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QUATERMASS - "AN ENDANGERED SPECIES" Wednesday 14/11/79, ITV reviewed by Graham Kibble-White |
September
2000
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For whatever reason, the John Mills Quatermass serial has only been ever afforded the status of a tiresome younger brother in the Quatermass "family", but for me those four episodes that went out in the last gasp of the 1970s, and heralding ITV's return after the 75-day strike, are stunning. Although lashed, as ever, to a sci-fi concept Quatermass (as it was simply called, although retrospectively it has been referred to as The Quatermass Conclusion - the name given to a 105 minute version made for foreign markets) presented a post-catastrophe Britain that was every bit as plausible and frightening as that depicted in Threads. Unlike that fine drama, however, Nigel Kneale allows hope to ultimately creep in, which in my opinion makes this serial the most affecting. A sweeping statement, perhaps, and admittedly on the surface there's much to mock in Quatermass. Those of us who regularly partake in archive TV fare are well used to filtering out the snigger-value of unfortunate bygone fashions and simply engage with the programme on equal terms. However John Mills' plump, whiskery mutton-chops and the hippy-futuro garp and lingo of the Planet People (an otherwise prescient depiction of a New Age movement) do lend themselves to easy mockery. Yet overpowering these unfortunate - and let's be fair - unavoidable reflections of late '70s culture, is the sheer scale of the production. Quatermass is enormous, depicting a broken-down society with a sweeping confidence that's astonishing. Our characters rattle down overgrown, deserted motorways (sheer vistas of empty and decayed open road), pick their way through miles of rubble and decayed industry home to hundreds of destitutes, and - most impressively of all - stumble into an abandoned Wembley Stadium under a sky tinted green with the remnants of thousands of vaporised people. OK, so you were with me up until I used that phrase "vaporised" weren't you? And here again we acknowledge the easily mocked elements within the serial; sci-fi clichés are trotted out - the programme opens with a very You Only Live Twice space sequence and we continue into jargon-filled theorising over positioning of satellite dishes. But again, there's a flipside. Kneale's writing is too accomplished to blind us with science, and betwixt the jargon (which, to be honest, isn't really that overbearing) is a simple logic that's easy to follow - and compelling. So, what is the story here? In short: Quatermass depicts a near-future Britain where society has broken down. Gangs have formed based around an age divide, with young people being drawn inexorably into the cult of the Planet People, whilst older people find themselves forced into defensive underground camps. The Planet People believe they will be transported from the Earth to a new planet, a nirvana, and assemble en masse to be teleported away. The reality is that they are being drawn together by an alien machine that simply consumes the gathering, leaving behind only a layer of dust - leftovers. The machine, it transpires, has been feeding off humanity for thousands of years, with stone monuments such as Stonehenge marking the gathering points where it has feasted. It's a chilling piece, in part because the alien is never humanised, and depicted only as a light in the sky. Quatermass never, at any stage, succeeds in communicating with it, or finding a rationale for its actions. "Forget about trying to get through to it." he says, "The ripe crop can't appeal to the reaper. I think this is the gathering time. The human race is being harvested." John Mills' depiction of Professor Bernard Quatermass is expectedly stoic, but superbly humane. Here is a man whose only real goal is to find his granddaughter (who has joined the Planet People). And it remains so throughout the serial; his rejection of what society has become being realistically defeatist and fatalistic. Quatermass no longer wants to save the world, it seems, because the world is not worth saving. But come this final episode we see that actually his position has finally shifted. It seems that exposure to his friend Joe Kapp (Simon MacCorkindale) and his family has reinstilled in the Professor a recognition of the value of humanity at a very base level. As a small, loving family, humanity does deserve to survive. Ultimately we do then find Quatermass saving the world after all. Mention of the Kapp family cannot pass without a note on their eventual fate. Portrayed as, essentially, the heart of the programme, it is utterly shocking and (appropriately) disheartening when all but Joe are killed in the same dispassionate, amoralistic manner that the Planet People are dispatched. How many first-time viewers watching Joe amongst the devastation of his home expected his daughters to come running over the hill in some kindly plot twist that allowed them to escape their fate? It doesn't happen, and this is hammered home bleakly as we inspect the remains of "Puppy", the family's dog. It's not too glib to assert that in order to utterly depress the viewing public, one should kill off the animals rather than the humans. Both coldy happens here. Death is meted out injudiciously. The final episode sees, inevitably, the culmination of all of these themes, and the reintroduction of hope. And here finally we come across our last possible area for derision, as the serial climaxes in a slow-motion, sappily scored finale wherein Quatermass is not only reunited with his granddaughter, but succeeds in dispatching the alien menace. But it works; it works superbly, and at a gut level. "Faking" a gathering of millions of youngsters by means of transmitting pheromones, recorded sounds and other signifiers of humanity en masse into the ether, Quatermass succeeds in luring the alien into feeding at a specified location. The plan is simplicity itself, as a bomb is slipped into the feast. However it requires the professor to be there in person, to activate the device. The build up to the event is sublime, with Quatermass and Kapp left alone to face off against the alien, waiting unbearably for it to "arrive" and start to feed. The tension is awful; we are awaiting the coming of something terrible, and quite explicitly, the death of both of these men. Discharging bursts of sound into the atmosphere, Quatermass paces, impatient: "They're all here now. A million of them. Waiting for you. A million kids. You came yesterday, 5000 years ago, tasted them, found them good and came again today. So come now. Come." And then the Planet People arrive and cold-heartedly shoot Kapp - another arbitrary and pointless death in the serial, our last reminder of the society Quatermass had previously abandoned. As the alien begins to feed, the professor spots his granddaughter. This is an achingly emotional moment, with the two characters finally together, yet on the brink of death. Ultimately, however, the serial comes down to the flick of a switch as most sci-fi does: can Quatermass activate the device before the ravages destroy him? Instinctively, and wordlessly his granddaughter comes to his side, helping him reach the device. The music, as is its wont, swells. The pictures washes out, and then a brief red flash ... We're in a meadow with children (very much like the Kapp family) going about their innocent, childish, human business. Life goes on. We survive. Although this serial has chiefly shown us the cruelty of humanity, ultimately we are reminded to cherish it. Perhaps in recounting it, there's nothing new here. The realisation of the quest, the final sacrifice that reinstalls normality: it's textbook stuff. But the emotion and the power are tremendous; provoking a breathless excitement and a hollow sadness. Give yourself over to it and it's almost unbearable - but magnificent. |
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