Late Night Story - 'Nursery Tea' by Mary Danby, read by Tom Baker
Tom Baker reads the story by Mary Danby. Olivia and Hugh's childhood was ruined by their despotic nanny. Today, they put her through the punishments she once inflicted on them.
While at the height of his powers as the lead in Doctor Who, Tom Baker took on a very different role in front of the camera. For a brief period at the tail end of 1978, Baker starred in Late Night Story, a series of fifteen-minute shorts where he read several macabre tales.
With childhood the central theme of the stories, Late Night Story aired just prior to BBC 2’s night-time close from December 23rd to the 28th, although an episode due to be shown on December 22nd was not aired due to strike action.
In the 1950s Hammer, England’s world-renowned production company, initiated a new style of horror film-making that transformed the genre. At the end of the 1960s, the world that Hammer had helped to create was changing fast – the once-reliable business model was unraveling and audiences wanted something new from their films.
Amid this uncertainty, Hammer’s short-term survival was secured by an alliance with American distributor Warner Bros. The films the two companies made together are among the most renowned in Hammer’s history. Classics such as Dracula Has Risen From the Grave (1968), Frankenstein Must Be Destroyed (1970) and Taste the Blood of Dracula (1970) were produced alongside the Oscar-nominated epic When Dinosaurs Ruled the Earth (1970), the disturbing thriller Crescendo (1970) and the bizarre sci-fi western Moon Zero Two (1969).
The films became increasingly experimental in the 1970s, challenging the perception of traditional Gothic horror with Dracula A.D. 1972 (1972), The Satanic Rites of Dracula (1973) and The Legend of the 7 Golden Vampires (1974).
HAMMER HORROR: The Warner Bros Years documentary features exclusive interviews with some of the key players from that period, as well as authors and popular culture historians like Sir Christopher Frayling and Jonathan Rigby. Also included are rare production stills, previously unseen film footage, Hammer’s original shooting locations, and access to previously unpublished archive documents.
The documentary is written, produced and directed by Derek Pykett and pays tribute to Peter Cushing, Freddie Francis and Roy Ward Baker. The actual documentary is essentially hosted by actor Geoffrey Bayldon, with most of the 3 hour-plus running time focusing on surviving cast and crew members, following some background information on the two producers.
Best remembered for their portmanteau/anthology features, this documentary offers us a chance to hear from such directors as Peter Duffell ("The House That Dripped Blood"), Stephen Weeks ("I, Monster"), Kevin Connor ("From Beyond the Grave"), and Paul Annett ("The Beast Must Die"), owing to the recent passing of the more prolific Freddie Francis and Roy Ward Baker. We get particularly interesting glimpses of Barbara Ewing ("Torture Garden," "Dracula Has Risen from the Grave") and Angela Pleasence, who actually worked with lookalike father Donald Pleasence in "From Beyond the Grave" (and is scared by horror films!). There are anecdotes about stars like Peter Cushing, Christopher Lee, Jack Palance, Burgess Meredith, and character players such as Bernard Lee, Herbert Lom, and Patrick Magee, but only minute name dropping for Michael Gough, Nigel Green, or Anton Diffring. A pity about the amateurish sound quality but never the less, certainly worth a look for avid fans of Britain's Golden Age of Horror.
Tales of the Uncanny is an exploration of the portmanteau horror film format that features dozens of filmmakers, critics and notable fans, providing brief commentary and impressions about major portmanteau titles. It's a history that expands from the silent film era to today.
For those unfamiliar with portmanteau films they consist of several short films often linked by a wrap around narrative. These stories often are adaptations of literary shorts. As expressed in the documentary, the anthology format lent itself to experimentation and freedom for filmmakers resulting in some terrifying, bizarre, funny and unforgettable segments throughout the format's history.
Tales of the Uncanny is about breadth rather than depth, which frankly is perfect since this film is likely to introduce fans to at least a few new titles. Films are generally covered quickly, often one or two segments from each film are focused on. It's apparent which films, or more specifically studio, is most influential on the pool of folks contributing to this documentary since Amicus' portmanteaus are covered most extensively. This makes sense, give the small British studio's commitment to the format and their influence over the format and genre.
Taking a mostly chronological look at the format, the first section begins in the silent era, stepping to 1945’s Dead of Night and the films Amicus and then onto Milton Subotsky’s post Amicus films such as The Uncanny and The Monster Club.
There’s a detour into the world of television anthologies next. Movies such as the 1979 Dead of Night and Trilogy of Terror are covered as are series like The Twilight Zone, Night Gallery and Alfred Hitchcock Presents, Tales from the Darkside, Tales from the Crypt and Hammer House of Horror.
Tales of the Uncanny is an enjoyable overview of a much loved film format that should offer many views a string of titles to discover and fall in love with and the blu ray is highly recommended as it contains a few very rare horror anthologies for viewers to enjoy. This is a must watch doc for any horror lover!
A visual exploration into the origins of witchcraft in the UK and in particular the demystification of symbolism still embedded today within many modern religious artefacts and rituals
Broadcast as a Play For Today by the BBC in 1970, James MacTaggart's Robin Redbreast remains a unique proposition in British television history.
An uneasy tale of human sacrifice deep in the English countryside and an early example of what we now refer to as 'folk horror', it has retained its power to unsettle despite the passing decades.
It can even lay claim to being a prime influence on that most seminal slice of cinematic pagan horror, The Wicker Man, which arrived in all its sacrificial glory three years later.
On 14th February 1945, the lifeless body of Charles Walton, a 74-year-old farm labourer, was discovered in Meon Hill, Lower Quinton, Warwickshire. Walton’s murder became known as the ‘witchcraft murder’ because his body was pinned to the ground with a pitchfork and there is an ancient Anglo-Saxon custom of slashing or sticking spikes into a murdered witch’s skin. This form of murder is called ‘stacung’ or ‘stanging’ – ‘stang’ being a two pointed stick witches associate with the Horned God. Scotland Yard became involved but the murder was never solved and became the stuff of local legend with added embellishments, such as a large cross carved into the victim’s chest which wasn’t in the autopsy notes.
In his book Anatomy of Crime, the detective in charge of the case wrote, ‘I advise anybody who is tempted at any time to venture into Black Magic, witchcraft, Shamanism – call it what you will – to remember Charles Walton and to think of his death, which was clearly the ghastly climax of a pagan rite.’ The witchcraft murders provided inspiration for two pieces of writing that later became known as Folk Horror. The first was a teleplay by John Bowen called Robin Redbreast (1970, James MacTaggart) and the second was a book called Ritual by David Pinner, which became the 1973 film, The Wicker Man (Robin Hardy).
Bowen wrote the play for a suspense anthology series but it was rejected and ended up with Graeme MacDonald, Producer of Play for Today – a BBC1 drama series, that ran from 1970 to 1984:
The transmission of Robin Redbreast, which was broadcast on the 10th December 1970 , coincided with an electrician’s strike whereupon millions of houses in London and the Midlands missed the end. The play was eventually repeated in February 1971 but the original screening, which was in colour, was recorded over and it is now only available in a 16mm black and white telecine recording.
John Bowen (1924 – 2019) was a prolific English novelist and playwright who worked on several long running drama strands including Play for Today and ITV Play of the Week. He also wrote two films for the BBC strand, A Ghost Story for Christmas which ran from 1971 to 1978 : The Treasure of Abbot Thomas (1974, Lawrence Gordon Clark), which is an adaptation of a short story by MR James, and an original drama called The Ice House (1978, Derek Lister). He wrote A Woman Sobbing (1972, Paul Ciappessoni) for Dead of Night, which was a 1972 BBC anthology of short supernatural films. Bowen also wrote another folk horror called A Photograph (1977, John Glenister) https://odysee.com/@Misty_Isles:a/A-Photograph-(1977):1 which can be seen as a loose follow up to Robin Redbreast.
Part Mondo movie, part countercultural artefact, 'Secret Rites' is a strange mid-length 'documentary' by exploitation director Derek Ford.
Ford l ifts the lid on witchcraft in 1970s Notting Hill. Mystery band The Spindle provide the groovy, psychedelic sounds while tentative occult enthusiast Penny and a serious-sounding narrator introduce the viewer to three ritual actsis a 1971 British pseudo-drama. It concerns the study of witchcraft and black magic, with a rare appearance by real-life occultist Alex Sanders.
Episode 7, 'Mavis' & Episode 8, 'Me'.
The Intruder is an eight-part series made for the ITV network by Granada TV in 1971. It was aired a year later and was adapted from the acclaimed, award-winning book of the same name by Leeds-born journalist-turned-author John Rowe Townsend.
Shot completely on location in Ravenglass in Cumbria along with glimpses of Eglwys Cwyfan tidal church, West Anglesey in North Wales, doubling here for a remote coastal village called Skirlston, it follows a few weeks in the life of Arnold Haithwaite, a 16-year-old boy working as a sand pilot while also helping his ageing father run their somewhat dilapidated corner shop.
Arnold is a straightforward, simple lad who longs to understand his roots – he knows the man he calls Dad isn’t his biological parent, and that there’s some mystery or other he hasn’t been told about his origins. His desire to learn the truth comes to a head following the arrival of Sonny, a one-eyed stranger (the intruder of the title who, rather off-puttingly, dresses like Frank Spencer, but with an added eye patch), who claims he’s the real Arnold Haithwaite.
Sonny is a truly an unnerving character and clearly deeply disturbed. So disturbed, in fact, that he wheedles his way into old man Haithwaite’s life via veiled threats, cunning and claims that he’s a long-lost relative. ‘Dad’ is suitably terrified.
Arnold is suspicious of him right from the start, but proving that Sonny is a wrong ‘un isn’t easy. Luckily he has help from two new friends – upper crust siblings Jane and Peter who’ve recently moved to the area. Arnold and Jane are drawn to each other romantically too, but it’s Peter who turns out to be the most useful amateur detective, helping Arnold discover the truth about his past as well as Sonny’s true intentions.
Although the sun is shining in many scenes, the tale itself is bleak, covering such tricky themes as identity, conflict and class, topics you might not immediately associate with a children’s story.
"Just room for one more inside?"
One of my all-time favourites. Portmanteau or otherwise known as anthology horror films can be very hit and miss. For every truly scary story, there will generally be two or three filler segments. This doesn’t apply to 'Dead Of Night', Ealing Studio’s only real foray into horror territory, where each story contributes to the increasing sense of unease, and the linking story is just as scary, if not more so than the stories that make up the lion’s share of the film.
'Dead Of Night' is by no means the first anthology horror film (that honour goes to Uncanny Stories (Richard Oswald, 1919)) but it was the first one to make a lasting impression; one that can be felt on every subsequent portmanteau horror film, from Tales From The Crypt (1972) to Ghost Stories (2017).
Mervyn Johns is excellent as the befuddled architect Walter Craig, who arrives to spend the weekend at a potential client’s cottage, only to realise that he has been there before in a recurring nightmare – much to the amusement of the other guests. However, Craig goes on to predict precise details which come true. Despite the best efforts of psychiatrist Dr Van Straaten (Frederick Valk) to disprove these supernatural claims, the other guests each offer up stories of their own otherworldly experiences.
A rich old gourmet that has decided to taste all there is of exotic meals has already tried the most, even human flesh, when he gets a tip from a wealthy dwarf. The midget had tasted everything out of this world, and even something not of this world. In other words, a ghost. The gourmet gets very interested and the midget gives him the info that is needed. And once he has found a haunted place, all he has to do is wait for the ghost to turn up so he can have the most exotic meal in his career as a feinschmecker ('fine taster').
Tucked away in a late-night slot during Channel 4’s post-Christmas offerings of 1987 was this strange and unsettling short film from the pen of novelist Kazuo Ishiguro, later author of science fiction novel Never Let Me Go, adapted for the screen by Mark Romanek in 2010 and for Japanese television six years after that. First broadcast on 4 January, The Gourmet film has scarcely been seen since but it certainly due re-discovery. Charles Gray stars as the wonderfully named Manley Kingston, the jaded gourmet of the title who has travelled the world sampling any and every food he can find, including human flesh. Bored and despairing of ever tasting anything new again, he’s given a temporary new lease of life when he meets a man who claims to have eaten a ghost. Teaming up with a young down-and-out, David (Mick Ford), Kingston attempts to trap the ghost of a homeless man in a derelict church and fulfil his new desire to taste something that is, literally, not of this earth.