After the success of Ivor The Engine (ITV, 1959-62), The Saga of Noggin The
Nog (BBC, 1959-65) and Pingwings (ITV, 1961-65), animator Oliver Postgate
conceived this evocative story of little folk in the wood. Although it's
arguably the finest self-contained serial Postgate and his partner Peter Firmin
ever produced, it's less well-known than its predecessors - and was eclipsed by
its sequel, Pogles' Wood (BBC, 1966-68) - largely because, unlike them, it was
shown only once. In what may seem a bizarre decision today, given the
sophistication of modern children and the Harry Potter phenomenon, the BBC
deemed a tiny stop-motion puppet with teddy bear glass eyes too scary. But the
witch in the story is scary, and it's in understanding how she comes to be so
that we can start to appreciate the special qualities of Postgate and Firmin's
work.
The witch terrorises Mr and Mrs Pogle when a baby has come into their care
who is actually the prince of the Fairies, who stands to inherit a magical crown
that the witch covets. The witch appears in just two (long) scenes, but in both
cases, her presence is introduced with real cinematic flair. Mr Pogle first
bumps into her in the woods - there is a whip pan across the trees and suddenly
she's there. It's remarkably effective. Later, she waits in the shadows of a
quarry, her beady eyes glinting, for the right moment to make the most powerful
entrance. On each occasion, the music adds enormously to the eerie atmosphere.
Composer Vernon Elliot is the unsung hero of Postgate and Firmin's Smallfilms
unit, and here he excels himself with a score that deserves much of the credit
for the witch's fearsome impact on the young viewer.
Postgate's use of language also contributes to the effect. The colourful,
often archaic, lingo the Pogles use to abuse the witch - "you old besom", "dream
creeper" - lifts her to the status of a mythical creature. Indeed, the whole
tale has the flavour of folklore. It was Postgate's peculiar genius to build his
stories out of a bric-a-brac of rural tradition, English cosiness, off-the-wall
humour and a strangely moving nostalgia for simpler times, all topped off with a
dash of Lewis Carroll-style surrealism. In The Pogles, this approach reached its
peak, culminating in a midsummer dream of a series that, sadly, was rejected
because it caused so many nightmares.
Michael Bartlett
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