(The following first appeared in Weng’s Chop Cinema Magazine #12 and then in a different form in my book Terror Down Under: A History of Horror Film in Australia, 1897-1973. I have since re-edited and changed the article slightly, but that’s about it. This is the final form of the article.)
The following is copyright 2024 Daniel Best and cannot be reproduced without the permission of the author
1973 Night of Fear
If the last horror movie made in Australia was 1924’s Fisher’s Ghost, then it seemed apt that the first horror movie made after the bans were lifted would also be a silent film, for Night of Fear is notable for having truly little, if any, dialogue. Ironically enough, even though the ban on horror movies had been lifted, Night of Fear received its own ban, not for horror, rather for indecency.
As the 1970s began a new wave of Australian filmmakers began to sense the possibilities of making world class films without having to go overseas or resorting to importing actors to ensure overseas sales and distribution. Although the practice of importing talent still happened, there was more reliance upon local talent. Films such as The Naked Bunyip (1970 dir. John Murray), Stork (1971 dir Tim Burstall) and Homesdale (1971 dir Peter Weir) showed that Australians could make films that were uniquely Australian, yet still have international appeal. Talent from other countries were still courted by Australian producers, Ned Kelly (1970 die Tony Richardson), Wake in Fright[1] (1971 dir Ted Kotchoff) and Walkabout (1971 dir Nicholas Roeg) used both foreign directors and actors. Rolling Stones singer, Mick Jagger , and English actors Donald Pleasance and Jenny Agutter were featured in the movies mentioned.
A new breed of Australian born filmmakers was coming to the fore. Directors such as Bruce Beresford, George Miller, Peter Weir, Jim Sharman, Gillian Armstrong, Tim Burstall and Fred Schepisi all had full length feature film credits by 1973. Australian actors were also in demand with Jack Thompson, Graeme Blundell, Bruce Spence, Jackie Weaver, Barry Humphries, Barry Crocker, Judy Morris, John Meillon and more also striking out. This resurgence was predominately due to the emergence of the National Institute of Dramatic Art. Formed in 1958, NIDA, as it is called, nurtured a new generation of actors, writers, producers and directors, some of whom would go on to make their mark amongst the finest the world has seen[2]. Seeing the potential of the Australian scene, talent such as Chips Rafferty, Frank Thring, Charles ‘Bud’ Tingwell and Michael Pate were also heading back to realise projects.
It was an exciting time to be working in the Australian film industry. Into this excitement walked one of the more controversial figures of 1970s Australian cinema, Terry Bourke[3].
Depending on who you speak to, Terry Bourke was either an incredibly talented visionary or a devious, untalented conman. No matter his legacy, and how people saw him during his lifetime, the fact remains that Bourke did achieve more than some of peers. Despite now having a reputation of producing dross painted up as horror, he still has a strong following.
Terry Bourke wrote a lot of his own history. Some of it was true; some of it was embellished for effect and some of it appears to be outright lies. Separating fact from fiction when it comes to Bourke can be problematic. In his youth Bourke claimed to have been a professional boxer along with being babysitter to future INXS lead singer Michael Hutchence and his brother Rhett. He counted future playwright David Williamson as a childhood friend. He was a professional cyclist and a drummer of repute.
Bourke got his start in film whilst working as a correspondent in Hong Kong in the mid-1960s. His entry into the film industry came when he somehow (he never said how) managed to raise a sizable amount of money[4] to fund a Hong Kong film, Strange Portrait (1965, dir Jeffrey Stone). Bourke then claimed to have been employed by Robert Wise to work both as a production assistant and Steve McQueen’s minder during the filming of The Sand Pebbles. While there is a photograph of McQueen and Bourke from the set of that film, Bourke is never mentioned in any McQueen biography, which puts his later claim that he was a close family friend dubious, and his name is absent from the film’s credits[5].
(Steve McQueen & Terry Bourke on location for The Sand Pebbles)
In 1968 Bourke wrote, produced, and directed his first feature film, Sampan in Hong Kong. The movie attracted attention by being both the subject of censorship and, according to Bourke, being the most successful film in Hong Kong cinema for its time. Bourke moved to Guam and produced and directed another film, Noon Sunday (1968) before moving back to Australia in 1971, where he worked as a director for the television series Spyforce.
While in Guam, Bourke conceived the idea for a television series, which he titled Fright. He wrote a synopsis for a pilot episode, which he titled Night of Fear. Night of Fear was designed to be a short feature, no more than an hour’s running time, and with as little dialogue as possible. Stopping at LA on his way back to Australia, Bourke approached Roger Corman with his ideas of filming the series in the Philippines. Corman, sensing that Bourke was a tad reckless with other people’s money, quickly turned him down. That is if the meeting ever happened, we only have Bourke’s word that it did.
Upon his return to Australia, Bourke approached commercial television stations with the Fright concept, only to be rejected. At the time, Channel 0-10 was busy with the Deadly Earnest concept, which was now national and proving to be highly successful, ATN-7 had their own Creature Feature in place, in addition to the Outer Limits series and were looking at purchasing the rights to the American produced Ghost Stories series. The Nine network simply played horror and science fiction when it suited them. In summary all the commercial studios had invested in proven, and successful, concepts plus Bourke’s reputation of being a maverick preceded him.
Bourke’s contacts at the ABC proved to be his lifeline. A conversation with Moya Iceton, then working on continuity for Spyforce led Burke to pitch the series to the ABC. When the series was pitched to them, they tentatively accepted it and gave approval for the pilot to be filmed. This meant that Bourke now had funding and a professional crew, with a television network behind him. There was a bit of an obstacle which was only known to Bourke at the time. He had already sold Night of Fear.
In 1972 Bourke met film editor Roy Hay while they were both working on the series Spyforce. Hay was the opposite of Bourke, quiet and reserved where Bourne was loud and boisterous. The pair joined forces and formed a company, named Terryrod Productions. While Bourke was meeting with the ABC, Hay approached the Australian Film Development Corporation with the view of obtaining a grant which would see pre-production work begin on what was then being called Fright: Night of Fear. The AFDC gave assurances that the amount requested, $13,500, would be approved at the proper time if the film was released to cinemas.
The plot of Night of Fear was as simple as it got. A young woman, played by Carla Hoogeveen crashes her car on a lonely country road and is terrorised by a crazed hermit with rats for companions, played by Norman Yemm. It is a plot that had been used before, and has been used since, notably by The Texas Chain Saw Massacre and Wolf Creek. The film would be unique in that no dialogue would be spoken, making the quality of the actors, and their selling of their roles, extremely important. The film would not be silent though as people could be heard talking, a radio announcer is heard along with sound effects, ambient noise, music, grunts, and screams.
The use of the rats was deliberate. ‘For an Australian horror film to get up there was really no precedent, so we were trying to play off against an American precedent over here,’ Hay later said. ‘Our film in many ways played off Ben and Willard, which were also about rats at that stage, so we were sort of trying to capture a theme that had proved already successful.[6]‘
With the ABC still believing that the film was to the pilot of an on-going series, they assigned people to the project. The agreement was for the ABC to provide below-the-line costs in the form of crew, equipment, transportation, technical facilities for post-production and stage space. Bourke and Hay's costs would include raw stock, laboratory charges, sets, props, wardrobe, make-up supplies and catering. The ABC also gave approval for the film to be shot on location, as opposed to a studio set, and the film would be shot in 35mm colour, the rule for Australian television at the time was 16mm colour, often 16mm black and white. Keeping an eye on their investment was ABC executive producer Charles Russell, who would be working with Rod Hay. Terryrod would also pay Terry Bourke to both write and direct. Sensing an opportunity and still waiting for the money to come through from the AFDC, Bourke and Hay each pitched in $4,000 and began work.
Just how Bourke raised his half of the $8,000 is open to debate. In later years, people who knew Bourke would tell of how he would never invest his own money, instead he would borrow, beg, or just outright steal what he needed. In 2017, writer Richard Harris wrote an obituary of Bourke, in which director Brian Trenchard-Smith claimed of Bourke, ‘He still owes me $600 from Night of Fear![7]‘ The same article quotes Rod Hay talks of a large debt owed, and never repaid, by Bourke, as did actor Roger Ward. It is more than probably that Bourke never really invested in Night of Fear, instead he raised the money via loans, most of which were never paid back. Bourke and Hay then set about casting the film. None of the characters would have names; instead, they would be credited by the role they performed.
For the pivotal role, of the Hermit, veteran stage, film, and television actor Norman Yemm was cast. Yemm, a former athlete[8] turned actor, was a well-known face on Australian television, having appeared in featured roles in a number of television series, with his most notable work coming as a grizzled detective figure in both Homicide and Division 4. He had taken up television n work after his career as principal baritone for the Australian Opera Company had run its course in 1965.At the time of filming Night of Fear, Yemm was also about to appear in the classic Australian television series, Number 96. Night of Fear was not Yemm’s first movie, he had appeared, albeit briefly and unaccredited, as one of the submarine crew members in On the Beach. This was to be his first leading film role.
Yemm was a better actor than most of his roles had shown. He could project, both visually and vocally, thanks to his years with the AOC (although he was reduced to a series of grunts in Night of Fear) and his height, thin build and unique face (Yemm always looked older than he really was) added to the mysterious aura he gave off. As Yemm would be on screen for virtually the entire movie, it was important that he be able to carry it off. Yemm also took his roles very seriously and was known for the diversity of his roles. Speaking ten years later, Yemm explained why he took the role. ‘I stayed with Homicide for three and a half years, but I left because my acting wasn't a good as I wanted it to be in certain areas. I felt I needed to get out and work with different production companies in a variety of roles to develop myself as an actor. That led me to Number 96 as Harry Collins, Vera's ex-husband who came back and raped her and in the movie Night of Fear, in which I played a hermit type who terrorized Carla Hoogeveen with a lot of rats. Those two roles, if they did nothing else made sure that I wasn't going to type-cast as a police officer.[9]‘
As the Hermit would be surrounded by rats, Yemm brought home four rats that were to be his companions in the film. Three rats were normal, brown, rats and their leader was an albino named Pinkie, who would get a credit in the film. Yemm and Pinkie became inseparable, with Pinkie being adopted by Yemm.
‘We got the rats from the vivisection department of the University of Sydney,’ Yemm told the Sydney Morning Herald. ‘The idea was that by having them in the house, I could get used to the rats and they could get used to me.[10]‘ It wasn’t that simple though. ‘The children thought it was great, but my wife wouldn’t come in the door when they’re around. She still won’t come any closer than four feet.’ Mrs Yemm’s reaction aside, the rats and Yemm did bond and their familiarity with each other makes for chilling scenes. This is most notable when the rats, casually and without hesitation, join the Hermit as he eats. The rats also gleefully gnawed on cue at a severed horse head, which had been procured by the ABC props department for a sequence that would not be possible to film in this day and age of animal protectionism.
Mike Dorsey was cast as the Lover. English born Dorsey[11] was another veteran of television and stage and had appeared alongside Yemm in Riptide and Homicide. Dorsey’s credits were longer than Yemm and stretched back to the Gate Theatre in Dublin. It was while working as a publicist for the Rolling Stones that Dorsey first visited Australia, and he chose to remain behind when the Stones left in 1965[12]. Dorsey had the face of an innocuous man, which made him perfect casting.
Briony Behets was twenty young when she was cast as the Horse Girl. A graduate of the Guildhall School of Drama in London, Night of Fear would also be her first film role. Behets, although young, was widely travelled, and had first appeared in Australia, at the age of nineteen, on stage in a production of Don’s Party. After following this up with another stage production, Private Lives, she was cast in the television series Bellbird. Like Yemm, and Dorsey, Behets was also appearing in the first series of Number 96.
With three of the four main roles cast Bourke was ready to begin filming. The role of the Woman would require a nude scene, and those actors approached to audition baulked at the idea of stripping down for the camera. According to Bourke, those who did agree to strip then demanded more money than had been allocated. Three days before filming was set to begin, Bourke was faced with shutting down, paying the extra money, or reworking the script to remove the nude scene. At the last minute, an agent sent in Dutch actor Carla Hoogeveen.
Hoogeveen, an attractive blonde, was like the rest of the cast, at the start of her career. Her most notable credits to date had come on the comedy show, The Aunty Jack Show. Her casting was set in stone, complete with the nude scene written in, and within 24 hours, she had been fitted for wardrobe and was ready to begin filming. As with Yemm, the casting of Hoogeveen was inspired. She would be appearing, on screen, for the bulk of the film. It was unknown if she could carry the movie, and her casting was a gamble. The remaining minor roles were quickly filled, with Peter Armstrong as the Truckie, James Moss as the Client and Curt Jansen filling out the cast as the Garage Attendant.
With promises of payments to come, Bourke and his ABC crew shot the film in twelve days. The shoot was not without problems. Two days into shooting executive producer Charles Russell stormed off the set. The first scenes to be shot were done at the ABC studios, which was used as the interior for the Hermit’s hut. Russell began to object to the direction that the movie was moving into, knowing that some scenes being shot, including a dream sequence which showed Hoogeveen bound naked to a table being approached by an equally naked Yemm holding the dripping skull of a Briony Behets, a ‘last supper’ sequence in which Yemm hacks the hair from Hoogeveen’s skull and a rat attack, led by Pinkie, would not pass the ABC censor. Also concerning Russell was the fact that these scenes had not been in the original script that had been approved by the ABC; Bourke had rewritten the script to play up the gore when the Australian Film Development Corporation showed interest.
Bourke had decided, before filming began, that he would not be filming a television pilot, rather he would be making a motion picture for cinema release. He maintained that this epiphany came to him later in the piece. ‘Halfway through the shooting,’ said Bourke in 1973, ‘both Rod Hay and I decided that the ABC, or any other network, wouldn’t be supporting a horror series. Night Gallery was being axed in the States and William Castle's Ghost Story series, to fill the gap, was about to start. At buying rates the US shows were more attractive for Australian buyers. So, we went hammer and tongs at the violence and horror and sex.[13]‘
This claim is misleading. Bourke and Hay had clearly decided, prior to shooting that the film would be playing up the violence and sex, not halfway through the shot. Russell’s observations on set led to verbal confrontations with Bourke, culminating with Russell washing his hands of the project and leaving the location. Interior scenes completed the crew then moved to the north shore area of Sydney for the remainder of the shoot.
The location shoot ran smoothly with only two hours lost to rain. The location involved seven days and three nights of filming. The ABC crew were highly professional and, as they were more used to rapid filming for episodic television, fast and efficient. Money was becoming an issue, and it came as a relief when, with two days of filming to go, the Australian Film Development Corporation finally made contact and gave the go ahead to release their investment funds, which amounted to $13,500 in total. The ABC estimated that they had sunk $14,000 into the film, via salaries, equipment and production costs, making the total cost of the film $35,500. Other reports put the budget at a mere $21,500 and at least one contemporary another report, in The Age, puts the budget at $32,000, with the breakdown being $13,500 from the AFDC, $14,500 from the ABC and $4,000 from Terryrod[14]. As people’s memories are now clouded, it might never be known as to the actual cost of the film.
No matter what the actual cost of the film was, it would eventually recoup every cent and bring an enormous return. This would see the Australian Film Development Corporation investment fully repaid, along with Bourke and Hay getting a decent return on their initial $8,000 investment. No matter how much the film eventually made, going on statements made since, Bourke did not repay the personal loans he had taken out to finance the film in the first place.
Once filming was finished, Bourke and Hay took the film back to the ABC for the final editing. This was done, using the ABC’s facilities, with the full knowledge that the station would not be given the final product. ‘The ABC offered us facilities in return for local television rights and equity in the actual theatrical release as and when it happened,’ Hay said. ‘But I don’t think the ABC and their strait-laced manner of the time realised just exactly what a horror film entertained. And when they saw the finished product, they were suitably horrified and said we need to distance ourselves from this film.[15]‘
That the ABC still believed that the film would be part of an on-going series comes with the opening credits. A title card, bearing the word Fright, is shown, this then dissolves to show the films, or rather, episode, title, Night of Fear. If the ABC had been aware that the series was not going ahead, or that the film was not intended for them, then the Fright title would not have been seen. It is also doubtful that they would have invested any more time or money into the project.
The ABC became suspicious of Bourke when he demanded that Hay be the sole editor on the film. ABC policy was firm and could not be altered. The only people who were to edit potential ABC material were ABC staff. As the film’s director, an exception was made for Bourke to be present as an observer and advisor. Editor Ray Alchin began to chop at the footage with the aim of bringing the film in under an hour. In the process he removed sequences involving the Truckie, much to the dismay of Peter Armstrong, and made minor cuts to scenes involving Behets and Dorsey.
The first cut saw the movie running for 62 minutes in total. For the film to be considered for television more cuts were required, and Alchin duly pared another eight minutes and brought the final cut in at 54 minutes. Bourke and Hay then screened the finished product for the ABC.
As Bourke and Hay had hoped it proved too graphic for 1972 television, so the ABC cancelled it. The ABC then signed the film over to Terryhay and kept an option for any future television screenings. Bourke and Hay now owned the film outright and began the task of promoting it as a feature film.
They also left the ABC with a unique legacy from the shoot. The rats had become amorous during filming (Pinkie was quite the handsome fellow). As a result, some of the rat extras remained in the studios, leaving behind the fruits of their labours in the form of litters. The legend, which might be an urban one, is that the ABC studios in Sydney suffered from a rat infestation for years to come.
Night of Fear opens with a shot of the Horse Girl riding her horse through the bush, with shots of her being juxtaposed with that of the Hermit. Behets, as the Horse Girl, is the only one of the principals who has any dialogue as she encourages the horse as she rides it. She stops, gets off and ties her horse to a tree, going for a walk. While walking, a hand unties the horse, it is the Hermit. The Hermit takes the horse with him, the Horse Girl, upon finding the horse missing, goes looking. Eventually she finds herself at the Hermits hut, which doubles a graveyard. Hearing her horse in distress, she knocks on the door. The door does not open as the Hermit attacks her from behind, tearing at her clothes and locking her in the hut. The Hermit then shoots the horse.
The Girl is seen in a shower and shown dressing. Using cut jumps, Bourke shows the Girl, the Lover and the Truckie, all going about their business. The Girl, now in a tennis outfit, is shown playing tennis with the Lover. The tennis leads to sex and Bourke cuts from the sex scene to a shot of the Hermit feeding fresh, bloodied meat to his cats, which live in cages. This scene is ambiguous, as it is not established if the meat is from the corpse of the horse, or the Horse Girl herself.
The Girl is then shown driving her car, she ploughs through a road sign and nearly collides with the Truckie. He stops his truck to assists her, and she is successful in freeing her car from the ditch and drives off. Both go on their respective ways. The Girl promptly drives into another ditch, this time cracking her forehead against the steering wheel, drawing blood.
The Hermit appears, with Pinkie on his shoulder. He begins to terrorise her at her car, but she manages to escape. The Girl flees from the Hermit, who chases her. She manages to evade him and hides in the bush. It is here that Bourke really creates a sense of fear as the Hermit begins to scrape a shovel on the ground, leading the Girl away from her car and towards his hut. Approaching it she sees horses’ heads nailed to trees, dripping blood. Instead of doing what any normal person would do, which is run away, she enters the hut and explores it. Other than finding three stuffed rats in the bedroom, it appears to be completely normal. The Girl then passes out where she dreams of being tied, naked, to a table while the Hermit, equally as naked, approaches her with the Horse Girl’s severed skull in front of his groin, ending in the implied rape of the Girl. Meanwhile the Hermit is tucking into his dinner, at the Girl’s car, with Pinkie as company.
When she wakes, the Hermit is back at the hut, trying to get in. She manages to keep him out, but only long enough for the Hermit to flick a switch releasing the rats inside the house. As the rats approach the Girl, the Hermit watches through a window with his caged cats for company. The Girl faints and the rats promptly kill her, this is not shown, but implied, although the sequence does end with the rats happily chewing away at a severed arm.
The Hermit is then seen cutting the Girls hair off her skull and mopping up blood from his floor.
The police duly arrive at the ditch where the Girls car is and eventually find their way to the Hermits hut, where he is shown, dressed normally, feeding his chickens just like any good person living in the bush. End of movie, roll credits.
The plot of Night of Fear is riddled with holes, and the lack of principal dialogue is both impressive and frustrating at the same time. One wonders if the eight minutes of cuts would have helped the film overall. As those cuts are long gone, we will never know. Despite the holes, Bourke managed to convey a sense of horror and fear during the chases, along with the shots of the hut and its graveyard at night. It is more due to the acting ability of Yemm than the writing or directing of Bourke that the sinister, murderous, amoral Hermit is an equal to any horror villain seen before or since. Pinkie leads his rats in scenes far more effective than those in Willard, or its sequel, Ben, and the shots of them eating the severed horse head are incredibly disturbing. The sex is gratuitous yet minor. The nudity is fetish, with photos of breasts and behinds on the wall of the hut, next to newspapers detailing missing person cases, implying that the Hermit has been murdering women for a long time.
The film contains a number of typical horror clichés, the sight of a door knob turning, the Girl locked in her car while the Hermit stalks her, the Horse Girl deciding to explore the house rather than simply release her horse and ride off, the foot chase through the bush and the car crash itself.
All told the film looks exactly like what it was meant to be, a television movie, not a feature film. The saving graces come with the performance of Yemm, who, playing against type, makes for a truly terrifying villain, complete with club foot and leer. The shock of seeing him killing and raping his way through the movie was a real one for Australian audiences, who were used to him portraying law-abiding figures[16]. It is also disturbing seeing the obvious affection that his character has for Pinkie, the rat, and how that affection is reciprocated. Bourke’s direction, combined with Peter Hendry’s camera work and tight editing by Ray Alchin, is also a highlight as he makes the fear that the Girl experiences very real. It remains some of Bourke’s best work as a filmmaker and is only let down by the red poster paint used as an unrealistic substitute for blood.
Bourke and Hay had no distributor, so the pair decided to screen the film themselves. They hired the Avalon Theatre in Sydney and arranged a special industry only preview. According to Bourke 746 people, exactly, turned up to watch the film. ‘Reactions were mixed,’ remembered Bourke. ‘Technically, no one could fault the production to any real degree. Naturally, as entertainment, the reviews ranged from excellent to morbid, sick, lack-lustre and ‘without any trace of talent’. But Rod and I knew we had a commercial prospect on our hands.’
One person in attendance that night who did not believe that Bourke and Hay had a ‘commercial hit on their hands’ was a censor from the Film Censorship Board. Taking exception to the scenes of Yemm approaching a tied down Hoogeveen while carrying what appeared to be Behets skull, the Board quickly slapped a total ban on Night of Fear, refusing it to be allowed a formal classification on the grounds of indecency, making it the first Australian film banned since Devil’s Playground (dir. Victor Bindley) in 1928[17]. The Chief Censor, R.J. Prowse, wrote to Bourke and Hay informing them of the ban causing the pair to go on the attack. Bourke and Hay first contacted the media announcing that they were intending on appealing the ban. Pointing to where the film’s funding came from, Bourke questioned the hypocrisy of the Censorship Board. Noting that both the ABC and the AFDC had heavily invested taxpayer’s money into the film, investments that would be wasted if the film were prevented a full release and realising that this was the best publicity the film could ever get, Bourke and Hay went public.
‘It is ludicrous when two Government bodies are involved in financing and making a film and a third Government body bans it,[18]‘ Bourke said. The horror in the film was no worse than anything that had come into the country, and Bourke also made pains to point out that the scenes of Hoogeveen being eaten by Yemm’s rats contained implied violence and horror which was not actually shown.
‘We of course went up in arms,’ said Hay, ‘and we approached Stanley Hawes, I think his name was, who was head of the censor board, and he said no, that film is banned for the following reasons, which included that particular scene. Which we could not even regard as being risqué, quite frankly. I mean today you would get worse scenes in Bugs Bunny and Mickey Mouse. ...But that scene, coupled with a couple of other scenes with rats which they regarded as being confrontational and brutal, they said, sorry, that film is not going to play in an Australian cinema.[19]‘
The ban meant that the film could not be shown in cinemas or drive-ins. A little thing like that was not going to stop Bourke and Hay. ‘I thought, well the only way I'm going to retrieve that money is to make sure that we not only make our point,’ said Hay, ‘but we do actually get a release which will allow us to get funds back in the kitty for the next film we were planning. So, it meant that we were part of a pioneering brigade that were out there to knock on independent doors, because we just could not get into theatre chains like Hoyts or Greater Union or Roadshow, and we finished up going in to the Penthouse Theatre in the Cross.’
The film screened to secondary school students in their school auditoriums who were not old enough to see R rated films. He used drive-ins and finally settled on an adult cinema, the Penthouse, in Kings Cross, Sydney to give the film a premiere. Bourke knew he had to get the film into as many cinemas as possible because, if the ban were upheld, both he and Hay would be responsible for the costs, which had now blown out. The film moved to Queensland, Perth, and Melbourne, being shown at drive-ins and smaller, independent, cinemas.
The ban was formally lifted on 4 December 1972. By that time Bourke and Hay had negotiated the sale of overseas rights, which cleared all the debts for the film (other than those that Bourke had run up with friends and which he would never repay) and the film was being shown in London, distributed by Hammer Film Productions. The Board finally sat down as a collective and screened the film. They followed this with a presentation from Bourke and Hay before retiring to make their decision to clear the film, albeit with an ‘R’ rating. The process left both Bourke and Hay bemused.
‘We were never told what was indecent about the picture,’ Bourke said, giving an excellent insight into the workings of the Censorship Board of the time, ‘so we screened our film, gave some verbal information, and then showed the board four files on other pictures[20]. Our film was rated X in London - an equivalent of somewhere between the Australian M and R certificates.[21]‘
‘Let me tell you what we did when we walked through the door of the Censor Board,’ remembered Hay. ‘We concocted this idea that we'd bring in there, a four-foot board, which was about twenty-four feet long, and it was about four feet high. And we had on it the prejudice that was now being made against Australian films and these other films had been allowed censorship clearance, and they had all these elements in them, and how can they allow a film, or disallow a film that has not a tenth of what these films have. By the time we got in there we had Caroline Jones, who we demanded replaced Stanley Hawes as the Chairman of the Appeals Board, and it was almost a lay-down misère after that. They looked at it, and they said, oh well, we can see the commitment you've made. We'll look at the film, and within a minute of having seen the film, they said okay, film approved, and we're out and running.’
With the ban formally lifted, Bourke and Hay rushed the film onto the drive-in circuit, where it was paired with The Thing with Two Heads (1972, dir Lee Frost), a low budget Ray Milland film, the less said about the better[22]. Night of Fear opened the double bill, with Two Heads promoted as the main feature. In some cities, the film served as the opening feature to a revitalised King Kong (1933, dirs. Merian C. Cooper and Ernest B. Schoedsack) and was promoted as being the ‘Controversial restricted shocker’.
Now that he didn’t have the censors or the ABC to placate, Bourke played up the horror even more, telling the Sydney Morning Herald that, ‘There were times when the cameraman didn't want to watch.[23]‘ When asked about the genre of sex-horror films, Bourke was clear. ‘It's the only work I'd do for nothing. All we expect is the freedom allowed overseas film-makers - people who don't like it, should stay away[24]‘
Reviews for the film were mixed, with some calling the film low-rent rubbish, and others praising the film’s originality. ‘The subsequently rescinded banning of Terry Bourke's locally made minor opus ‘Night of Fear’ is a classic example of censorship making itself looks ludicrous,’ wrote the Canberra Times. ‘The film contains little that is horrifying, violent or calculated to arouse prurient interest. And those of its elements that do meet these criteria are not displayed explicitly but merely suggested. It is not until the closing sequence where a rat gnawed arm is shown that anything appears that might be close to the aesthetic knuckle. It is not only on account of its lack of real horror quality that the film is a failure. It is so incredibly badly crafted in every department that its total effect is closer to comedy than horror. The script is minimal – and by this I do not mean to carp at the absence of dialogue but rather to comment on its illogicality even in its intended framework of fear. The camerawork is pure kitsch, and the editing looks as if it might have been done by the axe brandishing nut (Norman Yemm), who is the film's main character.[25]‘
Calling the film ‘A must for those with platinum-coated nerves,’ the Sydney Morning Herald was more effusive, comparing the film to Sam Peckinpah’s recently released Straw Dogs. ‘Only an hour long, and made on a tiny budget, this is still one of the most encouraging pointers towards the future of the Australian film industry.
‘It's a straightforward hideous account of a modem ogre who lives in a. lonely shack in the woods with an army of rats, an axe and. an unpleasant interest in young blondes, the fane of two of whom is the film's subject matter. Norman Yemm is thoroughly frightening as the maniac, and the film's brutal effectiveness is enhanced by the fact that not a word of dialogue is spoken, except for his howling, mumbling, and drooling, and the screams of his victims.
‘There are, it must be said, certain blemishes; the claustrophobic atmosphere is endangered by the occasional shots of the outside world, and the eventual arrival of the police, looking as though they've stepped straight out of Homicide, and one or two of the horrors seem gratuitous. But these are minor points, and overall, this film is second among recent shockers only to Straw Dogs which bad vastly greater resources to play with. Like Straw Dogs and unlike other films of the sort, it's completely plausible, a parable of extremity, Beauty and the Beast dragged out of the fairy tales and into a grim world the viewer may recognise as an extension of his own.[26]‘
The next day the same newspaper tore the film apart. ‘It is an empty film, with nothing to generate audience interest except a few cheap and tasteless thrills. Such niceties as characterisation and motivation and flagrantly ignored in favour of pure gruesomeness.[27]‘
‘Sadly, it turns out to be a second-rate Willard with gum trees. Catering to an audience’s lowest instincts, he (Bourke) shows, with maximum sadistic suspense rather than horror, a crazed cousin to the Marquis De Sade who drools and gibbers and limps around a lonely forest cottage, terrorising to death two girls in turn who venture near it. Of course, Night of Fear will make money.[28]‘
By the time the film made it to the cinemas Bourke and Hay had already moved on. The pair had granted the ABC the television rights for Night of Fear. They also knew full well that the film would never make it past the television censors. Bourke and Hay no longer cared. They had made plenty of money, and that, plus the publicity, helped them raise much needed funds for their next project, this time a full-length feature – a horror film set in 1890s Australia. Bourke and Hay bypassed the ABC, and this time approached the AFDC and obtained an incredible $160,936. They threw in $67,064 of their earnings from Night of Fear and thus had $228,000 to make what Bourke predicted would be a ‘Hitchcock-style western, with some horror.[29]‘
‘Basically, the story is about a lot of people who disappear at a lonely overnight inn in Gippsland in l896,’ Bourke said. ‘We are bringing the American actor Stuart Whitman out to star in the film.’
The film, Inn of the Damned, reached cinemas in 1975. Although Stuart Whitman passed on the film[30], the cast was impressive. Leading the way was veteran Australian stage actor Dame Judith Anderson, who relished in her role as the wife of the innkeeper and chewed through the scenery reminiscent of Bette Davis at her histrionic best. Also in the film was American Alex Cord, who played the role originally slated for Whitman, and well-known Australian actors Tony Bonner and John Meillon[31]. As with Night of Fear, the reviews were mixed. ‘Inn of the Damned is as unreal and as formally horrific as Grand Guignol. Loose ends of the plot need to be tied up with a hangman’s knot, and the lesbian scenes seem unnecessary and distasteful. Still, the film overall is exciting and entertaining, Brian Probyn, director of photography, provides exquisite scenes of horseback chases through orange orchards, fights by waterfalls, and of lonely valleys. Inn of the Damned is very gruesome, of course. At one stage an axe falls and the whole screen flashes red. Flashback scenes are shown with misty formality and pretty lost children run to their doom.[32]‘
Inn of the Damned was Bourke’s last foray into the horror field.
As a director, Bourke was not as highly regarded as his peers of the time, and the feelings were often mutual. Writing about Bourke’s 1982 feature, Brothers, respected critic David Stratton wrote, ‘He (Bourke) is a second-rate director, and Brothers is a second-rate film, in which the ‘hero’, as played by (Chris) Hayward, is so boorish and unsympathetic that the audience quickly loses any sympathy for him. Though Bourke can handle the action scenes his big dramatic scenes are poorly written and awkwardly acted.[33]‘
Writing about the same movie, actor Roger Ward[34] said, ‘Terry Bourke was a shifty but clever and cunning little character who did a lot of work. Some was good. The good was cancelled out by his cavalier attitude to money (always other peoples), his disrespect of his peers, and an almost obsessive jealousy of anyone else in the industry. To his credit, Terry had an uncanny ability to make a tiny creek in the suburbs of Sydney look like the back blocks of Vietnam. He could also carve a piece of cardboard, put lights behind it and shoot it with a title beneath, and those that saw it on the silver screen would swear it really was a Manhattan skyline. He could shoot beneath a doctored typewriter or through a disassembled camera or use a single house for the entire shoot of a film. He also wrote many show business articles for daily newspapers, but at best he was an egotistical arsehole who was nowhere near as talented as he imagined he was, and a terrible spendthrift of other peoples' money. He was also a pathological liar.[35]‘
Bourke could be equally as scathing in return, telling Ward that Academy Award nominated director, George Miller, ‘…can't even direct traffic,[36]‘ and telling Ward that a script that he (Ward) had written, which would be made into the film Brothers, was a ‘piece of shit’[37]. Once Bourke made an enemy, they remained one for life.
Terry Bourke passed away on June 29, 2002.
No matter his professional and personal failings, Terry Bourke made the first true Australian horror movie since 1924’s Fisher’s Ghost, using an all-Australian based cast and crew, with funds obtained from Australian government agencies. In doing so he would both bring a close to the stigma that had surrounded horror in Australian cinema for almost fifty years and kicked open a door, through which other directors, such as Peter Weir, Phillipe Mora, Ken Hannam, Jim Sharman, Tim Bustall, Richard Franklin and many more would follow.
Horror in Australia was now back, and with a vengeance.
[1] Although cited by some as the first Australian horror film since the silent era, Wake in Fright falls into the category of thriller. The film does contain disturbing moments, they are generally of a psychological manner.
[2] NIDA’s alumni includes Academy Award winners Cate Blachett, Catherine Martin, Mel Gibson and Baz Luhrmann, and counts Toni Collette, Judy Davis, Colin Friels, Jacqueline Mackenzie, Steve Bisley, Garry McDonald, Hugh Sheridan, Sam Worthington, Hugo Weaving, Jim Sharman, Richard Roxburgh, Miranda Otto and Susie Porter amongst their graduates.
[3] Born in Victoria, 9 April 1940 – 29 June 2002
[4] Bourke later claimed it was $300,000, a staggering amount for a cadet journalist to raise in the 1960s.
[5] The Internet Movie Data Base lists two Production Assistants for the film, Maurice Zuberano and Alan Callow, with Callow not being credited in the film. As the IMDB often credits people who worked on films and were not credited on screen, but does not mention Bourke, means that Bourke might have inflated his role to impress others. (https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0060934/fullcredits)
[6] Danks, Adrian. & Gaunson, Stephen. & Kunze, Peter C. 2018, American-Australian cinema: transnational connections / Adrian Danks, Stephen Gaunson, Peter C. Kunze, editors Palgrave Macmillan Cham, Switzerland
[7] Remembering Aussie Pioneer Terry Bourke by Richard Harris. February 7, 2017. https://www.filmink.com.au/remembering-aussie-pioneer-terry-bourke/
[8] Norman Yemm, (23 March 1933 – 3 February 2015), won three races the prestigious Stawell Gift, along with playing professional football with Victorian Football Association Club Port Melbourne before turning to acting.
[9] Norm Hits the Right Note. Australian Women’s Weekly, 9 December 1981.
[10] Sydney Morning Herald. 28 May 1972.
[11] (1930 – 24 October 2014)
[12] Dorsey also handled publicity for acts as varied as Acker Bilk and The Yardbirds.
[13] Unless otherwise stated, all of Terry Bourke’s quotes are taken from Lumiere, June 1973.
[14] The Age, 10 May 1972
[15] Ryan, Mark David (2008), ‘A Dark New World: Anatomy of Australian Horror Films,’ Ph.D. thesis, Brisbane: Queensland University of Technology.
[16] The closest international analogy would be the shock of seeing Henry Fonda shooting a child in the back in Once Upon a Time in The West.
[17] Banned on the grounds of being blasphemous, indecent and obscene.
[18] Sydney Morning Herald. 10 November 1972
[19] Unless otherwise noted, all of Rod Hay’s comments are taken from the commentary track of the Night of Fear DVD.
[20] The films shown to the Board as proof that Night of Fear should be granted a classification were The Godfather, The Music Lovers A Clockwork Orange, Prime Cut, The Devils and the Mexican horror El Diablo.
[21] Sydney Morning Herald 5 December 1972.
[22] The Man with Two Heads. The plot of which was best summed up by Alan Frank in his Horror Film Handbook (1982, B. T. Batsford Ltd). ‘Dying of cancer, a bigoted white doctor has his head grafted on to the body of a black convict and the resulting monster goes on a rampage. Bizarrely cast and recalling the 'B' pictures of the fifties, it is directed with such zest that it becomes thoroughly enjoy able on its own hokum level.’
[23] Sydney Morning Herald. 11 March 1973.
[24] Ibid
[25] Canberra Times, 27 March, 1973.
[26] Sydney Morning Herald, 18 March, 1973.
[27] Sydney Morning Herald, 19 March, 1973.
[28] The Age 20 July 1973.
[29] Sydney Morning Herald, 19 June 1973.
[30] He appeared in the flops Welcome to Arrow Beach and Crazy Mama instead.
[31] John Meillon (1934 – 1989), a gifted character actor known to many Americans as Walter ‘Wally’ Reilly, Mick ‘Crocodile’ Dundee’s offsider, had a wicked drinking problem, which led to the joke that it was dangerous to light a match near him in the afternoon in case he erupted into flame. This problem that would ultimately lead to his death from cirrhosis of the liver in August 1989 at the age of 55. At the time of his death, he looked thirty years older than he really was.
Bourke told writer Richard Harris how he and Meillon clashed during the making of Inn of the Damned over Meillon’s tendency to be hopelessly drunk by noon, no matter if he was required to perform or not. The shoot had run smoothly until a day where Meillon showed up so drunk that he slurred his lines and couldn’t stand up. Bourke propped Meillon up against a nearby tree and threatened to beat him up if he didn’t get his act together. Never a physical person, Meillon walked back to the set and delivered his lines perfectly. Bourke yelled cut and Meillon staggered back to the tree where promptly passed out and remained sleeping for the remainder of the day.
[32] Sydney Morning Herald, 18 November 1975.
[33] Stratton, David. (1990). The Avocado Plantation: Boom And Bust in The Australian Film Industry. Chippendale, N.S.W: Pan Macmillan
[34] Ward is best known as Mel Gibson’s boss, Captain Fifi Macaffee, in the film Mad Max.
[35] The History of ‘Brothers’, Roger Ward, The Death Rattle, November 22, 2011.
[36] Ibid
[37] Bourke attacking Ward’s script so angered Ward that he (Ward) allegedly told Bourke that he (Ward) would sleep with his (Bourke’s) wife as a punishment. Ward went on to claim that he did just that.