After a short hiatus, the twenty-first century series of A Ghost Story for Christmas continued with a new adaptation of M. R. James' Oh, Whistle and I'll Come to You, My Lad, Jonathan Miller's celebrated Omnibus version of which is often credited with inspiring the program in the first place. Given that Miller's 'Whistle and I'll Come to You' is considered a classic of British television drama, remaking it might seem rather risky, but wisely the new version written by Neil Cross - and also called 'Whistle and I'll Come to You' - doesn't try to imitate it.
Still drawing inspiration from M. R. James' original story, Cross' screenplay has James Parkin visiting the coast for a respite holiday whilst his wife Alice - who is in the late stages of dementia - remains in a care home. As he forlornly revisits the beaches were they used to ramble together, he finds a ring in the sand (replacing, oddly, the titular whistle), after which he soon finds himself catching glimpses of a mysterious figure in white pursuing him across the beach, whilst unknown forces rattle the door of his hotel bedroom. Resolutely rational - like James' original Parkin - he gradually finds his refusal to believe in the uncanny being eroded and - like so many of James' protagonists - meets a memorably terrifying end.
Cross' version is more overtly supernatural in tone than Miller's, but shares the central concept of an isolated man at the coast being pursued by an unknown something. This version of Parkin is isolated by grief, as he mourns the transformation of his wife into somebody he barely recognises, and John Hurt's effortless brilliant performance makes the lonely, melancholy old man achingly realistic. Hurt also conveys Parkin's growing terror convincingly, as the rattling at his door shreds his nerves and glimpses of a figure on the beach inspire panic.
Andy de Emmony directs, and in the tradition of the program, good use is made of the location filming, even if it lacks the stark bleakness of the seventies episodes or, indeed, Miller's Whistle and I'll Come to You. De Emmony builds suspense slowly: the white figure on the beach should be chilling, but isn't - until the second time we see it. The film slowly, progressively becomes more sinister, building gradually towards the last five minutes, which are absolutely terrifying. De Emmony is aided by Tristin Norwell and Nick Green's subtle, atmospheric soundtrack, and a fine supporting cast that includes Gemma Jones (heartbreakingly believable as Alice) and Sophie Thompson as the sympathetic hotel receptionist. The fact that there are only four cast members (and less than a handful of extras) is a budgetary constraint that pays off, as it heightens the production's sense of loneliness and isolation.
Remaking 'Whistle and I'll Come to You' was both a bold choice and a logical one. As things turned out, the gamble paid off: the end result is a masterful episode of A Ghost Story for Christmas which proves that the work of M. R. James can still produce a chill in the twenty-first century.
Still drawing inspiration from M. R. James' original story, Cross' screenplay has James Parkin visiting the coast for a respite holiday whilst his wife Alice - who is in the late stages of dementia - remains in a care home. As he forlornly revisits the beaches were they used to ramble together, he finds a ring in the sand (replacing, oddly, the titular whistle), after which he soon finds himself catching glimpses of a mysterious figure in white pursuing him across the beach, whilst unknown forces rattle the door of his hotel bedroom. Resolutely rational - like James' original Parkin - he gradually finds his refusal to believe in the uncanny being eroded and - like so many of James' protagonists - meets a memorably terrifying end.
Cross' version is more overtly supernatural in tone than Miller's, but shares the central concept of an isolated man at the coast being pursued by an unknown something. This version of Parkin is isolated by grief, as he mourns the transformation of his wife into somebody he barely recognises, and John Hurt's effortless brilliant performance makes the lonely, melancholy old man achingly realistic. Hurt also conveys Parkin's growing terror convincingly, as the rattling at his door shreds his nerves and glimpses of a figure on the beach inspire panic.
Andy de Emmony directs, and in the tradition of the program, good use is made of the location filming, even if it lacks the stark bleakness of the seventies episodes or, indeed, Miller's Whistle and I'll Come to You. De Emmony builds suspense slowly: the white figure on the beach should be chilling, but isn't - until the second time we see it. The film slowly, progressively becomes more sinister, building gradually towards the last five minutes, which are absolutely terrifying. De Emmony is aided by Tristin Norwell and Nick Green's subtle, atmospheric soundtrack, and a fine supporting cast that includes Gemma Jones (heartbreakingly believable as Alice) and Sophie Thompson as the sympathetic hotel receptionist. The fact that there are only four cast members (and less than a handful of extras) is a budgetary constraint that pays off, as it heightens the production's sense of loneliness and isolation.
Remaking 'Whistle and I'll Come to You' was both a bold choice and a logical one. As things turned out, the gamble paid off: the end result is a masterful episode of A Ghost Story for Christmas which proves that the work of M. R. James can still produce a chill in the twenty-first century.