Return to Index What's the currency nowadays for getting an interview with a leading authority on horror, especially when the deliciously demonic Doctor Terror is the bloke you're after?
Well, it's an uncommon fact that when he's not riding ghost trains at Blackpool funfair, or satirising the sort of horror vignettes the British public wryly refer to as having cult status, Terror is treading the boards at Stratford and calling himself Guy Henry. So, if you need to talk to the good doctor, Henry's your man.
Thus, in a restaurant 'neath Covent Garden and tucked behind a conspiratorial table near the kitchens, I met Terror's other half. Very tall, very dressed in black and with a smile readily relaxing across his face, Henry sits down and launches himself into his first anecdote of the afternoon:
'I was in here once,' he confides. 'And there was this very small woman at the bar with a very small face and rather battered split ends, like some slightly out of work, slightly tired lady of the night. I thought, who the hell's this? Funny little thing, and to my amazement I saw it was Faye Dunaway! Fucking Hell I thought. She's tiny!'
Henry is disarmingly modest and eloquent for an actor, yet seems not unlike his abrasive alter-ego in turn of phrase and general demeanour. Of course, there's no venom in his conversation, just a rather observant, welcoming wit. Nevertheless, the subject of the Doctor was broached carefully, lest Henry was the type who considered being covered in latex a less than savoury addition to his talents as opposed to his other long list of acting credits. But, as it happened, I couldn't have been more wrong.
'I love the character of Doctor Terror and I would love to develop him along the lines of being a little more mad and unpredictable; a bit more extraordinary. I think some of the stuff in the Halloween Special we did (which initially introduced Doctor Terror) was a bit odd. Then I became a bit too laid back in the delivery. I mean, one of my favourites of this previous series was when I burst through the curtains of the Apollo Theatre, holding an axe and singing: 'I talk to the trees, that's why they take me away.' Just, sort of, off the wall. You never know from one week the next what he's going to be doing. Having said that, people who watch the programme seem to say they like the fact that he's quite laid back and dry. So I don't want to lose that. Doctor Terror is such a specific figure. Either people have never heard of him or, in the rarer cases, look at him as a cult figure; at times a real star. Extraordinary!'
To be fair, Henry is not the be all and end all of Terror's unusual style and encyclopaedic knowledge of the genre. He's the brainchild of horror expert and author Kim Newman who generates the monologues that Terror spouts in his short introductions.
'Kim Newman puts in a lot of rude stuff about people and then I make it ruder,' says Henry. 'He writes these incredibly long sentences that completely defeat me at times, so I cut them a little bit or I suggest the odd thing that strikes me as funny at the time.'
And what does Henry think of Newman?
'He's a lovely man. Very polite, very friendly, who's extraordinarily eccentric. He has dreadlocks, a very big moustache, a very flared and funny hat and he wears 1970s clothes. I'm sure, though, he's one of those people who, having had a day being eccentric goes: 'Thank goodness for that!', and puts on an ordinary jumper and takes off his moustache. Has a good lie down and a cup of tea.'
It's not surprising that together with Newman's observant monologues, Terror's sly, dry wit and a very patient production team about whom Henry seriously enthuses ('a wonderful bunch of people who provide me with vodka and tonics!') that Doctor Terror has earned something of a cult following himself.
Terror certainly has an peculiarity that seems perfectly suited to the films he promotes. He's the Terry-Thomas of Terror, the eternal cad or bounder which the British have lapped up for years. Henry gives me an example of the growing success of the dread Doctor:
'When we were filming in Blackpool there was this couple who really loved Doctor Terror. They were at the funfair purely by accident and they came up, as the public do, to see what all the fuss was about. And then they suddenly saw Doctor Terror. They were . . . well, obviously mad people that had been let out for the weekend.' Terror grins wickedly for an instant only to be usurped by Henry's sincerity.
'No, actually they were a straight forward, ordinary couple who just happened to watch Doctor Terror every week on the telly. So, the producer came up to me and asked if I would have a word with them as Terror, who by all accounts, was their favourite horror. So I went up to them and barked a bit: 'Hello!' as him. And they were thrilled, their eyes shining with delight that they had met this man that they loved. It's really nice.'
To his credit Henry seems genuinely involved with the character despite the fact that his other forays into acting have been with the R.S.C. and a plethora of well known theatre stars too numerous to mention. You wouldn't blame a bit of a disregard for Doctor Terror simply because the filming itself is only two days a year out of his otherwise busy schedule. And it's a punishing schedule at that. The day begins at twelve in the afternoon and often finishes at six thirty in the morning with the make-up itself taking an excruciating five hours to apply. With sixteen episodes to complete, it is not a restful business.
'I'm very tired when I play him, but the crew often provide me with the odd drink slipped down a straw and because I'm not allowed to eat properly for the duration, I'm given a little crumbled up Kit Kat.'
So, it's not all pain and no gain?
'Oh, it's quite funny being driven in a taxi through the streets of Blackpool as Doctor Terror, waving at people. I think they just thought I was sort of a funfair attraction.'
It's not hard to imagine that people are attracted to Terror - we seldom bat an eyelid at the laborious process of latex wizardry nowadays. But, the question I found myself edging towards, the thing I was burning to ask about Terror was: What is he really like? His exposure, after all, is so short on our screens that it's frustrating to be only given a brief glimpse of him.
At this, Henry smiles wryly and leans back in his chair.
'What's he like? Well . . . he's exactly like me in a mask, really. A pompous arsehole. No, I think he's very old fashioned and he loves the older style. He's not very keen on the 1970s, flared trousers sort of horror films. And I think he likes people with a bit of spirit, like Peter Cushing . . . he loves Peter Cushing. Loves him. He's a most soulful actor, you know.'
Nothing unusual there. Terror's an elitist - straight out of the 1930s undoubtedly - but then Henry begins to muse a little deeper. Sophisticated he may be, but lonely?
'Well, he's been about for thousands of years, so he doesn't have a family. He lives in a vault, underground, just outside Milton Keynes and I don't think he's got any friends because nobody lives that long. So, I feel he's a little bit sad. No, no family. I don't think he's very interested in anything to do with fluids; a bit like the Stephen Fry of the horror world, really.'
It makes sense, but Doctor Terror friendless? Surely not.
'I actually think people would get tired of him because he would be very opinionated and occasionally, probably, hit people,' Henry explains. 'If he could castrate . . . no, something more classy than castrate . . . if he could generally smack a lot of the film-makers, nearly all the writers and quite a lot of the actors of horror films, I think he would. So actually, if you knew him, he'd be a little bit difficult to get on with. Smug in a sort of four thousand year old way. He's seen it all, and he's done it all. He'd wear the T-shirt if he could get it over his ears.'
So Terror's a bit boorish, is he? I don't doubt it. But surely it is his whole demeanour that has gradually built his status? Despite Henry's observations, we're not quelled in our enthusiasm to see more of him; though, alas, there appear to be no plans for a programme dedicated entirely to him.
'There's plans for a book,' says Henry. 'Doctor Terror's Book of Horrors or something. But, I really think we should have him in a sitcom. Having said that, I don't think I could stand that fucking make-up all the time. It's bad enough once a year.'
Despite this, Henry's quite sure this does not mean the end of Terror on our screens. What began as a Halloween Special has gathered momentum and we can most probably expect a new series of intros this year. cold print is biased, of course, but I urge as many people to catch the series as possible - even if you can't endure the films that follow.
If you're interested in seeing what Doctor Terror does on his days off, then look out for the R. S. C. production of Twelfth Night in which Mr. Henry tours up and down the country, no doubt to be 'revenged upon the whole pack of you.' However, if Shakespeare's not your cup of tea and silly wigs are, then see if you can recall the film England, My England which was broadcast on Christmas Day for Channel 4 and featured the life of the composer Purcell. Henry took on the role of James, Charles II's less than sympathetic brother. No latex for this character - and not many lines to be fair - but certainly a good deal in the way of arched eyebrows and dark, acidic looks. I must admit, Doctor Terror having a crack at a Restoration has its appeal, and to this Henry enthusiastically agrees.
'Gadzooks and fuck me blind!' he declares with a wave. 'There you are. Yes, it would be good, wouldn't it?'
S. R.