The Cutprice Guignol

I’m not quite sure how this year turned into the Annum of Reviewing British Anthology Horror Shows of Decades Past, but at this point, it’s too late to stop now. So, without further ado, let’s talk about Spine Chillers!

Spine Chillers has a bit of a complicated history – it started like in 2003 as a BBC production, with six standalone episodes broadcast as part of the first season, and was followed in 2005 by a tonally-similar anthology called Twisted Tales from the same channel. They’ve since been elided into one, with the first eight episodes of Tales now up online as the second season of Spine Chillers, finally making it back to streaming after a decade or so of being lost to the annals of anthology show history.

Like so many of these small-scale shows of the early 2000s, it’s an absolute wealth of at-the-time up-and-coming British talent. We’re talking Mackenzie Crook in a backcombed Robert Smith wig, David Mitchell and Robert Webb spending a night in a so-called haunted house, Rafe Spall as a member of a black metal band caught up in a murderous rivalry. Each episode is penned by a different writer, and there’s some impressive names in the early stages of their careers here, including Sarah Phelps (who is the woman behind all my of favourite Agatha Christine adaptations) and Alexei Sayle.

So, sure, it’s got a bit of a pedigree in hindsight – but is it any good? In all fairness, it didn’t have a high bar to clear to be the best of the British anthology horror shows from the early 2000s I’ve covered on this blog, but I genuinely found Spine Chillers to be, broadly, pretty damn watchable. It toes the line between comedy and horror, which, thanks to the absurdity inherent in both genres, make fine bedfellows; it’s got a deliciously nasty sense of humour about it, twisting the knife (sometimes literally) with a third-act twist Like any anthology show, it’s got its wobbles, but even they feel more like experiments gone awry rather than just abject misses due to lack of effort or skill – I’d always rather see an audacious failure than a mid-tier bore, and Spine Chillers leans towards the former at its worst. The performance are consistently strong, and, despite the various directors, there’s a cohesive atmosphere between episodes that finds the balance between the mundane and the genuinely unsettling.

More than anything, it feels distinctly of-the-time but still reverent to the classic British horror tropes that had come to define the genre, a genuine attempt to contend with horror through a modern lens blended with classic mean-spirited Tales of the Unexpected-style stings. The eponymoustly-named Goths feels like an M.R. James story told through the lens of the 2000s goth subculture and a badly-painted house share (and Mark Heap looking perhaps cooler than he ever has in fishnets and a floor-length duster). Episodes like Whacked, about the a video game and its connection with the rituals outlined in a mysterious book, or Cursed House, which deals with a washed-up psychiatrist trying to tap in to the reality TV boom, are distinctly beholden to the contemporary cultural landscape, but drape it in the language and visuals of classic horror in way that really works for me.

Spine Chillers is a really fun blend of horror and comedy that makes the most of its exceptionally talented cast and crew, and pulls off a sharp-edged comic tone that allows for some of the dodgier elements to slide by unnoticed. If you’ve seen it – whether at the time or since it made its reappearance on streaming platforms – where does it stand for you in the grand ranking of British anthology horror series? What episode is your favourite, and which one left you cold? Let me know in the comments blow! If you’d like to support my blog, please consider supporting me by buying my books or dropping me a tip via my Support page.

(header image via Prime Video)