Back in 1970s Britain as a child I remember the government
making admirable attempts on TV and in the cinema to provide the public with
recommendations and warnings surrounding anything in society that needed
caution. They ranged from gentle suggestions aimed at adults on how to save
water and electricity to more extreme mini horror films pitched at children
alerting them to the dangers of live power cables, farm machinery, unsafe
waters and road traffic etc. Their methods were eclectic depending on the subject
and audience as well as tonally on the time of day. (The famous Noel Coward-style
‘bed-time routine’ couple dancing their way around the house disconnecting any
potential fire hazard items is a charming example of palatable late-night
advice especially for vulnerable adults).
Cartoon or stop-motion animation was one method of getting
the message across to the little ones. Who from my generation can forget the
‘Charlie Says’ cartoon series featuring the little boy and his impenetrable
gobbledigook-spouting cat softly urging us to beware of sex offenders?
Another
means was to film real scenes using friendly actors who were household names to
children, such as the then-recent third Doctor
Who John Pertwee in the over-sophisticated road safety acronym campaign Splink! (1976).
This led to a plethora of weird and wonderful films, some
fondly recalled, others indelibly stamped with fear on young impressionable
minds. I intend to focus on the latter as a valid addition to the horror canon
that is not only uniquely British but showcased later notable actors and long-form
film directors such as John Mackenzie who went from the tractor terror of Apaches (1977) to gangster menace in his
1980 seminal feature The Long Good Friday.
It’s easy to forget that the ‘70s were a time of greater innocence
for children. Rather than ignore the warnings and stride into the dangerous
waters of ‘grumpy old man’ territory, I don’t imply they were better days but
young kids were certainly protected from exposure to types of material that
erodes naivete increasingly early nowadays. The discovery of AIDS in the
mid-1980s required a more graphic sex education, the omnipresent and invaluable
internet is a largely open door to easily-accessible pornography, health and
safety demands create debatably draconian rules for what used to be slightly
more relaxed attitudes. There is also the heightened post-millenial awareness
about paedophilia that is ingrained in children much more now than when we were
in their place.
An important and rosier aspect to consider is that back then
in the pre-digital era children played much more on derelict waste grounds and
old bomb sites from the still-ongoing post-war reconstruction. Actor Terry-Sue
Patt who was in the infamous The Spirit
of Dark and Lonely Water in 1973 (and went on to TV fame as Benny in Grange Hill) recalled ”There were no computer games, three TV
channels, and kids lived outdoors: entertainment was going on adventures,
finding excitement in odd places.". These youngsters arguably needed
stronger cautioning against outdoor perils than later generations who often
substitute real-world dangers for safer indoor XBOX and PS console thrills.
These tightly-plotted short sharp shocks are sadly the end
of a discontinued legacy, a talent training ground (and arguably
still-necessary part of educating our young) that is no longer with us creating
the same impact.
Take my hand as we explore the world of the 1970s British
public information film. Stay close and DON’T talk to strangers…
THE SPIRIT OF DARK AND LONELY WATER
(1973)
“Sensible children…I have no power
over them”
1973 England
was a somewhat gloomy place to live. The country was besieged by increasing
inflation rates and by the year’s end the national miners’ strike was one of
many instigated to force public sector pay rises, leading to the Conservative
government declaring a three-day working week to husband the dwindling stocks
of fuel. Meanwhile, a doomier note was struck in the tone of an unforgettable public
information film with its own literal Grim Reaper.
The Spirit of Dark and Lonely Water, written and directed by Jeff Grant,
was commissioned after the Home Secretary Reginald Maudling was pressurised by
ROSPA (the Royal Society for the Prevention of Accidents) over the unacceptable
number of accidental child drownings in Britain. Something was needed to warn
kids in no uncertain terms about the dangers of playing near dangerous waters, and
if the vivid memories of my generation are anything to go by, it worked extremely
well - even decades after seeing it only once.
Voiced by
the esteemed master-eccentric actor Donald Pleasance (a veteran of my own alma
mater Ecclesfield School), the robed and hooded Spirit stalks the water-sides
looking for children innocently risking their lives at the edges of ponds and
rivers – “the show-off, the fool”.
His voice is the most memorable facet of the film, a chilling matter-of-fact
narration edged with a faux-concern that fools no-one. This is a predator who
lurks in hope of engulfing a young life. We never see his face. We don’t need
to. He could be anywhere.
The
cinematography effectively captures the misty foreboding of the murky depths
that await the reckless. A little blonde boy slip down a muddy bank and it’s
game over for him as the Spirit arrives ominously behind his friends to blankly
witness his latest statistic. An older boy chances his arm literally, hanging
from a branch to over-reach for something on the water’s surface. “It’ll never take his weight” observes
the Spirit with silky, restrained glee. A sign ordering ‘Danger. No swimming’ prefaces
a tracking shot detailing a veritable scrap-yard’s worth of rusty old jalopies,
beds and weeds, death-trap henchmen
of his to snare and drown young flailing bodies. But our opportunistic monk has
his own Kryptonite: “Sensible children…I
have no power over them” he curses, the line echoing to reinforce the power
of common sense to the audience. “Oy
mate, that’s a stupid place to swim” admonishes a cockney stage-school Artful
Dodger as he and his pal help out a bedraggled kid in trunks who’d attempted swimming
in such a picturesque spot.The
only slightly false note is the dialogue when the lead boy says: “Here mate. Cover yourself with this”. It
doesn’t quite ring true as a real child’s reaction, more that of a mouthpiece
for shoe-horning in sober adult responsibility.
One of them throws the Spirit’s empty cassock into the muddy water, causing Pleasance’s ghostly kiss-off “I’ll be back”, likewise underlined with an ominous reverb…
One of them throws the Spirit’s empty cassock into the muddy water, causing Pleasance’s ghostly kiss-off “I’ll be back”, likewise underlined with an ominous reverb…
The lack of
incidental music adds to the clinical documentary feel of The Spirit of Dark and Lonely Water – 90 seconds of succinct and haunting power and a lesson in safety and film-making to all.
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