Monsters of Yore: Ghostwatch (1992)

The Mother of Monsters Kiera Nettelbladt discusses her unholy grail of horror influences, beginning with an infamous TV special that ended in a real-life tragedy. This article contains spoilers, and mentions of suicide.

Hallowe’en Night, 1992. 9.25pm. The BBC One evening drama slot has been taken by a live television broadcast of a “real” ghost hunt, hosted by national treasure Michael Parkinson.

Ninety minutes later, over 30,000 calls are jamming the BBC Audience Hotline, two stars of The Children’s BBC are presumed dead, and the headlines are already being prepped to condemn the so-called “National Séance”. The special would never be aired in the UK again.

This is my Citizen Kane of British Horror, and it redefined what a horror experience can be.

Writer Stephen Volk originally presented the studio with a series about a paranormal investigator researching a haunting on a council estate, with the final episode being aired “live” where all hell breaks loose. The studio instead proposed a special based on the format of the final episode. 

Ghostwatch didn’t reinvent the wheel in terms of its content. It features strange noises, creepy children, a malevolent monster, bewildered specialists, and equipment malfunctions that have been hallmarks of the genre since Polidori and Shelley. 

What made it so controversial was that it was presented in a realistic and feasible manner. Through some canny casting and all the trimmings of a serious late night broadcast, the 11 million viewers were lured into a false sense of security. Red herrings regarding the haunting’s legitimacy also increased the sense of paranoia. 

Another way to make it feel more tangible was to set it on a council estate, and not in a more “traditional” spooky setting. One key way the ghost communicated its presence was to cause the pipes to knock, which was a common issue in prefabricated council homes of the time. This use of a common household malfunction as a horror tool would have a more substantial effect than anyone could have imagined. I’ll come back to this.

The real BBC call-in number was used as a way to get viewers involved, but all the calls featured in the show were scripted. A pre-recorded message stating that the “ghost hunt” was in fact fictional was meant to play over the phone. As traffic increased, most callers were left with an engaged tone. Soon, the apparitions became more dangerous, and the audience were unable to warn the presenters of the impending danger. 

Then the bomb dropped: the ghost wanted this to happen. Using the power of millions of TV sets, the ghost was able to manifest and lay havoc to those in the haunted house, then in the studio and finally, in the homes of millions of Britons.

Nothing like this had ever been attempted in the UK. The Blair Witch Project wouldn’t be released for another seven years, and the closest the British had to a supernatural entertainment was The Enfield Poltergeist investigation of 1978. Horror stories were that: stories, and obviously so.

Ghostwatch was a betrayal of trust. 

Though the title sequence for the drama slot was shown before the special aired, and the Radio Times did a feature on it citing it as a drama, many missed these vital context clues. Michael Parkinson was one of the most trusted hosts in the country, and having well-known children’s stars suggested the material would be suitable for younger audiences.

Following the backlash, the BBC was in hot water. Priests were reporting hysterical congregants, psychologists reported the first ever cases of PTSD in children from a TV programme, and paranormal sightings went through the roof. Then, tragically, an 18-year-old viewer ended his own life after believing his own council house with knocking pipes was haunted. Martin Denham had the mental age of a 13-year-old as well as learning difficulties, and on his suicide note simply wrote,

“If there are ghosts I will be... with you always as a ghost,” 

All evidence of the special was pulled, and for many years lived exclusively on home video tapes and in the minds of millions. 34 different counts were held against the BBC for various damages including Denham’s death.

Nothing like it was attempted until the likes of Derren Brown and the writers of Inside No.9 re-invigorated the genre. These are now heavily advertised in advance, and content warnings abound. But when asked, they will always cite Ghostwatch as one of their biggest inspirations. 

Thanks to the work of dedicated fans and some hard-working archivists, you can now purchase Ghostwatch on DVD or through horror streaming services like Shudder, and attend the annual “National Séance” with thousands of other devoted fans every Hallowe’en Night. 

I based my own immersive horror experience on this set-up. Though mine was a glorified game of Dungeons and Dragons done on a budget of £150, it shared its parentage with Ghostwatch’s false positive model. I am writing a full retrospective on it (should you wish to learn of the 10 months of friendly masochism I inflicted on my dice-rolling pals). 

What’s important here is how easy it was to lure many of my players into a false sense of ease, or a strong sense of unease using the same simple tricks Volk implemented. I presented my audience with a formula they were familiar with (the table-top role playing game) and removed many of the usual barriers between Dungeon Master and player. I also moved the expected setting of the games shop to a mansion in the university grounds, a familiar haunt for many of the performing arts students. Add a little set dressing and some willing voice actors to fill in what I couldn’t, and my low-budget ode to a masterpiece was complete. 

Though Ghostwatch is not free from the indomitable eye of public scrutiny, it is an altar upon which many modern horror writers prostrate themselves. The perfect cocktail of slightly camp, chilling, controversial, and clever.