Virginal newlywed Catherine Fengriffen (Stephanie Beacham) moves into her husband's ancestral home where she suffers from horrific visions of a man with a severed hand and bloody eye sockets. Catherine thinks she's losing the plot, but hubby Charles (Ian Ogilvy) knows better: his family is under a curse brought about decades earlier by his wicked, hedonistic grandfather Henry (Herbert Lom) who violated a woodsman's wife on her wedding night. Psychologist Dr. Pope (Peter Cushing), who has been brought in to treat Catherine, slowly begins to unravel the mystery...
And Now The Screaming Starts sets out to do two things—jangle the nerves, and stir the loins of its male viewers—both of which it does well. Seasoned horror director Roy Ward Baker expertly handles his spooky material, carefully crafting a creepy atmosphere that keeps the viewer on edge throughout, and peppers proceedings with a few effective jump scares for good measure; meanwhile, gorgeous star Beacham sets the pulses pounding, her heaving bosom barely restrained by her long line of cleavage enhancing outfits.
Admittedly Beacham's incessant histrionics can get a little irritating at times, and the pacing is perhaps a little too slow for some, but there's enough good stuff here to keep most fans of Gothic '70s British horror more than happy, including a cool crawling hand (a nifty 'clockwork' special effects creation), Cushing in a foppish wig, Lom being utterly despicable as horrid Henry (the actor delivering his debauched dialogue with relish), and Ogilvy desecrating a grave with an axe, pulling the mouldy corpse out and giving it a damn good kicking!
And Now The Screaming Starts sets out to do two things—jangle the nerves, and stir the loins of its male viewers—both of which it does well. Seasoned horror director Roy Ward Baker expertly handles his spooky material, carefully crafting a creepy atmosphere that keeps the viewer on edge throughout, and peppers proceedings with a few effective jump scares for good measure; meanwhile, gorgeous star Beacham sets the pulses pounding, her heaving bosom barely restrained by her long line of cleavage enhancing outfits.
Admittedly Beacham's incessant histrionics can get a little irritating at times, and the pacing is perhaps a little too slow for some, but there's enough good stuff here to keep most fans of Gothic '70s British horror more than happy, including a cool crawling hand (a nifty 'clockwork' special effects creation), Cushing in a foppish wig, Lom being utterly despicable as horrid Henry (the actor delivering his debauched dialogue with relish), and Ogilvy desecrating a grave with an axe, pulling the mouldy corpse out and giving it a damn good kicking!