While most folks regard Christmas as a time for merriment and peace, the minds behind Inside No. 9 were more inclined to explore the dark side of the holidays. Back in 2016, multi-hyphenates Steve Pemberton and Reece Shearsmith were running at full tilt as they pulled off their anthology’s first special, “The Devil of Christmas.” The creative pair’s well of imagination and craftsmanship was overflowing here, and to make this genre gift for the holiday season all the more memorable, Pemberton and Reece garnished their endeavor with what is arguably the most shocking ending in the show’s entire run.
Some knowledge of 1970s and 1980s British television is helpful — yet not required — when watching “The Devil of Christmas,” a conspicuous but adoring technical simulation of vintage anthologies like Thriller (1973) and Tales of the Unexpected (1979). Fans of those kinds of shows, however, may be more incentivized to watch. From production to atmosphere, this holiday special has its imitation down pat. Pemberton and Shearsmith even went so far as to retro-fit a BBC studio with period-authentic cameras and equipment, as well as have the cast wear genuine ‘70s attire. And to prove this wasn’t purely a visual exercise, Inside No. 9 replicated the tone and stylized performances so unique to that bygone era of Brit TV.
Like other episodes, “The Devil of Christmas” reveals itself to have layers. As opposed to being a straightforward pastiche, the script introduces a meta element early on; while the characters look upon the story’s “devil” — a piece of wall art emblazoned with an old-timey Krampus illustration — a disembodied voice suddenly appears over the scene and asks another unseen party to rewind the video for a moment. Decorated stage and screen actor Derek Jacobi comes in as Dennis Fulcher, a director who, for purposes yet unknown, is sharing behind-the-scenes factoids with the audience. So from here on out, “The Devil of Christmas” is now a story-within-a-story episode that’s enhanced by a commentary track. It’s a novel approach on television, for sure, but does this sort of episode warrant such a device? As it turns out, yes, very much so.
Fulcher’s “The Devil of Christmas” is stagey and over-acted, not to mention slapdash; this exhaustive mirroring of actual ITV anthology productions calls out their charming shortcomings with more a giggle than a sneer. Pemberton and Shearsmith, along with episode director Graeme Harper (Doctor Who), poke fun at the likes of Beasts (1976) and Armchair Thriller (1978), only to then turn around and give them a hug. Once the tribute and celebration is out of the way, though, “The Devil of Christmas” delivers a twist that is uniquely Inside No. 9.
Pictured: The cast of “The Devil of Christmas”.
At first, the director commentary-style framing of “The Devil of Christmas” seems a bit dry, what with the Fulcher character giving mundane insight into his production; the child acting is subpar, Rula Lenska’s character always missed her marks, and set design had to scramble to relocate the Krampus picture during filming. Even Fulcher’s equally hidden interviewer (Cavan Clerkin) comes across as disinterested in their encounter. However, that audible apathy, plus the general blandness of Fulcher’s narration, is crucial to the episode’s coda. In order for the ending to hit as hard as it does, everything before then must be relatively unremarkable.
Up until the reveal, “The Devil of Christmas” better resembles horror tales from the heyday of British, small-screen anthologies; the uncanniness is exaggerated or fabricated altogether so as to deceive someone. Jessica Raine’s character Kathy, the second wife of Pemberton’s Julian, has played innocent during this wintry trip to an Austrian chalet, and up until hers and her accomplice’s unmasking, viewers sympathize with the stepmother. Kathy’s mother-in-law (Lenska) doesn’t hide her disdain, and her husband fails to stick up for his wife. But alas! Kathy is no victim — not yet, at least — and the creepy Krampus-themed buildup was part of a ruse to get Julian out of the picture. Even the dreadfully unconvincing Krampus costume used to scare Julian into having a heart attack was just the chalet manager (Shearsmith) channeling his inner Scooby-Doo villain. It was the perfect and easiest way to resolve this story if parallelism was the goal, yet it wouldn’t be Inside No. 9 if the ending didn’t unsettle you.
While this layered episode’s dedication to artistry and accuracy has valid sway over fans, it’s the conclusion that truly seals the deal. To go and undo the shroud of a director’s endearing commentary track is valid — even expected in a show like Inside No. 9. Yet then revealing everything to be a police interrogation, one for a resurfaced snuff film, is downright disturbing. In one quick stroke, Inside No. 9 acted on the appeals of both lost media and disturbing content, and subjected its audience to watching the unseeable. It’s as brilliant as it is nasty.
In retrospect, the persuasive and meticulously made “The Devil of Christmas” goes down as not only one of the best episodes of Inside No. 9, but also one of the finest offerings of holiday horror. And although the show was always a love letter to classic anthologies, this particular entry manifested that veneration with flair and credibility.
“The Devil of Christmas,” along with the entirety of Inside No. 9, is now available on BritBox.
Pictured: Steve Pemberton and Reece Shearsmith in “The Devil of Christmas”.
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