The fourth volume of the BBC Ghost Stories that the BFI have been diligently releasing sees the final three episodes from the original, decade-long run, and also takes us away from the world of MR James, with a Charles Dickens tale and two original, modern day dramas.

1976’s The Signalman, faithfully adapted by Andrew Davies from the Dickens story, is probably the best of the whole series. Effectively a two-hander between Denholm Elliott and Bernard Lloyd, it drips with atmosphere and unease, as an unnamed traveller (Lloyd) comes across a signalman on a remote country railway line and listens to the man’s stories of a ghostly figure that appears at the side of the tunnel to warn of disaster. Naturally sceptical, the traveller is nevertheless drawn into the nervous signalman’s tales as he reveals that the spectre has recently been appearing again, meaning that death and tragedy is just around the corner.

Elliott dominates the story with a performance that is all nerves, paranoia and barely contained terror, while Lloyd is solid too as the sympathetic ear who finally realises the truth of what he’s been told. With dialogue often lifted wholesale from the original story, the characters have an otherworldly formality about them, adding to the odd atmosphere. But it is the structure of the story that makes it so effective. There’s a slow, creeping build up of terror, from the silent opening titles (the words ‘A Ghost Story’) appearing on screen as a stark introduction) to the subtle, almost imperceptible music mirroring the vibrating sound of the bell that signals the arrival of the spectre – a spectre who is first seen as a barely visible character in black before we see a close-up of a genuinely horrifying face. Unlike the vengeful ghosts of James, the spectre here is more of a warning – a warning of a fate that cannot be escaped.

The series took a major change of direction in 1977, with the first story that was both contemporary and an original work. Both Stigma and the following year’s The Ice House have tended to be dismissed by critics as a result, which is a pity, because had either been part of any other horror anthology series – Out of the Unknown, Dead of Night – they’d probably have a much better reputation (although it would also be more likely that the BBC would have wiped them to record a snooker match, so let's count our blessings).

Stigma, written by Clive Exton and the final Ghost Story to be directed by Lawrence Gordon Clark, is in fact very much within a supernatural tradition that was especially popular in the 1970s, where tales of pagan, druidic curses and strange events involving ancient stones where surprisingly popular on TV in shows ranging from Children of the Stones, The Stone Tape, Quatermass and Dr Who. In this story, a family who have recently moved into a country cottage and are renovating it come to regret trying to move a large stone from the middle of their garden. Katherine (Kate Binchy) suddenly finds herself bleeding extensively, even though she has no wounds, the blood loss getting worse as efforts to move the heavy stone increase.

This is a slight story, but nevertheless an effective one. As the curse settles on Katherine, the story takes on a surprisingly visceral level of flesh and blood – Binchy spends a fair amount of the story semi-naked and covered in blood as she tries to find where her injury is to no avail, and the story moves steadily towards an inevitably dark ending. There’s a strong atmosphere of horror in this story, hitting us as it does with some of our deepest fears about the safety and frailty of our own bodies. There are no ghostly characters here – just the continual blood curse, which removes it firmly from the tradition of the series to date, but certainly doesn’t make it an inferior work.

Things get decidedly stranger in 1977’s The Ice House, the final instalment until the 2005 revival. Written by john Bowen, this is again a modern day story, though the events take place in a remote country health spa that could exist in almost any time. This is a very strange, rather unsettling story in which Paul (John Stride), a resident at the spa, is drawn into the bizarre world of sibling owners Jessica (Elizabeth Romilly) and Clovis (Geoffrey Burridge) who, despite having several clients, lavish all their attention on him.

The Ice House lives in a world of hyper reality. The acting is mannered, every line of dialogue carefully constructed and slightly off-centre, so that you find yourself continually aware that whatever is happening here, it’s not ‘normal’. There is a sense of eroticism (including a creepy moment of incestuous passion) that pervades the story, with strange, sexual flowers that give off a hypnotic, overwhelming scent and the hints of seduction from both brother and sister, and moments of horror… but had this not been a part of this series, you might not even realise that it is a ghost story. And you’ll be left questioning who the ghosts actually are.

In the end, this is a very daring piece of television – you can’t imagine anything like this being made for British TV today. It’s too strange to really work within the context of the series, but as a single piece is a remarkable and admirable work.

While the first three volumes of this collection form a distinct set, this is very much a stand-alone edition. Nevertheless, it is just as essential and might be the most interesting of the lot, containing the best story in the whole series and the two neglected final stories (neither have been on DVD before and were notably absent from the BBC4 rerun of the series a few years ago). Fans of vintage TV supernatural drama – and, indeed, admirers of innovate and original filmmaking – will find much to satisfy them in this volume.

As with the third volume, the only extras here are introductions from Clark to the first two stories.

DAVID FLINT

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