LAIR OF THE WHITE WORM
A film review by Jim G
Copyright 1989 Jim G
AMANDA DONOHOE Lady Sylvia Marsh
HUGH GRANT Lord James D'Ampton
CATHERINE OXENBERG Eve Trent
PETER CAPALDI Angus Flint
SAMMI DAVIS Mary Trent
Screenplay Ken Russell
Editor Peter Davies
Director of Photography Dick Bush
Produced & Directed by Ken Russell
Ken Russell has taken the theme of the survival of a pre-Christian cult of snake worship, from Bram Stoker's last novel, intertwined it with the mediaeval legend of the Lambton Worm (from Durham, north-east England), to give us a quirky fantasy thriller, with one of the most beguiling and sensual of villainesses to stalk the screen in some considerable time.
The film is set in the Derbyshire countryside, and starts with the discovery of a large reptilian skull by student archaeologist Angus Flint, who is excavating on the site of a Roman settlement near the local guest house. The guest house is now run by Eve and Mary Trent, since their parents disappeared the previous year while out walking. This coincides with the return to his estate of Lord D'Ampton; and also of the mysterious and exotic Lady Sylvia Marsh, from her regular winter sojourn in parts unknown.
Lady Sylvia is in fact the most recent reincarnation of the High Priestess of the snake god Dionyn, and is herself part snake, being able to sprout fangs and spit venom as the mood takes her; her return in the spring, to her country home at Temple House, is in order to offer worship and sacrifice to the deity. The central characters, it seems, are fated to repeatedly conflict, as James D'Ampton is a descendant of a knight, who is reputed to have slain one manifestation of the D'Ampton Worm in ages past; whereas Eve Trent is an unknowing re-embodiment of the spirit of a nun, whose order attempted to build a convent on the site of Dionyn's temple during the time of the Roman occupation.
The film is hardly a serious attempt at the horror genre, and the more entertaining because of that; the script is littered with double meanings, especially Lady Sylvia's dialogue, as she revels in turns of phrase which appear innocuous to her listener, but on which she is putting a quite different interpretation. She could be seen as an archetypal psychopath: intelligent, gracious and charming, beautiful, sensual and amoral; without the slightest compunction in killing those who cease to amuse her.
There are also various visual nudges in the ribs, such as the ornaments on the mantelpiece in Lady Sylvia's living room, and the most peculiar items included in the buffet at Lord D'Ampton's party. Generally the humour in the script works well, and is comfortable in context, as in the delightful repartee at the doorway when James D'Ampton first calls upon Lady Sylvia, and the eccentric performance by Stratford Johns as the butler; although perhaps Mr Russell oversteps a bit when, while watching her snakes and ladders board burning in the fireplace, Lady Sylvia whispers "Rosebud." The lightness in the script does, however, tend to reduce the tension in the plot, and it is undoubtedly a certain lack of suspense which would be my only real reservation about the film. Also, the character of Lady Sylvia is so strong, and none of the others are developed enough to match her, that the story sometimes falls a bit flat when Ms Donohoe is off-screen; one seriously doubts the ability of the protagonists to defeat the snake woman, and it is only by the most exceptional luck that most of them don't end up being fed to the Worm, anyway.
Of course, there are some serious problems with the suspension of disbelief: the logistics of keeping an immense snake supplied with human sacrifices, even one which hibernates for half of the year, would surely have brought Lady Sylvia's activities to someone's attention much sooner; I seriously doubt that Derby county hospital could produce an antivenin to an unknown snake venom in the twelve hours or so required in the film; James D'Ampton deduces Lady Sylvia's involvement in the abduction of Eve, and the continued survival of the Worm, on the flimsiest of evidence; and there is no way he could have known that she would find snake charming music so hypnotic, as up until then he had no reason to believe she was anything other than a normal, if rather unpredictable, woman (but, as the whole of the night-time section starting with the plan to charm Lady Sylvia from her house, so that it can be searched for the missing Eve, is probably the best in the film, apart from the final battle, who am I to complain?). Of course, there is no reason not to accept all the daftness -- the cinema *is* for entertainment, after all.
As one might expect in a film where the monster is a huge snake and the heroine is called Eve, sexual symbolism is an integral part of the plot, although never really to excess, except perhaps in the violent flashback sequences: ravished nuns, wrestling air hostesses, white clad virgins and dildoes of the most disconcerting dimensions, all make an appearance - and Lady Sylvia gives the *wickedest* love bites! The special effects, by Image Animation, are good, and never intrusive, except perhaps during the short, chaotic flashbacks, when Mr Russell foregoes his usual commendable restraint :-); the Worm itself, although only seen full-size during the climax of the final battle, is satisfyingly horrendous.
So, overall, on a scale of 10, a fair 7 for the film as a whole, and a definite 9+ for Ms Donohoe's performance as the exquisitely decadent Lady Sylvia Marsh. Forget about reality for 90 minutes or so -- go see it.