Ghosts at the BBC (Part I of II)

THE GHOST HUNTERS (1975)

A key Haunted Generation entry, THE GHOST HUNTERS reaches for the tweed jacket and enough clunky equipment to shake a spirit at.

THE GHOST HUNTERS is a fifty-minute BBC documentary described in the Radio Times as thus: "Ghosts abound in Britain. Thousands of people have seen and heard what they believe to be phantom footsteps, abnormal phenomena, and ghosts of all shapes and sizes. In tonight's documentary, Hugh Burnett visits some of the people who have tried to track them down, or heard and seen things they cannot explain. The film ranges from a haunted house, a haunted inn, even a theatre haunted by a butterfly - to Borley Church." The most memorable sequence is kept to last, as a tape recorder is left inside overnight at Borley; it captures a creaking door and an otherworldly, melancholic sigh.

The amount of scientific babble rivals the pseudo-extravagance of American documentaries of the time. We open with Benson Herbert - the father of electrical-based spookiness - investigating a Wiltshire pub, where he surmises that unconscious energy of some people can influence the attachment and movement of ghosts. He is aided by faithful assistants Vicki and Reg, who help set up such nonsensical aids as an anti-fatigue "negative ion pistol," and an infrared device which can "detect a candle a quarter of a mile away." More hardware is on show when John Cutton, a retired Naval commander, plugs in some apparatus which has a "vibrator" and a wind vane to detect draughts of air. This will set off cameras to snap the apparitions, though ultimately this particular ghost hunter believes manifestations are created in the mind anyway.

Chair of the Ghost Club, interviewee Peter Underwood also penned Ghosts of Borley, Borley Postscript and The Borley Rectory Companion. 

Burnett tries to remain grounded, but rightfully questions the endlessly archaic theories. Andrew Green - the media labelled "Spectre Inspector" and author of Ghost Hunting: A Practical Guide - states that telepathy and electromagnetic rays can contact events of the past, then draws on a survey that states that 61% of ghost sightings in this country are of living people. This figure comes from The Census for Hallucinations, a survey conducted from 1889 to 1892 that sought to determine the frequency with which people were experiencing auditory or visual illusions. It is interesting that Green is quoting this almost a century on, and even more interesting in how it illustrates the shift in how we now perceive ghosts.

After our visit at the home of Green - which includes an alleged impromptu visit from three boys - we are treated to a tour of Bath by "ghost collector" Mrs Royal, then a vicar stating that entities are guiding, heavenly bodies; the presenter wonders why then, that ghosts usually appear specifically clothed. Unsurprisingly this bamboozles the Man of God, who you feel wants to swiftly retreat to his less-demanding brethren. As the Borley Church segment closes the programme, Peter Underwood - the prolific author who began the trend for regional haunted books - reinforces a more ethereal explanation, that we are being recorded on some eternal tape. The documentary certainly packs a lot in, and acts as a fascinating para-historical snapshot, but plays more as an examination of the human brain than anything paranormal.

Force of Nature

IN THE EARTH (2021)

"It can get a bit funny in the woods sometimes;" from sacrificial sites to otherworldly portals, standing stones have a firm history in British film and television, hinting at the ancient and the macabre.

BEN Wheatley's IN THE EARTH is a slow-burning folk horror freak-out referred to as his "lockdown movie." Conceived and made during the Coronavirus pandemic, it is not just a companion piece to Wheatley's KILL LIST and A FIELD IN ENGLAND, it is a film which is umbilically linked to them. This mirrors the narrative, that in a virus-stricken world fertile soils are sought to increase crop production. A standing stone is discovered to be the epicentre of an underground network; attempting to communicate by sound and light, can humans actually talk to nature? And if so, what would the inherent features have to say to us? Scientist Martin Lowery (Joel Fry) and forest scout Alma (Ellora Torchia) venture into the woods with equipment for Dr Olivia Wendle (Hayley Squires), Martin's former colleague and ex-lover who is researching Mycorrhiza, the symbiotic association between fungus and plant roots. However, this two-day trek is interrupted by Zach (Reece Shearsmith), a man living in the terrain who inducts them into his own world of ritual.

Using a template of John Carpenter's HALLOWEEN for what can be achieved with a microbudget and a fifteen day shoot, IN THE EARTH makes the most of its natural production and 2:39:1 frame, very much an "outdoor" picture to reintroduce normality after the shock of Covid. Visually beautiful but awkwardly flat, there are too many threads to form a nuanced experience: we have the BLAIR WITCH psychology of Parnag Fegg; SAW extreme violence; trippy ALTERED STATES sequences; science against myth; and dull back stories (Zach is also Wendle's ex-husband). Of the performers Shearsmith is unsurprisingly the highlight, providing the stand-out scene of literal toe-curling horror. Torchia is a believable guide, but Fry is lamely introverted, and Squires too wide-eyed from the get-go to be believed or trusted.

"Everything seems to just keep us here;" Reece Shearsmith is Zach, a fusion of Robert Plant and Jack Torrance.

Yet Wheatley is not leading to any rational conclusions, rather a heavy dose of weirdness expertly described by critic Peter Bradshaw as like "the last crashing cord of The Beatles' A Day in the Life." IN THE EARTH not just mimics woodland horror, it illustrates the pastoral gothic of British creatives from Algernon Blackwood to Nigel Kneale and 1970s Hauntology. Although there are overtures to THE STONE TAPE and even CLOSE ENCOUNTERS, allusions to Blackwood are particularly apt. The writer and broadcaster wrote stories not to frighten but to create awe with alternative consciousnesses and creations, imaginative treatments of possibilities outside our normal human range. For example, in The Willows, part of his 1907 collection The Listener and Other Stories, the environment is personified with threatening and powerful characteristics; and The Wendigo, first published in 1910's The Lost Valley and Other Stories, details spiritual possession during a hunting trip.

Trial and Retribution

A GHOST STORY FOR CHRISTMAS - MARTIN'S CLOSE (2019)

Peter Capaldi sports the worst wig in costume drama history.

WRITTEN and directed by Mark Gatiss, this is a laboured adaptation of a minor M.R. James' tale included in the 1911 collection More Ghost Stories. Introduced by unnecessary modern armchair dweller Stanton (Simon Williams), we are soon back in 1684, where Judge Jeffreys (Elliot Levey) is presiding over the murder trial of his cousin, Squire John Martin (Wilf Scolding), a "young gentleman of quality." Prosecutor Dolben (Peter Capaldi) presents the case that Martin slit the throat of backward peasant Ann Clark (Jessica Temple); Martin played with Clark's affections, and this callous action had ruined a promising marriage proposal for him. What makes the proceedings unique is that Clark makes herself known to Martin after her death, with Ann haunting the Squire in the courtroom, in his cell, and following him to his hanging.

MARTIN'S CLOSE should not use the A GHOST STORY FOR CHRISTMAS moniker at all, as it is an underwhelming historical drama with only flashes of creepiness. This celebrated BBC strand of the 1970s is a prime example of what has become the Hauntology concept; with their pre-digital, incomplete history, paranormal programming in this decade has become particularly astute to these nostalgic otherworlds. Contemporary culture's constant recycling of old entertainments and inability to escape from them is at the heart of the phrase, leading franchises to - at best - tired facsimiles of past glories. MARTIN'S CLOSE has a whimsical portrayal of Jeffreys - the notorious hanging judge and vengeful alcoholic - with Capaldi attempting to hold the half-hour together in his Brian May wig. But its superficial theme of social standing is lost under bright photography (it was filmed in late July) and a micro budget that would make the piece more a candidate for daytime television than a late night chiller.

The ghosts of M. R. James do not uniformly convey to neat resolution. Sometimes protagonists steer clear altogether, in others a haunting ends only when a vindicated act of revenge is carried out.

In a 2015 Guardian article, Michael Newton makes the shrewd point that our general acceptance of Christmas ghost tales has shifted to the Americana of Halloween. This has been illustrated in the disappointing later entries of the A GHOST STORY FOR CHRISTMAS series. James brought spectres to the snowbound feast with a cosy anxiety, while Halloween mirrors our now jolted directness. But perhaps it is because of the march of time - and more importantly, technological levels of communication - that the effectiveness of cathedral closes and windswept locales has now eroded into shock scares that we can act out ourselves. The widespread yearning for social media and, inevitably, untouchable levels of self-importance, has no rationale for old school atmosphere and tradition.

Altered States

PSYCHEDELIC BRITANNIA (2015)

Pink Floyd’s brittle genius Syd Barrett is symbolic in the British psychedelic story, an illustration of the timeless cautionary tale of art versus fame. In the programme, sculptor Emily Young calls Barrett "a little wild Puck or Ariel figure coming out of the woods. He seemed to me to be borne of the English countryside."

THIS absorbing BBC4 documentary explores the rise and fall of the most visionary period in British culture: five LSD-laced years between 1965 and 1970, when musicians reimagined the boundaries of sound. Narrated by Nigel Planer, this hour long piece sees a generation of homegrown R&B bands discover psychedelic drugs and embrace the avant-garde, starting a movement that would uneasily morph from the bohemian underground to chart success. Substances were initially taken with a wide-eyed innocence, broadening sensory, artistic and emotional possibilities. So began the counter-culture surge against postwar stability and professional pigeonholing, a kaleidoscopic and hallucinatory palette enthused by the 1950s beat generation. It was an important time, when battles for gay rights and women's liberation would also be instigated.

The Sixties had been swinging, but now there was a dizzying but heightened altered state. This lifestyle had a preference for the imagery and fashions of youth; like the concept of Hauntology, this yearned for the security of a safer and less complicated world ("In the mid 60s, a counter-culture swapped the white heat of technology for an older Britain of Edwardian fantasy and bucolic bliss.") It was an idyllically pastoral and untroubled dream, where The Wind and the Willows and Alice's Adventures in Wonderland were an Arcadian blueprint. Singer-songwriter Vashti Bunyan dropped out of city life and moved into rural Britain; other bands travelled further, The Beatles with Maharishi Mahesh Yogi in India, and The Rolling Stones and The Incredible String Band departed for Morocco.

Created by Australian artist Martin Sharp, the cover of Cream’s Disraeli Gears album became an iconic image of the era. It was also used for the retrospective compilation Those Were the Days, released in 1997.

All interviewees still talk passionately about their baroque time in the sun. The mainstream lysergic drip fed us two cornerstones in 1967: 'Arnold Layne' became Pink Floyd's debut single in March, and May saw the release of The Beatles' Sgt Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band. Eclectic mixes were not just present in the music, but also in location. Classical was embraced by The Yardbirds (who introduced a vocal chant for 'Still I'm Sad'), The Nice and Procol Harum, and Cream were heavily Jazz-influenced. London may have had The UFO Club, International Times, nostalgic fashion outlet Granny Takes a Trip and the "music-hall psychedelia" of The Small Faces, but the documentary also highlights Robert Wyatt's Canterbury pioneers Soft Machine, and Birmingham-based The Move and The Moody Blues. For this Midlands assault, Roy Wood channeled his "DIY sitar" while Justin Hayward and company changed the scope of the LP with concept album Days of Future Passed.

In PSYCHEDELIC BRITANNIA, Arthur Brown describes taking LSD: "seeing into people's eyes, I saw all the universes, I saw them being born, I saw them die, I would say it was the nearest I came to being able to see God." Yet like all Utopia, it is inevitably undone by reality. Childlike optimism was no match for the harder realms entering Britain in the latter stages of the 1960s. The early growth of The National Front and "The Troubles" in Northern Ireland shifted the United Kingdom to Dystopia, as did Enoch Powell's "Rivers of Blood" speech on mass immigration.  

Most Haunted

BORLEY RECTORY (2017)
ULTRASOUND OF A HAUNTING: THE MAKING OF BORLEY RECTORY (2019)

A ghostly nun has been at the forefront of the Borley Rectory legend. Whether in life or afterlife, the nun has a rich tradition in horror; their distinctive dress and unwavering devotion have creeped out audiences in an array of religious hysteria on film, including HAXAN, THE DEVILS and SCHOOL OF THE HOLY BEAST. 

THE gothic rectory of Borley in Essex - which stood between 1862 and 1944 - has been described by psychic researcher Harry Price as "the most haunted house in England." By the late 1940s, a study by the Society for Psychical Research had rejected most of the sightings as either imagined or fabricated, and cast doubt on Price's credibility. A convoluted history includes the ghost of a nun, headless horsemen, spirit messages, a human skull and failed exorcisms; and although having no basis, ghost hunters often quote the story of a nearby Benedictine monastery, to which a monk conducted a relationship with a nun. After their affair was discovered, the monk was executed and the nun bricked up alive.

To add to this, in 1938 Helen Glanville conducted a planchette séance in Streatham. Price reported that she made contact with two spirits, the first of which was that of a young woman, Marie Lairre. Marie was a French nun who travelled to England to marry a member of the Waldegrave family, the owners of Borley's 17th-century manor house. She was said to have been murdered in a building once on the site of the rectory, and her body buried either in a cellar or thrown into a disused well, with the spirit messages her pleas for help from beyond the grave. In 1939 the rectory was severely damaged in a fire when new owner Captain W. H. Gregson was involved in an insurance scam; whether the blaze was accidental or incidental, it mirrored the 1841 fate of a first rectory.

Ashley Thorpe of Carrion Films. Carrion prides itself in bringing to the screen the spirit of our wind-swept myths and penny dreadful traditions (previous shorts include Scayrecrow, about a vengeful ghostly highwayman, The Screaming Skull, and The Hairy Hands, taking inspiration from the Dartmoor legend). 

The first inhabitants – the Bull family – soon reported ghostly phenomena, largely thought to be a combination of local rumour and the imagination of the Bull daughters. In 1929 Mr and Mrs Smith became the new incumbents, and the supernatural shenanigans persisted. The Smiths approached the Daily Mirror, asking for their help in contacting the Society for Psychical Research, and a series of sensationalist articles appeared before the paper facilitated the involvement of Price. When the Foysters moved in during 1930 Price maintained his interest, as the strange occurrences seemed to intensify around Mrs Marianne Foyster.

This peculiar tale is the basis for the first feature-length release of Carrion Films, led by Devon-based writer and illustrator Ashley Thorpe. Operating a rotoscope-style fusion of animation and green screen, BORLEY RECTORY recalls a movie heritage of James Whale and THE INNOCENTS in its 75 minute docudrama format. Narrated by Julian Sands, the details are built upon by its flickering monochrome images, creating a dreamworld of pale faces and pitch black shadows (most memorably, a figure sits at the end of a child's bed, and the phantom nun's face transforms into a grimacing skull). The cast are uniformly excellent: Reverend Harry (Richard Strange) and Ethel Bull (Sara Dee), Reverend Guy (Nicholas Vince) and Mabel Smith (Claire Louise Amias) and the Reverend Lionel (Steve Furst) and Marianne Foyster (Annabel Bates), all shine in their stylised make-up and costumes. And for genre enthusiasts it is a joy to see film historian Jonathan Rigby as Price and Reece Shearsmith as journalist V. C. Wall.

Annabel Bates as Marianne Foyster. During the Foyster tenure of the rectory - between 1930 and 1935 - the alleged paranormal activity was at its height. In fact, the unconventional personal life of the couple would make a fascinating feature in its own right.

ULTRASOUND OF A HAUNTING: THE MAKING OF BORLEY RECTORY is the centrepiece bonus on Nucleus' recent Blu-ray disc, which runs thirty minutes longer than the film it documents. And it needs to: a nostalgic labour of love that goes back to the 1977 publication of Usborne's World of the Unknown: All About Ghosts, and the loss of a childhood friend. The most astute observation is that the hauntings can be traced not just through the tall stories, but to the needs for monetary recognition and sexual fulfilment of the Borley females; perhaps the stuffy men of God saw them as second best to their faith. BORLEY RECTORY itself is a triumph of getting the job done after six years of trials and (often personal) tribulations. Yet even in his darkest days, Thorpe's escape back to Borley cements the power of wondrous childhood memories and the need for simpler times. After all, it is us human beings - with all our yearnings and motives - that create the reality or unreality we experience. 

We can all relate to Ashley's sentimentality; popular culture exists in a whirlwind of nostalgia. First described as a psychosomatic disease, we can confuse the past and the present, the real and the imaginary; our preference for the sights, sounds and smells of yesteryear has its foundation in our carefree childhoods. It was Immanuel Kant who stated that people were triggered not so much for an actual place as for the time of youth. David Lowenthal's The Past is a Foreign Country considers that nostalgia constructs a form of escapism; and by savouring these ruins of artificiality, author Susan Stewart condemns the condition as a "social disease," maintaining that the past is utopian and unreachable.

Paranormal Activity

THE OMEGA FACTOR (1979)

Burning ambition: this fondly remembered supernatural series 
ignited the wrath of moral crusader Mary Whitehouse.

BBC Scotland's THE OMEGA FACTOR is a forerunner to THE X-FILES, but without the budget or pretention. Born from the ashes of the cancelled second series of journalist drama THE STANDARD, here the lead protagonist is occult writer Tom Crane (James Hazeldine). Crane's latent psychic abilities lead him into Department 7, a government agency which investigates the paranormal, where he is partnered with family acquaintance Dr Anne Reynolds (Louise Jameson, a recently resigned Leela from DOCTOR WHO). Crane joins the organisation as a means of finding rogue psychic Edward Drexel (Cyril Luckham) and assistant Morag (Natasha Gerson), both involved in the death of his wife; yet, after Drexel is killed, Tom becomes increasingly aware of another shadow enterprise, one which strives to assemble the cream of extrasensory perceptive individuals.

For a programme steeped in otherworldly abilities, THE OMEGA FACTOR feels strangely grounded because of its lack of money and threadbare effects. This enhances Hazeldine's already standout performance, mixing his drive to avenge his wife's death, to come to terms with his own powers, and the vain attempt to assimilate within Department 7 with a secretive superior, namely psychiatrist Dr Roy Martindale (John Carlisle). Like any anthology shows - here with a wide range of writers and directors over ten episodes - there is an inherent unevenness in style and quality, encompassing a heady and diverse set of topics: spectral analogue technology (VISITATIONS), sonic weaponry (NIGHT GAMES), sleep deprivation (AFTER-IMAGE), poltergeists (CHILD'S PLAY), and even astral projection to political means (OUT OF BODY, OUT OF MIND). 

James Hazeldine and Louise Jameson are the Mulder and Scully 
of BBC paranormal drama, with added intimacy. 

POWERS OF DARKNESS is the episode the show is most remembered for, infamously labelled "thoroughly evil [and] one of the most disturbing things I have seen on television" by Mary Whitehouse. History student Jenny (Maggie James) is possessed by a witch, culminating in an altar ritual involving a dead blackbird and a Demon. Mixing a seance, drug use, knife violence and human combustion, this fed into Whitehouse's disgust at any portrayal of Eucharist abstraction, and general distrust of popular entertainment. Two weeks later BBC Scotland Head of Drama Roderick Graham admitted that the BBC's own standards of decency had been breached during ST ANTHONY'S FIRE, where a woman kills her husband with a bread knife. The BBC's Guidance Notes on Violence, which dictated permissible levels, specifically mentioned that dramas were to avoid violent acts that could be easily copied. Graham stated that "the point has been forcibly made to those who were responsible for the programme".

The penultimate entry, DOUBLE VISION, is unnerving because it is so understated. Tom keeps seeing his dead wife Julia (Joanne Tope) in and around Edinburgh; in DON'T LOOK NOW fashion, when running after her, the red-coated figure darts around corners and remains constantly out of touching distance, like the dream sensation of a goal forever out of reach. For the husband to discover this was an elaborate ploy leaves an unsavory taste, as the show leads to its THE PRISONER-like conclusion. The final episode - called ILLUSIONS - ends fittingly on a closed door, leaving further adventures to be picked up in a series of Big Finish audio dramas, where Jameson returns as Reynolds, now head of the department.

Haunt of Fear

Nostalgia and the Rise of Hauntology

"When Bagpuss wakes up, all his friends wake up too." Bagpuss, Professor Yaffle and the Organ Mice in the fondly remembered BAGPUSS from 1974. The titular cat's description of "saggy ... and a bit loose at the seams" typifies the disjointed melancholy of the Hauntology movement.

POPULAR culture surrounds us in a whirlwind of nostalgia. Nostalgia was first described as a psychosomatic disease, rooted in the desire of soldiers to return home; this longing for the motherland is so strong that it induces a doleful, mental state. Swiss physician Johannes Hofer first used the term in 1688, and the disorder came to be associated particularly with Swiss soldiers, who were so susceptible to nostalgia when they heard a particular milking song, that its playing was punishable by death. Confusing the past and the present, and the real and the imaginary, our preference for the sights, sounds and smells of yesteryear often has its foundation in the carefree wonders of childhood. It was Immanuel Kant who stated that people who were steeped in nostalgia were triggered not so much for an actual place as for the time of youth. David Lowenthal's The Past is a Foreign Country considers that nostalgia preys on the past to construct a form of escapism; and by savouring these ruins of artificiality, author Susan Stewart condemns the condition as a "social disease," maintaining that the past is something unspoilt, utopian and unreachable.

British television in the 70s exists in what writer and radio presenter Bob Fischer describes as "cosy wrongness," a grainy and blurred netherworld that - because of its pre-digital, incomplete heritage - can be a nostalgic notion that actually extends to the early 80s Video Nasty flap of VHS degradation. BBC shows of the polyester decade - such as DOCTOR WHO, A GHOST STORY FOR CHRISTMAS, THE STONE TAPE and COUNT DRACULA - showed the corporation embracing the Gothic, but also fortolded how this portentously gloomy sub-genre would mutate into visual art Hauntology. Hauntology was coined by Jacques Derrida in his 1993 book Spectres of Marx, and taken up by critics who referenced contemporary culture's persistent recycling and incapacity to escape old forms. If nostalgia is sentimental perspective, Hauntology bleeds into our psyche like a spectre who gestures towards what is inevitably an intellectual abyss. 

Music Has the Right to Children was the debut studio album from Boards of Canada, and hailed as a seminal Hauntology work. The piece was described as a "thing of wonder" and "the aural equivalent of old super 8 movies."

Fischer has also highlighted the children's programme BAGPUSS as a prime example of 70s "vague disquiet." This strange shadow world’s mixture of scrambled memories and weird, bygone images is explored in the Hauntology concept, where the presence of being is replaced by absent or deferred parallels, a yearning for a future that never arrived. Hauntological music has been particularly tied to British culture, an alternate reality constituted from the stagnation of the postwar period. This soundscape is expertly captured by the 1998 album Music Has the Right to Children by Scottish electronic duo Boards of Canada. Subsequently, musicians and artists whose formative years were in the 70s have developed their own Hauntology analogue synth brands and universes. In 2005 Jim Jupp and Julian House founded Ghost Box Records and the fictitious world of Belbury, an eerie English village straight out of John Wyndham. Similarly, writer and graphic designer Richard Littler created Scarfolk together with spoof book covers and dystopian government pamphlets that evoke the distinct Penguin Classics and Public Information Films so entrenched from the period. 

Arc of a Journey

The Sonic Adventures of Broadcast

BERBERIAN SOUND STUDIO (2012)

Broadcast's Trish Keenan: a unique talent tragically cut short.

TAKING the aesthetics of 1960s psychedelia and the avant-garde, West Midlands electronic group Broadcast rejoiced in a deluge of musical, literary and cinematic references. Co-founded by partners James Cargill and the late Trish Keenan - who passed away in 2011 aged 42 having contracted the H1N1 flu virus on tour in Australia - Broadcast were key in the development of what the music press would term hauntology. There was a compelling aura that surrounded them from their first gigs, detached among hypnotic light-shows akin to Andy Warhol's Factory and The Velvet Underground's psych-outs. Keenan's ethereal vocals - like the person herself - were heartfelt yet fragile. As Jeanette Leech notes in her capsule critique of the singer in Shindig! #32 (April 2013), Keenan subscribed more to the intensity and bravado of The United States of America's Dorothy Moskowitz than the killer-stares of Grace Slick or Nico.

Broadcast's debut in 2000 - The Noise Made By People - is one of the great first albums, a work swathed in references from John Barry to Martin Denny, yet forges a hazily spectral sound of its own. 2003's Haha Sound is more intricate, which coincided with Keenan's discovery of the Czech New Wave VALERIE AND HER WEEK OF WONDERS and Cargill's obsession with library music. By the third album released two years later - Tender Buttons, named after Gertrude Stein's 1914 book of verse - Broadcast had stripped back to the two founders, which consequently produced a more minimal sound. The next album was released in 2009 and would simultaneously frustrate and alienate; infused with a trance-like quality, Broadcast and The Focus Group Investigate Witch Cults of the Radio Age was influenced by Cargill and Keenan moving to the countryside and immersing themselves in ancient folklore.

Secretary Elena (Tonia Sotiropoulou) in BERBERIAN SOUND STUDIO.

The spirit of Broadcast lives on in their soundtrack to Peter Strickland's Lynchian art-house hit BERBERIAN SOUND STUDIO. Even though the music is used sparingly, the atmospheric fragments bleed into the drama that unfolds. A lonely English sound engineer from Dorking, Gilderoy (Toby Jones), travels to Italy to work on the post-production of the horror film 'The Equestrian Vortex.' Struggling with the language, he attempts to get his airfare reimbursed with a disinterested secretary, and is later disturbed by the hostilities of director Coraggio (Cosimo Fusco) and producer Santini (Antonio Mancino). Repulsed by the violence depicted in the film which requires him to record various witch incantations, torture and an "aroused goblin," Gilderoy loses his sanity as reality and fiction merge.

Funded by Film 4, the UK Film Council and Warp X, BERBERIAN SOUND STUDIO is a claustrophobic love letter to analogue recording and the world of Italian giallo soundtracks. Consequently, it exists in a vacuum between academia and exploitation. There is something outlandish with an environment that is visually static yet aurally harrowing: human viscera is replaced by bludgeoned cabbages, slashing kitchen knives and watermelons spliced with machetes. Jones is superb as the innocent abroad, a character who can only truly express himself within his beloved sonic landscape; the question remains if Jones actually exists on a higher plane, or is being manipulated by magic spells rendered through the fast-forwarding and rewinding of the material. For all its measured build up, it is up to the viewer to judge if the final sequences of Gilderoy's madness are an example of audacious film-making or pretentious self-indulgence.