Whistle and I'll Come to You

The most disturbing aspect of this wonderful film is that, forty years on, the chances of seeing a production as ethereal or one that demands so much from the viewer on 'mainstream' television, as this was in May 1968, is nil.

In 1968, works by Harold Pinter, Dennis Potter and remarkable one-offs like this were commonplace on British television, but now we all live in a Michael Jackson/Madonna/computer-generated imagery theme park. Jolly good!

Alas, the BBC of the 21st Century, the 'Brave New World', would be frightened out of their wits (more than the Professor) to attempt anything as uncompromising as 'Whistle And I'll Come To You'.

After all.......nothing happens. And where's the dire soundtrack, where are the darting camera tricks, the clawing sentimentality and, anyway, might it not offend somebody?

Try 'pitching' this to someone at Broadcasting House in 2009 and see where it gets you.

Sad, isn't it.

Professor Parkins (Michael Hordern) is a bookish intellectual academic, who craves solitude, he books in to a remote hotel by the English coast, frequented by holidaying golfers. He isn't very interested in the hotel staff or the other guests and barely recognizes they are there, due to his very deep thinking processes. He flat out and rather rudely rejects an offer to play a round of golf from a breakfast guest, instead mumbling that he has better plans. These plans involve a good brisk walk, a stroll on the beach and a visit to the local cemetery, stopping only to partake of a jolly old packed lunch. Parkins is at home uncovering the long abandoned graveyard, removing the moss and reading the names of centuries old locals, he stops every so often to sit in the nearby sand dunes, eating a sandwich and generally looking about and taking in the sights, all the time seemingly enjoying his inaudible conservations with himself. On one of these trips, he finds an old artefact covered in mud and sand, he brings it back to his room and after cleaning it, finds that it is a whistle with a Latin inscription on it, which translates as "Whom is this that is coming" to which Parkins flippantly replies, "let's blow it and see" Almost immediately Parkins becomes aware of unsettling noises amidst the sudden wind that blows outside. He dismisses them at settles down to sleep for the night.

The following morning over breakfast he gets into a discussion on the existence of ghosts with the same cordial guest he has spoken to before. Parkins revels in upping the ante by intellectualising the conversation and the argument, sitting back in his chair he is arrogant and impressed with his own adept skill at debunking the conventions of the supernatural.

Back on the beach, he spots a solitary stationary figure, he repeatedly looks back in the figures direction and its lack of movement seems to startle Parkins, who scurries back to the hotel. His sleep is now becoming unsettled and sporadic, as strange noises and rustlings waken him every so often. As well as this he is having terrifying dreams of being chased, that haunt his every sleeping moment. As an academic he struggles to come to terms with these unexplainable irregularities.

This is another fine M.R.James adaptation of his 1904 work Oh, Whistle, and I'll Come to You, My Lad, this time adapted by all round talent Jonathan Miller. Miller's introduction tells us that this is a ghost story but that it is primarily a moral tale, a warning against intellectualism, that tells us, those who crave solitude can miss out on seeing the whole picture and do so at their own peril. This is very much reflected in this haunting tale. Parkins is very much wrapped up in his work and his own head, that his committal to science and fact, blinds him to the dangers he is in, with devastating consequences. Ghost stories tend to work best in black and white and Miller wisely chooses monochrome to present his work. In tone, it is very reminiscent of other genre classics like The Innocents, I even detected some Chiaroscuro visuals that would not look out of place in a Lang film. Miller's main device is to keep the dialogue to a minimum, this has a very unsettling effect on the viewer, as during these pauses, we scan Parkin's very still bedroom for a visual image to add to the horrifying noises we hear, as such the terrors are in our head, as we await a chilling moment, that may or may not be revealed. Like most of James's works, the film is notable for it slow pace and attention to detail, there are no lazy jump scares here, so when the spectral figure does eventually appear, the simplicity of its execution is quite terrifying and I can honestly say it did make my hair stand on end, I haven't been this unsettled in quite some time.

Hordern a fine stage and screen actor, is excellent as the forgetful and withdrawn professor, his constant conversations with himself and his inaudible indecipherable mumblings, can become a little irritating, but they are perfectly suited to the character, in any case proper audible and probably irrelevant dialogue might just have distracted from the great doom laden atmosphere that slowly builds. As Ghost stories go this is superb, mumblings aside, its damn near perfect.

This was the first in a series of BBC adaptations of M.R. James's famous ghost stories, and was directed by Jonathan Miller for the equally famous Omnibus productions. It was followed by a sequence that were made more or less on an annual basis through the 1970s, and the BFI has issued them all in a very attractive box set.

Miller, and Michael Hordern as his lead actor, did a great job and this film still grips the viewer. It holds its own as a ghost story and the recreation of a Norfolk hotel and its staff and guests is impressive. Jonathan Miller discusses the film in a short interview though he has disappointingly little to say about it. Unfortunately the same quality evaded the later films, most of which were directed by Lawrence Gordon Clark. He produced much more workmanlike versions lacking the original camera shots and telling atmosphere that Miller achieved in 1968. But some are better than others and Clark did work with some good actors. Of the last entry in the 1970s run, The Ice House, directed by Derek Lister, the less said the better. The same applies to the misguided attempt to make a new version of 'Oh whistle' in 2010.

A university professor, arrogantly believing he holds all the answers to life, the universe and everything, faces the ultimate horror during a vacation at a quiet coastal village in Norfolk when he encounters something beyond all rational explanation.

'Oh Whistle And I'll Come To You, My Lad' was my introduction to the world of M.R James through the medium of this wonderful t.v adaptation. It encapsulates perfectly the James mode of storytelling, and through the excellent directorship of Jonathan Miller, expertly brings to life the chilling short story written decades earlier.

Miller seems to grasp the author's approach to drama effortlessly. James belongs to the old school of literary macabre, where, like Lovecraft, the horror derives from what is unseen save for a few tantalising details. Much of the drama is down to the buildup of suspense and atmosphere and the audience is largely left to draw their own conclusions in the theatre of the mind. This is precisely what we get in the teleplay, shot on location in Norfolk, where the scenery and incidental sounds do much of the work. This is especially important given that the lead character, self-assured and largely solitary, does not engage in a great deal of dialogue. The less-is-more approach is wonderfully effective: much of the tension comes from nightmarish dreamscapes and strange objects tantalisingly kept in the distance, and the lack of continuing verbal commentary allows for wonder and suspense to build to great effect. And indeed the true horror is psychological: that which cannot be qualified, a true terror to one who thinks they have reality fully understood. The monochromatic nature of the film lends to the bleak and cold surroundings of the Norfolk coastline, although as viewers were to find in the BBC's next James adaptation, 'A Warning To The Curious', full colour is by no means more comforting.

Headlining the cast is the legendary Michael Hordern, a good deal older than the Professor Parkins of the text, which unfortunately loses the idea of arrogance in one so young, but Hordern is such perfect casting and fits the character so well that you can forgive the change. The other principal lead of the Colonel, played with great understatement by Ambrose Coghill, also finds his part reduced in the teleplay, although his chief role as the person who suggests to Perkins that the realm of knowledge may be greater than he thinks, is crucially intact. Indeed, I may just be nitpicking - Miller's assured hand preserves the essentials of the storyline and ensures that things move at a consistent pace, realising the ambiguous supernatural elements with skill to a satisfying conclusion.

Any fan of classic horror would be doing themselves a disservice to pass on this marvellous visual retelling of one of M.R James's most celebrated ghost stories. Inevitably, it will be remade someday, but I will be very surprised if anyone can top Jonathan Miller's wonderful monochrome masterpiece.

I couldn't approach this with quite the level of enthusiasm as some of the others here after just one watch. I decided to watch it a second time and then I began to pick up on more, and thus began to appreciate it more. It may be too slowly paced and subtle for some tastes, but I think the majority of horror fans will find it a rewarding 42-minute view, if only for three very creepy sequences, the desolate locations and Dick Bush's gorgeous, haunting black-and-white photography. It opens with brief voice over narration that gives us a little history on source author James as well as an overview of his story, which is said to have been written as a warning about the dangers of "intellectual pride." Professor Parkins (Michael Hordern) is looking for some peace and solitude, so he goes to stay a spell at a quaint little hotel that's close to the ocean. During a trip to the beach he wanders into a small ancient graveyard, finds an old whistle and brings it back to his room. He cleans it and notices an inscription that promises that whoever blows it will be paid a visit... by someone. Being an academic and realist, and thus a supernatural skeptic, Parkins decides to blow the horn despite the warning and ends up getting more than he bargained for.

The first 15 or so minutes are spent with Hordern wandering around the hotel and incoherently mumbling, babbling and groaning to both himself and the staff. On my first watch I found this incredibly irritating and had no clue what the point of it was. Now I realize it was to illustrate his inability to relate to or socialize with "normal" everyday people. To become immersed in academia and intellectual pursuits is often to alienate yourself from the rest of society. After awhile you just can't relate and simple things like basic interaction or making simple casual conversation during a small dinner become awkward and difficult. Though these scenes do have some purpose, I have to admit I felt they were a bit overlong to the point of trying one's patience at times.

However, when it comes to striking and chilling imagery, this one hits a home run on many occasions, which is impressive for a film with such a short run time. As the professor starts to leave the beach after obtaining the whistle, a silhouetted figure stands solemnly behind him as the sun is setting and the waves are crashing. The lack of a music score or a reactionary sound cue makes it even more chilling. There's also a brilliantly set-up nightmare sequence which make excellent use of clipped dialogue and manages to make a piece of cloth horrifying. And then there's the finale, which I won't go into, but it's also pretty darn creepy. The beach locations are excellent, partially because they're not cluttered. Aside from a few poles in the sand and some tall wavering grass blowing in the wind, it's a beautiful yet blank pallet that makes certain images (the mysterious figure, a tombstone) stand out in a striking and ominous way.

Fans of such films as THE INNOCENTS (1961) and A WARNING TO THE CURIOUS (1972) should enjoy what this brings to the table.