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Unman, Wittering and Zigo (1971) continued.

Of course, once Ebony begins to actively investigate the so-called murder at any length, he ironically begins to win the boys' respect back. Maybe there's a hint of Mishima in Raven's script, cheering as the brave warrior is led willingly to his own fate- but Ebony is not the blushing flower they have made him out to be (as a swift slap round the face administered to Cloistermouth after he takes proceedings a little too far) proves, and nothing in this plot is that cut and dried. And having been informed by this stage of his imminent sacking anyway, it's not like he actually cares anymore. It's debatable whether he even cares about teaching per se at this point- but if nothing else the events have been a rite of passage for him.

Without wanting to give anything away, let's just say the film builds to an inevitable (and quite upsetting, depending on what mood you're in) climax via the use of two dramatic scenes. Penultimately we find ourselves observing a gang of dancing, swirling, goading boys (excellent camerawork here courtesy of the inimitable Geoffrey Unsworth) as they surround their unwitting female victim in a cold, dark gymnasium - but who is the real quarry here? It would seem that the unfortunate Sylvia (who does a damn good job of defending herself, but unlike her husband, ensures she comes out victorious) is nothing more than a cat’s-paw in this instance, a means to an end - and it is this chilling end which Ebony must face, one way or another, atop a craggy peak while the sea rages below. He has failed in every respect up until now ...is he beyond caring for his own life, or is he making one final attempt at redemption, if not in the boys' and masters' eyes then that of his wife? I'll say no more on the subject...

One can't help thinking, though, that despite all the right ingredients, the film never quite builds up to the crescendo that it has been threatening all along - almost as if the conclusion were hurried either due to time and budgetary constraints or simply not quite knowing how to get there. As the final reel fades, one does feel left with a slight feeling of dissatisfaction - maybe because we wanted some form of retribution or redress for the preceding events, and we are offered little. What we do get, though, is a beautifully shot 'outro' as the boys tramp in solemn single file downhill (towards adulthood?) and their names are read by Hemmings in synchronised rhythm from the register once more - almost reminiscent of the 'roll of duty' from soundtrack veterans The Pretty Things' psychedelic masterpiece "SF Sorrow". Not, of course, that every viewer would necessarily make the connection - but as a counter cultural reference point for those who wish to find it, it adds a nice touch.

Ostensibly a mystery movie, UNMAN retains its 'horror' credentials due to the rather unpleasant and hitherto taboo nature of its subject matter. that of the 'murderous child' or 'child monster', which had previously only been tackled in Wolf Rilla and Anton Leader's John Wyndham adaptations, and only then as the result of some supposed alien intervention or outside intelligence. It would be wrong to suggest that the film is in any way 'seminal', but it does belong to an important movement of the time (if by default rather than design), where contemporaneous works such as I START COUNTING, SOMETHING TO HIDE, REVENGE and THE OFFENCE, strove to place terror back in the arena of the mundane and everyday world. Obviously, they did this by removing the supernatural element and blurring the boundaries between the genre and its close relative, the suspense thriller- something which annoyed the purists still hankering after the days of Hammer monsters- but for many of us of a certain age (ie those either very young or not yet born at the time!!), this was probably the most fascinating and important step 'fantastic film' in the UK had taken for over a decade, and without it stagnation would surely have set in a lot sooner. And the fact that we see little or no blood, nor any actual deaths (at least until after they have happened) made the film all the more ripe for TV screenings in the 70s and 80s, thus defining itself as the kind of 'British Horror' film that today's archivists fondly refer to.

And, as anyone who has seen the closing credits will tell you, Zigo is still absent. Which, all things considered, is probably just as well.