Glass & Ghosts: Testing Vintage Lenses for a Hammer-Inspired Short
There’s something about Hammer Horror that sticks to your ribs. All fog and folklore, decaying aristocracy and candlelit corridors—those lurid British nightmares where Peter Cushing stared down evil with an academic’s cool and the impeccable Christopher Lee loomed through the shadows like a gothic monument on stabilised head. Hammer are not just B movie horror films, they’re mood pieces carved out of shadow, grain and simmering theatricality. Hammer Horror was born from the iconic British studio Hammer Film Productions, hitting its stride in the late 1950s and '60s with a bold reimagining of classic Gothic horror. Unlike the shadowy restraint of earlier Universal monster films, Hammer leaned into saturated Eastmancolor, theatrical lighting and period-set excess—dripping candles, crimson blood and cobwebbed castles lit with moody gels and strong key shadows. Cinematographers like Jack Asher helped define the look: rich, stylised and heightened, often with dramatic use of colour separation, chiaroscuro lighting and creeping dolly shots. The result was horror with a painterly edge—equal parts operatic and eerie, where even the darkness had texture and you never knew what lurked there.
In a bold and risky move, this direct sequel to Horror of Dracula doesn’t feature the titular character. The Count wouldn’t return until the third movie, Dracula: Prince of Darkness (1966). Brides of Dracula does, however, see Peter Cushing reprise his role as Van Helsing. After becoming stranded on her way to a new job at an all-girls academy, a beautiful French schoolteacher, Marianne (Yvonne Monlaur), accepts an invitation from the elderly Baroness Meinster (Martita Hunt) to sleep in her castle. When she finds the woman’s son, Baron Meinster (David Peel), chained to the wall, she sets him free, unaware of his vampiric nature. He unleashes evil on the village, and Dr. Van Helsing is called in to help. How the film gets its title, well, you’re just going to have to watch and find out.
So when I heard director Dave Hackney was developing a short inspired by that world, I was excited to help show what the world of vintage lenses could offer the project. The plan: something old-school, high-drama and utterly stylised. The short might end up being shot on virtual production (VP)—a nod to the future perhaps, with an image set in the past. That meant vintage glass. The kind of lenses that breathe, flare and distort when you least expect it, and whose imperfections help sell the world of Hammer that Dave is crerating.
We tested a series of S35-format lenses at Sunbelt Rentals in Manchester, shooting on the Sony Venice with its sensor windowed down to Super 35. Hammer films weren’t made on full-frame camera—they were shot on humble, beautiful 35mm film. Matching that format was step one in selecting the glasses, besides, it opened up a world of possible vintage options.
Our testing process wasn’t scientific, we aren’t recreating any lighting setups, camera moves or specific distances and stops. No MTF charts or pixel peeping. Just a single hard light, a human face (unfortunately mine), and a simple scene repeated over and over—wide open, then stopped down a touch. The aim: see what each lens could do with a human face. Oh… we did add a Technicolor LUT in post, these were specifically designed by some of the worlds top colourists for Venice:
https://pro.sony/en_GB/cinematography/cinematography-tips/technicolor-look-collection
Cooke Speed Panchro Series II (Rehoused)
These were the clear standouts.
There’s a reason the Speed Panchros are legendary. Originally made in the 1930s and refined through the '50s, these lenses were used on everything from early Powell and Pressburger epics to indie films looking for a little extra magic. They're known for their painterly roll-off, gentle contrast, and a softness that doesn’t feel blurry—just… human.
On faces, they’re dimensional. There’s a glow to the skin. Halation around highlights. But crucially, they don’t flatten. There's depth, a sense of volume and space that feels earned, not digitally constructed. They're not just lenses—they're time machines. And when you're evoking the look of Hammer, that counts.
Fuji EBC Primes
Compact, reliable and a bit of a dark horse.
These Fuji lenses—originally stills glass, often rehoused for cine use—have a certain understated charm. The EBC coatings (Electron Beam Coated) were revolutionary at the time, reducing flare, cinreasing transmission and contrast.
In our test, they were some of the cleanest of the vintage options, with a neutral colour palette and decent sharpness across the frame. But compared to the Panchros, they had less personality. They didn’t misbehave enough! That said, their size makes them tempting for tight rigs or handheld work, and there's a simplicity to the image that could work well in the right context.
Cooke Varotal 25–250mm T3.9 Zoom
Big. Heavy. Beautiful.
This thing is a beast—an iconic cinema zoom that saw use in the ‘60s and ‘70s across everything from documentary to drama. You don’t really operate this lens so much as steer it. But it has the classic Cooke warmth, a long throw that feels tactile, and a look that complements the Panchros nicely.
The contrast is low, and while not quite as dimensional as the primes, it still has that signature softness in the mid-tones. It’s less flattering on skin and very “classic cinema” in feel, at home Kes or Hammer. With the right filtration, it could be a real asset on this project—especially if we need versatility and a gym membership.
Zeiss Super Speeds (Mark II)
Creamy. Clean. Fast. Maybe too fast.
These lenses have pedigree—famously used on The Shining, Aliens, and Barry Lyndon. They’re fast (T1.3), punchy, and surprisingly consistent across the set.
But in this context? Maybe a little too polished. They render beautifully, but with less character and more technical perfection. If Hammer is all about lurid colour, blooming highlights and velvet blacks, then the Zeiss Super Speeds feel more Kubrickian—controlled, exacting, cool. We loved them, but they didn’t quite belong at this séance.
TLS Rehoused Canon K35s
Legendary, sure. But not quite right.
The K35s have a reputation—the dream glass of many a modern DOP. They flare nicely. They’re fast. They have that ‘70s anamorphic-adjacent vibe despite being spherical. But on our test they were a little too modern. Beautiful bokeh, smooth rendering, but a little flatter emotionally. Their sharpness and smooth skin rendering felt like a halfway point between the Zeiss and the Cookes—but without the deep shadow play and highlight roll-off we were chasing. They’ll be perfect for another story. Just not this one.
The Hounds of the Baskervilles (1959)
Peter Cushing stars as Sherlock Holmes in this adaptation of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s famous novel, directed by Terence Fisher. The movie follows the detective on a quest to solve the mysterious legend of a hellhound who has been killing off the Baskersvilles, a noble family from the moors of Southwestern England. Christopher Lee plays the hunted Sir Henry Baskerville, the latest heir to the titles and lands of the cursed family. Arguably, this is the best Holmes film in existence, and it currently sits at a 95% critic approval rating on Rotten Tomatoes.
The Cooke Look
The Speed Panchro’s and their devilishly imperfect DNA won the day. There’s something romantic about them and for a Hammer Horror, something haunting. And for a film born from Hammer’s legacy, we don’t just want clean. We want character.
Hammer Horror’s signature visual style—lush, theatrical, and bathed in moody colours—owes much to the lenses of the era, with Cooke Speed Panchros almost certainly playing a central role. Made by Taylor-Hobson in Leicester, the Panchros were a staple of British film production in the 1950s and '60s, prized for their warm rendering, gentle contrast and flattering roll-off. Their look perfectly suited Hammer’s candlelit interiors and richly coloured Technicolor palettes.
While exact lens lists weren’t always recorded, it’s likely that DPs like Jack Asher BSC and Arthur Grant BSC relied on these lenses for their soft, romantic feel alongside nets and other filtration. Other lenses such as Dallmeyer primes and Kershaw optics may have been used on occasion—especially in lower-budget or earlier black-and-white productions—but it was the Cookes that helped shape the glowing, gothic atmosphere we now associate with Hammer’s golden years.
As for our tests, we’ll be back for round two where we can test the whole set of Panchro’s with lighting, filters, charts, focus pulls and a proper scene. If and when the film moves forward, I’ll post more results here.
Until then, thanks to Dave for having me along, and thanks to the folks at Sunbelt for letting us play. In the end, we’re just conjuring ghosts through old glass—standing in the flickering shadows of the filmmakers who came before us, letting their vision haunt the images we aspire to.