Mallocky

Have to agree that this is the greatest horror film of all time. And I've seen a lot of them, though most of them were dreck.

Don't expect anything terrifying. You probably won't have trouble sleeping after seeing this. But Dead of Night is the most effectively chilling, spooky horror I've ever encountered. Not a period piece, but it shares an atmosphere with Victorian tales of old vicarages, lonely moors and flickering candles. Ghastly good taste, as Sir John Betjeman put it in another context. Most horror is so frightfully vulgar. Not a drop of blood to be seen in this, and yet it's far from bloodless.

It's the anthology structure that does it. A group of English ladies and gentlemen telling stories of their spooky experiences, a kind of ghostly Canterbury Tales. There's something comfortable about an a tale built around tales; an extra layer of distance between you and the story that gives it the cosy frisson of a howling wind heard in bed. Don't get too complacent, though; this film has a bite.

There was a golf story thrown in for light relief, which was dropped in America. It's certainly the low point of the film, but not without a certain appeal. And yeah...it's mildly amusing.

But the other stories are the meat of this banquet. The story of the little girl is the most clichéd ghost story ever, but feels appropriately placed in this ghost film par excellence. The tale of the hospital patient who dreams of a hearse-- "room for one more, sir!"-- is much creepier, and the moment when the record he is listening to stops playing and time freezes is one of the spookiest things I've ever seen. Then there is the haunted mirror episode, a truly disturbing little play, which leans more towards psychological horror than M.R. James.

The final and longest story, featuring a ventriloquist, is the most famous and celebrated of them all. Something about it has always put me off, perhaps the presence of a loud, brash American character-- no offence to Americans, but it takes away from the film's delicious Englishness-- or perhaps the fact that it is so protracted. Nonetheless, it's effective in its way.

And the linking story is (one need hardly say) a story in its own right, with plot developments of its own. To discuss it would risk spoilers, but the most wonderfully chilling line in all horror cinema is spoken by the film's central character: "And that's when my dream becomes a nightmare". With these words the tone of the film changes immediately, and we feel ourself drifting from the homeliness of an ordinary day to darker territories.

And this film was made during (or immediately after) WWII. Which proves that ghost stories never lose their appeal, even when real life horrors are at their most brutal.

Glad to see this film is building up a fan-base. Any references I've come across in film guides have been pretty dismissive, and it seems to have been rubbished on its release. I think "minor classic" is the perfect description for it: it's so pleasantly low-key, restrained and, well, English. It respects the tradition of farce and, despite the frenetic pace and the subject matter, retains a kind of gentle, even staid appeal. The race to get to the conference might be nail-biting but the sleepy English countryside, the apple-eating farmer, the scene of John Cleese soaking in a bath-tub, evoke a world of endearing laziness. A film for bank holidays, and perhaps more suited to TV than the cinema. A Fish Called Wanda has funnier moments but, on the whole, I think I prefer this.

Interesting that so many people have said they can watch it again and again. I've seen it four or five times and I'm planning on buying it on my way home from work today, then watching it over dinner. Don't know what made me think of it and look it up. Actually I saw it being given away free with a newspaper last week, that must be it. I wasn't going to add to a tabloid's circulation, though.