Behind the Couch

1976 Dir. Pete Walker AKA The Confessional Jenny (Susan Penhaligon), a troubled young woman, seeks help at her local church. Unfortunately for her, the sexually repressed priest Father Meldrum (Anthony Sharp) she confesses to, becomes obsessed with her. He begins to stalk her and will stop at nothing, including blackmail and murder, just to get close to her. ‘He's gone out again. You're all alone ... with me.’ If House of Whipcord was Walker’s attack on the British moral conservatism and the justice system, House of Mortal Sin is surely his scathing defilement of the Church, or perhaps just organised religion in general. Released in the States as The Confessional it plunges the viewer into even darker territory than before. Walker drew on his own fears and opinions as a lapsed Catholic to create a more considered and mature film than most viewers would have expected, particularly given its lurid title and subject matter. Typical of Walker though, the film was a de...

1974 Dir. Pete Walker House of Whipcord follows French model Ann-Marie Di Verney (Penny Irving) as she is forcibly imprisoned in a privately owned facility masquerading as a country clinic. She joins a number of other women detained there because of their ‘loose’ morals. The prison is domineered by sadistic, self-appointed wardens and a senile judge who deal out torturous lessons in conservative morality.  Pete Walker is notorious for his exploitative, sordid films which brandish scathing social commentaries on British class, authority figures and generational conflict. Shockingly violent and anti-establishment, his work was always controversial. On one hand, House of Whipcord can arguably be seen as exploitative, sleazy, misogynistic trash, while on the other, it can be seen as a brutal critique of hypocritical, right-wing moralising. Either way, its themes are still relevant today, especially when it comes to human rights, prisoners welfare and free will. Assuming a ‘Women i...

1974 Dir. Pete Walker British director Pete Walker is often unfairly overlooked in the history of British horror cinema. In a time when Hammer was, well, ‘hammering’ out elaborate gothic fantasies set in far off lands full of superstitious locals, middle class genteel types and otherworldly monsters, Walker was setting his more grimy tales firmly in contemporary England. His horrors spewed out within grotty bed-sits, bleak London streets and hideous seventies décor. Frightmare explores notions of family, generational conflict and authority, with graphic and, dare I say it, gritty enthusiasm. The film follows the exploits of Dorothy Yates (Sheila Keith). Released from incarceration after fifteen years, Dorothy is not as reformed or rehabilitated as her carers would like to believe. She is, in fact, utterly deranged. As soon as she is released she resumes alleviating her insatiable appetite for human flesh. Setting up a tarot-reading service in her home, she lures innocents vict...