A GHOST STORY FOR CHRISTMAS: A Creepy Yuletide Season

…, a documentary filmmaker and collaborator with the BBC. Clark, a private enthusiast of horror literature, convinced the studio’s management to fund an adaptation of the story The Stalls of Barchester by Montague Rhodes James – a British scholar and writer from the turn of the 19th and 20th centuries, who enjoyed reading his spooky tales at Christmas parties. The success of the first film, The Stalls of Barchester (1971), led to the production of seven more: A Warning to the Curious (1972), Lost Hearts (1973), The Treasure of Abbot Thomas (1974), The Ash Tree (1975), The Signalman (1976), Stigma (1977), and The Ice House (1978). The first five were adaptations of M.R. James’s works from 1895–1926, the sixth was based on a novella by Charles Dickens, and the last two were based on original screenplays by Clive Exton and John Bowen. Clark directed all the films except the last one, where he was replaced by Derek Lister. A Ghost Story for Christmas

The creators aimed to refresh the popular British tradition of telling ghost stories at Christmas, a tradition famously upheld by James himself (even if his tales had no direct connection to the holiday). Clark emphasized that his adaptations of the British writer’s works “focus on suggestion. Their goal, as they say, is more to create a shiver than to shock. Partly because television is not well suited to large-screen fireworks, but primarily because they want to remain faithful to the idea of a ghost story in literary tradition, not cinematic tradition” [2]. By paradox, the limitations of the television format became the strength of A Ghost Story for Christmas: unlike cinema and theater, television is a private, even intimate medium, through which the viewer, via the glass screen, almost invites the ghosts into their own home. Watching these short (30 to 50 minutes) films in a theater would likely not have been particularly impactful, but in the dim light of a home, with the curtains drawn and the sounds of wood cracking in the fireplace, experiencing these stories is a wonderful experience.

A Ghost Story for Christmas gained significant popularity among British television viewers, who would gather before their sets from December 22 to 29, always between 11 PM and midnight, to watch the final show of the BBC schedule, featuring well-known and respected actors (including Peter Vaughan, Clive Swift, Denholm Elliott, and Robert Hardy). The crisis occurred in the late 1970s when the creators of the series decided to abandon James’s stories in favor of original scripts. The negative reception of Stigma and The Ice House contributed to the indefinite suspension of the anthology. Describing the penultimate episode of the series, David Kerekes stated: “The problem is that this is not a ghost story. Stigma is simply a horror. Although it is a perfectly competent television production, it just doesn’t fit the atmosphere that a Christmas ghost story should have” [3]. Meanwhile, Alex Davison noted that the creators of The Ice House “failed to fully evoke the chills that Clark’s films had” [4]. After leaving the BBC in 1979, Clark made one more adaptation of James’s work (Casting the Runes), this time for Yorkshire Television.

A quarter of a century after the airing of the final episode of A Ghost Story for Christmas, the BBC revisited the series during Christmas 2004. It was decided to film new segments based on M.R. James’s works. The first was an adaptation of the story A View From a Hill (which was adapted in 2005 by director Luke Watson and screenwriter Peter Harness), and the following year, a film adaptation of Number 13 was shown (directed by Pier Wilkie, with a script by Justin Hopper). Viewers had to wait four more years for the next film, when the television version of Whistle and I’ll Come to You, My Boy! was aired, directed by Andy De Emmony and written by Neil Cross. Since 2013, Mark Gatiss, a British actor, director, screenwriter, writer, comedian, and expert on horror, has been the curator of the series. Gatiss has written and directed six episodes of the anthology (including one based on his own idea and one adapted from a story by Arthur Conan Doyle). The tenth episode of the series is titled Woman of Stone, based on a work by Edith Nesbit, and its premiere is scheduled for Christmas 2024. It is therefore worth taking a look at the previous episodes.

[1] Most of the stories mentioned here can be found in the collections: Montague Rhodes James, Tales of an Old Antiquary, trans. R. Lipski and J. Mroczkowska, Toruń 2005, and Montague Rhodes James, Ghost Stories, trans. M. Dżdża, Toruń 2012.
[2] H. Wheatley, Gothic Television, trans. own, Manchester 2006, p. 51.
[3] D. Kerekes, Creeping Flesh: The Horror Fantasy Film Book. Volume 1, trans. own, Manchester 2003, p. 36.
[4] A. Davison, Ghost Stories: Classical Adaptations from the BBC, trans. own, London 2011, p. 17.

A View From a Hill (2005)

Young historian Fanshawe arrives at the rural home of the ailing aristocrat Richards to appraise his archaeological collection. During a walk around the estate, Richards shows Fanshawe a hill where criminals were once hanged, as well as the ruins of an old abbey. Fanshawe views the abbey in full through a pair of binoculars borrowed from Richards, which had once belonged to Baxter – a long-lost ancestor of the aristocrat. A View From a Hill marks a promising beginning to a new phase of the series, even though some details have changed: the plot was moved from the Edwardian era to the 1940s, the doctor arrives in the countryside in the autumn rather than the summer (allowing for the use of autumn landscapes in Surrey and the Thames Valley), and the enchanted binoculars are burned rather than taken by Fanshawe to a church where they lose their power, as in the story. The most important thing is that screenwriter Peter Harness and director Luke Watson managed to retain the sinister atmosphere of James’s tale; the bathroom sequence is one of the most frightening in the entire anthology.

Number 13 (2006)

Pier Wilkie, producer of A View From a Hill, returned as the director of the adaptation of James’s story Number 13, with a script by Justin Hopper. Its protagonist is an almost archetypical character for this writer – a rational and somewhat arrogant scientist subjected to life’s trials through contact with the immaterial world. This time, the scholar is Professor Anderson from Oxford, who arrives in a small cathedral town somewhere in England to authenticate documents allegedly from the 16th century. While working in the cathedral library, the scholar finds a reference to a local man who confessed to dealings with the devil. Additionally, in the local inn where Anderson stays, a door to a nonexistent room number 13 appears, hiding a terrifying secret. For this adaptation, there were also changes, primarily in setting the action in rural England, whereas in James’s original, it took place in the Danish town of Viborg. Worse still, the creators presented a generic horror film devoid of terror and a sympathetic protagonist whom viewers could root for.

Whistle and I’ll Come to You (2010)

Whistle and I’ll Come to You, My Boy! is one of the most famous and beloved stories in James’s oeuvre. The first adaptation (directed by Jonathan Miller) was made in 1968 for the BBC series Omnibus, and it was this film that inspired Lawrence Gordon Clark to create A Ghost Story for Christmas. The creators of the second television adaptation, screenwriter Neil Cross and director Andy De Emmony, introduced several changes to the plot: Parkins is now called Parkin and is not a solitary young ontographer, but a retired astronomer suffering from the advancing dementia of his ill wife. The biggest controversy, however, was that the protagonist of this adaptation finds a mysterious ring, rather than the ancient whistle that summons the ghost, which makes the original title meaningless. Despite these changes, the creators of Whistle and I’ll Come to You remained true to James’s spirit. More than that, they created one of the most unsettling episodes of the entire series; the scenes on the beach and in the hotel can truly give one goosebumps, and the standout performance by John Hurt is an additional asset.

The Tractate Middoth (2013)

The first segment of A Ghost Story for Christmas directed by Mark Gatiss, who has since become the curator of the entire series. The Tractate Middoth does not have the best reputation among James’s fans (except for Gatiss himself, who considers it one of the best works of the English writer), although it is often adapted for the screen. The first adaptation was made in 1951 under the title The Lost Will of Dr. Rant as part of the Lights Out series on the American NBC network (starring Leslie Nielsen), followed by two British versions in 1959 and 1966, produced by BBC and ATV/Thames Television. Unfortunately, Gatiss’s version doesn’t stand out as much as his subsequent entries. The plot centers around the quest of a young scholar, who attempts to retrieve an important manuscript, and after the discovery of an obscure book, he realizes that there is something supernatural involved. What really works here is the performance of the supporting cast, which includes an excellent John Le Mesurier.

The Dead Room (2018)

The first series of A Ghost Story for Christmas lost quality when the creators began to abandon James’s stories in favor of original scripts, as evidenced by the episodes Stigma (1977) and The Ice House (1978). Gatiss clearly did not learn from those failures and chose to write the script for his second film in the series, albeit loosely inspired by the 1931 essay Ghosts – Treat Them Gently!, in which James outlined the basic principles of crafting a spine-tingling story. The Dead Room tells the story of an aging actor named Aubrey Judd, who, while recording a radio program, recalls events from forty years ago when the young man he loved died under mysterious circumstances. Between recording sessions, Aubrey has clashes with the recording producer Tara, and their dialogues make up the main content of the film. The problem is that there is essentially no plot here; there are no frights either, as Aubrey’s story comes straight out of the worn props cupboard of horror tales, and in the finale, a helpless Gatiss resorts to a primitive jump scare. Both of these elements have been seen hundreds of times in much better executions.

Martin’s Close (2019)

James styled Martin’s Close as a report of a trial from 1684, in which the titular young man, George Martin, was accused of murdering Ann Clark, a poor girl who was in love with him. The young man’s motive was his ruined reputation, which had prevented him from securing a lucrative marriage offer. The trial was presided over by Lord Jeffreys (a real historical figure), known as the “Hanging Judge” for his penchant for issuing death sentences. Martin thus faced the gallows, though his victim was seen after her death. Martin’s Close is more of a courtroom drama than a ghost story (the apparition only appears twice—and for just a moment), and it is also laced with a fair amount of comedy, which is largely in keeping with historical accounts that describe Judge Jeffreys as having a particularly dark sense of humor. So, there are no real frights here, but this is not the greatest issue with the episode. The real problem is the modern narrator, who, while drinking wine, recounts the story of Martin and addresses the audience with forced jokes. This device disrupts the structure and mood, turning the drama into a not-so-funny tragic farce.

The Mezzotint (2021)

A long-awaited return to form, and the source material certainly allowed for it: The Mezzotint is regarded as one of the most highly valued stories in James’s bibliography. Its protagonist, Mr. Williams, is the curator of a university art museum, who receives an offer to purchase the titular mezzotint (a print made with intaglio technique) from an art dealer at what he believes is an inflated price. The drawing, which at first glance depicts a rural estate, seems unremarkable, but it turns out that the mezzotint subtly changes every time someone looks at it: a moon appears in the sky, and a sinister figure emerges from the bushes, heading toward the estate’s windows. Concurrently, Mr. Williams tries to unravel the mystery of two names related to his grandfather; it emerges that these two matters are connected, and the curator’s life is in danger. The Mezzotint is a triumph of television horror: it is genuinely unsettling, and in the finale—simply terrifying. The atmosphere is so thick that you can almost feel the noose tightening around Williams’s neck, wonderfully played by Rory Kinnear.

Count Magnus (2022)

Lawrence Gordon Clark had tried to adapt Count Magnus back in the 1970s, but the project was canceled due to financial reasons: the BBC was unwilling to fund location shoots in Sweden, where James’s story takes place. (I thought that was rather short-sighted, considering the success we had with this series, Clark later commented.) Over four decades later, Gatiss returned to Clark’s idea, but he too encountered budgetary limitations from the broadcaster, which refused to film the project in continental Europe. As a result, Count Magnus was ultimately filmed in England, which stands in for Sweden. The film is essentially a faithful adaptation of James’s story, which is both its strength and weakness: the story is not one of James’s scariest, and thus, its film version does not provide an overwhelming amount of frightening scenes. While the atmosphere is suitably ominous for most of the time, it never truly crosses into genuine horror. Gatiss modernized the ending and introduced a plot twist that wasn’t in the original, but neither of these changes elevated the film above mediocrity.

Lot No. 249 (2023)

Arthur Conan Doyle was not the first writer to feature an undead mummy in his work—earlier examples can be found in the works of Jane Webb and Edgar Allan Poe—but he was the first to portray it as a dangerous character, thus laying the foundations for the pop-culture image of the groaning, bandaged corpse, which has appeared in countless books, films, TV shows, parodies, and the like. The Brazilian Mummy (1892), Doyle’s story, emerged during the so-called Egyptomania of the 19th century—Europeans’ fascination with ancient Egyptian culture, sparked by, among other things, Napoleon’s Egyptian campaign (1798–1801) and scientific discoveries from the period. Gatiss condensed the forty-page story into a half-hour TV film, removing several characters and plot points, and changing the ending to a more ominous one. As a result, Lot No. 249 feels like an incomplete and somewhat rushed production, though it is, finally, genuinely terrifying—and that’s what matters in A Ghost Story for Christmas. Still, this well-deserved series could benefit from a change in curators.