By Louisa Benson

For the past four years, BBC’s Ghosts has been a staple of television’s autumn schedule. Its slow pacing, gentle humour, richly developed characters and simplicity makes it one of the best comfort watches out there. The show itself may be somewhat of a hidden gem, but the cast are much more familiar. They are inextricably linked to many Brits’ childhoods, having starred in the now iconic Horrible Histories series, as well as the bizarre and underrated Yonderland. The feelings of whimsy, sweet silliness, and, most importantly, warmth that the cast continually creates is maintained in Ghosts. It’s a tough goodbye.

After inheriting a haunted and crumbling mansion from a distant aunt, Alison (Charlotte Ritchie) and her husband Mike (Kiell Smith-Bynoe) seemingly have a solution to their financial woes: converting the building into a lavish hotel. The ghosts that have lived there peacefully are naturally horrified, and launch strategic attacks against the two, with Alison eventually gaining the ability to see them after being pushed out of a window by one of the spirits (this sounds batty, because it is). As the series progresses, a supernatural, diverse, and hilarious family unit is formed between the living and the dead. Watching Alison (and even “unseeing” Mike) gradually embrace the ghosts and all their idiosyncrasies, is joyous: who knew it was possible to connect with a maudlin Byronic poet (Mathew Baynton), a regimented, closeted WW2 captain (Ben Willbond), an accused witch who smells of burnt toast (Katy Wix), a disgraced lech of a Tory MP (Simon Farnaby)…and an actual Neanderthal (Laurence Rickard).

The humour of Ghosts maintains a good balance between childishness and coarseness, meaning it can reach a wide range of audiences. Comedy shows that specifically adopt vulgarity are undeniably entertaining; as voyeurs, we love to see how bad things can possibly get, and how embarrassing people can possibly be. It’s extremely awkward watching them with family surrounding you, but even in my own company, I personally find these comedies agonisingly cringe-inducing. Ghosts generally skirts around the embarrassing nature of cringe-comedy, so the experience of absorbing the jokes is smooth and relaxing, making for an easy watch. That’s not to say it doesn’t have its moments – I had to evade a rather uncomfortable conversation with my nine-year-old brother as to why everyone couldn’t stop laughing at the name “Fanny Button.”

The characters themselves are perhaps the greatest strength of the show, and key to its humour. Due to the cast’s past experience in playing historical characters in Horrible Histories, and their clear comedic chops (Lolly Adefope, whilst not being part of the original HH troupe, is an established comedian, and especially entertaining as the perpetually naive and peppy Georgian Kitty), they can expertly inhabit their hilarious, but, importantly, layered characters. This layering is especially important to the show’s success, ironically giving the ghosts more “life.” These characterisations offer more melancholic and consequently gentler, tenderer moments: they feature, for example, sensitive musings on death and the strength of familial relationships through the development of Pat. The Captain’s heartbreaking queer backstory is also strikingly well-handled, adding considerable depth to his character. The ghosts are not shallow historical caricatures merely used for comic effect, but creations that the viewer genuinely becomes attached to. The sadder elements of the show, which are inevitably present - it is imbued with the past, death, regrets, an undying nostalgia for life - helps the humour and moments of pure unadulterated silliness (such as when the ghosts discuss what they would wear in the modern day, or when Pat demands Alison for a biscuit to be dunked again so he can eat it vicariously through her) glow all the more brightly.

Due to the show’s ability to balance light and dark throughout its run, it never descends into triteness, regardless of its wholesome core. A theme embedded in Ghosts is the idea of “home”, and what it signifies to us. “Home” is emphasised by the viewers’ near constant immersion in the warm, cluttered, and musty rooms of Button House, or its grounds. When Alison or Mike venture outside (the ghosts cannot leave, restricted to the house, the place where they died) into brightly lit modernity, it is jarring. Throughout the final series, particular emphasis is placed on this theme, and yet again, it is handled with quick wit to subvert any overt sweetness: in one important plotline, incompetent poet Thomas brazenly steals Lady Button’s reflections on home, to use for his own literary submission to a local magazine. The root of Lady Button’s thoughts - that life itself is constantly changing, but what persists is the feeling of “home” that we find in people and family - subtly links back to the opening of the final series. Alison and Mike have now grown up quite a bit (although Mike is still as delightfully gormless as ever, the foil to Alison’s warm efficiency) following the repeated unravelling of their long-term plans and unrealistic dreams, and inevitably have had to adapt to these changes. While the house’s ceiling crumbles, the pipes dislodge, and the summerhouse goes up in flames, what always remains is the ghosts. And so, the cold open of this final series - Alison believing that she can no longer see them, only to be “April Fooled” - is an unnerving watch. The ghosts, and therefore the sense of home she has found in her ectoplasmic family, has disappeared - albeit for a moment. Unlike Alison and Mike, we don’t get to continue residing in the safe haven of Button House, and within the group of ghosts themselves. This wonderful show I’ve had for four years, through so many shifts and adjustments (Covid, more Covid, exams, adolescence, etc.) is over. This comfort blanket, offering a consistent feeling of warmth and home due to its own familiar, constant presence, has been ripped off.

If you find yourself, like me, now scrounging around for a new show that can somehow give you this incomparable feeling - do not try the US version of Ghosts. You will not find it there. It’s the US version, for God’s sake. It lacks chemistry. It’s stale. The subtlety of characters, and overall gentle tone of the original has dissolved. I have gleaned all of this valuable information from watching a one-minute clip on YouTube, and that was enough for me. If you can survive the cold of a Ghosts-less existence, just wait for the original’s Christmas special. Have a rewatch. Enjoy the bloopers online. Maybe sample Horrible Histories if you’re feeling especially intellectual. Brood. Cry. Finally, embrace the seventh stage of grief, acceptance, and move on. Like everything and everyone, Ghosts must come to an end. (Editor’s Note: the ‘Ghosts’ Christmas Special, which is the last time we will see the Ghosts, has been released since this article was written, and can be found on BBC iPlayer.)

ST.ART does not own the rights to any images used in this article.