What better way to close out the Karnstein vampire trilogy than with a barely related tale of witchcraft and witch-hunts?

If you’re craving a bit of gothic flair, a dash of vampire seduction, and Peter Cushing burning witches like it’s going out of style, then Twins of Evil has got you covered. Hammer Films, in their infinite wisdom (or lust for box-office gold), decided that the best way to cap off their Karnstein Trilogy was with not one, but two evil twins – ex-Playboy Playmates of the Month no less – plus Cushing doing what he does best: looking really stern and setting things on fire. Oh, and almost as an afterthought, there are vampires. Obviously.

So, what’s the deal with Twins of Evil? The story follows Gustav Weil (Cushing), a puritanical psycho who’s so obsessed with rooting out evil that you half expect him to burn his own reflection for being too morally ambiguous. Weil leads a merry band of witch-hunters who roam the countryside doing what witch-hunters do best—namely, accusing people of devilish things and lighting them up like bonfire night. Into this charming little setup stroll two orphaned twins, Maria and Frieda (Mary and Madeleine Collinson), fresh from Vienna and probably wishing they’d stayed there.

Now, if you’re thinking, “Hey, are the twins both evil?” Well, no. That’d be a bit much, even for Hammer. One twin, Maria, is all sweetness and light. Frieda, on the other hand, is like, “Witch hunts? Yawn. I’m gonna hang out with that hot vampire count over there.” Enter Count Karnstein, who basically spends the whole movie sneering, seducing, and being undead. You know, your typical vampire aristocrat stuff. He’s bad news, obviously, but Frieda can’t resist his immortal charms and soon finds herself neck-deep in some serious blood-sucking business.

And let’s talk about Peter Cushing for a moment. This guy is a Hammer staple, and in Twins of Evil, he’s at his absolute fanatical best. Weil is like the ultimate party pooper—only his idea of fun-killing involves actual killing. The film almost dares you to root for him because, sure, vampires are bad, but Weil’s moral crusade? Yikes. Cushing plays him with such grim conviction that you can’t help but wonder if he’s secretly enjoying torching all those “sinners.” His character is so laser-focused on eradicating evil that he doesn’t realise he’s crossing more lines than the vampires he’s hunting.

Visually, Twins of Evil is pure Hammer: gothic castles, misty forests, and enough candlelight to make you question their electricity bill. The atmosphere is thick, the costumes are top-notch, and the sets do their best to make you forget that this is all happening in broad daylight on some backlot. It’s the kind of lush, spooky aesthetic that made Hammer famous, and it still holds up pretty well, even if the special effects are a bit, well, quaint.

But the real charm of this film lies in how it takes the usual Hammer mix of sex and horror and gives it a moral twist. Yes, there’s the expected bit of vampire lust and cleavage—this is Hammer in the 70s after all—but it’s less about titillation and more about the dangers of repression. Weil’s holier-than-thou attitude is arguably scarier than the vampires themselves. Frieda’s rebellion against his puritanical rule feels more like an escape from Weil’s suffocating grasp than a simple slide into villainy. In the end, it’s not just the vampires that are the “evil” here—it’s blind fanaticism.

Of course, like all good Hammer films, it’s not without its flaws. The pacing drags in the middle like a vampire trying to fly through molasses, and the twin dynamic, while interesting, never really hits the emotional highs it could have. But when the film’s firing on all cylinders, it’s a campy, gothic delight with just enough depth to keep you thinking while you watch the witch hunters and vampires throw down.

So, is Twins of Evil the best in the Karnstein Trilogy? Probably. It’s got Cushing at his crusading peak, enough vampire intrigue to keep the blood flowing, and a moral undertone that makes it a bit more than just another entry in the “bite ‘em and stake ‘em” genre. Plus, it’s got twins. Evil twins. What more could you ask for?