QUATERMASS AND THE PIT: Delicious Sci-Fi Horror from Hammer

The serials produced in the 1950s for the BBC—The Quatermass Experiment (1953), Quatermass 2 (1955), and Quatermass and the Pit (1958)—were the first science fiction productions aimed at an adult audience, abandoning comic book stylization in favor of a more scientific approach. Of course, this “scientific” aspect was often such in name only, oscillating between the basics of physics and attempts to lend credibility to nonsense or even rationally explain it.

When the first of the serials became a hit, Hammer Film Productions acquired the rights to produce a theatrical version—thus, in 1955, The Quatermass Xperiment premiered. And although Hammer was yet to become synonymous with horror through its series of films about Dracula, Frankenstein, the Mummy, and other monsters, in the remake of the first Quatermass, horror is heavily emphasized, especially from the moment when the story of a failed spaceflight turns into a chase after the sole surviving crew member, who is gradually undergoing a terrifying mutation.

In the sequel filmed two years later, Hammer’s version of Quatermass 2—a health food factory turns out to be the site of a silent alien invasion, with extraterrestrials having already partially infiltrated the British government. Once again, a fantastic premise serves as the foundation for a series of horror-typical scenes, the best of which is the factory visit sequence—where the oppressive atmosphere of emptiness and the soullessness of the automated facility are more disturbing than the macabre discovery at the end of the tour. The bodily horror of the first film and the paranoia of the second were still subordinate to the science fiction convention, which was more popular in that decade than horror. It was only with the third cinematic installment, Quatermass and the Pit (1967), that these two genres became equally significant, primarily thanks to Kneale’s screenplay, which suggested that cosmic horror, supernatural terror, and even the fears lurking in the recesses of the human mind could all stem from the same source.

The film’s plot revolves around the discovery of unusually shaped skeletons during the construction of a new London Underground station. Researchers soon determine that these are the remains of prehistoric humans dating back five million (!) years. But how does one explain the presence of a large object resembling a futuristic vehicle at the site? The military is called in, and with them arrives Professor Bernard Quatermass, the creator of Britain’s rocket program. His presence there is coincidental, but it is he who ultimately solves the mystery of the strange discovery, suggesting its extraterrestrial origins.

From this brief synopsis, one might assume that the film belongs purely to the science fiction genre, especially given that its explanation is entirely fantastic. However, the film, directed by Roy Ward Baker, does not abandon the themes and considerations typical of the genre, while also frequently striking horror notes, striving for a perfect balance between cosmic wonders and gothic terror. It turns out that in the vicinity of the newly built station, reports of hauntings, cases of insanity, and strange incidents involving ghosts or demons have been recorded for centuries. Quatermass, a strictly rational thinker, is initially skeptical of any theories that have no scientific basis. However, his investigation soon begins to resemble the journey of a protagonist in one of Hammer’s contemporary horror films—searching through city chronicles from centuries past for traces of evil, conversing with a priest, and debating the definition of danger.

Baker, later the director of highly successful horror anthologies for Amicus (Asylum, The Vault of Horror), skillfully navigates the intersection of tradition and modernity, clearly differentiating the genres—horror draws from the past, referencing the now-rare belief in dark forces, while science fiction leans toward reason and inventions, such as a helmet capable of reading deeply buried memories, thus revealing events not only from our own past but also from that of our ancestors. The film’s characters unconsciously transition from archaeology to parapsychology, from superstition to extraterrestrial theories, never remaining stagnant and giving every cognitive method a chance.

Ultimately, in his screenplay, Kneale equates horror with science fiction. Horned devils are nothing more than Martian invaders attempting to establish a colony on Earth. On the other hand, when the cosmic entity is finally revealed, it more closely resembles the monster from Night of the Demon—a powerful yet unreal being, existing solely within billowing smoke and clouds. Watching Quatermass and the Pit today, one may at times find its execution amusing, as well as the naivety of some plot developments, especially when the titular hero reaches conclusions that do not seem sufficiently supported by evidence.

Quatermass is an intriguing character in his relentless pursuit of rational answers to the most extraordinary mysteries, though at times he is overly determined to prove himself right, even when his reasoning is questionable. The professor is portrayed by Scottish actor Andrew Keir, who, in Kneale’s view, was much closer to his vision of the character than Brian Donlevy, the American actor who played Quatermass in both parts of Quatermass, presenting a sterner and less likable interpretation of the role. The most compelling moments involving Quatermass occur during crises, when he cannot rely solely on his intellect. At such times, other characters take the forefront—here, they are paleontologist Dr. Roney (James Donald, known from The Great Escape and The Bridge on the River Kwai) and his assistant Barbara Judd (Barbara Shelley, one of Hammer’s stars). Both are more down-to-earth than Quatermass, as they are not as obsessive as he is, but they also possess a grounded perspective that he simply lacks. Then there is Colonel Breen (Julian Glover, the villain in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade and, more recently, seen in Game of Thrones), a soldier devoid of imagination who, like the titular hero, seeks to rationalize everything but simultaneously ignores the unknown and refuses to acknowledge the possibility of forces he does not understand.

When, in the climax, all of London descends into chaos, with people attacking one another and even Quatermass appearing helpless, the film reaches an almost epic scale, reminiscent of past productions whose creators were undoubtedly inspired by Baker’s work. Tobe Hooper’s high-budget, surreal, and perverse Lifeforce is one such example, as are the finales of Doctor Who seasons under showrunner Russell T. Davies—grand, not always wise, but based on a similar end-of-the-world framework. Both series also share the same desire to lend science, horror, and general fantastical elements a sense of credibility, regardless of the absurdity that often results.

John Carpenter also sought to blend scientific themes with horror, knowledge with belief, much like Kneale did. This is evident in his 1987 film Prince of Darkness, as confirmed by the pseudonym he adopted as its screenwriter—Martin Quatermass. Earlier, he had invited Kneale to Hollywood to write the screenplay for Halloween III, but after numerous alterations and the excessively gory final version, the British writer demanded that his name be removed from the credits. Carpenter paid tribute to the best Quatermass film once again when, in In the Mouth of Madness, he named a fictional town after the cursed Underground station—Hobbs End.

Kneale himself returned to his beloved character in 1979 with a fourth serial simply titled Quatermass, which was later re-edited for theatrical release as The Quatermass Conclusion. Unfortunately, the production garnered little interest from audiences, leading to the character’s subsequent appearances only in the radio play The Quatermass Memoirs (once again portrayed by Andrew Keir) and a misjudged, live-action remake of the first story in which Jason Flemyng played the lead role. That was in 2005, and since then, Professor Bernard Quatermass has not been seen anywhere.