Christopher Lee: In Memoriam

Saying goodbye is never easy for me, especially when it concerns those I admire so. I recall this deep sorrow when Karen Black died, and right now as I write, I wish I could provide the kind of write-up for Lee that truly emphasizes the true appreciation and admiration I have for him. You often read the cliche of I wouldn't be the horror fan I am today if it wasn't for so and so, but Lee is one of those that exemplifies this for me significantly. Although I didn't realize it until I watched Jess Franco's Count Dracula (his answer to Hammer that he could make a film just as atmospheric, moody, and gothic), where Lee could take the famous vampire and make him a completely different character, I had two visions of the legendary character. Lugosi and Lee are the two actors I most identify with Dracula. Both have a similar suave and debonair quality, but Lee was such a towering pillar of menace. He just seemed to stand so tall and emerge so feral, like this animal that if provoked was a beast uncaged. Oh, and Lee could make him stoic and enigmatic as much as primal and forceful. But in Franco's film I saw Lee in a whole different light. He made him so old, weary, vulnerable, sullen, and morose. It was great to see Lee take the character that seemed so erotic and empowering and humble him into a vampire longing to return to a form he once was but had long fallen to age and ruination.

I recall this thrill I had when I got a chance to see Lee as Sherlock Holmes in Sherlock Holmes and the Deadly Necklace, only to realize his voice was replaced by another. It is kind of like when you feel as if you found the holy grail only for the gold to be scratched away revealing lead. His distinctive voice is important at times (just listening to another voice during Deadly Necklace had me yearning to hear Lee as this world famous literary hero), not others. Often many had felt Dracula: Prince of Darkness was not even needing him, but I laugh at such nonsense. Just five or ten minutes of Lee's charismatic, intimidating presence is worth its weight in rubies, I have always felt.

I miss the days when certain actors--real, legitimate stars--were prominent in horror. It went from the Cushings, Lees, and Karloffs of horror to Michael Myers, Freddy Krueger, and Jason Voorhees. There is just something special about seeing specific names showing up so often in one horror film after another. Or sci-fi even, but fun genre films which could exploit their star power. Even in the likes of Nothing but the Night or To Devil, a Daughter, to see a Cushing or Lee, or Herbert Lom in the credits gave me hope of something quite special or substantial.

But what truly surprised me as a horror fan was how Lee could free himself from the box of typecast boogeyman when he starred as the hero in The Devil Rides Out. It allowed Charles Gray (a memorable Bond villain) to shine as the villain with Lee proving he could alternate if needed. It proved how prolific an actor he could be.

And he has been in so many different types of roles, which I think solidified his stature beyond just Dracula or a Hammer monster. I often think back to that scene in Curse of Frankenstein when Lee's Monster has been lobotomized, chained and pathetic. A shell of human waste and Lee had taken this character from a shambling, disoriented beast of a man in tattered clothes and crippled cerebral function, a threat to any man he might come in contact with, if just out of protective instinct, and showed him as a ruined mess of flesh and blood. He took the character from one place and allowed to see him in another once Cushing's mad scientist tinkered with him some more. What I always loved about the pairing of Cushing and Lee--a pair I cherish with each movie I watch with them, a smile in my heart pumping with great joy just seeing them together--was how the two could complement each other in either villain and hero or vice versa. That is why I think Cushing's passing left a great void.

Now Lee is gone, but what a fruitful life this man had. He leaves behind quite a body of work and generations were able to see him, grow up with him. He made bad films that seemed to be enhanced just because he was in them (Howling II or The Curse III), and cool appearances that only endeared him to genre fans once again (Lord of the Rings movies, or especially Gremlins II).

The final member of the Long Shadows cast to pass.

His legacy is secured, and I truly believe future generations are due to experience this man at his best (and worse, I'm sure) and be in awe as I was as a kid watching all those bloody Hammer films. To see him in the Amicus tales and just whatever European horror film (The Torture Chamber of Dr. Sadism, or The Wicker Man, Castle of the Living Dead or City of the Dead) he decided to star in during the early "horror years once he's established as a star worth pursuing" is a treat because there's so much for any horror fan to discover due to the sheer volume of work left behind.

Hell, I haven't even watched many of his Fu Manchu movies and I can look through his filmography and spot movies still unwatched and of interest to me (Dark Places, The Bloody Judge, Island of the Burning Damned). And that is a great thing: to know that I can still see movies for the first time with Lee as the star. Rasputin, the Mummy Kharis, and even a version of Dr. Jeckyl and Mr. Hyde, and so many other type of literary and historical figures, a litany of roles left behind for us to consume and be reminded of what he contributed to the horror genre I so love and treasure.