First off, the title's completely misleading. Despite Peter Cushing's anguished cry of "The devil has sent me twins of evil!" there's only one terrible tyke in Twins Of Evil and she's less 'evil' than just your regular rebellious teenager who lives to neck (and necks to live). Her love-bites just reach a little further.
The titular two are played by 'Playboy' centrefolds Mary and Madeleine Collinson, who earned the distinction of being the grumblemag's first identical twin pin-ups in 1970. As casting goes, that one was a victory for Hammer.
The third of Hammer's vampire trilogy (including The Vampire Lovers and Lust For A Vampire) adapted from Sheridan Le Fanu's nineteenth century lesbian vampire classic 'Carmilla', Twins Of Evil - which contains no Sapphic action whatsoever - features Cushing as Gustav Weil, leader of a band of self-appointed witch-hunters, and the Collinsons as his preyed-upon nieces. For clarification, Mary plays Maria Gellhorn, the nice niece, and Madeleine is Frieda Gellhorn, the not-nice niece. Madeleine is also the only one who disrobes. And very nice she is, too.
In eighteenth century Austria, during a spate of vampire attacks, Weil's 'Brotherhood' busies itself hunting down unmarried girls in the middle of the night (usually while they're having sex) and turning them into charcoal briquettes, having accidentally pulled their blouses down first.
Like all Klansmen worth their salt, the 'Brotherhood' are a bunch of boorish cowards who couldn't find a date on a Saturday night if they tried. Actually, the real focus for their loathing is the lascivious lord of the manor Count Karnstein (Thomas). Mopping up what's left of the local girls, Karnstein spends his nights sacrificing virgins in black masses with the help of his seedy helper Dietrich (Kind Hearts And Coronets' Dennis Price).
"The aristocracy in this country is decadent," wheedles Weil to long-suffering wife Katy (Byron). "Their whole lives are devoted to sinful pleasures and the pursuit of lust. Is it any wonder that the devil comes amongst us?" One gets the impression these two sleep in separate beds.
The arrival of Weil's orphaned nieces throws a further spanner into this seething psychosexual cauldron of repressed lust and diminishing womenfolk. More to wind up her uncle than anything else, feisty Frieda determines to get off with the Count, who, tiring of devil worship (and probably running out of sacrifices, in the face of Weil's hectic schedule), summons his granny, Countess Mircalla Karnstein (Wyeth) from the grave. Whereupon, he has sex with her and turns into a bloodsucker, a by-product of retrograde incest, apparently.
He next installs the eager Frieda in his castle, and turns her into a vampire too. "Think of the havoc you can cause!" Havoc involves kidnapping Maria and passing her off as her freshly undead sister to fool Weil and co, hot on their murderous trail. With the innocent Maria lashed to a stake, will Weil realise his mistake before it's too late? And will the Collinsons ever work in this town again? Twins, directed by John Hough - also responsible for the laughable Legend Of Hell House (1973) - is the quintessential Hammer movie of the period (nudity and gore to the fore) and was shot on the cheap, sharing sets with 1972's vastly superior Vampire Circus.
This isn't to suggest it's lacking in thrills or atmosphere. Playing against type as a religious zealot, Cushing turns in one of his most assured performances; an agonised block of sexual repression and blind hatred, tempered with crippling self-doubt. (He'd lost his wife shortly before filming, perhaps accounting for the intensity of his acting).
The Collinsons, dubbed throughout, do a nice line in flouncing about in plunging necklines, but that's as far as their input goes; the real drama here is played out between the real twin evils; Karnstein and vile Weil himself - parasitic bourgeoisie decadence and puritan bigotry locked in a deadly struggle.
Decent as it is, two scenes may linger longer in the mind for their sheer hilarity, and both concern miming; Wyeth miming masturbation with a candlestick during her sex scene with Thomas; and the Count's mute Moorish manservant Joachim (Stewart) miming to his boss what the vengeful locals, gathered outside the castle, have in store for him. "They have crosses?" guesses the Count, as Joachim gesticulates wildly. "And stakes... and axes?" All that's missing is Lionel Blair and Una Stubbs joining in the fun and Michael Aspel dishing out the points.
The titular two are played by 'Playboy' centrefolds Mary and Madeleine Collinson, who earned the distinction of being the grumblemag's first identical twin pin-ups in 1970. As casting goes, that one was a victory for Hammer.
The third of Hammer's vampire trilogy (including The Vampire Lovers and Lust For A Vampire) adapted from Sheridan Le Fanu's nineteenth century lesbian vampire classic 'Carmilla', Twins Of Evil - which contains no Sapphic action whatsoever - features Cushing as Gustav Weil, leader of a band of self-appointed witch-hunters, and the Collinsons as his preyed-upon nieces. For clarification, Mary plays Maria Gellhorn, the nice niece, and Madeleine is Frieda Gellhorn, the not-nice niece. Madeleine is also the only one who disrobes. And very nice she is, too.
In eighteenth century Austria, during a spate of vampire attacks, Weil's 'Brotherhood' busies itself hunting down unmarried girls in the middle of the night (usually while they're having sex) and turning them into charcoal briquettes, having accidentally pulled their blouses down first.
Like all Klansmen worth their salt, the 'Brotherhood' are a bunch of boorish cowards who couldn't find a date on a Saturday night if they tried. Actually, the real focus for their loathing is the lascivious lord of the manor Count Karnstein (Thomas). Mopping up what's left of the local girls, Karnstein spends his nights sacrificing virgins in black masses with the help of his seedy helper Dietrich (Kind Hearts And Coronets' Dennis Price).
"The aristocracy in this country is decadent," wheedles Weil to long-suffering wife Katy (Byron). "Their whole lives are devoted to sinful pleasures and the pursuit of lust. Is it any wonder that the devil comes amongst us?" One gets the impression these two sleep in separate beds.
The arrival of Weil's orphaned nieces throws a further spanner into this seething psychosexual cauldron of repressed lust and diminishing womenfolk. More to wind up her uncle than anything else, feisty Frieda determines to get off with the Count, who, tiring of devil worship (and probably running out of sacrifices, in the face of Weil's hectic schedule), summons his granny, Countess Mircalla Karnstein (Wyeth) from the grave. Whereupon, he has sex with her and turns into a bloodsucker, a by-product of retrograde incest, apparently.
He next installs the eager Frieda in his castle, and turns her into a vampire too. "Think of the havoc you can cause!" Havoc involves kidnapping Maria and passing her off as her freshly undead sister to fool Weil and co, hot on their murderous trail. With the innocent Maria lashed to a stake, will Weil realise his mistake before it's too late? And will the Collinsons ever work in this town again? Twins, directed by John Hough - also responsible for the laughable Legend Of Hell House (1973) - is the quintessential Hammer movie of the period (nudity and gore to the fore) and was shot on the cheap, sharing sets with 1972's vastly superior Vampire Circus.
This isn't to suggest it's lacking in thrills or atmosphere. Playing against type as a religious zealot, Cushing turns in one of his most assured performances; an agonised block of sexual repression and blind hatred, tempered with crippling self-doubt. (He'd lost his wife shortly before filming, perhaps accounting for the intensity of his acting).
The Collinsons, dubbed throughout, do a nice line in flouncing about in plunging necklines, but that's as far as their input goes; the real drama here is played out between the real twin evils; Karnstein and vile Weil himself - parasitic bourgeoisie decadence and puritan bigotry locked in a deadly struggle.
Decent as it is, two scenes may linger longer in the mind for their sheer hilarity, and both concern miming; Wyeth miming masturbation with a candlestick during her sex scene with Thomas; and the Count's mute Moorish manservant Joachim (Stewart) miming to his boss what the vengeful locals, gathered outside the castle, have in store for him. "They have crosses?" guesses the Count, as Joachim gesticulates wildly. "And stakes... and axes?" All that's missing is Lionel Blair and Una Stubbs joining in the fun and Michael Aspel dishing out the points.