Showing posts with label nigel kneale. Show all posts
Showing posts with label nigel kneale. Show all posts

Friday, 26 August 2016

The Stone Tape (1972)

A great premise. An electronics company in the search for a new recording material, find that their new research facility, located in an old house, contains the very solution they've been searching for... walls so old and resonant that they've somehow been imprinted with the emotional history of the inhabitants.

I wouldn't be surprised if The Stone Tape had an influence on The League of Gentlemen as the engineers bore an uncanny resemblance to the LoG plastics company workers Geoff, Mike and Brian.

Warning: this programme contains an odious little shit!

Letterboxd Review

Quatermass and the Pit (1958)

In which our hero, Professor Quatermass along with Dr. Matthew Roney, a paleontologist, sciences the hell out of the supernatural and occult, all the while hindered by the military's arrogant dismissal of facts that don't meet their own agenda.

Another series and another Professor Quatermass, this time it's André Morell and, compared to the log-like performance of John Robinson, he's a breath of fresh air. He is the definitive Quatermass.

Quatermass's military nemesis, Colonel Breen (played wonderfully by Anthony Bushell), is a blustering and uptight arsehole but I love him and his "Speckled Jim" style tirades. Baah! British character stalwart and frequent tavern keeper, Michael Ripper pops up as a shouty army sergeant.

The special effects and set design are the best yet. Simple and very effective.

Tense as hell and filled with occult references and supernatural dread. The best of the Quatermass serials and an absolute classic that everyone should try to watch. This series must have terrified TV audiences back in the late 50s!

Letterboxd Review

Wednesday, 24 August 2016

Quatermass II (1955)

After the success of the first serial, the BBC stumped up for more location filming and better sets and special effects. The camera work is also a little less static and is a much more cinematic affair. The humour present in the first series is pretty much missing, making Quatermass II a far more sober affair.

After the death of Reginald Tate, John Robinson takes up the titular role but, unfortunately, isn't a patch on Tate and his delivery is stilted and lacking warmth and enthusiasm, at least until later episodes. He's also got this weird habit of looking upwards while delivering his lines. In fact, Quatermass is outshone by his assistant Dr. Pugh, played by Welsh actor Hugh Griffith.

A few other notes:
  • The title music is brilliant!
  • At one point a tramp (played by Steptoe & Son's Wilfrid Brambell) asks Quatermass "You're a funny fellow with stones, aren't you?". Well, Kneale does seem to have a bit of a stone fetish: meteorites, stone walls, standing stones!
  • The zombie soldiers are, unintentionally, hilarious!
  • There's a healthy distrust of government and bureaucracy.
  • Some lovely miniature sets.
  • Quatermass's daughter seems to have had a whole bucket full of "received pronunciation" poured down her throat.
  • The spacesuits, although still quite ragged, are much better this time around and look less like welder's gear.
  • There's a rather nice illustration of Newton's 3rd law of motion in the 6th episode!
Overall, a much more cinematic affair than the original series with a thrilling plot but handicapped by a leaden Quatermass.

Letterboxd Review

Monday, 22 August 2016

The Quatermass Experiment (1953)

Broadcast live, four years before the launch of Sputnik 1, eight years before Gagarin orbited the earth and fifteen years before Armstrong and company landed on the moon, The Quatermass Experiment was the television serial which kindled our fascination with the extraterrestrial.

Nigel Kneale's script really captures post-war pioneering science, cold war fear and cosmic horror but grounds it all with large doses of humanity. Reginald Tate is perfect as the scientific evangelist, Professor Bernard Quatermass and there's some great studio-based set design. The programme is pretty tense in a knob-twiddling, oscilloscope-wobbling kind of way and contains an almost Lovecraftian fear of the unknown.

Unfortunately, only the first two episodes survive and it's extremely unlikely that any recordings will ever be found of the missing four episodes.

Jolly good fun, chaps!

Letterboxd Review