A Ghost Story for Christmas

Both the BBC and ITV have recognised the tradition of a seasonal ghost yarn and rarely a Christmas goes by without at least a supernatural film on around Christmas Day. Often however both channels have produced a special eerie drama for the occasion. During the seventies the BBC entrusted this job to an annual anthology series entitled, logically enough, A Ghost Story for Christmas. Rosemary Hill was the producer and Lawrence Gordon Clark directed all but the final instalment. They were an effective team and together produced a fine series that was genuinely spine chilling in places. Quite an achievement for television where horror can quickly become hokey. All the shows enjoyed high production standards and excellent freelance writers, some of whom went on to become very respected figures in the television industry.

Most of the stories in the series were based on the work of M R James, widely regarded as England's greatest ghost story writer. His work has a marvellous subtlety about it. He had a fine understanding of human foibles and personalities, particularly academics and clergymen such as himself. Jonathan Miller commented that James' work was distinguished by an air of cranky scholarship. His ghosts and demons are unambiguously real rather than products of a frightened mind yet they never seem crude or obvious. Indeed they are described with uncanny turns of phrase which only add to their horror.

The series began with The Stalls of Barchester Cathedral. Robert Hardy plays an ambitious cleric called Dr Haynes who becomes frustrated that the old Archdeacon of Barchester seems determined to live forever. So he arranges for his early demise with the aid of the Archdeacon's housekeeper. Once installed as Archdeacon however he soon finds himself being terrorised by a black cat and a menacing hooded figure. It seems impossible but his tormentors seem to be the wood carvings of the cathedral choir stalls come to life. As the hauntings drive the corrupt clergyman to a ghastly fate, he learns too late that the stalls were made from a notorious old tree that carries a special curse dedicated to murderers.

This first entry has a slightly different feel to than its successors because it is told in flashback and book ended by a modern day story. Dr Black, played by Clive Swift, is a historian cataloguing the dreary contents of a college library who discovers the doomed Archdeacon's diaries. It is he who finally unravels the mystery of the carvings when he finds their remains in the local museum. Consequently there is a lot of narration and more description of the action rather than letting the audience decide for themselves. Lawrence Gordon Clark adapted the story himself and was probably trying to stay close to its structure which is also narrated by Dr Black, although he is unnamed in the book. But the result is sometimes awkward and obvious so consequently the other adaptations were slightly more liberal, disposing of the narrator. The story was already unusual compared to most M R James stories in that most of the explanation for the haunting comes after the climax which rather dampens the end of the tale. However before this disappointment there are several excellent moments. In one, Dr Haynes is stalked through the cathedral by unseen footsteps recalling a similar scene in the classic film Cat People. His death scene is shocking for its sudden gore. Mordant humour is used to illustrate the previous Archdeacon's long life. We see a series of birthdays with fewer and fewer guests as the old man outlives his friends. The production was filmed entirely on location around Norwich Cathedral and Cathedral Close.

Interestingly Clive Swift returned the next year playing a man again called Dr Black. Whether he is supposed to be the same historian as seen in the modern day segment of The Stalls of Barchester is not clear. But it seems unlikely since A Warning to the Curious is set in the 1930's. He does supply an opening narration which explains the history of the crowns. According to legend there are three crowns buried on the Norfolk coast that protect England from invasion. A local family were rumoured to be their guardians until its last descendent William Ager, a violent loner, dies. When an amateur archaeologist goes treasure hunting he discounts the warning of its guardian to his cost. Although he finds the crown, he is pursued by the vengeful spirit of Ager. After a frightening assault in his bedroom, the terrified archaeologist tries to appease his enemy by returning the crown to its barrow with Dr Black's help. This seems to work but Ager is determined to eradicate anyone who knows about his treasure and he has a few more nasty tricks up his sleeve.

This is an extremely eerie production that proves to be very chilling. Lawrence Gordon Clark once again adapted the story and accurately recreated its claustrophobic male world of obsessive bachelors. It opens on a bleak shoreline then moves into a sparse wood where the silhouette of man is digging into a barrow. This first archaeologist is horrifically hacked to death by a savage looking man. After such a jarring opening the story moves forward a few years. The sight of spade tied to newly arrived Mr Paxton's luggage can only be foreboding knowing what we know. Peter Vaughan plays this latest treasure seeker and gives a fine, sympathetic portrayal, miles away from the villains he so often plays. In contrast to the pedanticness of Stalls there is a lot of subtle storytelling here. Although it is not put into words, Paxton is a lonely, desperate man. The loss of his city job has only emphasised his empty life. While his tormentor Ager is doomed to be ghost because he had no children to remove the burden of his vow. The village of Seaburgh is painted as a place slightly apart from the rest of the country, suspicious and still immersed in pagan beliefs, so the local vicar alludes.

The woodwind music is a character in itself, suggesting magical powers and emphasising the harshness of the countryside. Clark's direction is faultless. Key images such as the barrow are repeated exactly to emphasise the idea that history is going to repeat itself. He often keeps the camera at a distance to create a feeling that Paxton is being observed. Ager's distant figure is a menacing image because we know what he is capable of and that sooner or later the violence will erupt again. Music and camerawork combined perfectly during the night time discovery of the crown, building up the tension to a crescendo. The chase sequences where the treasure hunter is pursued by the angry ghost are a surreal combination of Ager's figure and weird sounds. They strongly recall Jonathan Miller's famous adaptation of M R James's Oh Whistle and I'll Come to You where Michael Horden is pursued across the beach by a ghost. In fact the whole production owes a debt to that play yet manages to be a worthy successor. But the most frightening moment occurs in Paxton's bedroom. In the middle of the night he is awaken by loud, horse breathing. His torch scans the room and settles upon the back of a hunched man. As the ghost's face turns to the camera the light goes out and only a terrible scream is heard. Warning has the most ominous conclusion of the whole series which I wouldn't dare reveal for fear of spoiling it for those who have not seen it. But perhaps it is not surprising that Dr Black did not return in the future!

The series took a much more straightforward route with Lost Hearts, making it simple tale of good versus evil or more accurately innocence versus corruption. Stephen, an orphan, moves to his rich Uncle Abney's house and is haunted by two ghostly children. He learns that a gypsy boy and an orphan girl had both been cared for by his uncle and that both had mysteriously disappeared. Uncle Abney seems to be obsessed with ancient knowledge and the search for immortality. As the apparitions become more sinister, Stephen fears that something terrible happens to children who stay in this house. But his evil uncle has not reckoned on the power of good to be found at the midnight hour. Robin Chapman provided this adaptation in which Simon Gipps-Kent gives an adequate performance as Stephen, while Joseph Connor mugs shamelessly as his evil uncle. He is so ebullient and jolly throughout that the viewer just knows he is harbouring fiendish intentions for his young ward.

The ghostly children work best when briefly glimpsed or seen as far away forms. Once they are seen close up they sadly lose any haunting quality and become all too solid. Their make-up merely looks theatrical rather than corpse-like and neither child is a good enough actor to overcome these limitations. There is a poignancy in their wish to play with Stephen considering their rather miserable existence. The optimistic ending sees them both released from their haunting to move on to happier times. Once again the music provides a lot of the atmosphere and features a rare instrument called a hurdy-gurdy, played by the ghost boy in the story. Sadly this is the weakest of the stories in this series and seems more suitable for the Sunday classic serial slot than a late night showing.

John Bowen departed quite a bit from the original storyline of The Treasure of Abbot Thomas and brought in several new elements. In the book a lone antiquary describes his terrifying encounter to the local rector. Bowen brought in the conflict between reason and superstition as well as a domestic sub-plot. Before the main story starts underway there is a opening incident in which a sceptical university don called Justin exposes a pair of fake mediums who have been conning the aristocratic family of his former pupil Peter. This unctuous couple provide an amusing cameo before the real danger begins, as well as illustrating Justin's rational approach to the occult. Peter also asks for his help in improving his standing with his mother who still sees him as a feckless boy despite the fact that he has inherited his father's title. What begins as an intriguing scholarly investigation turns into a nightmare when the famous scholar and his ex-pupil go on the trail of an infamous abbot from the middle-ages. A man who was rumoured to be a witch. Their investigations and a photograph of a stained glass window uncover the location of the abbot's legendary treasure. Succumbing to curiosity and greed Justin ventures into a tunnel and discovers the treasure, only to be attacked by its hideous guardian which then lays siege to his house. He calls upon Peter to return the treasure to its hiding place but even this does not stop the grisly creature from despatching him.

Treasure features the most straightforward monster of the series, as opposed to a restless spirit. The creature Justin foolishly rouses is described as "a thing of darkness and slime" but it is only glimpsed from time to time which makes it far more frightening. Michael Bryant gives a strong performance as Justin, whose curiosity betrays him. Geoffrey Burgon provides a superb music score which uses forbidding percussion sounds and choral backing to create an increasing sense of danger. The ending is cleverly ambiguous. It is hinted but not confirmed that Peter steals the treasure, perhaps to impress his mother, thus condemning his friend to a grim fate. Or it may be that returning the treasure to its hiding place was not enough, just as Paxton the archaeologist discovered in Warning. The final sequence of shots in the last minute is subtle but very effective.

  The Ash Tree is certainly one of MR James' above average works. Sir Richard Dickin takes up his inheritance of the family mansion but his hopes of an idyllic rural life with his bride-to-be Augusta are soon ruined by vivid dreams of his notorious ancestor Sir Matthew Dickin.  This sheriff condemned a local woman called Mrs Mothersole as a witch and on the scaffold she cursed him and his descendants with the ominous words "Mine will inherit."  Soon afterwards he died horribly, his body black, poisoned and twisted.  Meanwhile animals on Sir Richard's estate are dying from a mysterious pestilence.  The source of this evil lies within the huge ash tree outside the mansion.  His architect tells him that ash trees are notorious for sucking all the goodness out of their surrounding.  Yet the heart of the tree provides a nest for a far stranger danger, as Sir Richard discovers to his cost when he sleeps in the room closest to its branches.

A splendid sense of gloom and foreboding hangs over this story, despite much of it being filmed in bright sunshine in the picturesque English countryside.  There is more than a little of Michael Reeves' highly regarded film, Witchfinder General in the play's style.  Certainly it marks a new level of explicitness in the series, especially the torture of a naked woman  suspected of witchcraft.  The climatic bedroom scene where the witch's 'children' come to claim Sir Richard could have highly risible but a combination of John Friedlander's gruesome modelwork and a distorted sound of babies mewling and crying make it a skin crawling moment. David Rudkin's adaptation stays fairly faithful to the story although he removes the narrator of the story to emphasise the loneliness of its protagonist. He also shifts the action between past and present to great effect.  The Radio Times' write-up suggested his script had "a hallucinatory intensity...psychological unease, moral dread, real fear." Amongst the cast was Edward Petherbridge as Sir Richard/ SirMatthew and Lalla Ward as Lady Augusta.

Then for the first time the team left M R James' work and turned to another famous ghost story author, Charles Dickens. To the viewer though there was no discernible change in style when they watched The Signalman. In a deep railway cutting an anonymous traveller meets a nervous signalman. This railwayman seems distracted, almost paranoid as they talk. The following evening he eventually confesses that he is being haunted by a cloaked figure who always appears just before some terrible accident on the line, trying to warn him. Twice the ghost has haunted him with its strange warning, "Look out below," and each time death follows. Now the spectre has returned and the signalman feels powerless to stop whatever calamity is approaching. The traveller tries to provide some rational comfort but eventaully he can only be an impotent witness to the final ironic act the next morning. This was a superb entry, filled with all the classic elements of ghost stories. There is a suffocating feeling of dread and inevitability from the moment it begins. The emphasis is frequently on small, lonely figures in the midst of a cold, bleak countryside. This alternates with claustrophobically tight shots of people's faces in half light. Denholm Elliot and Bernard Lloyd give superbly controlled performances that leave the viewer hanging on every word as they talk by the fire. Elliot in particular is excellent, conveying the impression a tightly coiled spring that threatens to explode at any minute.

Elizabeth Parker's electronic incidentals are inspired, a collection of unsettling vibrations rather than music that increase the tension almost exponentially. The story was perfectly dramatised by Andrew Davies who has since gone on to enjoy great acclaim for A Very Perculiar Practice and his adaptations of House of Cards, Pride and Prejudice and many other prestigious dramas.

The final two stories in the series saw an abrupt change of style.  For a reason unknown to me, Rosemary Hill decided to stop adapting classic stories and instead commissioned original scripts. Both were set in the present day but only one could be properly described as a ghost story.  In both the tone is decidedly misanthropic and devoid of any good cheer.

Stigma was written by the experienced Clive Exton.  It starred Kate Binchy and Peter Bowles as Katherine and Peter, an affluent middle-class couple who move to the country with their teenage daughter.  When workmen attempt to unearth a large menhir stone from their cottage garden, it unleashes a supernatural force which wreaks a ghastly curse on the wife.  She begins bleeding heavily despite having no wounds.  At first she is able to disguise it from her family but by the morning she is lying in a pool of blood with her husband and the local doctor looking on helplessly.  Simultaneously the workmen discover that a human skeleton had been buried under the ancient stone. The remains of someone who seems to have been killed in a ritualistic manner.

It is an effective and eerie episode though it ultimately the story proves to be rather linear.  The final scene also requires the young daughter to be temporarily possessed so that she can reveal an obscure piece of knowledge to explain the curse. There might have been a subtler way to convey this info.  Nevertheless the chilly direction carries it along.  One shot which particularly works is the pull back which reveals to the viewer, if not the characters, that the fateful rock is in fact part of a large stone circle.  When the wife frantically strips off and examines her body for more signs of bleeding, it is an anxious moment and definitely not an arousing one.  There is certainly a suggestion that the family are a bit dysfunctional and one could read the blood for suppressed tensions within the house but that is probably seeing something that is not there or at least it is not that important.  Certainly the curse seems extremely cruel and extreme for simply moving a stone in ignorance of what it hides.

In 1978 the series concluded unhappily with The Ice House, written by John Bowen and starring John Stride as Paul. Clearly it is a horror story but whether there are any ghosts involved is a question left for the audience.  In fact, this story is extremely obscure and refuses to explain anything.  Whilst making the audience work is a good aim, in this case it suggests lazy writing rather than complexity.  The play vaguely hints at the nature of the horror stalking the unfortunate hero.  It's strange plot requires more description than most.  Paul is staying at a very exclusive health spa in the country, run by a peculiar brother and sister called Clovis and Beth.  All seems to be ideal but a build up of strange incidents leaves him paranoid.  His masseur complains that he and the rest of the staff suffer from 'the chillies'.  His hosts seem pleasant but there is an unusual intensity about the way they care for him, almost as though they are fattening him up.  Then his masseur pleads with him to help him escape, before disappearing without explanation.  Within the grounds is an old fashioned ice house with a pair of bizarre climbing vines clinging to it.  Clovis and Beth seem entranced by the two flowers which have bloomed from it, telling Paul that these plants will never die.  Feeling increasingly cold and perturbed, he finds flower shaped holes appearing in his bedroom window during the night.  Then the next night, he is drawn out to visit the ice house where inside he makes a horrific discovery.  But even after that, his hosts are on hand to soothe him, explain away his troubles and even make him want to take a final role in their strange isolated world.

I've not covered all the strange little incidents which pepper this story, partly so as not to spoil it for future viewers but also so as not to confuse this article any futher.  Are Clovis and Beth human, demons, spectres or something else?  There seems to be  a link between themselves and the plants, which are described as brother and sister.  Who are the other guests and why do they never talk save for one old woman?  What is the meaning of the holes in the glass? At a guess the vine flowers are some kind of vampires, feeding on the guests.  It is undoubtedly significant that the hotel specialises in single people with not too many family ties.  Derek Lister took over as the director and does an effective job, maintaining the house style of the series with a slightly removed sense, the camera acting as a hidden observer of the story.

Over the years the Radio Times publicised the series fairly well. The Stalls of Barchester was accompanied by an interview with Robert Hardy in which he described his own encounters with ghosts. The article was amusingly written as a pastiche M R James story. Meanwhile the programme page had a insert photograph of a startled Archdeacon Haynes. The following year the insert photograph for A Warning to the Curious was that of the two unfortunate archaeologists. Lost Hearts was awarded a colour page with a photo of boy and a short interview with a demonologist called Eric Maple while the insert showed Uncle Abney. Curiously though the Ghost Story for Christmas tag was missing.
It was back next year for The Treasure of Abbot Thomas but there were no photographs or mentions in the rest of the issue. The Ash Tree's credits benefited from a woodcut style illustration of a farm. At the back of the magazine was an excellent piece by renown fantasy author Angela Carter which discussed the peculiar appeal of scary tales at Christmas. She linked the play with the other major fantasy offering of the 1975 Christmas season, the premiere of Frankenstein:The True Story. Amongst the illustrations for the article was a splendid colour artwork of the haunted tree by Bill Sanderson. By now the series was described as "a television tradition". The Ghost Story for Christmas title disappeared again the year after but there was a large photo of The Signalman and the Traveller to advertise their tale. Stigma was promoted as the Christmas Ghost Story but there was no photograph. It did have the following cryptic synopsis in the Radio Times, "It is well to leave one's gateposts standing if one lives in certain parts of the country." Elsewhere Keith Waterhouse referred to the story in his Christmas column, commenting on the disturbing sight of a blood soaked bed in a country cottage. The Ice House gained no other recognition than its programme credit.  Its programme page synopsis is even less forthcoming, "Does the ice house hold a secret or is it, as they say, just ice?"

During the nineties BBC2 repeated selected episodes, one each Christmas Eve. The practice was probably encouraged by the controller Michael Jackson who was quite fond of theme nights. Consequently December 24th 1991 saw "A Perfect Christmas" to which The Signalman formed the conclusion. Since then the channel has repeated the following: A Warning to the Curious, The Treasure of Abbot Thomas, Lost Hearts and finally The Stalls of Barchester Cathedral.

BFI have released The Signalman and A Warning to the Curious on VHS and DVD. Both DVD's also feature a reading of the original story.

A Ghost Story for Christmas enjoys a remarkable consistency for most of its run and is never less than entertaining. Perhaps because of its annual nature the series has received fairly limited attention in its own right so maybe I can start to put that omission right.
 

A Ghost Story for Christmas