Before car manufacturers realised there was promotional value in pimping their heritage, it wasn’t uncommon for concept cars to be binned. A few escaped the scrapman’s torch, though, and some went on to be repurposed. Perhaps the most famous concept car of all time is the original Batmobile. What tends to be forgotten is that it was the Lincoln Futura long before it received a blow-over, some mag wheels and assorted gadgetry. The car pictured here also underwent a filmic redo, even if its influence in popular culture was – and remains – that bit more… regional.
When we think of vehicles made behind the Iron Curtain, they tend not to be concept car-ish. Skoda, however, wasn’t immune to such bourgeoise decadence. Quite the opposite. During the 1960s and early ’70s, it touted everything from two-seater roadsters to beach buggies. The 110 Super Sport was something else entirely. It was everything you expected of a show car made during the ‘origami’ era. For starters, it was wedge-shaped (naturally). It also had a lift-up, one-piece canopy rather than conventional doors. Then there was the bank of pop-up headlights, not forgetting the 16 circular rear clusters arranged to look like afterburners.
Initially powered by an 1107cc four-banger, and later an 1147cc unit from a 110 L Rallye, the Skoda 110 Super Sport was fully-functional rather than a mock-up. There was even talk of it entering small-series production, but that was par for the course with concept cars in period. There was always talk.
First seen in its homeland in late 1971, and internationally at the following year’s Brussels Motor Show, it was well-received but otherwise would have been forgotten by history but for what happened subsequently. Its time in the spotlight had only just begun, for in 1977 it appeared in the time-travel sci-fi comedy Tomorrow I'll Wake Up and Scald Myself with Tea.
It then underwent a metamorphosis ahead of appearing in cult 1981 flick, Ferat Vampire. It was remodelled by Theodor Pištěk, who is perhaps better known as collaborator and foil of auteur, Miloš Forman. Pištěk, whose career as an artist and costume designer would in time be garlanded with an Oscar, reworked the 110 with fixed headlights in place of the pop-ups, plus rear clusters from the forthcoming 120 model, not forgetting the addition of BBS lattice wheels. Topping it off was a sinister black paintjob and some rather groovy pinstriping.
Dubbed ‘Ferat’ in the movie (a play on Nosferatu), the car had an insatiable desire for human blood which was extracted via the throttle pedal. Whoever drove it soon fell under its spell. The plot, for want of a better word, centred on a doctor whose ambulance driver friend was hired as the works pilot by the Ferat rally squad. His concerns that something sinister might be afoot is soon proved to be well founded, and, well, there’s lots of footage of the car in action on the Skoda Rally (a big national event) mixing it with fishtailing Opel Asconas, Ford Escorts, assorted Renaults and, of course, Skodas.
Oh, and there’s some joyously hammy dialogue. Our favourite line has to be: ‘Hundreds of people cannot wait to feel the thrill of dying in a Ferat.’ As horror films go, it’s about as terrifying as an episode of Bargain Hunt, but it’s shot through with black comedy, social commentary and a lot more besides.
The ‘Ferat’ remains something of a celebrity in its own right in Eastern Europe, and currently lives in the factory Skoda museum (as much as the undead can live). Such is the car’s fame in its homeland, Skoda fielded a Fabia R5 on the 2016 Bohemia Rally (né Skoda Rally), resplendent in Ferat livery.
