The Owl Service (1969) Unsettling atmosphere, and echoes of folklore in this iconic 60s TV Show (TV Review)

The Owl Service is a notable curio in the history of British genre television. Originally broadcast on Sunday afternoons in 1969, the eight episodes of this adaptation of Alan Garner’s 1967 novel is ostensibly a children’s show in the vein of Swallows and Amazons, a 1967 adaptation of The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe, and Doctor Who at the time. However, looked at with modern eyes, especially those familiar with wider traditions of genre fiction, the show works as a piece of folk horror, informed by British myth and folklore but resonant with themes of its period and indeed today. This new Blu-ray release from Network assembles the entire series along with a handful of extras.

From its opening moments, The Owl Service lays out its setting, tone and tensions. We are introduced to a creaky old house in a Welsh valley, as well as the six characters and what they embody. Alison (Gillian Hills), the young lady of the house, is slightly odd and shows traits of the Gothic heroine. Gwyn (Michael Holden), son of the Mrs Danvers-esque housekeeper Nancy (Dorothy Edwards), is a friend and confidante to Alison as well as being a servant figure and therefore unstable in the social order. Alison’s stepbrother Roger (Francis Wallis) exemplifies the dutiful son of his upstanding business owner father Clive (Edwin Richfield) but also pursues photography as a form of self-expression if not rebellion. And groundskeeper Huw (Raymond Llewellyn) is something of a harbinger, giving warnings and telling tales that may not be as tall as they initially appear.

Clashes of class and culture are apparent early on, as Roger, Clive and Alison represent a wealthy ruling class while Nancy, Gwyn and Huw are the working class. Interactions across class boundaries develop in unsurprising ways, interrogating class boundaries and the prejudices and expectations that come with them. Furthermore, English and Welsh clashes appear as well, both in terms of accents and associations with particular places. Most apparent among these places is the grand country house where they all live. Despite ownership and long associations, no one appears a true resident of this house, as all the characters either keep their distance and do not ask why, in a way reminiscent of the caretakers in The Haunting of Hill House (both Shirley Jackson’s 1959 novel and adaptations such as Mike Flanagan’s 2018 Netflix series). In this respect, writer Garner and director Peter Plummer combine aspects of Enid Blyton novels, where middle-class stereotypes engage in contrived adventures, with those of more ominous folk horror tales such as The Wicker Man, the work of Nigel Kneale and more recent work like Inside Number 9.

This combination makes for a heady mix, although the contemporary viewer might be put off by the dated production values. The Blu-ray transfer of this new release is not especially bright or detailed, which is a shame since the show was distinctive in its day for being shot on location and in full colour. There are parts of the sound design where the dialogue track is obscured by the sound of the wind. This can be atmospheric but also distracting, especially when there is a lack of visual styling to accompany the sound. Much of the exterior footage does take advantage of the stunning scenery, with Gwynned, Wales providing some spectacular valleys and hills that are both inviting and foreboding. The lighting is somewhat crude, such as overly bright in a room that is otherwise dark or when a character turns out a light that produces no discernible change in the lighting of the scene. There is even a moment when the boom microphone appears in the shot, which carries a certain charm but also brings the viewer out of the story.

Despite these aspects, which ultimately highlight the production context, The Owl Service is impressively rich in its themes and visual composition. As mentioned, there are clashes of class and culture, as well as generations and gender. Though often referenced, Alison’s mother Margaret never appears on screen, her significant absence is felt through artefacts that she leaves indicating her influence and everyone’s concern about her getting upset. Gwyn at one point corners Alison in a summer house in a frankly creepy and unsettling sequence. Roger and Gwyn are both seen weeping but in different situations – Roger alone in a corner but surrounded by images of his father; Gwyn on the stairs of the house which prompts Roger’s contempt. Even flower power gets a reference, indicating the cultural upheavals that might seem distant but are nonetheless felt.

These various tensions are interwoven with folklore deeply embedded in the land. The landscape, from the rocky escarpments to the river where our characters swim, and an important rock with a hole through the middle, all speak of a longstanding legend that seems to manifest amongst the young people at the centre of the drama. The old house as well as its outbuildings provide an evocative environment, and Plummer along with production designer Peter Caldwell consistently creates striking images. Many a shot is in deep focus, with characters and objects arrayed in such a way as to highlight tensions. Sometimes this is fairly obvious, such as Roger in the background framed between Alison and Gwyn in the foreground. Other times it is more subtle, such as a confrontation in a ruined stable where Alison and Gwyn discuss their respective futures and the constraints upon them. Alison is often viewed through horizontal or vertical lines such as bannisters, chair legs and the slats of a gate, indicating her containment despite her evident yearnings to be free. Gwyn’s typically dark clothes suggest a grimness to him, and in a key moment, he steals items from different characters which highlight his need to escape from the identity imposed upon him by his class, his family and perhaps an even longer heritage. There are various striking camera angles that present the characters as both looming yet oppressed, and point-of-view shots that place the viewer directly in the action, sometimes with a sense of fear and others in a way that implicates us within the threat (almost a decade before that infamous opening sequence of Halloween).

As a piece, The Owl Service maintains a sense of tragic inevitability and largely maintained ambiguity throughout its eight episodes. It somewhat botches these aspects with an abrupt and overly convenient finale, but there is enough unsettling atmosphere, interpersonal and social tensions and echoes of folklore to let this time capsule resonate for a time in the memory.

This Blu-ray release comes with two archive interviews with novelist Alan Garner, one from 1968 and the other from 1980. The show is a time capsule of its context, as are these interviews in terms of their production values and style. The first demonstrates far more creativity than the name suggests, as we see Garner walking in his home area of Cheshire and explaining the values of isolation for a writer and the mythology that informs his novels. If you have not heard of Garner, he shares features with J. R. R. Tolkien in terms of drawing inspiration from mythology and the British landscape. Both interviews make reference to Garner’s home, a refurbished old farmhouse in the Cheshire countryside largely isolated from civilisation (one gets the sense that Garner’s wife and children were very patient). The second interview is more varied, with Garner as a talking head both at an indoor fire and again walking through the countryside that is so central to his work. Garner details his largely bedridden childhood as well as the historical and geological features of his area, while readings from his books further develop the atmosphere. The 1980 interview includes Garner discussing his career, the first phase being fantastical and the second more concerned with what he calls the ‘living culture’ around the hill Alderley Edge. Perhaps most interestingly, Garner describes his writing process, describing the psychic energy of a place that imbues him and thence his writing, while a research montage shows him walking, researching and actually writing, both with a pen and at a typewriter. This interview offers some intriguing insights and leans into the romantic notion of writing, but the process remains somewhat inaccessible. Then again, that is a fair presentation of creativity, something personal and internal rather than a recognisable or imitable set of practices.

The extras also include a photo gallery of the show’s production and commentaries on some of the episodes by writer and broadcaster Tim Worthington. Though not connected with the show (and by his own admission, not born at the time of its release), Worthington’s enthusiasm and knowledge of the show is palpable and infectious. He discusses such aspects as the design of the title sequence; the ‘care and attention’ paid to the visual composition; why the show is ‘important’; and compares his commentary to others and his wish to be different and informative. For the most part, he succeeds, much as The Owl Service itself mostly succeeds as an evocative, atmospheric and intriguing drama, one that offers plenty to enjoy for modern audiences just as it did for those over fifty years ago.

Vincent’s Archive: The Owl Service