On its release, The Observer described The Owl Service as “far more than an ordinary children’s story” and, if anything, watching it fifty-three years later has only served to prove that several times over. The latent sexual tension of the piece, noticed at the time, now shines through, all lingering glances, shots of Gillian Hall’s bare legs, and an uncomfortable feeling that there are darker things at play than even those Alan Garner and the ancient Welsh folk tale he used as inspiration intended.

The eight-part show begins with new step-siblings, teenagers Allison and Roger (Hall and Francis Wallis, both in their mid-twenties but playing younger), on holiday with their spliced family for the first time, at the remote Welsh house that used to belong to Alison’s father before he died. Now Roger’s dad is the man of the house, Alison’s mother never-seen but ever-present, and the cast is completed by the gardener and housekeeper (who both seem aware that something strange is happening), and the housekeeper’s teenage son.

There’s a whiff of doomed fate in the air, accompanied by an eeriness that would be all but impossible to replicate, the epitome of “children’s” television from the haunted generation. This Blu Ray release from Network offers the show in beautiful high definition for the first time, with a new set of commentary tracks from Tim Worthington helping to put the show into its wider cultural context, and an illustrated booklet with pieces from Chris Lynch, Stephen McKay, and Kim Newman.

The Owl Service rightfully takes its place as one of the pillars of the hauntology canon but quite apart from that it’s a unique cultural artefact on its own terms. That it retains the ability to unsettle and enthrall at five decades’ removal is a testament to Garner’s original story, Peter Plummer’s adaptation, and to the courage of those who commissioned such drama for children in the 1960s, 1970s, and 1980s.

The Owl Service is out now on Blu Ray from Network.