AND SOON THE DARKNESS / CERT: 15 / DIRECTOR: ROBERT FUEST / SCREENPLAY: TERRY NATION, BRIAN CLEMENS / STARRING: MICHELLE DOTRICE, PAMELA FRANKLIN, SANDOR ELÈS, JOHN NETTLETON / RELEASE DATE: 14TH OCTOBER
Two carefree young British women are enjoying a freewheeling cycling holiday through rural France, when they go their separate ways following a petty squabble. Jane’s efforts to track down and make up with her missing friend Cathy lead her to quiz several uncommunicative local characters for information, but no-one seems to be in a hurry to help her. As she becomes ever more worried about Cathy’s fate, Jane has to decide which of the residents she should trust, and which might be implicated in her partner’s disappearance.
Co-written by British genre TV stalwarts Terry Nation (Blake’s 7) and Brian Clemens (The Professionals), And Soon the Darkness remains a neglected gem of early seventies lo-fi genre cinema. Within a few years, the two writers would fall out in a bitter row about which of them was responsible for inventing the post-apocalyptic BBC series Survivors; a dispute that led Clemens to launch an abortive court case against Nation. On the strength of this cinematic outing, it’s a shame that the two were unwilling to collaborate again in the future.
Given that the film has no shortage of shots of pretty young women astride pushbikes in tight shorts, the cinematography is far from salacious. Instead, the camera focuses on bringing to the fore the sense of the travellers traversing the neverending empty roads of the underpopulated hinterlands of the French interior. There are plenty of evocative images as the camera frames the cyclists, Citroens and mopeds making their languorous way along the endlessly straight country roads of this unnamed part of France. It’s a place that appears enticing and malevolent at the same time.
As the petulant but appealing fun-seeker Cathy, Michelle Dotrice makes an immediate impression on screen. Impulsive and spontaneous, Cathy is looking for kicks wherever she can find them and is irritated that Jane wants to keep to a strict route plan and clock up the kilometres. Yet the weight of the movie rests on the shoulders of Pamela Franklin. She delivers a fantastic performance as a young woman trying to keep her panic in check while she confronts a whole series of fateful decisions in a place that has shifted from picturesque to menacing.
There’s some great supporting character work in this too, including a well-judged turn by Hanna Maria Pravda as Madame Lassal, real enigmatic charm from Sandor Elès as the mysterious Paul, and some unsettling displays of concern and hospitality from Clare Kelly as a local schoolmistress. It’s all very well plotted, with many false leads, twists and reveals along the way. It is true that some of the characters are unnecessarily secretive, but it’s a reasonable narrative conceit in this context. All tension would evaporate if everyone Jane met immediately revealed their true natures.
Most of And Soon the Darkness takes place in the bright sunlight and balm of a warm summer’s day (the implied impending darkness having nothing to do with a loss of daylight). Director Robert Fuest marshals the material with confidence, making the most of evocative locations in the Loire Valley and the talents of a small cast. The striking closing shot, looking down through a mud-spattered caravan skylight as the heavens open, is an underappreciated classic “moment” in Seventies genre cinema, and remains hauntingly bleak.
The film was remade, reset in Argentina, in 2010, in a more bombastic update that lacked much of the immersive atmosphere and sense of place that Fuest was able to bring to the screen. The 4K remaster for this new Blu-ray release of the original looks and sounds great, delivering a crisp and clean presentation of a terrific, atmospheric thriller and keeps-you-guessing whodunnit that has lost none of its impact in the decades since it was released.
Special features: Audio commentary by Robert Fuest and Brian Clemens; audio commentary by film historian Troy Howarth; reflections on the film by genre historian and author Kim Newman
