I think there’s more behind these walls than just a ghost.

The Avengers

4.14: Castle De’ath

A splendidly atmospheric episode from the pen of John Lucarrotti, his last for the show, brought to vivid life by James Hill, his first, Castle De’ath is one of the highlights of the fourth season, incorporating as it does some surefooted misdirection as Jock McSteed and Mrs Peel investigate a death in the loch.

Steed: I think there’s more behind these walls than just a ghost.

Mrs Peel: What are you going to do?

Steed: I’m going fishing.

Mrs Peel: What, in the loch?

Steed: No. In the moat.

The title might suggest Castle De’ath is broader than it is, for while there are liberal does of humour and the scheme itself (“It’s all to do with the price of fish”) doesn’t stand up to much scrutiny (the fish are scant as they’ve been driven to deeper waters by the ultrasonic waves of submarines using the loch for dodgy things), the actual dramatics are played fairly straight, and the characters, while colourful, are neither wacky nor eccentric. The deft balance of elements is emphasised by the teaser scene in which a man is being tortured – on the rack, no less – and the sound of bagpipes drowns out his cries.

Mrs Peel: How do you do, Mr McSteed?

Steed: Everyone calls me “Jock”. How do you do?

Mrs Peel: You don’t have a Scots accent.

Steed: I was carried south by marauding Sassenachs when I was a bairn. But this is my spiritual home.

The duo’s assumption of identities is always good value, on this occasion particularly so. Steed is already installed at the castle upon Emma’s arrival, posing as the aforementioned Jock McSteed, rocking a natty kilt and researching a book on the disgraced thirteenth laird, Black Jamie, who was walled up in the east tower for his treachery and whose ghost still walks the castle, “playing the lament of Glen De’ath on the bagpipes”.

Steed: Isn’t it time we dropped in on the old fella?

Ian De’ath: No.

Steed: He must be lonely.

Ian De’ath: Walled up until doomsday was his sentence and until doomsday he’ll stay there.

Steed seeks the permission of the current laird, Ian De’ath (Gordon Jackson, very much in demand at this juncture, appearing in both The Ipcress File and Those Magnificent Men in Their Flying Machines in the same year), to go fishing in the loch (“Just as long as you’re not one of those aqualung people” Ian tells him; “Water is the fish’s habitat, not mine” Steed replies).

Except that Steed does, of course, end up getting wet. Spied upon by right-hand caber tosser McNab (Jack Lambert), he gets the better of them for a while, pretending to fish behind some foliage while he dives in the moat, but is summarily descended on upon surfacing (or, at least, his stunt double is; he also earns his fee very evidently during the climactic swordplay with Robert Urquhart’s Angus De’ath).

Yes, this is one where all eyes are on the severe and traditional Ian as the instigator of the diabolical plot, but it’s actually his free-spirited brother who’s responsible (although, why Angus is inviting all and sundry to stay if he's trying to keep his scheme a secret is anyone's guess). You might suspect this in a standard story, but we’re so used to The Avengers laying it all out on a plate that the deception works quite successfully.

Steed: (appreciating the portrait of Black Jamie) Fierce looking fellow, isn’t he?

Ian De’ath: You didn’t hear him last night?

Steed: Does he give regular concerts?

One wonders what Lucarotti’s source for spook material was, given that he ascribes as suspicious its erratic activity (“Unusual for a ghost. They usually operate a regular schedule”). Perhaps Steed is an amateur parapsychologist? While the episode doesn’t enter into full-on Scooby Doo territory, there are more than sufficient funhouse trappings, including an iron maiden in the basement with a secret door (that does for Angus during the final chase when it jams) and a four-poster bed with a cement canopy that manages to crush Steed’s bowler but not its intended.

Ian De’ath: You didn’t notice anything? Nothing at all?

Steed: Only the bed. Gave me a touch of claustrophobia. I spent the night in a chair.

Steed is, of course, unstintingly cheerful about the close shave (“They’ve got a spot-on service here. Tried to press my best shirt last night – while I was still wearing it”). Once he is captured and the mechanics of the scheme are revealed, the detail is a little on the superfluous/impenetrable side; as far as I can tell, we’re left to fill in the blanks of what exactly they’re up to with these two-man submarines (as McNab says to Steed “Your guess is as good as mine”; “I should think, slightly better” comes the reply). Steed correctly surmises they can’t’ just shoot him (“But the wee hole would show when they found my corpse in the loch”) and manages to escape his shackles with a lucky ricochet causing the sub pen to flood (“Going rather well”).

Roberton: The duty engineer’s been attacked.

McNab: Attacked?

Roberton: No, not him a woman.

McNab: A woman?

Steed: Bless her.

Mrs Peel is representing ABORCASHAATA, the Advisory Bureau on Refurbishing Castles and Stately Homes as a Tourist Attraction, hired by Angus much to Ian’s disdain. She’s particularly keen on checking out the dungeon, on account of Steed’s titbit (“Did you know that frogman was four inches taller when he was dead than when he was alive? He’d been on the rack”). Which means she gets jumped by heavies the first time (“Lean on me, Mistress Peel, as much as you like” invites Steed, before asking “Was there a rack down there? In good racking order?”)

On the second occasion, she is locked in all night in her nightie, causing Steed to astutely observe “I think we’ve been rumbled”. She also, during the final fight, kills a bad guy with a crossbow bolt. I don’t know: shotguns, crossbows. Mrs Peel’s really rather violent. Talking of which, I don’t think we’re fully clear if Ian dies from taking Angus’ knife to his chest. If so, it seems a little excessive.

Angus: Ay, Ian. You certainly work hard at this canny Scots bit, don’t you?

The episode’s full of lovely little moments, be they atmospheric (Steed noticing the vibrating wine glass during dinner) or amusing. At one point, he’s doing the Highland Fling in his bedroom while Mrs Peel plays miniature bagpipes. Later, or earlier, at breakfast, he’s dubiously contemplating his porridge when Ian advises “You’re right, man. There’s not enough salt on it” before liberally applying the same and offering Steed the cellar. He quickly passes it on to Angus.

It doesn’t look as if Macnee or Rigg got within a hundred miles of Allington Castle, if their conspicuous doubles are any indication, but it makes for a very nice slice of scenery and the seams showing fails to dampen the verve of the proceedings. The “walk-off” is good fun too, in which fishing comes up again. “What, in those clothes?” asks Emma of Steed’s immaculate suit. He promptly drives his – amphibious – car into a nearby loch.

Agree? Disagree? Mildly or vehemently? Let me know in the comments below.

Comments

My name is Dr. King Schultz, this is my valet, Django, and these are our horses, Fritz, and Tony.

Django Unchained (2012)
(MINOR SPOILERS) Since the painful misstep of Grindhouse/Death Proof, Quentin Tarantino has regained the higher ground like never before. Pulp Fiction, his previous commercial and critical peak, has been at very least equalled by the back-to-back hits of Inglourious Basterds and Django Unchained. Having been underwhelmed by his post Pulp Fiction efforts (albeit, I admired his technical advances as a director in Kill Bill), I was pleasantly surprised by Inglourious Basterds. It was no work of genius (so not Pulp Fiction) by any means, but there was a gleeful irreverence in its treatment of history and even to the nominal heroic status of its titular protagonists. Tonally, it was a good fit for the director’s “cool” aesthetic. As a purveyor of postmodern pastiche, where the surface level is the subtext, in some ways he was operating at his zenith. Django Unchained is a retreat from that position, the director caught in the tug between his all-important aesthetic pr…

She writes Twilight fan fiction.

Vampire Academy (2014)
My willingness to give writer Daniel Waters some slack on the grounds of early glories sometimes pays off (Sex and Death 101) and sometimes, as with this messy and indistinct Young Adult adaptation, it doesn’t. If Vampire Academy plods along as a less than innovative smart-mouthed Buffy rip-off that might be because, if you added vampires to Heathers, you would probably get something not so far from the world of Joss Whedon. Unfortunately inspiration is a low ebb throughout, not helped any by tepid direction from Daniel’s sometimes-reliable brother Mark and a couple of hopelessly plankish leads who do their best to dampen down any wit that occasionally attempts to surface.

I can only presume there’s a never-ending pile of Young Adult fiction poised for big screen failure, all of it comprising multi-novel storylines just begging for a moment in the Sun. Every time an adaptation crashes and burns (and the odds are that they will) another one rises, hydra-like, hoping…

Everyone wants a happy ending and everyone wants closure but that's not the way life works out.

It Chapter Two (2019)
(SPOILERS) An exercise in stultifying repetitiveness, It Chapter Two does its very best to undo all the goodwill engendered by the previous instalment. It may simply be that adopting a linear approach to the novel’s interweaving timelines has scuppered the sequel’s chances of doing anything the first film hasn’t. Oh, except getting rid of Pennywise for good, which you’d be hard-pressed to discern as substantially different to the CGI-infused confrontation in the first part, Native American ritual aside.

Check it out. I wonder if BJ brought the Bear with him.

Death Proof (2007)
(SPOILERS) In a way, I’m slightly surprised Tarantino didn’t take the opportunity to disown Death Proof, to claim that, as part of Grindhouse, it was no more one of his ten-official-films-and-out than his Four Rooms segment. But that would be to spurn the exploitation genre affectation that has informed everything he’s put his name to since Kill Bill, to a greater or less extent, and also require him to admit that he was wrong, and you won’t find him doing that for anything bar My Best Friend’s Birthday.

That woman, deserves her revenge and… we deserve to die. But then again, so does she.

Kill Bill: Vol. 2 (2004)
(SPOILERS) I’m not sure I can really conclude whether one Kill Bill is better than the other, since I’m essentially with Quentin in his assertion that they’re one film, just cut into two for the purposes of a selling point. I do think Kill Bill: Vol. 2 has the movie’s one actually interesting character, though, and I’m not talking David Carradine’s title role.

He tasks me. He tasks me, and I shall have him.

Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan
(1982)
(SPOILERS) I don’t love Star Trek, but I do love Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan. That probably isn’t just me, but a common refrain of many a non-devotee of the series. Although, it used to apply to The Voyage Home (the funny one, with the whales, the Star Trek even the target audience for Three Men and a Baby could enjoy). Unfortunately, its high regard has also become the desperate, self-destructive, song-and-verse, be-all-and-end-all of the overlords of the franchise itself, in whichever iteration, it seems. This is understandable to an extent, as Khan is that rare movie sequel made to transcendent effect on almost every level, and one that stands the test of time every bit as well (better, even) as when it was first unveiled.

Do you read Sutter Cane?

In the Mouth of Madness (1994)
(SPOILERS) The concluding chapter of John Carpenter’s unofficial Apocalypse Trilogy (preceded by The Thing and Prince of Darkness) is also, sadly, his last great movie. Indeed, it stands apart in the qualitative wilderness that beset him during the ‘90s (not for want of output). Michael De Luca’s screenplay had been doing the rounds since the ‘80s, even turned down by Carpenter at one point, and it proves ideal fodder for the director, bringing out the best in him. Even cinematographer Gary K Kibbe seems inspired enough to rise to the occasion. It could do without the chugging rawk soundtrack, perhaps, but then, that was increasingly where Carpenter’s interests resided (as opposed to making decent movies).

I don’t think you will see President Pierce again.

The Ballad of Buster Scruggs (2018)
(SPOILERS) The Ballad of Buster Scruggs and other tall tales of the American frontier is the title of "the book" from which the Coen brothers' latest derives, and so announces itself as fiction up front as heavily as Fargo purported to be based on a true story. In the world of the portmanteau western – has there even been one before? – theme and content aren't really all that distinct from the more familiar horror collection, and as such, these six tales rely on sudden twists or reveals, most of them revolving around death. And inevitably with the anthology, some tall tales are stronger than other tall tales, the former dutifully taking up the slack.

When you grow up, if you still feel raw about it, I’ll be waiting.

Kill Bill: Vol. 1 (2003)
(SPOILERS) It sometimes seems as if Quentin Tarantino – in terms of his actual movies, rather than nearly getting Uma killed in an auto stunt – is the last bastion of can-do-no-wrong on the Internet. Or at very least has the preponderance of its vocal weight behind him. Back when his first two movies proper were coming out, so before online was really a thing, I’d likely have agreed, but by about the time the Kill Bills arrived, I’d have admitted I was having serious pause about him being all he was cracked up to be. Because the Kill Bills aren’t very good, and they’ve rather characterised his hermetically sealed wallowing in obscure media trash and genre cul-de-sacs approach to his art ever since. Sometimes to entertaining effect, sometimes less so, but always ever more entrenching his furrow; as Neil Norman note in his Evening Standard review, “Tarantino has attempted (and largely succeeded) in making a movie whose only reality is that of celluloid”. Extend t…

Just because you are a character doesn't mean that you have character.

Pulp Fiction (1994)
(SPOILERS) From a UK perspective, Pulp Fiction’s success seemed like a fait accompli; Reservoir Dogs had gone beyond the mere cult item it was Stateside and impacted mainstream culture itself (hard to believe now that it was once banned on home video); it was a case of Tarantino filling a gap in the market no one knew was there until he drew attention to it (and which quickly became over-saturated with pale imitators subsequently). Where his debut was a grower, Pulp Fiction hit the ground running, an instant critical and commercial success (it won the Palme d’Or four months before its release), only made cooler by being robbed of the Best Picture Oscar by Forrest Gump. And unlike some famously-cited should-have-beens, Tarantino’s masterpiece really did deserve it.

Now In Full Color, with a Happier Ending

Search This Blog