“There have been… problems.”
It’s been a long time since I first saw The Stone Tape. I think I might have gotten it from Netflix back when they sent DVDs through the mail like barbarians. I know I saw it specifically because it was written by Nigel Kneale, the writer of many classic British sci-fi shows and movies like The Witches, The Year of the Sex Olympics and the Quatermass series. I’ve long been a fan of Quatermass and the Pit (which I originally saw as a kid under the title Five Million Years to Earth) and was happy to stumble across a show of Kneale’s that I’d never heard of.
I was fascinated by the combination of science and the supernatural. It was one of the first explorations of the concept of a ‘residual haunting,’ the idea that traumatic events can imprint on the location where they occur. While I’d never really heard of it before finding it on Netflix, it was influential enough that the phenomenon is sometimes referred to as ‘The Stone Tape Theory.’ I remember thinking about it for days afterwards, and it still pops up in my head at random moments.
Unfortunately, I’ve never managed to pick up a physical copy in my travels (there was a DVD dual release with Ghostwatch available at one point, which would have been a real find for younger me). Luckily there’s a recent (albeit overseas) Blu-ray release, and the film is finally available on streaming.
The Medium
I watched The Stone Tape on Shudder. There’s a brand new Blu-ray from 101 Films, but it’s Region B only. They did a great job with Ghostwatch, which got a Region A release as well, so I can only hope there’ll be a US release at some point. For streaming options, The Stone Tape is available for subs on AMC+ and Shudder, and can be rented or purchased via Amazon.
The Movie
The Stone Tape was a Christmas broadcast on the BBC, which has often shown ghost stories as a holiday tradition. It combines, in classic Kneale fashion, science and supernatural horror, in a way that unsettles more than it frightens. That being said, there are moments of terror, and the ending manages to be horrifying in multiple ways.
We begin with the arrival of a group of technicians and scientists at Taskerlands, a Victorian mansion that is being renovated and repurposed for their research into new recording mediums. Their hope is to create a new advancement that puts them ahead of the Japanese. The leader of the project is Peter Brock (Michael Bryant), and he’s immediately dismayed to discover that their proposed computer storage area is not yet complete.
The workers, you see, claim the room is haunted.
The facilities manager, Roy Collinson (Ian Cuthbertson) takes the group to see the room, which is much older than the rest of the house. Parts of it may even date back to the Saxon era. While in the room, some of the group hear the sounds of footsteps and a harrowing scream. Jill Greely (Jane Asher), the project computer programmer, sees a figure of a young woman running up the ancient stairs before falling to her death.
What I love about this is that the researchers – and Peter in particular – don’t immediately dismiss the apparition. Enough people have seen and heard it that it’s almost universally accepted. No, this isn’t your typical haunted house story. There is a bit of that, where evidence is uncovered of the death of a maid and previous attempts at exorcisms, but mostly the film is concerned with the attempt to figure out the why and how of the haunting.
And, of course, how to exploit it.
The haunting, as it turns out, seems to be imprinted on the very stones of the room. While none of their sensitive equipment can pick up the emanations, Jill’s computer assisted analysis indicates that some people are just able to pick up the recording, as if it was being broadcast directly into their brains. For some people it’s the sense of a chill in the air; for others it’s only the sound of footsteps. For Jill, it’s the entire event. She hopes it’s only a recording, because what torments her is the idea that the poor dead girl is somehow sentient, reliving that last, fatal moment over and over again, forever.
Peter, however, is convinced that this, at last, is his breakthrough. If he can only figure out how to trigger the recording on demand. As the pressure mounts to come up with results, he pushes the haunting and his team to their breaking point, and beyond, effectively wiping the recording and deleting the haunting entirely.
Except Jill suspects that the stones may function like magnetic tape. That they’ve been recorded over again and again, with only the most recent “recording” being broadcast. And with that recording erased, there could be recordings left behind that are far, far older than anything they’ve seen so far.
While the film has a number of excellent scenes and moments, it is a television broadcast from the early 1970s and there are problems with both effects and pacing. The screenplay spends a little too much time with sexist characters and corporate intrigue, which sometimes punctures the otherwise effective atmosphere. It was shot on tape, and there are some issues with things like light streaming and flares that are limitations of the form. The special effects are basic, but still effective, and the ending scenes manage to horrify without depending on them at all.
The Bottom Line
The Stone Tape is a fascinating horror film from one of the greats of British science fiction. While pacing may lag, the ideas and the spooky elements still hold up, and the implications are chilling. It’s a BBC television show from 1972, so there are limitations and flaws due to the time period, the medium, and the budget, but it’s still an effective thriller, and one that may have you thinking about it for days afterwards.
