‘The Life and Deaths of Christopher Lee’ review: A movie giant narrates his bio-doc from beyond the grave

To resurrect a late actor — as recent franchise films have done using CGI — is akin to an act of puppetry, and The Life and Deaths of Christopher Lee tackles this idea with mischievous literalism. It employs, as its central narrator, a delightfully designed marionette of the late English thespian, known for playing Count Dracula in the Hammer horror films, as well as fantasy icons like Count Dooku and Lord Saruman.

However, this self-reflexive touch is the documentary’s only deft or thoughtful flourish. The end result is too rote and mechanical to truly inform audiences about its subject either intellectually or emotionally, despite featuring numerous friends, family, and colleagues who undoubtedly had access to Lee’s wildly interesting life — the dimensions of which the film never fully explores.

What is The Life and Deaths of Christopher Lee about?

A man whose voice and posture exuded presence, Christopher Lee was a screen legend with an unconventional film career, and an even more unorthodox job before that: In the years following World War II, he was a Nazi hunter. However, The Life and Deaths of Christopher Lee is scarcely interested in exploring this side of the famous actor. In fact, it seldom sticks with any one topic or period of his life for long enough to create intrigue.

The film’s opening images are its most pronounced. A visibly Lee-like silhouette sits in the darkness, as a nearby screen plays clips of various pals and confidants speaking on his behalf. It’s a preview of what’s to come: Lee looms large over the movie, but his story is told through other people’s recollections. This shadowy figure is soon revealed to be a puppet on strings, voiced by fellow Star Wars alum Peter Serafinowicz (the voice of Darth Maul), who does an adequate impression.

Director Jon Spira has no qualms about revealing this ruse, and ensures that footage of Serafinowicz in a sound recording booth is prominently displayed. The film is not, after all, an attempted re-creation of Lee’s thoughts, but a Brechtian dramatization of them, with no central source for his opinions despite his dialogue appearing in the first person. 

One by one, Serafinowicz guides us through notable years of Lee’s upbringing, his war service, and his early career leading up to his most famous roles, but little of this backdrop creates a wide enough portrait of who Lee really was. Much of this is owed to what the movie’s interview subjects have to say — and notably, what they don’t.

Surely there are more interesting stories about Christopher Lee?

There are enough reasons to dislike director John Landis (three in particular), but his inflated presence in The Life and Deaths of Christopher Lee feels especially odd. Lee and Landis were friends, having collaborated on The Stupids, but the filmmaker sheds little light on Lee’s private life despite discussing him at length. In fact, the closest he comes to sharing a meaningful anecdote involves him recalling Lee’s refusal to discuss World War II. Rather than probing further, the movie simply leaves it at that, even though Lee’s part in the conflict is well-documented elsewhere. It’s hard not to wonder, from Landis’ musings, if the director knew him at all. 

This lack of curiosity about its own subject plagues The Life and Deaths for much of its runtime, even though Lee’s niece and son-in-law feature among the interviewees. However, that’s likely only the movie’s second-gravest sin. The larger issue is that the movie’s imagined version of Lee is seldom as captivating as the real man, as evidenced by the eloquence and mysteriousness he often displayed in his own interviews, whether discussing the motivations of his characters, or the way his physicality was informed by the real violence he saw up-close in the 1940s.

Instead, the movie mostly features banal recollections of things Lee might’ve said on one occasion, without ever weaving them into a larger tapestry. Each tidbit is isolated, and relatively meaningless on its own, with little journalistic probing as to its underlying meaning or what it says about the man himself. It also never gets to the root of its own title, and only mentions in passing that Lee often played characters who died on screen, but it never attempts to investigate what this might mean for a performer who lived in such close proximity to death.

If nothing else, the movie’s visual execution at least falls perfectly in line with this mechanical approach.

The Life and Deaths of Christopher Lee is mechanically assembled.

You could set your watch to the movie’s use of any still photograph, on which it zooms in slowly for a few seconds apiece before cutting back to the most recent talking head. It’s a repetitive form of editing that ensures a familiar rhythm, but one that offers no excitement or spark of imagination — let alone one that uses its images to punctuate what’s being said. Instead, archival photographs are used to illustrate the words themselves, doubling down on how little the film actually has to say.

This is, of course, limited to the use of real pictures and footage. The movie also appears to make use — in limited but noticeable capacity — of A.I.-generated imagery to imbue some of these photos with movement. It also seems to use A.I. to create map inserts for transitional moments, when the topic being discussed is Lee’s travel or relocation between countries (the places listed on these maps are total gibberish). For a film that seeks permission to bring a dead actor to life in humane ways, more akin to a biopic than ghoulish digital necromancy, it skirts the very same technological line in equally concerning ways.

However, even these generated elements don’t add any spark or pizzazz to the proceedings. No matter its fleeting focus, the movie very quickly moves on from one topic to the next — in disconnected, rambling, “and then… and then… and then” fashion — as though it were simply running down a list of Lee’s achievements from his Wikipedia page (which, incidentally, is far more informative).

Despite the numerous forms of stylization it attempts — on occasion, it portrays Lee’s life through comic panels and eye-popping dioramas — The Life and Deaths of Christopher Lee presents what ought to be a poetic life in the form of blank verse. It’s a chore to watch, with little sense of insight about a man who lived a truly intriguing life.

The Life and Deaths of Christopher Lee was reviewed out of its North American premiere at Fantastic Fest.