What The Beast Must Die unabashedly is is a pure, unadulterated slice of 1970s kitsch, buoyed along by a silly, if undeniably charming gimmick, and it will be best appreciated among those who understand that suspense is at its most delectable when washed down with copious amounts of gimcrack. There are stretches of darkness and smatterings of gore, but Douglas Gamley's funky, upbeat score suggests something more in line with such contemporary UK adventure series as The Avengers and Strange Report, and there is great emphasis throughout on extended action-orientated set-pieces, including an opening aerial pursuit and one or two motor chases thrown in for good measure (although this occur between long stretches of slower-moving action in which the characters are permitted to marinate in their own paranoia). The one thing The Beast Must Die is not, in truth, is much of a horror flick. The prologue, promising lurid spookhouse thrills within the parameters of a whodunnit, sets the tone for the film's unusual genre mash-up - part kooky monster B movie, part country house mystery, part pulpy action thriller. 'After all the clues have been shown-you will get a chance to give your answer,' continues Dyall, before urging us to 'Watch for the Werewolf Break!', and that's where the fun really begins. A body count is piling up, one of our established cast is responsible, but they're adept enough to keep their identity just out of view. The question is not 'Who is the murderer?' but 'Who is the werewolf?' The distinction is, perhaps, a redundant one, given that, for the purposes of this story, 'murderer' and 'werewolf' amount to much the same thing.

We are greeted by the voice of Valentine Dyall, who informs us that, 'This film is a detective story in which YOU are the detective. The Beast Must Die, Paul Annett's 1974 addition to the well-stocked horror canon of the Shepperton-based Amicus Productions, opens with a truly idiosyncratic prologue.

The beast must die cecil day lewis