(1976)
Dir - Richard Bramall
Overall: GOOD
The first episode in Nigel Kneale's one-off anthology series Beasts sets the template where some supernatural form manifests itself into a physical presence, this one terrorizing a local convenient store. Save for some of the characters taking a quick jaunt across the street to a coffee shop, "Special Offer" takes place entirely in one location, all filmed in studio as was the common practice for BBC and ITV programs at the time, this one being produced by the latter. Pauline Quirke is the unfortunate protagonist who is bullied by her brutish boss Geoffrey Bateman, to the point where poltergeist activity gradually ramps up in the form of the store's cartoon mascot that remains unseen throughout. It gradually becomes obvious who is the culprit of such activity, and Quirke turns in a wonderful performance as a homely and emotionally stilted young woman who crumbles under the endless scrutiny that she suffers, channeling her feelings to the one man who treats her the worst. The presentation gets repetitive after awhile and there are some minor plausibility issues, (Why does such a tiny convenient story have upwards of six employees working there at a single time?), but it is still an interesting and unsettling character study.
(1976)
Dir - Don Taylor
Overall: MEH
On paper, Beasts' second installment "During Barty's Party" serves as Night of the Living Dead with rats, but the problem is that the threat of hyper-intelligent rodents terrorizing a middle aged couple in their home is poorly conveyed. Up until the closing moments when the lights go out, the neighbors are attacked, the doors started getting poked through, and the furniture starts shaking, the only inkling that we get of a problem comes in the form of the gradual squeaking and the over-the-top performances of Elizabeth Sellars and Anthony Bate. Sellars in particular is overwrought from the opening scene, and even when her husband comes home and the two argue with each other for half of the episode, never once do they just leave, call an exterminator, or even the police. Instead, they wail away melodramatically and phone-in to a radio program for help, all the while the rats stay off camera and continue to just make a lot of noise. Our lone duo of on-screen actors certainly try to sell the life or death scenario, but it all comes off as silly since the less-is-more approach proves ill-suited for Nigel Kneale's psychologically-wrought material.
(1976)
Dir - Don Taylor
Overall: MEH
If anything else, Nigel Kneale deserves credit for originality since his Beasts installment "Buddyboy" has got to be the only work in psychological horror about the lingering spirit of a dolphin that drives people to be either terrified or detrimentally melancholic. As one could guess, this is a difficult tale to wrap one's head around. We hear various stories pertaining to the aquatic mammal of the title that was once the prized attraction of an aquarium, some told in loving revere and some also told in loving revere yet immediately followed by panicked outbursts. This brings us to Wolfe Morris' bizarre performance as a man who is desperate to sell his now derelict dolphinarium, haunted by some unspecific detail or details about good ole Buddyboy that we are never properly given. At the same time, one of his former employees has turned squatter and partakes of long musings about her old dolphin friend, leading her to do something in the abrupt finale that does not add up. Then Martin Shaw plays a scumbag nightclub owner throughout the entire ordeal who is probably left just as confused as the viewer is by story's end.
(1976)
Dir - John Nelson-Burton
Overall: MEH
Teasing at folk and explicitly leaning into psychological horror, "Baby" spends the duration of its running time posing questions and then frustratingly never answering them, much to the chagrin and turmoil of Jane Wymark's pregnant protagonist. It takes place in an undisclosed location out in the country where Wymark and her obnoxious, self-centered, and dramatic husband discover a mummified "thing" in a clay pot behind one of the walls. We are not told what the creature is and neither are the characters, setting up an ideal situation along with all of the other petty domestic drama for Wymark to crack at the seems. Since little happens as far as moving the plot along, (not to mention would-be supernatural sequences that are sparse at best), director John Nelson-Burton has no choice but to adhere to a talky approach, presenting a never-ending slew of rowdy and unlikable characters to prattle on about things as we and Wymark just want to know what if any otherworldly forces are at work. The closing scene is creepy and well-executed, but it is also the only such scene done in this manner, and the whole thing wraps up on a "Wait, that's it?" feeling that fails to impress.
(1976)
Dir - Donald McWhinnie
Overall: GOOD
As was writer Nigel Kneale's modus operanti for the ITV Beasts program, "What Big Eyes" examines the psychological effects of its subject matter instead of any overt horror ones. For this round it is lycanthropy, particularly what happens to an eccentric scientist who dedicates his adult life, (and more devastatingly, the entire life of his only daughter who he subjugates to his every whim), to the pursuit of proving that man can transform into an animal. Ideally cast, Patrick Magee portrays such a kooky fellow, one whose abusive and short-tempered nature mirrors the type of experiments that he has been doing on wolves for years. Kneale's teleplay teases at the success rate or lack-thereof that Magee's experiments have had, both his outbursts and subtle mannerisms either alluding to the fact that he is onto something or has merely succumbed to full-on madness. Perhaps the line between the two is thinner than we imagine, and Magee's penchant for scenery-chewing was rarely better suited to the material than here. On that note, Madge Ryan delivers just as much of a heightened performances as Magee's meek daughter, especially during the finale when she gets to let out decades of pent-up emotional distress.
(1976)
Dir - Don Leaver
Overall: GOOD
Arguably the finest of the bunch, "The Dummy" closes out ITV's short-lived Beasts series with a singular premise, namely "What would happen if a guy in a rubber monster suit went bonkers while in said rubber monster suit?". It fits the concept of the anthology program where Nigel Kneale examines emotional anguish within a framework that loosely has to do with bestial horror, this one stretching that concept as much if not more than the other five installments that proceeded it. The cast is made up of several recognizable faces to anyone who has watched small or big screen British productions from the time period, Bernard Horsfall in particular being one of the most regularly featured actors on Doctor Who. Here he portrays the title "beast", a thespian whose biggest claim to fame is being inside of the monster suit for a slew of silly English kaiju B-movies. During the shooting for the latest of them, Horsfall suffers an emotional breakdown since producers made the asinine mistake of casting the same man who stole his wife and child away from him as his costar. Broken into two parts as was every episode of the show, the first half takes its time establishing Horsfall's devastated mental state, how it got there, and how the other characters play into it. The second half is when the gloves fly off though, and it presents a scenario that looks like and should be ridiculous, yet somehow comes off as tragic and nuanced instead.
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