I can still remember my mother reading a description of this drama from the local newspaper. There were references to ghosts, demons and goblins that seemed to be right up a 7-year-old's alley. I begged to be allowed to watch it.
On a blank screen appeared this simple trailer 'The following program is not considered suitable for people of a nervous disposition' (or something very similar).
It was a piece of bald BBC understatement. British television had only been going for a few years and this was their first crack at a horror drama. It was experimental. The budget was modest, and I am told it was broadcast live.
Well, it would be no exaggeration to say that this program changed my life. Its very beginning set the standard. As strident nerve-jangling chords blasted out, dust dribbled from a stone tablet to reveal the title. Within the next 30 minutes, I went from a comparatively normal child, weaned upon 'watch with mother', to one who was terrified of the dark. It ran for 6 episodes and against their better judgement, my parents let me watch them all.
The scene in which Sladden is left alone in the artifact was particularly memorable. You just knew he was making a mistake. Then came the strange sounds, the disappearing spanner, the hoses and cables roused into life, the teacups and plates that fly at him, and the undulating gravel in the churchyard. It wasn't meant for 1950's kids! My bedroom ceased to be a snug, familiar place, but one of strange shadows and furniture that might easily begin moving without notice. It didn't help that our house was old and prone to creaks. Birds were nesting in the roof-spaces and got into the habit of scuttling across the ceiling.
Today, I have the abridged 3-hour video. It hasn't aged so well. Spooky moments seem few. Arguments appear excessively melodramatic, the conflict rather contrived. It's just too slow for a full sitting and perhaps should still be seen in half-hour episodes. Something for nostalgia buffs perhaps, but no longer to be taken seriously. Even so, that Quatermass oscillation - which begins with a base note and rises to end in what sounds like a brief animal scream - is still the most bizarre and chilling sound in science fiction.
Nigel Kneale seems to possess a quite unique insight into the basis of fear. No-one else comes close. With this story he has attempted to produce a 'theory of everything' incorporating folk-law of imps and demons, good and evil, the paranormal, with invaders from another planet. It almost works. A good quality (British) remake wouldn't go amiss. Though it's unlikely to start me looking under the bed again.
Hard to believe I watched the original on a tiny 12-inch screen though. In my memory it takes up a whole wall.
As a foot note; the Bowater House site at Knightsbridge is in the process of redevelopment. It contained a deep excavation and I couldn't help looking in. Down in the mud there was a huge grey pipe, or something...
On a blank screen appeared this simple trailer 'The following program is not considered suitable for people of a nervous disposition' (or something very similar).
It was a piece of bald BBC understatement. British television had only been going for a few years and this was their first crack at a horror drama. It was experimental. The budget was modest, and I am told it was broadcast live.
Well, it would be no exaggeration to say that this program changed my life. Its very beginning set the standard. As strident nerve-jangling chords blasted out, dust dribbled from a stone tablet to reveal the title. Within the next 30 minutes, I went from a comparatively normal child, weaned upon 'watch with mother', to one who was terrified of the dark. It ran for 6 episodes and against their better judgement, my parents let me watch them all.
The scene in which Sladden is left alone in the artifact was particularly memorable. You just knew he was making a mistake. Then came the strange sounds, the disappearing spanner, the hoses and cables roused into life, the teacups and plates that fly at him, and the undulating gravel in the churchyard. It wasn't meant for 1950's kids! My bedroom ceased to be a snug, familiar place, but one of strange shadows and furniture that might easily begin moving without notice. It didn't help that our house was old and prone to creaks. Birds were nesting in the roof-spaces and got into the habit of scuttling across the ceiling.
Today, I have the abridged 3-hour video. It hasn't aged so well. Spooky moments seem few. Arguments appear excessively melodramatic, the conflict rather contrived. It's just too slow for a full sitting and perhaps should still be seen in half-hour episodes. Something for nostalgia buffs perhaps, but no longer to be taken seriously. Even so, that Quatermass oscillation - which begins with a base note and rises to end in what sounds like a brief animal scream - is still the most bizarre and chilling sound in science fiction.
Nigel Kneale seems to possess a quite unique insight into the basis of fear. No-one else comes close. With this story he has attempted to produce a 'theory of everything' incorporating folk-law of imps and demons, good and evil, the paranormal, with invaders from another planet. It almost works. A good quality (British) remake wouldn't go amiss. Though it's unlikely to start me looking under the bed again.
Hard to believe I watched the original on a tiny 12-inch screen though. In my memory it takes up a whole wall.
As a foot note; the Bowater House site at Knightsbridge is in the process of redevelopment. It contained a deep excavation and I couldn't help looking in. Down in the mud there was a huge grey pipe, or something...