The British have cultivated themselves a wholesome, cozy, and deeply chilling little tradition come Christmas time: the telling of ghost stories. It speaks to a long history of folk horror storytelling that owes much to legends of old that often dealt with wronged spectres, like the Headless Lady of Buckland Glen or the sentry ghost of Milecastle 42. Of course, whenever we think of classic British ghost stories we inevitably land on the doorsteps of Charles Dickens (A Christmas Carol) and M.R. James (A Warning to the Curious), whose stories have become synonymous with the scarier parts of the jolliest season of the year.
In the 1970s, television director/writer/producer Lawrence Gordon Clark took this tradition to heart and developed an anthology of short TV movies under the banner A Ghost Story for Christmas. Largely composed of M.R. James ghost story adaptations, the movies were released annually on BBC One from 1971 to 1978, in the days leading up to Christmas.
There were only a few episodes that broke away from James as the source. The sixth movie in the bunch, The Signalman, was an adaptation of a Charles Dickens story, while the last two movies to have been broadcast were based on original screenplays (and were the least popular among fans who tuned in for classic stories). The series was revived in 2005 but has suffered from a more sporadic release schedule. Among the newer films, only one deviates from James, Lot No. 249, which is based on an Arthur Conan Doyle story.
Shudder, the horror streaming service, has brought these films to the platform as part of their December offerings. If ever there was a time to enjoy the kind of ghost stories people used to read by candlelight or by the fireplace but in TV movie form, it is now. A Ghost Story for Christmas has been a source of inspiration for many horror creators and directors, John Carpenter and Sherlock and Doctor Who writer/actor Mark Gatiss (who would go on to write and direct his own Ghost Story entries) among them.
Here’s a short list of the best entries in the series, all masterful works of fiction involving ghosts and the people who must suffer them.
- “A Warning to the Curious” (dir. Lawrence Gordon Clark, 24 December 1972)
To be a scholar in a M.R. James story means to be haunted by an angry spirit. In most cases, the scholar himself is responsible for the misfortune that befalls him. Despite warnings, or a complete and aggressive disregard for the paranormal on the basis of rational thinking, these types of characters are set up to get their intellectual sense of reality shattered by a skeletal hand or a restless ghost that is protecting an ancient relic not meant to be touched by the living. And scholars are a touchy lot.
In “A Warning to the Curious,” the person who puts himself on the path of a ghost is an amateur archeologist that’s looking for a mythical crown despite stories that a violent phantom stands guard over it. Widely considered as one of the top three best movies of the series, “Warning” captures every single element that made these stories so effective. Locations were shrouded in fog, characters carried the weight of local secrets that built upon the central mystery, and phantoms were presented in unpredictable flashes of terror that made sure their presence was felt in each frame. The scholarly protagonist in this case also embodies a sense of loneliness and isolation that would feature in other characters of his ilk. This is the perfect A Ghost Story for Christmas story, and it will make you push play on the next story the minute the credits roll.
- “Oh, Whistle, and I’ll Come to You, My Lad” (dir. by Jonathan Miller, 1968)
This one has an interesting place in the series as it wasn’t originally aired as part of A Ghost Story. It belongs to an arts and documentary series called Omnibus, which featured biographical movies, artist profiles, and adaptations. “Oh, Whistle, and I’ll Come to You, My Lad” is often cited as such an important influence on Lawrance Gordon Clark, that it gets included in A Ghost Story.
This might be James’ darkest story, about a Cambridge scholar that goes on vacation to a seaside hotel that has an old cemetery close to the beach. He finds a strange whistle buried near it. He whistles, a ghost answers. Presented in black and white, “Oh, Whistle” takes the original story’s focus on scholarly naiveté and turns it into an existential crisis that invites more interpretation than the source material. There’s a sense of impermanence that makes everything feel either ghostly or nearly devoid of life. Questions over mortality and the existence of the supernatural all help ground notions of the paranormal as real. It’s relatively quiet, but it’s all in the service of inviting thought as the story unfolds. This one’s a gem that every fan of ghost stories should experience.
- “The Signalman” (dir. Lawrance Gordon Clark, 22 December 1976)
A man stumbles upon a signalman (played by Denholm Elliot, or Marcus Brody in the Indiana Jones movies) standing by train tracks that lead to a tunnel. They speak for a while, the signalman gauging how much trust he can afford the man. It doesn’t take long for the signalman to open up and confide to his new acquaintance that he’s been seeing a ghostly figure waving at him and ringing the bell next to the signal box at the mouth of the tunnel. What this means remains a mystery, but one that will get solved before the episode’s end.
This episode succeeds in creating a layered sense of mystery that builds to more than one dark revelation before it’s all said and done. In fact, it progresses in a way that stacks small terrors thanks to the slow unravelling of the signalman’s story. This makes every instance of the supernatural feel like a puzzle piece that, when put together with the others, reveals a harsh existential realization about the indifference of fate. Some of the images Gordon Clark managed to capture here have become iconic, especially that of the ghost’s face (which has been used as the cover of some of the collected editions of the series in the past). It’s an episode that lingers in more ways than one.
- “Stigma” (dir. Lawrance Gordon Clark, 28 December 1977)
Online reviews for this episode range from mixed to very unfavorable, but upon first viewing it’s clear that it merits a second look. “Stigma” tells the story of a woman that starts bleeding from her abdomen without the presence of a cut or injury. This starts happening when a menhir (a big standing stone) that is on the land of her countryside cottage is disturbed by workmen that are trying to make space around the garden area. The woman’s husband ordered the stone’s removal, which also attracts their daughter’s fascination with it and the men working to remove it.
Quick note, menhirs are part of stone circles that have been found around western Europe. They were built by humans in prehistoric times, and they’ve been the subject of many British horror movies because of the myths that surround them (see the Children of the Stones TV series, The Stone Tapes, and In the Earth).
Back to the episode, the story can be read in a multitude of ways. It hints at the stresses of domesticity and how a life dictated by routine can essentially lead to a kind of ‘death by a thousand cuts’ situation. We perish slowly, and the wounds aren’t easily discernible. It can also be taken as commentary on violence and how ancient expressions of it still find ways to rear their heads in the present. The only problem the episode really has is that it just sort of ends. Sure, all the elements needed to start a conversation are there, but it needed more to really make an impact. And yet, the premise works. It’s quietly brutal, and it holds up a mirror to an audience that perhaps wasn’t ready to look at itself too closely at the time of broadcast.
- “The Stalls of Barchester” (dir. Lawrence Gordon Clark, 24 December 1971)
This is the episode that started it all. While Omnibus’ “Whistle, and I’ll Come to You” was the door kicker, The Stalls of Barchester was the first step in. It’s also the most fun out of the original batch. The story follows a scholar called Dr. Black (who also appears in “A Warning to the Curious”) as he stumbles upon an old diary that once belonged to one Archdeacon Haynes. It’s quickly suggested that Haynes murdered his predecessor for the position of archdeacon. As is to be expected, the predecessor might be looking to right this grave transgression, and so starts a haunting of his own. A black cat, ghoulish clawed hands, and strange sounds all make an appearance as Haynes attempts to hide from his sins.
This is the type of stuff that cozy ghost tales are made of. Dimly lit churches and dusty libraries make up the majority of the locations here. Religious symbols carry hellish backstories, and they offer hints as to the inevitable demise of the Archdeacon. And to top it off, the atmosphere hangs heavy, as if reality is lightly tearing at the seams and letting the dead spill in. It’s a great time that sets the tone for the rest of the series. It’s the perfect beginning for a new tradition.
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