In an early classic of folk horror, the 1970 BBC Play for Today episode, “Robin Redbreast” (written by John Bowen and directed by James MacTaggart), a middle-class professional woman, Norah Palmer (Anna Cropper), whose long-time boyfriend just ended their relationship, moves rather reluctantly to a remote cottage she acquired during the break-up. After discovering that she has mice, Norah sets off to look for a man named Rob (Andrew Bradford), who lives in the woods and can apparently take care of her mouse problem for her. As Norah walks through the woods, the camera isolates her and also marks her enjoyment of the scenery. She is jolted from this enjoyment by the sight of a man who is virtually naked; indeed, she will call him ‘naked’ when she recounts her experience to her housekeeper, Mrs. Vigo (Freda Bamford), later. Norah stares and, when he sees her – when he looks back – she turns and hastens away, unnerved, back to her house.
By
Andrés Emil González
If any single monster or supernatural entity has a claim to shaping horror film and literature as we know it today, it is almost certainly the ghost –and with good reason. The figure of the ghost or spirit embodies (so to speak) some of horror’s fundamental traits, including liminality between states of being, glimpses of a world or truth beyond our own, and a sense of powers that act on human lives without our awareness or comprehension.
Perhaps because of its ability to evoke such a variety of ideas, fears and even hopes, however, spirits in modern horror cinema have tended to take wildly different forms, often within the same film or television series. Most are familiar to any fan of horror. Many times, ghosts are only represented by their effects on the visible world: a chair slides across a room, the planchette of a ouija board moves on its own, or a person is dragged off by their hair. Other times, ghosts are made visible to some combination of audience and characters, as memorably occurs several times across James Wan’s The Conjuring series, to name just one example. In this case, ghosts may be visible only to one character, or to all, or they appear only for the briefest of moments. And while of course, there are myriad distinctions to be drawn between demons, ghosts, poltergeists and other assorted spirits, for our purposes all of these beings tend to be represented within this shared set of parameters.
Jon Dear
I read with interest your recent guest post, “Finding a Lost Production by Nigel Kneale?” by Professor Philip Jenkins and felt compelled to respond. Thank you for allowing me the opportunity.
A little about myself: I’m a writer on archive British television and film and I’ve written and presented extensively on Nigel Kneale and his work. I’m also privileged to know Andy Murray (Nigel Kneale’s biographer), Toby Hadoke (the authority on Quatermass) and Andrew Screen (the authority on Beasts). We have all been consulted by Kneale’s family on various aspects of his career. We are not academics but neither are we amateurs; we are professional writers and researchers. I mention this not in any sense of boasting but simply to support my wish (and ability) to compose this response. I emphasise however that the following is written in my name only.
by
Philip Jenkins
Baylor University
In a recent column at this site, I reported what I believe to be a significant find in the history of the folk horror genre, namely a 1961 television episode titled “Hay-Fork and Bill-Hook,” in Boris Karloff’s series Thriller. This was, I believe, the first ever folk horror ever to appear on screen, and it closely foreshadowed the classic film The Wicker Man. Based on some further work, I now think that the episode is still more interesting than it first appeared, given its probable authorship. It is, I will argue, an unacknowledged work by the brilliant writer Nigel Kneale.
The Place Called Dagon – Herbert S. Gorman’s Folk Horror Novel
Guest Postby
Philip Jenkins
Baylor University
The current fascination with folk horror as a genre began with British contributions in cinema and literature, and that focus is still obvious, despite all the efforts to broaden and globalize the narrative. Even today, the American part of the story is still seriously under-valued, particularly early writings that long precede the British wave of the 1960s. If I was looking for the first ever piece of writing in folk horror, I would make the case for Nathaniel Hawthorne’s short story “Young Goodman Brown” (1835), while Shirley Jackson’s “The Lottery” (1948) is an obvious early classic. Here, I want to highlight a work that still stands among the very first full-length novels in this tradition written in any country, and one that already at its early date fulfils all the criteria for the folk horror label. This is The Place Called Dagon, by Herbert S. Gorman, published in 1927. Although it is poorly known today, it still makes for very rewarding reading.