogue-free
short The Intrepid Mr. Twigg (1968) starring Roy Castle, but with
his signature genre on (temporary) decline, Francis soon turned his
attention to television, directing episodes of such series as Man in
a Suitcase (1967, '68), The Saint (1967, '69)
starring Roger Moore and The Champions (1968), but his
television efforts of the time are uniformly less than memorable.
 
Freddie Francis, Director - Part
2 (the 1970's)
The 1960's might not have ended on a memorable note for Freddie Francis
the director, but his first film of the 1970's is all but more of the
same: Mumsy, Nanny, Sonny and
Girly/Girly
(1970) is a deliciously weird, bizarre, absurd, even surreal film that's
basically about a family of homicidal maniacs trying to lead a picture
postcard perfect life - and even when the family members start to murder
each other over a man (Michael Bryant), they do their best to keep up
appearances. Now this film is based on a wonderful play by Maisie Mosco,
is possibly the best-scripted film Francis ever made, and could have been
his break away from the horror mold and into the arthouses all around the
world - but the outcome is a film that shows above all Francis'
shortcomings as a director: Sure enough he delivers a competent job and
does not stand in the way of his movie's plot, and he obviously knows how
to handle his excellent cast - but his directorial effort is also very
conventional and a bit old-fashioned concerning the outrageousness of the
screenplay even ... and thus he does pretty much nothing to enhance the
other-worldliness of the film, instead treats it like a typical thriller
with spots of black humour. That all said, Girly
is still a pretty good film, but it is not the masterpiece it could/should
have been ...
If Girly
was a highlight in Francis' career though, his very next film, Trog
(1970), was quite the opposite: There is nothing of the weirdness, the
absurdity, the arthouse ambitions that made Girly
into something unique in Trog,
instead we are presented with the silly tale of the missing link come back to
life in the 20th century and the attempts of a doctor (Joan Crawford,
whose last film this was) to tame the beast - until it of course goes on a
rampage thanks to baddie Michael Gough and has to be shot. That the film
was produced by schlockmeister Herman Cohen of I Was a Teenage Werewolf
(1957, Gene Fowler jr) fame should already speak for itself, and as soon
as you see the cheap rubber-apemask the missing link is wearing, you
pretty much know what you're in for. The problems with the film are not
only the basic premise and the bad monster mask though, but also the fact
that it takes itself way too seriously and tries to make up a (completely
phony) scientific background to carry its tale, an attempt that is almost ridiculous
- but unfortunately only almost.
While Trog
bordered what could be considered as funny (in an unintentional way
though), the German erotic vampire movie Gebissen
wird nur Nachts/The
Vampire Happening (1971) lacked all and any humour - too bad then that it was intended as a comedy. It would be a mistake though to (only)
blame Freddie Francis for that movie's failure though, as the Germans in
general had an impressive track record in producing unfunny sex comedies
of any genre in the 1970's, and this of course is no exception. At least
Francis is able to create some kind of creepy atmosphere, lead actress Pia
Degermark is very sexy, and Ferdy Mayne from Roman Polanski's The
Fearless Vampire Killers (1966) puts in another fun vampire
performance. This all doesn't add up to much, but it's better than nothing
I guess - not much better though.
Tales
from the Crypt (1972) was somewhat of a return to old form:
Produced by Amicus
[Amicus history - click here],
the film - an adaptation of the comicbook by the same name published in
the 1950's by William Gaines' EC
Comics, probably the most (and only)
influential horror comics to this day - was a return to Amicus' omnibus
format, a format perfectly suited to Francis directorial style
(as mentioned above). Suffice to say, the resulting movie did not
disappoint ... With Tales that Witness Madness
(1973)
Francis returned to the omnibus format yet again, but this time away from Amicus
(World
Film Services provided production), and to put it quite flatly,
this is not one of the better horror anthologies, on one hand because the
market was already over-saturated with the format (rival Amicus
put out no less than 5 [!] omnibus
movies of their own between 1971 and 1973), on the other hand
though, the film, scripted by actress Jennifer Jayne under an alias, was
really badly written.
1973 also saw the only collaboration between
Freddie Francis and Tigon, the third biggest British horror studio behind Hammer
and Amicus
with The Creeping Flesh.
The Creeping Flesh
was an anomaly even upon release: It would have perfectly fitted Hammer's
production catalogue from roughly 10 years earlier (and not only because
of Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee in the leads), but in the early
1970's, this period piece about an absent-minded scientist (Cushing), his
mad daughter (Lorna Heilbron), his ruthless half-brother (Lee), an asylum
and an evil super-Neanderthal seems totally out of time, and the film's
script is probably the worst Francis ever had to work with, even more
stupid than the likes of Trog
or The
Vampire Happening. However, this time around, Francis shows his
true class as a filmmaker, and helped by a brilliant cast, he turns an
utterly silly story into an atmospheric, even exciting piece of genre
cinema, a bit old-fashioned perhaps, but not in a bad way.
While The Creeping Flesh
was conventional though, maybe even a bit too conventional, Francis' next
film Son of Dracula
(1974) was outrageous - or at least supposed to be outrageous. Produced by
Ringo Starr, Son of
Dracula tells the story of Dracula's
son (Harry Nilsson), a rock musician, who refuses to become the king of
the netherworld because he loves a mortal woman (Suzanna Leigh). The film
also throws Merlin
the Magician (Ringo Starr), Van
Helsing (Dennis Price) and Frankenstein
(Freddie Jones) into what's supposed to be a crazy mix - only it isn't,
because while the film is of a likeable anything goes mentality, it
is on one hand not at all funny, on the other it's also really badly
written ... and this time around, Francis was not able to turn a bad script
around. A pity, really, because with its mix of horror, comedy and rock
music, the film was ahead of its time, the two classics of the genre-mix, Phantom
of Paradise (1974, Brian De Palma) and Rocky Horror Picture Show
(1975, Jim Sharman), were both released only after this one (if not long
after).
Son of Dracula
proved that outrageousness was probably not Francis' thing, but with Craze
(1974), he proved that he could at least still competently handle a
supernatural thriller (not that anyone doubted that). The film about Jack
Palance as a nutty antiques collector possessed by an African idol that
makes him kill women might be a bit on the trashy, even silly side, but
Francis direction is competent enough in a slightly old-fashioned way to
turn this into an enjoyable and entertaining piece of horror cinema.
And
speaking of old-fashioned - in 1975, Freddie Francis made 2 movies for his
son Kevin's production company Tyburn, Legend of the Werewolf and The
Ghoul/Night of the Ghoul, both films starring Peter Cushing, and
both films reminiscent
of the kind of movies Hammer
produced about 10 years earlier. Of course, the films seemed out of time
in the mid-1970's and did not do great business (though they didn't bomb
either), but from today's point of view they are quite enjoyable at least
as pieces of nostalgia.
Around the mid-1970's, the age of
British horror has come to an end, the genre was dead and most of the
companies that once delivered shockers by the dozens like Hammer,
Amicus and
Tigon
- all of which Francis had worked for at one time or another -
were either out of business or on hiatus. Thus, Freddie Francis turned to
television once more, a medium he has worked on the side for even in the
early 1970's when he still had a feature film career (The Adventures of
Black Beauty [1972 - 74]). Now, Francis was assigned to handle
several episodes of the series Star Maidens, a science
fiction series starring Pierre Brice [Pierre
Brice bio - click here] and Dawn Addams about a female-led
society and all the problems that arise from that. The series was of
course slightly silly and campy in that typical 1970's kind of way, but
entertaining from today's point of view for exactly those reasons. However,
working for television was hardly to Francis' tastes and didn't do justice
to his talent neither, so with the horror film industry dried up he returned to
what he according to many did best anyways ...
Freddie Francis,
Cinematographer - Part 2
Francis' return to cinematography
can be described as pretty much triumphant, as he got offered a great film
(and perennial favourite) right away: David Lynch's The Elephant Man
(1980). Sure, Lynch was not the cult figure back in 1980 that he is now,
having only directed one feature so far, the midnight movie crowd
favourite Eraserhead
(1976), but it was clear even back then that Lynch was a man with a
vision, and one that could be given control over a mainstream project
(back in the day, the mainstream was considerably more open to true
artists than it is nowadays). A special bonus for Freddie Francis
concerning Elephant Man was of course that it was filmed in black
and white, a rarity by 1980 but still Francis' preferred medium - and
Francis doesn't disappoint, supporting Lynch's genuine vision with
impressive, often haunting images. Lynch and Francis hit it off pretty
well too on Elephant Man, which is why Lynch would ask Francis back
time and again over the years. Plus, the film also earned Francis several awards, like the Best Cinematography Award
from the British
Society of Cinematographers.
After Elephant Man, Francis
reunited with Karl Reisz, with whom he did a couple of films in the
1960's, for The French Lieutnant's Woman (1981), a film that earned
Francis even more awards, including another Best Cinematography Award by
the British Society of Cinematographers and a BAFTA-nomination
for Best Cinematography.
Of course, over the years, not
all movies Francis worked on were as prestigious and indeed ambitious as
the two above. Lesser films he worked on included the made-for-TV Norman
Mailer-adaptation The Executioner's Song (1982, Lawrence Schiller),
the espionage thriller The Jigsaw Man (1983, Terence Young)
starring Michael Caine, the interesting yet less-than-perfect Peter
Ustinov-vehicle Memed My Hawk (1984, Peter Ustinov), the espionage
thriller Code Name Emerald (1985, Jonathan Sanger) starring Ed
Harris and Max Von Sydow, the tearjerker Clara's Heart (1988,
Robert Mulligan) starring Whoopi Goldberg, and above mentioned Tom Selleck-Paulina
Porizkova-vehicle Her Alibi (1989, Bruce Beresford) as well as the Brooke
Shields-Timothy Dalton-starrer Brenda Starr (1989, Robert Ellis
Miller).
Sure, Francis' camerawork is decent in all of these
films, but they're hardly memorable. The two films though that stand out
of Francis' films from the 1980's (apart from those mentioned at the
beginning of this chapter) are Dune
(1984), David Lynch's decidedly weird big budget science fiction epic
based on the novel by Frank Herbert, in
which Francis once again proved to be Lynch's congenial partner when it
comes to bring the latter's vision to the big screen, and Glory
(1989, Edward Zwick), the film that earned Francis his second Oscar
as a cinematographer, but that was arguably a triple Oscar-winner for its
political content - it's about an all-black company in the US-American
Civil War - rather than its actual artistic quality. Again, not that there
was anything wrong with Francis' cinematography in the film, quite the
opposite, but it's hardly among his more visionary work either.
The
1990's, above all else, brought more work on less-than-special mvoies,
like the made-for-TV movie The Plot to Kill Hitler (1990, Lawrence
Schiller), which is about just that, the sugar-coated coming-of-age movie The
Man in the Moon (1991, Robert Mulligan) that saw Reese Witherspoon in an early role, the teen-drama School Ties
(1992, Robert Mandel) starring Brandon Fraser and Chris O'Donnell and
featuring Matt Damon and Ben Affleck in early roles, the
made-for-television David Mamet-adaptation A Life in the Theater
(1993, Gregory Mosher) starring Matthew Broderick and Jack
Lemmon, and the period piece Princess Caraboo (1994, Michael
Austin).
Only 3 films of Francis' 1990's output deserve
special mention for one reason or another:
- Cape Fear (1991) has Francis working with master director
Martin Scorsese for the one and only time, and Scorsese praised
Francis' intuitive understanding of suspense and atmosphere, something
Francis might have learned more about in his days as director than as
cinematographer, ironically. All that said though, it also has to be
noted that Cape Fear, a remake of J.Lee Thompson's 1962 film of
the same name, was not one of Scorsese's better films despite pitting
Robert De Niro against Nick Nolte and giving Juliette Lewis her first
chance to shine. Still, at least Francis' camerawork is on point.
- The family movie Rainbow (1995, Bob Hoskins) deserves special
mention merely for the fact that it was (alegedly) the first
theatrical feature to be shot on digital video and then transferred
onto 35 mm film ... quite an experiment for an established
cinematographer well in his 70's, right?
- The Straight Story (1999) finally, Francis' final film,
reunited him with David Lynch to photograph one of the directors most
unusual films - a road movie about an old man going on a 300 mile
roadtrip on a lawnmower. By the time this movie was made, Francis was
alredy in his early 80's, and maybe it's fitting that this movie about
ageing would become his last ever, but it probably was all the more
fitting that his last movie was directed by David Lynch, an eccentric
director to say the least, with whom Francis always corresponded
extremely well - which proves above everything else the almost
unrivalled mastery Francis has put into his craft.
Freddie Francis, Director - Part
3 and Fade-Out
That the British horror film had pretty much died in the mid- to late
1970's Freddie Francis had returned to cinematography in 1980 did not mean
he turned his back on directing completely, he made two more features in
the 1980's actually, the Burke
and Hare-tale Doctor and the Devils (1985) starring
Timothy Dalton and based on a screenplay by famed playwright Dylan Thomas,
and Dark Tower (1987, a film later finished by Ken Wiederhorn), a ghost
story set in a skyscraper. Neither of these two films was on par though
with Francis' better output from the 1960's and 70's, and both are
considered as Francis' lesser efforts nowadays, and deservedly so. For
the small screen, Freddie Francis directed a couple of episodes of Sheldon
Reynolds' Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson with Geoffrey Whitehead
and Donald Pickering in the leads in 1980. It was another series though
that brought Freddie Francis to full circle - well, sort of, and primarily
in writing: In 1996, Freddie Francis directed Last Respects, an
episode of the seventh and final season of the American TV-series Tales
from the Crypt - which seems kind of fitting since Francis also
directed the comicbook's first big screen adaptation Tales
from the Crypt in 1972 (see above). However, the new American
series had little in common with the Britisch movie from 20+ years ago,
and Francis' episode failed to really hit it off with contemporary
audiences and was actually considered one of the lesser episodes of the
series. Freddie Francis retired from filmmaking as both
director and cinematographer in the late 1990's, and deservedly so, he was
well into his 80's and had quite a string of achievements to look back on.
He died aged 89 in 2007 in Middlesex, England, leaving the world with a
rich if uneven heritage of films ranging from the weird to the wonderful,
the well-crafted to the almost visionary, the trashy to the masterful.
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