The Unsettling Nature of Quatermass

I have three movies I call my "comfort films" that I will try and watch whenever I see them listed on the TV schedules or can turn to (via blu-rays, dvd, or streaming) whenever I'm feeling a bit down and need an escape hatch.

These are Raiders of The Lost Ark, George Pal's The Time Machine, and Quatermass and The Pit.

To me, these are perfect, review-proof works of genius that I can never tire of watching, all with deeper meanings and impacts on my life than what is shown on screen.

Today, we're thinking about the "adventures" of Professor Bernard Quatermass.

My first exposure to the world of Quatermass was the apocalyptic 1979 sci-fi thriller series known simply as Quatermass.

This bleak, four-part miniseries had a major impact on its 13-year-old viewer when first screened; implanting in me a fascination not just for adventure stories set amongst urban decay but the heroic futility of standing up to alien creatures of unimaginable power and destructive capabilities.

I am sure there is some synchronicity between my first viewing of this televisual tale and my discovery - not long afterwards - and immediate love for, the works of HP Lovecraft.

From Cthulhu to Galactus, all these cosmic entities can trace their influence on me back to watching Quatermass on ITV in the late 70s.

So inspired by this series was I that I also clearly remember creating (but never playing) a Quatermass role-playing game system and, once we started playing the comic book RPG Villains & Vigilantes, I named an alien race after the "enemy" in Quatermass - The Harvesters... although they were nowhere near as powerful as that entity!

Set at the end of the 20th Century (the future when this was made), Quatermass sees the return to London of Bernard Quatermass (Sir John Mills), founder of the British Rocket Group which pioneered space travel in the UK (see The Quatermass Experiment of 1953 and its cinematic remake).

He's been living in seclusion in Scotland and is unaware of the anarchy spreading through England, with gangs roaming the streets, power cuts and the general collapse of society. He is looking for his runaway granddaughter and instead meets up with a fellow scientist (Simon MacCorkindale).

Also roaming the land are a group known as The Planet People - hippies who gather at stone circles, prophesying a mass transmigration of those who "believe" to a Utopian alien planet.

Then the beams of light start coming from the sky, hitting the places where people have gathered and seemingly disintegrating them; although the Planet People believe they have been "taken to The Planet".

Seen now Quatermass can seem slightly melodramatic in places, but it can still deliver an incredible impact with its portrayal of a very British Apocalypse, complete with polite graffiti, a plate of sandwiches and a thermos of tea.

It faces themes of science versus belief, youthful enthusiasm versus the experience of age and the human spirit's unwavering strength in the face of overwhelming odds.

If HP Lovecraft were alive in the 1970s, this is exactly what he would have been writing - man as an insignificant speck in the Universe, caught up in events way beyond his understanding and ability to comprehend.

Don't expect answers, explanations or convenient happy endings - there is no Deus Ex Machina in the world of Bernard Quatermass... it is that God In The Machine that is "harvesting" the human race!

Originally created by writer Nigel Kneale (who also penned The Stone Tape) in the paranoia-fuelled 1950s, Quatermass - an intellectual professor defending the Earth from extraterrestrial threats through the use of brains rather than brawn - is an obvious precursor of The Doctor (who shares many of the same traits and convictions, despite being an alien himself).

Kneale wrote three original Quatermass serials for television: The Quatermass Experiment (an astronaut returning to Earth unknowingly carrying an alien creature which is continually mutating); Quartermass II (aliens take over a research plant on the South Coast); and Quatermass And The Pit (workmen in London unearth an old, crashed spaceship and release 'psychic ghosts').

I discovered all three of these stories through Arrow's script books, published in the late '70s, almost certainly released to cash in on Quatermass.

Later would come the radio series The Quatermass Memoirs, first broadcast as part of a season about 'The Fifties' on Radio 3 in 1996, and while some of the old news clips are a bit scratchy, the whole drama-documentary is an informative, inspirational and terrifying reflection of a time when the world was gripped by fear of nuclear holocaust.

It is a five-part documentary about the origins of the character, intercut with genuine 1950s news broadcasts, exerpts from the original serials, recollections and anecdotes from Nigel Kneale and an original mini-play by Kneale, set in the 1970s, wherein Bernard Quatermass, having retired to the wilds of Scotland (as mentioned at the start of Quatermass), discusses his life with a young journalist.

Long before Space:1999, UFO, Thunderbirds and even Doctor Who, there was ... Quatermass.

Throughout most of the 1950s, Quatermass was a British science fiction institution which appeared both on TV and in the cinema. Yet perhaps more importantly, it was the first adult based, dramatic science fiction television show in the world.

Now, over 70 years later, Quatermass not only lives on through its devoted fan base, but is a name which continues to resonate with science fiction fans both young and old.

In this special retrospective study, we look back upon the history of this highly celebrated franchise, whilst not only addressing the positive aspects the series brought to the science fiction genre but also the many challenges it faced in doing so.

You'll Have To Pry My Blu-Rays From My Cold, Dead Hand

My new Frieren blu-rays along with the Frieren Funko Pop! Paul got me for Christmas

One of the few things I picked up for myself in the Boxing Day/New Year sales this year was the blu-ray box set of the first part of the first season of Frieren: Beyond Journey's End.

But, you say, that's available "for free" on both Netflix and Crunchyroll, so why buy it?

To which I retort that not only does 'solid media' rule, but that just because the show is currently on those two streamers that doesn't guarantee it will always be.

Netflix, for instance, is always churning through its contents and removing great swathes of material to make way for new stuff. 

But, owning a show or movie on solid media (Blu-ray, DVD, even VHS) means it's always yours for as long as you have the means to play it (and you treat the media with enough respect to prolong its life).

Even if you purchase something digitally, you're essentially just renting it.

The Case of The Missing Music

Several years ago I purchased - via iTunes - the album Stand By For Action! The Music Of Barry Gray, which was essentially all the beautifully bombastic and inspirational themes and tunes from the Gerry Anderson shows I grew up with.

A magical collection of music that could very quickly carry me off to my happy place, thanks to some of the greatest theme tunes ever composed: UFO, I'm looking at you in particular.

Only, when Rachel and I went for a car journey the other week and I fired up my "driving playlist" (a mix of tracks from throughout the ages and across multiple genres) I realised that the opening track - Stand By For Action - wasn't there.

When I later checked the listing for my Barry Gray album on my iPhone, I saw more than half of the tracks were "faded out" (see picture at top of this article), and when I tried to click on them a message would pop up saying these tracks weren't available in my country!!!

WTF? I bought and paid for this music years ago.

This being Apple there's no customer service, no recourse for the angry customer to get an explanation.

Then late last year the tracks magically reappeared in my library, without a word or an apology. So now I can start blasting them out again.

But how long before they disappear again? Or tracks from other artists? God, what if all my Atarashii Gakko! music vanished over night? I don't even want to contemplate such an apocalyptic scenario.

But this isn't really a dig at Apple per se, as I love my iPhone (thank you, Rachel!), it's more about the fact that when you're talking about digital media... it doesn't really exist, it never feels truly your own, and it is vulnerable to the whims of the digital realm. 

Combine this with the numerous hic-cups I've had buying movies from Sky Cinema (I've given up pre-ordering movies this way and have reverted to Blu-rays), it's no wonder I'm sticking to physical media.

I know they take up room (not as much as a VHS cassette, of course), but they look cool and have all those spiffy extras that someday I'll get round to watching.

When you have a solid disc - or book, or whatever - in your hand, it's yours until you give it up. No megacorporation can arbitrarily decide - without explanation - that that object is no longer yours and remove it from your possession like a thief in the night.

Admittedly, on the music front I still actually err towards digital these days, but most of the time now I simply stream tracks via Rachel's Spotify account anyway.

PS. I know this is slightly hypocritical as I am a massive proponent of audiobooks, particularly the material produced by Big Finish, which I primarily purchase as digital downloads and play through their own app. 

My theory here is that these will exist at least for as long as Big Finish does... and I couldn't imagine living in a world without Big Finish!