H.P. Lovecraft and his Cthulhu Mythos are no strangers to the medium of television. While this primarily consists of casual name dropping, there have been efforts of greater substance. These include things like The Real Ghostbusters episode “Collect Call of Cthulhu” as well as halfway decent adaptations of “Cool Air” and “Pickman’s Model” featured on the Rod Serling hosted horror anthology Night Gallery.

But a dedicated series featuring a Lovecraft-inspired setting with recurring characters and a continuous storyline was not something so easily managed. Most recently, there was the HBO adaptation of Matt Ruff’s Lovecraft Country. Despite largely positive critical acclaim, it ended up as a one-season wonder. And about 20 years prior to that, a pilot for a vaguely X-Files-like show tentatively entitled Rough Magik was shot for the BBC. But it never got past that, which is a shame. It’s got ordinary folks being subjected to a malign telepathic influence of an alien god, a covert government organization disappearing said people, a creepy farmer, a janky CG Cthulhu, and Paul By Gawd Darrow.

For those of you not up on your British SF television, a brief explanation. Paul Darrow was the coldest of the Cold Hams, primarily known for his portrayal of Kerr Avon on Blake’s 7. The best way to describe that show is to imagine Farscape done with Classic Doctor Who production values. In it, Avon served as the pragmatic counterbalance to Blake’s fervent revolutionary tendencies. He was also the one who originally responded to a compliment for an impressive trick shot with, “I was aiming for his head.” It was thanks to Darrow that the show continued after Blake’s actor Gareth Thomas decided to leave following the second season.

Speaking of Doctor Who, he made a couple of appearances on that show as well. His most notable performance was in “Timelash,” a serial which (like most Colin Baker era serials) is unjustly maligned. Though it averages out at mediocre, Darrow is half the reason it’s worth checking out (the other half is how H.G. Wells gets portrayed as a blithering moron).

But back to Rough Magik. Our story opens in a South London flat, where we see housewife Mrs. Machen lighting up some birthday candles before she goes to the kitchen for a knife, which she sets aside. She then grabs a camcorder and gets her two kids, whom she tells to close their eyes before they enter the living room. Clearly this is some sort of birthday surprise. Once they’re in place, she tells them to open their eyes and…

Yeeeeeaaaaah. Clearly, there won’t be any cake or ice cream. The two kids are confused and disquieted by this display, so Mrs. Machen tries to explain thusly:

“It’s the deep-sea man… He sleeps, he dreams, he calls. Listen, it’s his song.”

While the kids are transfixed on this grotesque abomination, Mrs. Machen takes the previously mentioned knife. As she’s about to use it, we go to the opening credits.

I should probably make a note here that, despite my flippant tone in describing it, the scene was utterly chilling.

We return to the Machen flat, where a CSI crew is documenting the grisly scene. A bloodstained Mrs. Machen is having a smoke and explaining to the bewildered constable that she had not believed that she was dreaming at the time. Rather, the idea came to her in a dream, then she did it. Simple cause and effect.

At this point, The Enigmatic Mr. Moon (Paul Darrow) makes his entrance. As he converses with Mrs. Machen, it’s clear he’s on the same wavelength as her. Using his Home Office clout, Mr. Moon shuts down the police investigation as he and his two goons haul off Mrs. Machen and the idol. All I can say is that, assuming Mrs. Machen isn’t widowed or divorced, Mr. Machen is in for an unpleasant shock when he gets home.

Mrs. Machen is locked away at a dreary little facility in [REDACTED] where she will do no harm. Meanwhile, Mr. Moon takes the idol to an art gallery run by one Kenneth Reese Warren (Gerrard McArthur). Here’s a sample of the sort of thing exhibited there.

Reese Warren offers to sell it to Moon, suggesting that he could do it on the taxpayer quid and have it installed in his office. But really, it wouldn’t fit in with the stuffy, conservative decor commonly associated with Whitehall. Moon gets to the point and presents the idol. He explains to Reese Warren that there have been a rash of Dreamers (individuals who receive telepathic contact from Cthulhu in their dreams, who are then compelled to commit atrocities). While Moon’s department is doing their best to keep it contained, they’re at the point of being overwhelmed. There is now serious consideration for reforming the Night Scholars and bringing back members who are still living.

And who were the Night Scholars? It was a government organization formed in [REDACTED] to study and combat the Cthulhu cult. While reasonably successful, they often found themselves at odds with some very influential people. Trumped up charges of financial improprieties were brought up by [REDACTED] and the Night Scholars were disbanded in [REDACTED].

Reese Warren himself had been a Night Scholar who had joined shortly after his experiences in the Falklands War. His biggest contribution was providing a sigil which blocks the telepathic link between a Dreamer and Cthulhu. Mr. Moon has been making extensive use of it during the current crisis. However, the fact that they have no idea how or why it works is something he finds troubling. In addition to recruiting Reese Warren to the cause, Mr. Moon wishes for him to divulge how he came upon the sigil.

This is a problem. Reese Warren has repressed the memories regarding his time in the Falklands where he obtained the sigil, and no treatment had been able to bring them back up. However, some boffins in Mr. Moon’s employ have brewed up a new concoction which they believe will do the trick.

Once under the influence, Reese Warren is able to recount his experiences. Back in the Eighties, he had been a psychologist in the employ of the Ministry of Defense. He had a particular focus on the effects of wartime conditions on the mind of a soldier. So when the Falklands War began, the opportunity to observe the British Fighting Man under genuine live fire conditions was too good to pass up. But the most important point was to keep it covert. One of the complications of psychological research is that you can only get genuine results when the subjects don’t realize they’re being observed. Otherwise, they’ll provide results they believe the researchers want (especially if they’re university students worried that their professors will flunk them otherwise), thus tainting the data and birthing debacles like the Zimbardo Experiment.

This proves easier said than done. Turns out ten days of Basic and an armful of vitamins is insufficient for prepping an academic for slogging through the rugged Falklands terrain while weighed down in full infantry kit. The unit’s CO Colonel Shaw (Tim Kirby) isn’t fooled by his subterfuge and is less than thrilled at having a goldbricking civvy slowing them down. Further undermining Reese Warren’s research is that their unit is assigned C&C duty, meaning the only enemy contact they’ll have is with reporters and sheep.

A patrol is sent out to verify reports of Argentine soldiers in the vicinity. At Shaw’s field base, a message over the radio informs them that the patrol is returning by helicopter and that they’re in need of medical attention. Upon arrival, the soldiers exhibit symptoms ranging from violent convulsions to catatonia, leaving the available medical personnel flummoxed. Reece Warren recognizes that they’ve experienced some form of severe mental trauma. Since his original mission is a wash anyway, Reece Warren offers to provide details to Shaw of why he was embedded in the unit so that he can examine the soldiers.

His most informative patient is Sergeant Davis. At first, he just draws geometric shapes on a notepad. Finally, he opens up, telling Reece Warren he though they would be pleased by the body wall. Who this “he” is isn’t entirely clear, though talk of a body wall certainly doesn’t sound pleasant.

At this point, all that can be done is to send out a team to investigate exactly what happened. The nearest structure to where the soldiers were picked up is Canstone Farm, located [REDACTED] miles [REDACTED] of [REFRIGGINDACTED]. Its sole resident is the hermit-like Andrew Wilson (Michael Poole), who had refused to evacuate. As Wilson might be the “he” Sergeant Davis was referring to, Reece Warren insists on tagging along, though it means crossing rough terrain with Shaw having no intention of going at a leisurely pace.

Upon arrival, a quick check is made to be sure there are no Argentine soldiers lurking about. Reece Warren and Shaw enter the farmhouse to confront Wilson. Shaw notices a pile of Argentine-issue rifles piled in the corner. But what has Reece Warren concerned is how Wilson’s mannerisms are off. Concerned that Shaw’s aggressive posture could set him off, he asks the good colonel to leave while he parleys with Wilson.

Once alone, Wilson informs Reece Warren that he is not, strictly speaking, Wilson. Rather, he is of a long-extinct race from a primordial era projected forward in time. This recalls the Lovecraft novella The Shadow Out of Time. Though unlike in that work which involved a Freaky Friday Flip exchange, it’s strongly implied Wilson’s conscious was destroyed in the process. The Argentine soldiers had come to harass what they presumed was a helpless farmer and got more than they bargained for. As for the British patrol, Not-Wilson presented what he had done with the Argentines, which did not go over as well as he had hoped.

As for his purpose, Not-Wilson explains that in his native epoch, the alien god being Cthulhu had descended from the stars. Its telepathic emanations were received by Dreamers among their own kind, sowing chaos. Eventually, their high priests created a sigil that blocked the connection to the Dreamers, resulting in Cthulhu becoming dormant. But it was perceived that Cthulhu would eventually rise from its torpor and contact new Dreamers. So Not-Wilson was sent to provide whatever future race existed with the sigil, giving them a fighting chance. Recognizing Reece Warren as the one he must impart this knowledge, Not-Wilson performs a mind meld. Shaw charges in and shoots Not-Wilson (with it being implied that Not-Wilson compelled him), thus allowing him to return to his home aeon.

And what of the Argentine soldiers? A visit to the barn answers that, along with what Sergeant Davis meant about the body wall. Turns out Not-Wilson had ripped them apart and formed them into a grisly variant of the sigil.

With Reece Warren having passed out from exhaustion, Mr. Moon is left to ruminate on what this all means. One thing is certain though. Unless the Night Scholars are brought back in the picture, the prognosis is decidedly grim.

“It is my considered opinion that we have entered the realm of myth and fantasy without ticket or passport or any clear idea of our final destination.”

And thus ends the pilot. Like most pilots, it’s more about setting the stage for future stories than being a story in its own right. So it’s rather heavy on the exposition and lighter on narrative. But the promise it offers makes the fact that it never went to series all the more frustrating. Especially if you’re like me (and I know I am) and saw it as part of Volume 2 of The H.P. Lovecraft DVD Collection from Lurker Films. This included a booklet with a detailed outline of the basic premise and the planned episodes. Perhaps some future producer will pick it up and make something of it. Even so, it won’t be the same without Paul Darrow Paul Darrowing all over the place.