Unfortunately, ‘The Thirteenth Reunion’ turns out to be a rather less enjoyable prospect than Witching Time, but it’s not without its charms, so let’s crack on.
Right out of the gate, the episode opens with a nice nod toward the ghoulish tradition of British horror’s glory days, as a moody, low angle shot depicts a suitably sinister duo of crooked funeral directors (Norman Bird and George Innes), each tying on one of those inherently icky leather aprons traditionally utilised by cinematic undertakers over their black suits as they prepare to begin wielding a meat cleaver upon an unidentified corpse.
Thereafter however, we’re firmly back in hum-drum ‘80s reality, as we meet another walking cliché who could only have emerged from that sainted decade - Julia Foster as Ruth, a ditzy, pink cardigan-clad journalist working for the ‘women’s pages’ of a Fleet Street paper. Ruth dreams of overcoming the industry’s inherent sexism and breaking into proper investigative reportage (hint: ditching the cardigan might help), but for the time being, she’s struck with following up a story about a reportedly dodgy new weight loss programme operating out of a remote country clinic.
Foster provides quite a likeable performance here, but unfortunately most of her scenes (and indeed, most of the episode as a whole) are shot in fairly bland, work-a-day fashion, with dialogue delivered in semi-comic fashion - rather like a contemporary sit-com minus the gags.
Sasdy, it should be noted, had largely abandoned features and moved into TV work by this stage in career, but sadly, even the prospect of shooting on 35mm under the auspices of his former employers does not seem to have inspired him to put any great effort into trying to create an atmosphere here.
Things are briefly enlivened by the appearance of the always reliable Warren Clarke, who brings a touch of class to his brief but rather touching role as a would-be suitor Ruth meets at her weight loss classes. His dinner table chat-up line - “tell me something Ruth, is your coast clear… man-wise?”- is one for the books. (“My coast is so clear you can see right down to the sea bed,” she replies.)
Sadly however, Warren is soon dispatched, with his death providing the catalyst which leads Ruth to begin digging into the rather low rent skulduggery being perpetrated by the aforementioned funeral directors and the upper-crust proprietor of the clinic.
Initially at least, it must be said that this episode’s horror storyline seems pretty uninspired. As the medical correspondent Ruth consults at her paper concisely observes, we seem to be looking here at a “20th century Burke and Hare” kind of scenario, with the crooked undertakers staging car accidents and selling carcasses to the clinic for their shady medical experiments. Ho hum.
This rather unappealing storyline is not really helped by the fact that ‘The Thirteenth Reunion’ entirely lacks the pulpy / comic book feel I enjoyed so much in ‘Witching Time’. Instead, Jeremy Burnham’s script spends a great deal of time trudging through a load of painfully muddled and over-complicated plot exposition in exacting detail, whilst Sasdy seems reticent to indulge in any of the mild gore or borderline sleaze which enlivened the preceding episode.
Thankfully though, there is at least a rather nice twist in the tale here, which begins to reveal itself when Ruth follows the villians’ breadcrumb trail back to what I’m pretty sure is the same stately home and courtyard where Mocata’s followers park their motorcars mid-way through ‘The Devil Rides Out’ (1968).
Indeed, that film (or, perhaps, ‘Rosemary’s Baby’) is referenced almost immediately thereafter, as Ruth is welcomed inside to enjoy a variation on the traditional “meet the coven” scene, including nods of welcome from the usual elderly dowagers, eminent elders and racist stereotypes of Italian and Chinese people, present to demonstrate the organisation’s international reach, of course. (I particularly liked the notion that a wealthy Hong Kong businessman in 1980 would dress like a disciple of Fu Manchu...)
Crucially however, this mob is not actually a coven as such this time around, but…. well, I’ll refrain from revealing anything further so as to avoid spoiling the surprise for first-time viewers. Word to the wise though: think ‘Shriek of the Mutilated’.
Though I didn’t enjoy it half as much as the preceding episode, this final act helped ensure that ‘The Thirteenth Reunion’ holds up as a reasonably satisfying time-killer despite its shortcomings, seasoned with just enough weird nastiness to keep the teenagers and sundry ne’erdowells who no doubt tuned in back in 1980 hoping for more boobs and blood hanging on for next week’s instalment.
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