Twins Of Evil Review (1971)

Hammer Films has always been the cathedral where Horror fanatics like me come to worship, and Twins of Evil is one of its most wicked sermons. Released in 1971, this one drips with all the decadent, blood-slicked Gothic energy you’d ever crave, vampires, witch-hunters, castles cloaked in fog, and enough crimson to paint the countryside. And at the heart of it? The immortal, magnetic force of Hammer itself: Peter Cushing, swinging his righteous fury like a crucifix dipped in fire. I know it shouldn’t be, but this is one of my favorite Hammer movies and it’s mostly due to Peter Cushing.

The storyline stalks through familiar Hammer territory: a puritanical brotherhood obsessed with burning witches, a cursed nobleman dabbling in vampiric resurrection, and the gorgeous Collinson twins caught between innocence and corruption. Hammer never played coy about its obsessions - sex and blood - and Twins of Evil delivers both in abundance.

From the opening scene, where innocent flesh is branded and fire licks the night sky, you know you’re in for something unholy. The violence here isn’t subtle, it’s Hammer Gothic at its wildest. Jugulars gush, stakes plunge deep into undead hearts, and the flames of “righteous” fury consume more than just the guilty. Every drop of red splashed across pale skin feels like an act of defiance against the stiff collars of morality.

And then there’s Peter Cushing. Even gaunt and grief-worn after personal tragedy, he is a force. His Gustav Weil is no simple hero, he’s a puritan executioner, wild-eyed, trembling with fanaticism, swinging between justice and tyranny. Watching him hunt vampires while questioning his own brutal crusade adds a venomous weight to the film. Cushing bleeds conviction across the screen.

Of course, it wouldn’t be Hammer without that lush Gothic flavor. Castles loom like tombstones, candlelight flickers against velvet drapes, and every shadow seems to hide a fang waiting to sink into bare flesh. The atmosphere is thick enough to choke on, dripping with a heady mix of religious dread and vampiric lust.

And make no mistake, this film is as much about temptation as it is about terror. The Collinson twins embody that eternal Hammer duality: innocence corrupted, purity stalked by bloodlust. When fangs pierce throats and crimson wells up, it feels like the ultimate collision of sex and death - the very essence of Hammer Horror.



By the final act, Twins of Evil throws subtlety on the pyre and erupts in a glorious storm of stakes, fire, and shrieking damnation. It’s a symphony of Gothic excess, every note soaked in blood, every chord echoing with the clash between repression and desire.

Twins of Evil isn’t just another Hammer entry - it’s one of their crown jewels of debauchery. Equal parts lurid, brutal, and beautiful - it stands as a perfect example of why Hammer reigned supreme: atmosphere thicker than graveyard fog, Horror dripping from every velvet curtain, and enough blood to satisfy even the most ravenous fiend.

Don’t take my word for it, have a quick watch of this movie, I’m sure you’ll feel the same. This is one of Peter Cushing’s greatest performances on film…

“The Devil has sent me, TWINS OF EVIL”!