Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's Lot No. 249 has long been a favourite of mine, so when I heard that Mark Gatiss was making an adaptation of it as this year's Ghost Story for Christmas I was absolutely thrilled. I very much enjoyed his previous adaptations of M.R.James, especially Count Magnus, which I thought was really wonderful, maintaining as it did some of the key parts of the story such as the innkeeper's tale, but also adding some new layers to it. My feeling is that Mark Gatiss is a safe pair of hands but not too safe; none of the adaptations feel stale or too slavish to the original texts (which are texts after all, devised to be read rather than watched). Lot No. 249 is no exception.
If you know a story very, very well, you inevitably have a mental film of it, but I try to set that aside when watching an adaptation. In my mind's eye, for example, "Old College" is based on New College, Oxford, but Rothamstead Manor, where Lot No. 249 was shot, does very well, especially the interiors; I liked the detail of the "true son of Old Nile, a great, hanging-jawed crocodile" hanging from the ceiling in Bellingham's sitting-room.
One thing I was slightly sucking my teeth about before I actually saw the adaptation was the casting of Freddie Fox as Bellingham, since Fox is young and good-looking, and the Bellingham of the original story is "strange and most repellent" looking, as well as very wrinkled, which implies mature age. I'm generally not very fond of film versions prettying characters up for the sake of it (one of the reasons I love some older horror films like The Fog (1980) is that the people look like real, ordinary people). However, it is also the case that the original story equates unattractive looks (and fatness) with a villainous personality, and that is something I would like to think we are moving on from. Having now seen the adaptation, I feel it does a tremendous job of portraying Bellingham instead as a person of moral ugliness - someone prepared to murder on very slight grounds. His tempting good looks and charisma are simply a lure.
And now to the nitty-gritty: the mummy* itself. This worked superbly for me - as in the original story, the first glimpses of what is going on are oblique and indistinct: the mummy case which is empty one moment and filled with a grisly occupant the next; the mysterious tread on the staircase. I watched Lot No. 249 with my adult children and we all agreed that the chase scene, which is the high point of the story for me, was really frightening. "He was a famous runner, but never had he run as he ran that night" wrote Conan Doyle, and believe me, you would, if that thing were after you. The moments when Smith sees a distant silhouette were also deeply sinister and yet ambiguous; his friend's explanation that "Some gaunt, half-famished tramp steals after you, and seeing you run, is emboldened to pursue you" might be right - except that we, like Smith, have seen every detail of the approaching horror.
This brings me to the friend in question - "Peterson" in the original, and in the adaptation, very clearly Conan Doyle's most famous literary creation. I have seen some online objections to this, on the grounds that Conan Doyle came to resent the way Holmes's popularity overshadowed his other work and would not therefore have appreciated his trespassing upon it. This is certainly true, however his appearance does presuppose a Doylian universe in which all his creations co-exist, which I rather like.
I was also delighted to see that the confrontation between Abercrombie Smith and Edward Bellingham towards the end of the story was perfectly recreated. It is rather jaw-dropping to think that an undergraduate could, at that period, go to a gunsmith and buy a heavy revolver and ammunition, and that is not to mention the amputating knife he adds to his armoury! Would Smith actually have shot Bellingham if he refused to destroy the mummy and papyrus? In spite of his asking his friend to sign and date an account of recent events "in case I am arrested" (for murder), I can't help thinking that his main object was to convince himself that he would do it, so that he could threaten it with utter conviction; in fact he was banking on Bellingham complying. Either way, it is a marvellously tense scene, as Smith marks the passing minutes with his watch, until Bellingham finally cracks at the last moment.
This brings us to the final scene (and I re-iterate for the unwary, spoilers are incoming so look away now if you haven't watched). In the original story, a brief paragraph tells us that Bellingham leaves the university immediately after the events described, and is "last heard of in the Soudan", presumably looking in vain for a new copy of the burnt papyrus. This has always struck me as a perfectly adequate ending, especially since the existence of other copies of the papyrus would undermine its aura of sinister power. However, there may be other expectations from filmed horror - the final twist in which the evil forces suddenly retaliate is an established trope. I assume this is behind the new ending, with a new mummy and a new papyrus. I regret to say that we did rather chuckle over it - "Lot 250: this time it's personal" suggested my daughter. However, overall we thoroughly enjoyed the adaptation and look forward to watching it again.
Finally, I am very sorry to read about the difficulties in obtaining funding for Ghost Stories for Christmas, and would like to add my voice to those pleading for them to continue. There are a great many BBC programmes throughout the year in which I have no interest, but the Ghost Story for Christmas is one single half hour for which I drop everything. Is that too much to ask?
Above and below: my copy of The Conan Doyle Stories, this edition published in 1949.
* Some museums are now moving away from the term "mummy", preferring terms like "mummified remains" to avoid depersonalising the dead person. An article on the Museums Association website dated January 2023 and quoting a CNN report adds: "Institutions are also keen to distance their collections from popular culture depictions of mummies as supernatural monsters..."
