Home2015January

Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy (BBC 1979). Episode Three

January 31, 2015June 4, 2021 archivetvmusings BBC Drama - 1970's Alec Guinness, BBC, beryl reid, ian richardson, michael jayston, tinker tailor soldier spy

Beryl Reid had an interesting career. She first came to prominence in the 1950’s via the radio series Educating Archie, where she played several roles (the mischievous schoolgirl Monica and the Brummie Marlene). During the 1960’s she continued to ply her trade as a comedienne and comic actress in a variety of different series. She would later reflect that “comedy is the longest apprenticeship in the world.”

But it was a non-comic role, The Killing of Sister George, firstly on stage (for which she won a Tony award) and later on film (where she received a Golden Globe nomination), that bought her to critical prominence. During the 1970’s she appeared in a number of films such Rosie Dixon – Night Nurse and Carry on Emmannuelle, which are pretty grim viewing, although they’re apparently comedies. But there were also decent roles in several BBC Plays of the Month, such as Mrs Malaprop in Sheridan’s The Rivals and Amanda in Bernard Shaw’s The Apple Cart.

Her somewhat unpredictable career path would later lead her to the role of Connie Sachs in episode three of Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy. Critically, both this and her later appearance as Connie (in Smiley’s People) can be considered career highlights – she was BAFTA nominated as Best Actress for Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy and won the BAFTA Best Actress award for Smiley’s People.

In Tinker Tailor she gives an effortless performance opposite Alec Guinness. Smiley is the patient observer, gently guiding the voluble Connie to the topic he wishes to discuss. Connie cuts a somewhat sad figure – disfigured by arthritis and living in rather shabby surroundings. Like Smiley, she has been cast out of the Circus – and she still feels the pain. “I was the best Head of Research the Circus ever had! Everyone knew that! And what did they say the day they gave me the chop? That personnel cow! ‘You’re losing your sense of proportion, Connie. Time you got out into the real world.’ I hate the real world! I like the Circus and my lovely boys!”

With official Circus records not available to him, Connie is an invaluable resource, since she has instant recall of every case that ever passed her desk. Smiley is interested in an agent called Polyakov and Connie recalls that when she tried to get Esterhase and Alleline to investigate him further, they declined. And shortly afterwards Connie was retired from the Circus. Another example of someone too close to the truth about the mole having to be removed?

Although her screen-time is only a little over seven minutes, it’s still one of the most memorable parts of the serial. “Poor loves. Trained to Empire, trained to rule the waves. Englishmen could be proud then, George. They could… All gone.”

Smiley has entrusted Peter Guillam with the task of obtaining the log recording Ricki Tarr’s reports to London concerning the Russian agent Irina. Smiley reminds him to exercise extreme caution. “You must assume, Peter, the Circus has dogs on you twenty four hours a day. Think of it as a foreign country.”

The Circus, as befits Britain in the late 1970’s is somewhat shabby and tired-looking. This is exemplified by the squeaky lift door. When Guillam says it’s about time that it was sorted, the receptionist gloomily tells him that he’s asked for it to be dealt with on more than one occasion.

Guillam’s visit is fruitless – the log has been tampered with and a vital page removed, but along the way he bumps into Haydon, Bland, Esterhase and Alleline who all react to him with varying levels of suspicion. Haydon seems the most amused. “What the hell are you doing here, you pariah?”. But like all spies, he’s not always easy to read.

These scenes give us our first proper look at the four top men at the Circus – one of whom is “Gerald” the Soviet mole. They didn’t appear in episode two and their only appearance in the first episode was in the pre-credits sequence, when the four of them silently entered a meeting-room.

The scene in the first episode is worth looking at in a little more detail, as even though only Alleline speaks, the it still manages to clearly define all their characters. First to enter is Toby Esterhase – the fact he’s early and that he gets up later to close the door behind Haydon clearly demonstrates his fussy, precise nature. Next is Roy Bland, cigarette dangling casually from his mouth. Percy Alleline is the third one in, sitting down with a pompous, self important air. Bill Haydon is last – balancing his cup of tea with the saucer on top, he betrays a sardonic, amused attitude

The remainder of the episode is told in flashback, some six months before Control’s death. Alleline has just proudly unveiled his Witchcraft material, much to Control’s disgust.

Alleline: Merlin is the fruit of a long cultivation by certain people in the Circus. People who are bound to me as I am to them. People who are not at all entertained by the failure rate about this place. There’s been too much blown, too much lost, too much wasted. Too many scandals. I’ve said so many times, but I might as well have talked to the wind for all the heed he paid me.
Control: “He” means me, George.
Alleline: The ordinary principles of tradecraft and security have gone to the wall in this service. It’s all “divide and rule”, stimulated from the top.
Control: Me again.
Alleline: We’re losing our livelihood. Our self-respect. We’ve had enough. We’ve had a bellyfull, in fact.

Does Control distrust the material or Alleline? He charges Smiley to speak to Haydon, Bland and Esterhase. “Sweat them, George. Tempt them. Bully them. Anything damn thing. Give them whatever they eat. I need time.”

Smiley draws a blank with all three. First he speaks to Toby Esterhase.

Esterhase: My problem is promotion. I mean the absence of it. I have so many years’ seniority that I feel actually quite embarrassed when these young fellows ask me to take orders from them.
Smiley: Who, Toby? Which young fellows? Roy Bland? Percy? Would you call Percy young? Who?
Esterhase: When you’re overdue for promotion and working your fingers to the bone, anyone looks young who’s above you on the ladder.
Smiley: Perhaps Control could move you up a few rungs…
Esterhase: Actually, George, I am not too sure he is able to.

Roy Bland, despite being a protegee of Smiley’s, is equally disinterested.

If there’s no deal, you’ll have to tell Control to get stuffed! I’ve paid, you see, you know that! I don’t know what the hell I’ve bought with it, but I’ve paid a packet. Poznan, Budapest, Prague, back to Poznan – have you ever been to Poznan? – Sofia, Kiev, two bloody nervous breakdowns and still between the shafts! That’s big money at any age. Even yours.

The relationship between George Smiley and Bill Haydon is tense, since Haydon had previously had an affair with Ann, Smiley’s wife. He does, however, argue quite convincingly that Control’s problem is with Alleline – not the Witchcraft material.

Merlin would do if he were my source, wouldn’t he? If dazzling bloody Bill here pottered along and said he’d hooked a whacking big fish and wanted to play him alone and sod the expense, what would happen then? Control would say, “That’s very nifty of you, Bill boy. You do it just the way you want, Bill Boy. Have some filthy jasmine tea.”

With the personalities of the four top men now firmly established, Smiley begins his investigation in earnest.

Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy (BBC 1979). Episode Two

January 30, 2015June 4, 2021 archivetvmusings BBC Drama - 1970's Alec Guinness, anthony bate, hywell bennett, michael jayston, tinker tailor soldier spy

Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy was certainly a series that took its time. With seven episodes to play with, it could afford to take the long road – and this was very evident in episode two.

Ricki Tarr’s story runs for the first thirty minutes and it’s fair to say that the amount of plot in this section could have easily been condensed down to, say, ten minutes. But plot obviously wasn’t the overriding factor here – rather, it’s developing character and atmosphere.

So while Tarr’s romancing of the Russian spy Irina (Susan Kodicek) is told at a leisurely pace, it doesn’t feel drawn out and the location filming in Lisbon helps to bring a dash of colour to a series that otherwise exists in the (intentionally) drab world of British intelligence.

Ricki Tarr’s been dispached to Lisbon to liase with station head Tufty Thessinger (Thorley Walters). Tufty is convinced that a Russian called Boris (Hilary Minster) is ripe for the picking. Tarr keeps him under observation for a while and he reports back to Tufty that Boris is bad news. “We’re definitely in the wrong ball game with this chummy. That’s a professional, a Moscow Centre-trained hood. The way he sets himself. That alone!”

Tarr is about to report back that Boris is a no-go, when he decides to take a look around his apartment and see what happens. It’s dangerous and possibly somewhat reckless, but that sums up Tarr’s character – he’s someone who’s supremely confident in his own abilities to extricate himself from any situation.

When he breaks into the flat, Boris isn’t there – but his wife Irina is. Tarr puts on an Australian accent and spins her a line about how Boris has stolen his girlfriend. He manages to use all of his considerable charm to arrange another meeting with her the following day, but he quickly learns that Irina is no fool.

There’s an English expression. ‘It takes one to spot one’. You wouldn’t have fooled me for long. It’s the way we look for things, isn’t it? We don’t stare. We don’t seem to be looking. We are not like tourists … or prostitutes … or pickpockets. We just know how to see.

The relationship between Ricki and Irina is the heart of the episode – and it’s a fascinating one. As they’re both spies, how much trust can we put in what they say? Ricki seems to be the colder, more professional one. He picks up Irina for no other reason than to understand what makes Boris tick. As their brief relationship blossoms, does he ever feel any genuine love for her? Or is the fact she has information about a mole in British Intelligence the reason for his growing interest in her?

Irina professes love for Ricki. But again, can we believe her? Or is she simply telling him this so that he’ll take her back to London as a defector? But the fact she leaves him a series of notes in a dead-letter drop is one indication that her feelings were genuine. By the time he visits the drop, she’s gone – forcibly taken back to Moscow where, presumably, a brutal interrogation awaits. Was she betrayed and if so, was it the mole in London? Her parting gift to him is the sheaf of documents which detail what she knows. “I would prefer to give you my life, but I think that this wretched secret will be all I have to make you happy. Use it well”.

Her notes confirm that the mole in London is known by the codename of Gerald and that he’s a high-ranking member of British Intelligence. She doesn’t name names though, so Lacon needs somebody to investigate the Circus clandestinely and Smiley is the obvious man for the job. Especially since six months previously he tried to convince Lacon that there was a mole – only for Lacon to dismiss him out of hand.

Since the bulk of the episode is taken up with Tarr’s flashback, there’s not a great deal of screen time for Alec Guinness, but he’s still so good when he does appear – especially when he and Anthony Bate are walking through Lacon’s garden, discussing how the enquiry will work. As ever, it’s a masterclass in underplaying.

Smiley and Lacon discuss how well the Circus has been doing lately, especially with Alleline’s source of material, codenamed “Witchcraft”. The mysterious source, Merlin, has provided the Circus with invaluable intelligence – but the uncomfortable, unspoken question is how much credence can be placed on this material if Moscow have an agent at the heart of the Circus? Is Witchcraft information or disinformation?

That can wait for another time, for now Smiley is holed up in an anonymous hotel, where he can work undisturbed. He plans a trip to Oxford to visit an invaluable source whilst he asks Peter Guillam to break into the Circus to steal some key files …..

Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy (BBC 1979). Episode One

January 29, 2015June 4, 2021 archivetvmusings BBC Drama - 1970's Alec Guinness, ian bannen, michael jayston, nigel stock, tinker tailor soldier spy

Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy has a cast to die for. It’s headed, of course, by Alec Guinness and features the likes of Michael Jayston, Anthony Bate, George Sewell, Bernard Hepton, Ian Richardson, Hywel Bennett, Terence Rigby, Ian Bannen, John Wells, Joss Ackland, Warren Clarke, Thorley Walters, Beryl Reid, Patrick Stewart, Nigel Stock and Sian Phillips.

Arthur Hopcraft’s adaptation took John LeCarre’s novel and turned it into seven episodes of absorbing television. For some people, it’s too long and it’s too talky. Certainly, if you like action, this probably isn’t the programme for you. Tinker Tailor is concerned with men (and the occasional woman) who tend to sit in rooms and talk. There’s the odd spot of action and guns are occasionally brandished – but it’s by no means a thriller.

Central to Tinker Tailor is Alec Guinness as George Smiley. Smiley is less of a talker and more of a listener. It’s a pared-down, minimalistic performance by Guinness – at times, Smiley is content to remain in the background as a nebulous figure (absorbing the information he’s told, but not feeling the need to vouchsafe his own opinions or feelings).

Moving onto episode one, Hopcraft elects to open with a meeting between Jim Prideaux (Ian Bannen) and Control (Alexander Knox). Control reveals that there’s a mole operating at the highest levels of British Intelligence (nicknamed “the Circus”). Control sends Prideaux to Czechoslovakia to speak to a potential asset called Stevcek, who Control thinks can identify the traitor.

Control has narrowed it down to five possibilities and assigns each a codename –

Percy Alleline (Michael Aldridge), Director of Operations – Tinker
Bill Haydon (Ian Richardson), Head of Personnel – Tailor
Roy Bland (Terence Rigby), Head of Iron Curtain Networks – Soldier
Toby Esterhase (Bernard Hepton), Top Lamplighter – Poorman
George Smiley (Alec Guinness), Control’s deputy – Beggarman

Prideaux’s mission is a disaster, he was led into a trap, shot and captured (we later learn that he’s back in England, although his location isn’t divulged).

In LeCarre’s novel, all of this was only reported second-hand later in the book. Instead, chapter one begins with Jim arriving at a minor public school as a temporary teacher. He befriends one of the boys and it’s a good while before we discover his identity and the part he played in the abortive operation.

Hopcraft was probably wise to hold this part back, as opening with a list of suspects and the mission is a much stronger hook. And whilst the lengthy school scenes work well in print, it probably would have tried the patience of the television audience (although I do slightly regret that so much from this part of the novel was jettisoned by Hopcraft).

After Pridaeux’s abortive Czech adventure, we see that time has moved on. Control is dead, Smiley’s been sacked and Alleline is now running the show. When we see Smiley, he appears content to potter about doing little – before having the misfortune to run into Roddy Martingdale (Nigel Stock).

Martingdale appears to be somebody on the fringes of the intelligence community who wishes to imply that he’s a good deal closer to the centre. He attempts to pump Smiley for information with no success, and then he moves on to discuss (in acid detail) the four main men at the Circus. As one of these must be the mole (I think we can safely discount Smiley, although it would have been an excellent twist had LeCarre decided to make Smiley the mole after all) his observations are interesting – although like a great deal of what he has to say, possibly not terribly accurate.

Stock gives a fine performance as a pompous windbag and Guinness soaks up all of Martingdale’s inane ramblings with a long suffering air – only right at the end does Smiley show a flash of anger. One interesting point which emerges is the reveal that Bill Haydon was a lover of Ann, Smiley’s wife. Regularly, people will ask Smiley how Ann is, and he will always respond that she’s fine – even though her present location is a mystery to him. Theirs is clearly a marriage with problems, but it’s no surprise that Smiley (a master of the secret) doesn’t share his thoughts with anyone else.

Before Smiley bumped into Martindale, he spied Peter Guillam (Michael Jayston) in the street outside and hastily beat a retreat in the opposite direction (unfortunately bumping into Martindale en-route). When Smiley gets home, Guillam is already there (he’s an expert with locks). He tells him that Lacon (Anthony Bate) wants to see him. Lacon is the civil servant charged with overseeing the intelligence services and whilst Smiley wearily agrees, he agrees to the meeting nonetheless.

When Smiley and Guillam reach Lacon’s house, they find somebody else is also there – Ricki Tarr (Hywel Bennett). Tarr used to be a Scalphunter (Circus slang for the people who do all the dirty work) but he’s been posted as officially missing. Apart from Guillam, nobody else from the Circus knows that he’s back in England. As Lacon, Smiley and Guillam sit down, Tarr (somewhat relishing his captive audience) begins his story.

I’ve got a story to tell you, it’s all about spies. And if it’s true, which I think it is, you boys are gonna need a whole new organisation, right?

Part of William Hartnell’s Desert Island Discs interview found

January 29, 2015June 23, 2016 archivetvmusings YouTube desert island discs, william hartnell, youtube

A section of William Hartnell’s 1965 Desert Island Discs interview (running for about 15 minutes) has just been returned to the BBC Archives, together with complete DID’s featuring the Reverend W Awdry, Diana Rigg and Louis Armstrong. The Louis Armstrong DID was Armstrong’s own personal copy, whilst the others have been donated by listeners.

You can listen or download the Hartnell interview here or alternatively listen via the YouTube clip at the bottom of the post.

Although it’s a shame that the DID excerpt cuts off just before he talks about Doctor Who, it’s lovely to have this chance to hear the man talk. Audio or film interviews with William Hartnell are incredibly scarce – and this, along with the short film interview included on The Tenth Planet DVD, offer a rare chance to hear the thoughts of Hartnell, the man.

Thanks to the wonders of the Internet, below is a transcript of the section of Hartnell’s DID that covers his conversation about Doctor Who. The material in brackets was excised from the finished programme.

Hartnell: And playing this part, strangely enough, led to the part of Dr. Who.

Plomley: Yes.

Hartnell: Because it so ha.. turned out that after playing Dr. Who for several months Verity Lambert, my producer, [ a very charming and lovable person, ] tol… finally confessed to me that she’d seen the film and she decided that there was her Dr. Who.

Plomley: Yes. How long have you been playing Dr. Who?

Hartnell: Two years.

Plomley: Are they weekly instalments?

Hartnell: Yes, yes.

Plomley: This is pretty hard graft, isn’t it?

Hartnell: Yes. Rehearse all the week and tape them on a Friday.

Plomley: And children do you find the toughest critics?

Hartnell: I certainly do. [ This is where I love playing to children, because you can’t pull the wool over their eyes. And when they write to me, you know, it’s the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. ]

Plomley: And it doesn’t worry you that after this you may be typecast again as absent-minded professors?

Hartnell: No, my dear boy even if it’s in a bath-chair for the rest of my life.

Plomley: [ Yes. Now this… this of course ] Dr. Who leaves you no time to do anything else.

Hartnell: No, it doesn’t.

Plomley: So this is it for the foreseeable future.

Hartnell: Yes, yes.

Plomley: For many years.

Hartnell: Yes, I think so. They’ve.. they give me pretty well carte blanche and as a matter of fact Verity has said that when the time comes we will give you a bath-chair free.

Plomley: LAUGH

Hartnell: So I said I might take her up on that one day.

Plomley: Right well in the meantime while we’re still young and active let’s have record number five.

Hartnell: Yes. Before I grow another white wig. [ Well now let’s.. let’s change the subject and the theme of music, shall we? I’d like to hear one of Louis Armstrong’s early records. I don’t know when he made it quite. But it’s a trumpet solo, and this.. this man I find fascinating. I remember him when I was quite young. And I think he’s what I call the king-pin of Jazz. And I think the, well I don’t know who else there would be to.. to.. to place in the same category. Anyway let’s.. I’d love to hear this record.

Plomley: What’s the number?

Hartnell: The number is – er –

STUDIO CHAT

BAND 5 – PARTIAL RETAKE

Plomley: How long have you been playing Dr. Who?

Hartnell: 2 years

Plomley: Weekly instalments?

Hartnell: Oh yes.

Plomley: Well this is really hard graft, isn’t it, one.. an instalment of that every week.

Hartnell: Yes, but I enjoy it.

Plomley: Do you like playing to children?

Hartnell: I love them. I love children. Nothing gives me greater delight, because I.. I think they are the greatest critics in the world.

Plomley: Yes. Tough critics.

Hartnell: Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes. When they write to me they demand sometimes over and above what I can provide, but I send them a photograph and sign it and answer some of their letters. And one little child wrote to me not so long ago, which is rather charming, she said that how much.. she told me in her letter how much she liked the show, and she ended up saying when I grow up I will marry you – aged 4 and a half.

Plomley: LAUGH

Hartnell: Oh yes.

Plomley: Now does it worry you, Bill, that you may be type-cast again as an absent-minded professor?

Hartnell: No, I shall enjoy that tremendously. Even if a bath-chair goes with it. Which brings me to the point of where Verity Lambert, my own producer, said that when the time comes she said we will produce a bath-chair for you – free.

Plomley: Well this sounds as if you’re going to be doing Dr. Who for a good many years.

Hartnell: I’m afraid so.

Plomley: And of course…

Hartnell: Or am I afraid so? I don’t know.

Plomley: It leaves you no time to do anything else.

Hartnell: No, nothing at all – no. It’s once a week and we tape it every Friday.

The Day of the Triffids (BBC 1981). Episode Six

January 28, 2015January 28, 2015 archivetvmusings BBC Drama - 1980's BBC, emma relph, john duttine, maurice colbourne, the day of the triffids

Six years have passed since the events seen in episode five. Bill and Jo now have a young son and Susan, the girl Bill effectively adopted, is growing up. They, together with a blind couple who live with them, have managed to keep their small community ticking over.

There are problems though and these are mostly Triffid related. Although they regularly destroy them, the Triffids always come back. Bill has built an electric fence – but powering it constantly isn’t possible. There’s a very effective sequence early on, when Jo opens the curtains to find a group of Triffids right outside. Just the small glimpse that we can see of them makes them even more disturbing.

The unexpected arrival of Coker offers a way out. He’s established a community of several hundred people on the Isle of Wight and since it’s an island, it can be defended against Triffids. Coker asks Bill and the others to join them and work on a way to eradicate the Triffids once and for all. He then talks a little about how the community functions.

Those of us all over there have all agreed we’re not out to reconstruct the world as it was. We want to build something new, better. Some people don’t agree with that, they want to keep a lot of the bad, old features. If anybody doesn’t like us, or we don’t like them, we ask them to move somewhere else.

Shortly after Coker leaves, they are visited by a number of people in military fatigues headed by a man called Torrance (Gary Olsen). The book makes it explicit that he’s the same red-headed man who shot at Bill and the blind people earlier in the story, This doesn’t happen here, so you could be forgiven for thinking they’re two separate people. Torrance wants to move another eighteen blind people into Bill’s community and whilst he admits that it’ll be hard work for them all to survive on the land for the next few years, after that he tells them they’ll be able to relax a little.

Bill comes to realise that Torrance is effectively inviting him to become a feudal lord. Torrance, like Coker, is given a chance to outline how their community operates.

Supreme authority is vested in the council. It will rule. It will also control the armed forces. Then, of course, there’s the rest of the world to consider. Everywhere must be in the same sort of chaos. Clearly, it’s our national duty to get on our feet as soon as possible and assume a dominant role and discourage any aggressors from organising against us.

It is the diametric opposite of Coker’s community. Coker wants to build something new and different, whilst Torrance is seeking to rebuild the new world very much along the lines of the old. Given that there’s been a general feeling throughout the story that any rebuilding must be an improvement on the old ways, it’s no surprise that Bill and the others reject Torrance’s offer and they leave him and his men to deal with the Triffids whilst they head for the Isle of Wight.

Earlier in the episode, Bill and Jo discuss exactly how the catastrophe happened. Jo, like many people, believes that the comet was a natural phenomenon, but Bill isn’t so sure.

Do you know how many satellites were going round up there? How many weapons? Or what was in the weapons? They never told us. They never asked us. I suppose one of these weapons had been specially constructed to emit a radiation that our eyes couldn’t stand. Something that would burn out the optic nerve. Suppose there was an accident. This weapon would operate at low levels, only blinding people they wanted to blind. But after the accident, it went off so far up that anyone on earth could receive direct radiation from it.

Back in 1981 this would have seemed horribly possible, so when you realise that it was part of Wyndham’s novel (published in 1951, six years before the first satellite was launched) it’s an impressive feat of prediction for him to anticapte the weaponising of space. Torrance’s aggressive militarism seems set to repeat these same mistakes, so it’s understandable that Bill and his friends reject him.

In conclusion, this is a creepily effective serial that has only improved with age. It naturally had a limited budget, so in earlier episodes it couldn’t show the devastation of London in any particular detail – but it did manage to efficiently imply it via sound effects (gunshots, cries, etc). If you want to watch a faithful adaptation of the novel, then this is the only one to go for – as both the film and the 2009 TV version veer wildly from Wyndham’s original.

Something of a classic, this deserves a place in anybody’s collection.

The Day of the Triffids (BBC 1981). Episode Five

January 27, 2015January 27, 2015 archivetvmusings BBC Drama - 1980's BBC, emma relph, john duttine, maurice colbourne, the day of the triffids

Episode Five concerns itself with Bill’s quest to find Jo, which leads him out of London and into the country. Coker joins him for the trip. One of the major plus-points of this episode is Maurice Colbourne, who was always such a watchable actor with a very strong presence. Although he appeared briefly in a few previous episodes, he’s much more central in this one. After he and Bill rest in an abandoned pub, it’s Coker who can clearly see the way forward.

We must be part of a community to have any hope for the future at all. At the moment we’ve got all we need. Food, supplies, everything. But the food will go bad, the metal will rust, the petrol to drive the machines will run out. Before that happens, we have to learn to plough and learn to make ploughs, and learn to smelt the iron to make the ploughshares. We must learn to make good all that we wear out. If not …. we say goodbye to civilisation and we slide right back into savagery.

Bill and Coker find the community at Tynsham, but Jo isn’t there. A number of the survivors have also moved on, due to a serious disagreement. The remaining survivors at Tynsham are led by Miss Durrant (Perlita Nelson) and they’ve rejected the notion that pro-creation is key to survival – instead they plan to exist by strictly Christian principles and they put their faith in God to save them.

Coker decides to stay with them, as he believes that he can make something of the community, and Bill travels on. Along the way he effectively adopts an orphaned young girl, Susan (Emily Dean). It’s interesting to see how this, like so much of The Day of the Triffids, was directly paralleled in Terry Nation’s Survivors. Essentially Survivors is The Day of the Triffids writ-large, but without any Triffids.

Wyndham gave Susan more of a back-story (about the death of her parents and her fears and feelings) which isn’t used here, that’s a bit of a pity as without it she’s something of an underdeveloped character.

Together they eventually manage to find Jo (along with a few others) and they all decide to return to the community at Tynsham. But disease has struck – many are dead and the others have left. Of Coker, there’s no sign. So they face the prospect of having to establish their own small community, whilst all around the Triffids are looming …..

There’s certainly more Triffid action in this episode. Bill gets to shoot a few of them – with both a rile and a Triffid gun. When Coker asks Bill if the Triffids frighten him he says yes, “and they sicken me, too. And what sickens me the most is that inside this mess they are the only things that are going to fatten and thrive”.

Whilst there weren’t that many Triffids in London, there seems to be more of them in the countryside – whether they’re breeding or whether there were tens of thousands in captivity who’ve escaped is never made clear. But they seem to be an ever-growing menace (even more so in the final episode).

A word about Christopher Gunning’s score. It wouldn’t have been a surprise (because of period when this was made) for the BBC Radiophonic Workshop to have provided the incidental music, but instead Gunning uses more traditional instruments (instead of the synthesizers favoured by the Radiophonic Workshop).

In episode five’s score, the piano dominates – and as Bill’s search for Jo reaches a happy conclusion, the music reaches an appealing crescendo. Given how dark the majority of the story is, Gunning’s music helps to provide a sliver of light and hope.

The Day of the Triffids (BBC 1981). Episode Four

January 26, 2015April 16, 2016 archivetvmusings BBC Drama - 1980's BBC, john duttine, maurice colbourne, the day of the triffids

Bill and a number of other people (including Jo) have been captured by Coker – who staged the phony fire at the end of episode three. He allocates one sighted person to a party of blind people and assigns them to a district. They have to find a place to live and make regular trips to locate food – which will keep everybody alive until (Coker says) more organised help turns up.

Bill doesn’t believe that any help is coming but Coker’s a good enough judge of character to know that once he gets to know them, Bill won’t leave his party. Whilst he was previously able to discuss (in abstract terms) that keeping the blind alive was ultimately fruitless, when he has to deal with actual people his humanity will ensure that he’ll do everything he can for them.

But even with his best efforts, there are numerous dangers. Several are killed by a red-haired man (Gary Olsen) who’s leading a rival party. His motivation for shooting them isn’t clear here, but he’s a character that will return later in the story.

The Triffids also claim some victims in another nicely directed scene. As mentioned before, as they haven’t featured for a while their sudden reappearance in the middle of the episode comes as something of a jolt.

Disease thins Bill’s party even more and he’s powerless to prevent their deaths. As London becomes even more of a health hazard, it’s clear that the longer he remains, the more danger he’s in. Bill seems to be on the point of leaving when he’s visited by a young woman (Eva Griffith) who asks him to stay and offers herself to him. It’s a heartbreaking scene and like so much of Douglas Livingstone’s adaptation, it’s taken directly from Wyndham’s novel.

Shortly afterwards, she dies and the few survivors flee in panic. So Bill’s left alone once more. but this time he has an aim – he needs to find Jo.

Brian Aldiss once notoriously dubbed the works of John Wyndham in general and The Day of the Triffids in particular as “cosy catastrophes”. Aldiss wrote that “the essence of the cosy catastrophe is that the hero should have a pretty good time (a girl, free suites at the Savoy, automobiles for the taking) while everyone else is dying off”.

I have to admit, I don’t find anything particularly “cosy” about either this adaptation or Wyndham’s original novel. True, Wyndham’s novel did tend to feature mostly middle-class characters (another point which upset Aldiss) and this is changed here by making Bill (courtesy of John Duttine) more working class – but the concepts and themes developed thus far are pretty bleak.

The Day of the Triffids (BBC 1981). Episode Three

January 26, 2015February 13, 2015 archivetvmusings BBC Drama - 1980's BBC, emma relph, john duttine, maurice colbourne, the day of the triffids

After Bill and Jo escape from the maurding pack of blind people, they find a place to hole up for the night. After enjoying a good meal and a decent mug of wine, they both learn a little more about each other – although Jo says, “but all that, all the details of my life, they were yesterday. It’s the same with you. I think I’d like to know you from today and you know me from today. You might not like what I was yesterday. I might not like what you were”. The sense that yesterday is a closed book and that the future starts today is a theme that is picked up again later in the episode.

They then discuss what to do next. Bill is keen to get out of London as he tells Jo that soon, “the city will begin to stink like a great sewer. There are already corpses lying around. Soon they’ll be more. That may mean cholera, typhoid. God knows what”.

But a light in the distance changes their plans and the next morning they meet a group of thirty or so survivors who all have sight. They see another sighted man, called Coker (Maurice Colbourne), who’s leading a group of blind people. He asks the others for help in finding food, but they refuse. This is a debate that has cropped up before and Bill and Jo discuss it again shortly afterwards. Bill says that Coker is right and wrong. “We could show some of them where to find food for a few days or for a few weeks. But what happens afterwards?”.

They then meet the leader of the sighted group, Beadley (David Swift). He proposes moving out of London and establishing a community that will isolate itself for a year (in order to protect against disease). One of the other members of their ad-hoc committee explains how the community will function.

The men must work. The women must have babies. We can afford to support a limited number of women who cannot see, because they will have babies who can see. We cannot afford to support men who cannot see. In our community, babies will be more important than husbands. It follows from this that the one man/one woman relationship as we understand it will probably become an illogical luxury.

As for the Triffids, they only appear in a single scene (where they attack an old couple who we’ve never seen before). As their appearance (although it’s very nicely shot at night) is divorced from the main narrative, it seems to have been put in simply to remind the audience that they’re still out there. And since they don’t feature much in this episode, it helps to make their sudden reappearance in episode four even more striking

At the end of this episode, Bill and Jo (along with the rest of the potential community members) are settling down for the night when a fire alarm is raised. Bill rushes down the stairs, trips over and awakes to find himself tied up …..

The Day of the Triffids (BBC 1981). Episode Two

January 25, 2015April 16, 2016 archivetvmusings BBC Drama - 1980's BBC, emma relph, john duttine, the day of the triffids

After leaving Dr Soames in an office, Bill tells him that he’ll go and find some help. Soames knows there’s nothing to be done and he’s right – everyone else in the hospital is blind. Along the way, Bill meets a patient in one of the wards who asks him to draw the curtains and when he has, the man tells him to stop playing about and draw the curtains.

This is another scene taken directly from the novel, although it might have been a good idea to omit it. It’s impossible to believe that somebody couldn’t tell the difference between it simply being dark and being blind. Even in the dark, it’s possible to distinguish shapes and outlines.

Elsewhere, he sees groups of people milling about anxiously and when he returns to the office he finds Dr Soames has jumped to his death. As Bill ventures out onto the streets he finds no better news, until he spots a girl who can see. He follows her into a house and meets her father, John (Stephen Yardley). John and his wife are blind, but their daughter can still see.

John vacillates between believing that the problem is only local and temporary and pondering the implications if the majority of the population are now permanently blind.

Well, everybody will be like us at first. They won’t know what’s happened. They’ll be too frightened to move. Then they’ll get hungry and start looking for food. I mean this town’s nasty at the best of times. In two or three days it won’t just be hooligans, it’ll be people you thought butter wouldn’t melt killing each other for scraps of food.

There’s a great deal of truth in this, as we see pockets of the blind fighting each other for food, whilst one woman sits on the ground with a packet of washing powder in the mistaken belief that it’s edible. Elsewhere, a group of football supporters are led by a sighted man and they grab a woman. Their intentions are obvious and although Bill tries to intervene, it’s probable that his attempt was fruitless (we don’t see the conclusion). As we witness other examples of people in distress, how will Bill decide which ones to help and which ones to leave?

Earlier in the episode, Josella (Emma Relph) was captured by a blind man and forced to be his eyes. Bill discovers them and frees her. Together they seek refuge in a pub and when she decides to find her father, Bill asks if he can come with her. Jo agrees instantly and tells him it’s “not because I’m afraid of getting caught again. I’ll watch out for that. It’s just the dreadful sense of loneliness, being cut off from everybody else”.

Jo’s father is dead, killed by a Triffid and Bill and Jo only manage to escape after Bill kills another. This the first major Triffid attack scene in the story and thanks to some tight framing and intense acting from Duttine it works well. Whilst they’re not the most mobile of creatures, the occasional glimpse of them (as well as the eerie sound they make) is quite effective.

The episode has already discussed how the vast majority of the population could, because of their blindness, be turned into a mob – and this looks like it’s coming true at the end. Bill and Jo’s car is surrounded by a group of blind people and whilst none of them are intrinsically evil, their desperation to hold onto any sighted person is somewhat disturbing.

The Day of the Triffids (BBC 1981). Episode One

January 25, 2015January 25, 2015 archivetvmusings BBC Drama - 1980's BBC, john duttine, the day of the triffids

John Wyndham Parkes Lucas Beynon Harris was born in 1903 and began his writing career in the 1930’s under a variety of names. Following the Second Word War he started writing again and produced his first novel as John Wyndham. That was The Day of the Triffids which was published in 1951.

The Day of the Triffids was an instant success and it established Wyndham’s reputation as one of Britain’s top science fiction writers. It was faithfully adapted for the radio in 1957 (and the same script was re-recorded in 1968). There was also a film version in 1962 which deviated substantially from the original book (as did the 2009 BBC adaptation).

In-between those two was this 1981 BBC adaptation by Douglas Livingstone. It was directed by Ken Hannam and comprised six 26 minute episodes which were re-edited into three 52 minute episodes for overseas sales. Livingstone did a remarkable job of faithfully transferring Wyndham’s novel to the small screen. There are some changes (the action is moved from the 1950’s to the 1980’s and some minor characters are different) but overall there’s a great deal of fidelity to Wyndham’s original book.

In Livingstone’s teleplay, as in the novel, the thrust of the story is concerned with how the survivors of a global catastrophe will be able to survive after the technological infrastructure they’ve taken for granted has been destroyed. The later BBC adaptation was much more of a straightforward adventure yarn, pitting the survivors against the Triffids. But here, like in the book, the Triffids only pop up from time to time and they aren’t the most pressing problem.

The story opens with Bill Masen (John Duttine) recovering in hospital after an operation on his eyes. He works at a Triffid farm and was stung by one of them – hence the operation. Hopefully, once the bandages are removed he’ll be able to see again, but nothing is certain.

One annoying side-effect of his temporary blindness is that he was unable to witness the remarkable light-show the previous evening. The precise origin of this natural display which lit up the night sky for hours (visible all over the world) was a mystery, but the morning after things feel different. Where there should be noise and bustle (as befits a busy hospital) there is only an ominous silence …..

Both the novel and Livingstone’s adaptation open with Bill in hospital and work back from there to explain the history of the Triffids. In Wyndham’s novel, Bill is writing the whole story to explain to those who were born after the catastrophe exactly what happened. In the television version, Bill narrates how the Triffids came to exist onto cassette for his colleague Walter, who’s planning to write a book about them.

This is a decent framing device as it allows Bill to narrate over various scenes which explain where the Triffids came from and precisely the danger they pose. Walter (Edmund Pegge) works with Bill at the Triffid farm and in one of the flashbacks he discusses with him some of his theories.

Look at when they attack. They almost always go for the head. Now a great number of people who have been stung but not killed have been blinded. That’s significant of the fact they know the shortest way of putting a man out of action. If it were a choice of survival between a blind man and a Triffid, I know which I’d put my money on.

One interesting change by Livingstone is that to begin with, Bill still believes it’s the middle of the night – but we can clearly see the daylight streaming through the window and the time on the clock (the novel opens with him instantly aware that things aren’t right). This means that the viewers know more than Bill and so are aware, before he is, that something is seriously awry.

John Duttine spends the majority of the episode alone in his hospital room with his eyes bandaged. It needed a good actor to make the character come alive, with so little to work with, and Duttine certainly delivers. As time goes on, and still nobody comes, his self control begins to crack – until he decides to take off the bandages himself.

The irony that he’s now able to see whilst the majority of the world have gone blind isn’t something that’s overtly stated, but it’s obvious nonetheless. As the episode ends, he meets the blind Dr Soames (Jonathan Newth) whilst the Triffids start to prowl …..

Hi-de-Hi! – Hey Diddle Diddle

January 25, 2015April 2, 2016 archivetvmusings BBC Comedy - 1980's BBC, bbc sitcoms, hi-de-hi, paul shane, perry and croft, ruth madoc, simon cadell

Many of the best sitcoms feature a disparate group of people who, for one reason or another, are trapped together. Porridge is an obvious example, but it’s a theme that also runs through the work of Jimmy Perry and David Croft.

Dad’s Army and It Ain’t Half Hot Mum both had a diverse set of people thrown together by WW2 and in Hi-de-Hi! the characters are bound together because of their job. It amounts to pretty much the same thing though – as we see people of different attitudes, ages and classes all forced to work with each other.

If there’s one thing that’s notable about most of Perry and Croft’s sitcoms (and also the ones that Croft wrote with other people) it’s the fact they tended to go on far too long. When something is successful, the obvious thing to do is to continue – few writers are able (like John Cleese and Connie Booth with Fawlty Towers) to decide early on that all the comic potential has been mined from a certain idea.

But for now, let’s take a look at the first episode of He-de-Hi!, transmitted on the 1st of January 1980. It has an extended running time of forty minutes and is probably best seen as a pilot – since it would be more than a year before the first series proper began.

What’s interesting is the feeling of melancholy that hangs over many of the characters. Whilst all of them are professional with the holidaymakers, behind the scenes there’s a sense that for many, Maplin’s Holiday Camp is something of a prison for their thwarted dreams and ambitions.

For example, Fred Quilley (Felix Bowness) was a jockey who, it’s implied, threw races – so he’s washed up at Maplin’s, teaching holidaymakers to ride a selection of clapped-out nags. And Mr Partridge (Leslie Dwyer) is a Punch and Judy man who has an intense dislike of children, something of a handicap in his job. Dwyer was a veteran actor with a list of credits stretching back to the 1930’s (In Which We Serve and The Way Ahead were two notable early film appearances). He’s rarely a central figure in the stories, but his pithy bad temper were always worth watching out for.

Perhaps the most dismissive of the whole Maplin’s environment are Yvonne and Barry Stewart-Hargreaves (Diane Holland and Barry Howard) and Yvonne’s disdain for the common holidaymakers is never far from the surface. Their marriage is also intriguing, since Barry acts so incredibly camp it’s possible to wonder whether theirs is a marriage of convenience. There’s this exchange, for example.

BARRY: You’ve got your weight on the wrong foot, you silly cow. It’s like dancing with an all-in wrestler.
YVONNE: Well you’ve more experience with that kind of thing that I’d have.

There are some positive people though. Spike (Jeffrey Holland) is young, keen and eager to please. But it’s possible to wonder if Ted Bovis (Paul Shane) is the sort of person that Spike will become in twenty five years if the breaks don’t come his way. In the little world of Maplin’s, Ted is King – although the fact he’s still stuck in the holiday camps after all this time implies that his big break never materialised.

Given how Peggy (Su Pollard) came to define the series, it’s surprising that she hasn’t got her face in the opening credits. Peggy is the most positive person of all, desperate to become a yellowcoat and eager to do anything that will advance her cause.

The person charged with bringing order to this group of misfits is the new Entertainments Manager Jeffrey Fairbrother (Simon Cadell). Jeffrey is the real fish-out-of-water – formally a professor at Cambidge, he’s thrown that up because, as he tells his mother, “I’m in a rut. My wife’s left me because I’m boring, my students fall asleep at lectures because I bore them. And worst of all, I’m boring myself”.

Cadell is perfect as the indecisive, diffident, but decent man who’s completely out of his depth. This is highlighted when he meets Gladys Pugh (Ruth Madoc) for the first time. For Gladys, it’s clearly love at first sight. For Jeffrey (whilst he’d have to be blind not to see the signs she’s giving off) there’s little more than exquisite embarrassment.

This opening episode has done enough to suggest that the differences between the characters will provide plenty of comic potential in the years to come. And towards the end Jeffrey is visited by a couple who are about to leave. The old man’s words help to explicitly state the series’ agenda – whilst the employees of Maplin’s might sometimes be at each others throats, ensuring that the holidaymakers enjoy themselves is something they can all take pride in.

It was wonderful. Just sheer fun, and we haven’t had a lot of that in our lifetime. It’s grand being daft and forgetting all your troubles for a little while. I was telling Doris here, I said if the whole country could be run like a holiday camp then we’d be alright. We’d have Joe Maplin as prime minister and never mind that Harold Macmillan. He’s always telling us we’ve never had it so good. We’ve never had it. We’ve had a grand holiday and you were marvelous. You joined in the fun, supervising in your own quiet way and you didn’t make a lot of palaver. You just did it and we’d like to thank you, young man.

You have been watching –

Bird of Prey (BBC 1982). Episode Four – Printout Urgent

January 24, 2015May 25, 2015 archivetvmusings BBC Drama - 1980's BBC, bird of prey, richard griffiths

The last in a four-part thriller for the electronic age featuring Richard Griffiths
Episode 4: Printout Urgent
Henry is at bay. His home in ruins, his allies and hard-won evidence all destroyed. Face to face with the gathering strength of ‘Le Pouvoir’ and the grandiose scheme of its protégé – Euro MP Hugo Jardine.
(Radio Times Listing, 13th May 1982)

With Henry believing that one of the explosions from the end of part three killed Anne (instead it was the unfortunate Tomkins who perished) he moves into attack mode. He substitutes himself for Jardine’s chauffeur and drives him to an abandoned warehouse. His original plan is to kill Jardine and then make as much trouble as he can for Jardine’s organisation before his own death – but when he learns that Anne is still alive he agrees to a swop.

There’s no denying that Henry’s abduction of Jardine stretches credibility as it’s difficult to believe that such a powerful man would travel with no protection at all. Jardine (Christopher Logue) is a good example of the banality of evil, which makes his confrontation with Henry very interesting.

When Henry first speaks to Jardine he believes that Anne is dead – but Jardine professes not to know about her death or any of the others. He tells Henry that “I know nothing of the names you mention. I have people imposed upon me. I have no say in their methods. Because your heart is broken does not license you to stop mine”. How much of a pawn Jardine is in other people’s plans is a matter of conjecture, but it does highlight that there never seems to be a single person sitting in total control at the top of the pyramid – everybody always seems to answer to somebody else.

Elsewhere, Bridgnorth explains to Hendersly exactly what Jardine’s scheme is, in a scene that would be an unbearably egregious info-dump if it wasn’t for that fact that Nigel Davenport was such a good actor well able to rattle off such exposition-heavy dialogue with great aplomb.

Jardine, along with the shadowy Italian conglomerate, has tabled a bid to build a deluxe Channel tunnel. Bridgnorth says that it will create “125,000 new jobs in construction and engineering. 50 or 60 thousand new service and retail jobs. Only Jardine has the political will and the financial clout to stitch a deal like this together. Road and rail links side by side. The Rolls Royce solution to the Channel link”. With a potential fortune to be made, trouble-makers like Henry would appear to have a very limited life expectancy.

The hand-over between Jardine and Anne goes ahead – although not quite as some of the players might have expected. Henry and Anne are safe though, but their future seems less certain. Henry was able to broker a deal with Rome – he agreed not to release the files he has on them and in turn they pulled out of the Channel bid. And if Henry doesn’t input a counter-instruction code every three months, the files will be released to every government computing centre across Europe.

This will keep Henry and Anne safe for now, but he’s well aware that they’ll try to break his code and if they do then their lives will be rather short (which sets us up nicely for the sequel Bird of Prey II).

Overall, this is a very decent thriller. Although trailed in the Radio Times as a story for the electronic age, computers really don’t feature very significantly at all (except for the ending, where it’s the information contained within the computer that’s keeping Henry and Anne alive). Production-wise, it’s typical of the era – VT interiors and film for exteriors. If it had been all-film (like an increasing number of serials during the early to mid 80’s) then it might have been more stylish. As it is, the direction is workmanlike but rather flat, with only the odd moment standing out. Instead, it’s the actors (rather than the camerawork) which makes the story.

Richard Griffiths shines as the undemonstrative Henry and Nigel Davenport is impressive as his main rival. As the DVD was deleted some time ago it now tends to sell for silly money – but if you can track down a reasonably priced copy then it’s certainly worth a look (particularly if you like drama of that era).

Public Information Films

January 24, 2015July 4, 2018 archivetvmusings ITV Documentaries dad's army, jon pertwee, public information films

Network’s Charley Says is a DVD that I find myself returning to on a regular basis. Partly because it’s television nostalgia in bite-sized pieces, but there’s also a fascinating wealth of British cultural history contained within these short films.

The Central Office of Information (COI) was founded in 1946 as the peace-time successor to the Ministry of Information (MOI). Post war, the battered and weary nation was drip fed the encouraging message that Britain would rebuild and restore itself to her former glory. Yes, all good propaganda – but skilfully presented.

By the 1960’s, the COI found itself creating shorter films for television. These covered a wide range of subjects, some were animated and others live-action. Ans since many of them were repeated for several decades, they became firmly lodged in the public consciousness.

For those who want to watch online, the National Archive has many of the public information films produced between 1945 and 2006 available on their website.

But for any newcomers to the wide world of PIFs, here is my own personal top five –

Number Five – When in the Country (1963)

This is longer than the normal television PIF and that fact it was made in colour suggests it was intended for cinema release. It’s nicely animated and whilst, like many PIFs, it does tend to state the blindingly obvious, it’s rather charming nonetheless.

Number Four – Splink (1976)

The Splink campaign was never as popular as the long-running series with Dave Prowse as the Green Cross Man, for the simple reason that the Splink drill was so incredibly difficult to remember! Still, the appearance of Jon Pertwee is something of a consolation.

Number Three – Dad’s Army – Pelican Signals (1974)

Familiar faces were very often used in PIFs in order to sell the message to the viewers and this one is no different. The incongruous sight of the Dad’s Army cast on a 1970’s street is strange, but since they didn’t have Pelican Crossings during the war it’s fair enough.

Number Two – Protect and Survive – Action after Warnings (1975)

This is frankly terrifying,whilst the suggestion that you can survive a nuclear attack by jumping into a ditch is a bit difficult to swallow as well! The Protect and Survive films, in addition to a handy booklet, were designed only to be used when the government decided that an attack was imminent. Thankfully this never came to pass, so the films were never broadcast – but several, like this one, later surfaced and they’re all fascinating viewing.

Of course, if there was a nuclear attack then the only thing left to do would be to die – but whilst the tone of the PIF is bleak, there’s still a sliver of hope offered to the survivors.

For further reading, in 2007 BBC published a transcript of a radio message that had been drafted for broadcast in the event of a nuclear attack. It can be read here.

Once the Protect and Survive booklet became public knowledge, the government were pressured into releasing it – so it was eventually published in May 1980. It can be read here.

Number One – Cycle Safety Song – Get Yourself Seen (1978)

And after thoughts of death and destruction, let’s end on a lighter note with a PIF that has a song so catchy I still find myself humming it to this very day!

The Wheeltappers and Shunters Social Club – 20th April 1974

January 24, 2015April 11, 2016 archivetvmusings ITV Comedy - 1970's the wheeltappers and shunters social club

Tonight’s Turns:

The Three Degrees
The Krankies
Brandy Di Franck
Bill Haley and the Comets
Martin and Sylvia Konyot
Ronnie Hilton

The first turn up on stage tonight are The Three Degrees who perform I Like Being A Woman. The group had formed in 1964, although the 1974 incarnation didn’t include any of the original members (over the years the line-up would see quite a few changes – some fifteen women have been one of the Three Degrees at one time or another).

The 1974 line-up consisted of Fayette Pinkney, Valerie Holiday and Sheila Ferguson. Shortly after this appearance, When Will I See You Again would top the UK charts for two weeks and it would herald a run of successful singles which would continue for a number of years. It’s a pity then that their Wheeltappers appearance wasn’t later in the year, as I Like Being A Woman is nice enough, although fairly forgettable.

There are two points of interest though, first is at 1:35 when they all bump into each other (they won’t be the only act to find performing on that tiny stage to be a bit of a problem!) and the second is the interesting spoken-word section, which must have gladdened the hearts of a certain section of the audience.

You know, women’s liberation is cool.
I mean, it had it’s good points and it’s bad points.
But you know sometimes… I just want to be loved,
And that’s why I become your slave.
I don’t want to be your equal, I just want to be a part of you.
All you gotta do is treat me like you treat yourself.

Next up are The Krankies. They’d spend the 1970’s working clubs like the Wheeltappers before moving onto mainstream television in the late 1970’s and 1980’s. They always seemed to be a staple fixture on Crackerjack (CRACKERJACK!!) at one time, for example.

Even though wee Jimmy Krankies’ cross-dressing antics only has a limited amount of comic potential, you have to admire the career they were able to build out of it. This Wheeltappers appearance is fairly typical of their comic shtick – Ian Krankie is attempting to tell a few jokes and sing a song but he’s prevented from doing so by a small boy in the audience. This is our Jimmy, who clearly has the audience’s sympathy as he tells them his mother doesn’t love him (awwww). The closing part of their act (where Ian treats Jimmy as a ventriloquists doll, swinging him around) is quite impressive and does raise a few laughs.

After somewhat fading from view, the revelation that they used to be swingers put them back into the spotlight a few years ago – and the fact that the likes of The Telegraph reported it is an example of how times have changed (it would be hard to imagine them running showbiz stories like that a few decades earlier).

Following the stripper Brandy Di Franck (yes really!) there’s the main treat of the show – Bill Haley and the Comets. Although Haley’s time at the top was quite short (his main chart success came between 1954 and 1956) his influence was far-reaching and thanks to a handful of classic singles he remains a significant figure in the development of rock and roll.

He gave the audience at the Wheeltappers exactly what they wanted – two of his biggest hits (Shake, Rattle and Roll and Rock Around the Clock). The only mystery about his appearance is why he wasn’t the headliner – c’mon it’s Bill Haley!

Next act on stage are Martin and Sylvia Konyot, who attempt to provide a touch of class with their dancing, although this is somewhat sabotaged by the fact the one of them is usually face-down on the stage. Not a bad spesh act which obviously took a good deal of training in order to execute the moves.

Tonight’s headliner is Ronnie Hilton, who rather cruelly (but accurately) is introduced by Bernard like this. “Ladies and gentleman, if there’s ever a nuclear attack then it’s all round to the next artist’s house. Because he’s never had a hit for years”.

Ronnie Hilton had a successful recording career in the 1950’s as a middle-of-the-road crooner. He built his career on recording cover versions of successful American songs. Hilton wasn’t the only artist to do this as back in the fifties it was the song – not the singer – that was king. His biggest hit, No Other Love (originally recorded by Perry Como) made number one in 1955, but by the early 1960’s the hits had dried up – so like many others before him, he took to touring the club circuit.

On the evidence of this appearance, he had become a decent club singer – although as he never had any particularly identifiable songs it does mean that the show ends with a bit of a whimper. Alas, if only they’d put Bill Haley on last!

Colin Crompton

Ronnie Hilton

The Three Degrees

Bill Hailey & The Comets

The Konyots

The Krankies

Bird of Prey (BBC 1982). Episode Three – Process Priority

January 23, 2015October 19, 2015 archivetvmusings BBC Drama - 1980's BBC, bird of prey, richard griffiths

A four-part thriller for the electronic age featuring Richard Grifiths
Episode 3: Process Priority
One name recurs in Henry Jay’s single-handed investigation into the affairs of ‘Le Pouvoir’ – Euro MP Hugo Jardine. With British Intelligence now implicated in the cover-up, Henry has a story to sell – if he can stay alive long enough.
(Radio Times Listing, 6th May 1982)

Generally, the third part of a four part story is a bit of a problem. You’ve set up the plot and characters in the first two parts but you’re still one away from the conclusion – so part threes generally involve a good deal of running on the spot.

While it’s true to say that Process Priority does conform to this rule, on the plus side it introduces an interesting new character, Rochelle Halliday (Ann Pennington). Rochelle runs a commercial intelligence consultancy and she had contact with Henry when he was drafting his report on computer fraud.

She’s a playful, irreverent character, which is highlighted when she asks Henry to read the notes she made about him after their previous meeting. “First impressions are that he would be out of his depth in a car park puddle, but first impressions may be deceptive. Give him a couple of months then try sex or straight cash. Say five hundred. He shouldn’t be expensive”.

Ann Pennington is a major reason why this part three doesn’t feel too draggy. It’s a pity that this is her only episode – but as has been mentioned before, many characters in Bird of Prey have a very short shelf life.

Rochelle sends Henry off to speak to Julia Falconer (Mandy Rice-Davies). Julia is the proprietor of a high-class call-girl agency which has links to Hugo Jardine. She’s able to fill in a few blanks, but these scenes are of primary interest due to Mandy Rice-Davies herself, since along with Christine Keeler she will be forever remembered for her role in the Profumo affair. It could be regarded as stunt-casting, but since she’s a decent actress I wouldn’t say so.

Elsewhere, Hendersly (Jeremy Child) is starting to have his doubts about Bridgnorth (Nigel Davenport). It’s been a fairly thankless role for Child so far, as his character has been drawn as a colourless, yes man. But now the worm turns and he tells Bridgnorth that he’s compromised his career “to protect Hugo Jardine, who you advised me is risking his life in a long, drawn out and elaborate intelligence operation. On a need-to-know basis, you’re the only person I’ve had any contact with. As this operation staggers from one blunder to the next, I’ve just kept my head down and assumed that you’ve known what you’ve been doing. I find myself questioning that now. And even more seriously, questioning who it is that I’m ultimately working for and with whom your loyalties lie”.

After a speech like that (and given what we’ve already seen) it’s interesting to ponder what his life expectancy will be …..

As the end of the episode approaches it’s clear that matters are building to a head. The cliffhanger is certainly arresting – as we witness two separate explosions (although the second is admittedly a little weedy). Both explosions help to thin out the cast a little more but Henry is still unscathed and he appears to be heading for a showdown with Jardine.

Next Episode – Printout Urgent

Bird of Prey (BBC 1982). Episode Two – Mode Murder

January 22, 2015January 24, 2015 archivetvmusings BBC Drama - 1980's BBC, bird of prey, richard griffiths

A four-part thriller for the electronic age, featuring Richard Griffiths.
Episode 2: Mode Murder
Murder and the power to subvert officialdom: Henry Jay has good reason to believe in ‘Le Pouvoir’ and its link with the growing evidence of a financial conspiracy. A dead detective’s legacy is a file pointing to a Euro MP and a girl in Brussels – which leaves Henry no option but to pick up the trail.
(Radio Times Listing, 29th April 1982)

Henry needs answers – so he sells his stamp collection and uses the money to rent a room under an assumed name and also buy a computer. It’s the latest model and the salesgirl informs him that it has “64K memory, disk drive main, storage for 120,000 characters”. Which was cutting edge stuff in 1982! Henry’s computer hacking also raises an eyebrow – since it consists of him ringing up various people and asking for their passwords.

Whilst this will either seem charmingly naive or rather clumsy (depending on how forgiving you are) it does allow Henry to track down Hannah Brent (Sally Faulkner). Hannah was the girlfriend of Louis Vacheron (a crook murdered in episode one) and Henry hopes she’ll have a lead that will lead him closer to the heart of the conspiracy, so he flies out to visit her in Brussels. Before DI Richardson was murdered, he left a file for Henry (inside were clippings which mentioned a European MP and businessman called Hugo Jardine). Hannah doesn’t recognise the name but promises to try and find out what she can.

A hallmark of a good conspiracy thriller is that nobody can be trusted. Hannah Brent would have known about a simple code that Vacheron taught her (the Owl and the Pussycat in French). The girl with Henry doesn’t, so he knows she’s not the real Hannah Brent.

This revelation moves us to the heart of the episode as we’re introduced to Charles Bridgnorth (Nigel Davenport). Bridgnorth works for British Security and the faux Hannah Brent works for him. As for the real Hannah? Bridgnorth surmises she’s “in the foundations of a Brussels office block most likely”.

Bridgnorth tells Henry that Jardine works for them and is part of a project stretching back several years – and that both his and Richardson’s investigations may have compromised Jardine’s safety. He also explains to Henry a little more about the Power (the mysterious force alluded to by Vacheron).

The Power is more a loose federation of people than a solid structure. People who temporarily find it an advantage to work with each other to repay each other for favours past and future. There’s a grey area in this sort of business, Henry. Terrorism shades into organised crime, into police undercover operations, into how the state security apparat responds to the chaos which mobile internationally-minded crooks and politicos have been creating since the early ’60’s, especially in Europe. Even those who did the killing may be unaware of what favour they are repaying to whom.

Henry doesn’t find this particularly comforting – so Richardson and Vacheron may have been killed by criminals or possibly by members of the police and security services. Bridgnorth is pretty non-committal, but tells Henry that his involvement is over.

Get out of here, civilian. This is where the dirty work gets done. Dirty work that means that people like you can catch the 8:15 every morning and lead your boring little lives. Be thankful for the 8:15, Henry. Be thankful for your boring little life and the fact that we allow you to go back to it in one piece … or at all.

It’s a convincing story, but as it’s only the end of episode two there must be more revelations to come. Henry knows they’re lying to him and explains to Anne that “an exceedingly elaborate construct has been made up of all the bits and pieces and odds and ends they know I know about. It concerns one of the many branches of Intelligence claiming Jardine for their own. They lied about Richardson going to Brussels. I had a computer agency check the relevant flight listings and he never made it”. It’s only a small point, but Henry has to go on – he has to know if that was the only lie or if the whole story was false.

The episode ends with a few more bodies – DS Eric Vine (Richard Ireson) and the Department’s security officer Trevor Chambers (Trevor Martin) have been waiting for Henry to return to his rented flat. Chambers is killed by someone who calls him Mr Jay, which adds another layer of mystery. Bridgnorth has been keeping close tabs on Henry, so he knows exactly what he looks like. Therefore it appears there are new players in town.

Next Episode – Process Priority

Bird of Prey (BBC 1982). Episode One – Input Classified

January 21, 2015January 24, 2015 archivetvmusings BBC Drama - 1980's BBC, bird of prey, richard griffiths

Henry Jay: Civil Servant, mid-30s, good head for detail
Prospects: Steady promotion. Index-linked pension
Hobbies: Philately, Hi-fi
Current Project: Computer Fraud Report for Whitehall Trade Ministry.
Altogether a seemingly puny obstacle to a massive financial conspiracy – with the bureaucratic clout to silence the inquisitive.
(Radio Times listing, 22nd April 1982)

Bird of Prey, written by Ron Hutchinson, was a four-part conspiracy thriller broadcast in 1982. It starred Richard Griffiths as Henry Jay, who is a mild-mannered, middle-aged civil servant and therefore just about the last person you would expect to be caught up in the middle of a vast and dangerous conspiracy.

That, of course, is one of the reasons why it works so well – had Henry been a more conventional hero (either in looks or approach) then the dramatic tension would have been far less. But since Henry seems so ill-suited to the role of a crusading hero, it creates an interesting dynamic. Whether the story manages to keep a sense of credibility as the bodies start to pile up, we’ll have to wait and see – but let’s start by taking a look at the first episode.

Henry Jay works for the Department of Commercial Development and has a special interest in computer security. At the start of the story he has the following info-dump speech which he delivers to his boss Hendersly (Jeremy Child).

The Americans are considering restricting the publication of research into cryptography – code breaking. Well, you see, telephone networks are now, more or less, computer networks, as are modern office accounting and money transfer systems, and the Americans have only just woken up to the security aspects of the unregulated publication of research into cryptography because it offers ways of breaking into those networks.

Since Bird of Prey is commonly regarded as a computer thriller, it’s noticeable that we don’t see a single computer in the first episode. Henry’s office, which he shares with Harry Tomkins (Roger Sloman), is computer free – instead there’s just typewriters and plenty of conventional files. It’s certainly a window into a vanished world, where computers were still something of a rarity.

But if the possibility of everyone either owning a computer at home or using one in work was still a slightly alien concept in 1982, there certainly was a feeling that computers were beginning to have an increasing influence on people’s daily lives – hence Bird of Prey came out at the right time (even if the technology we’ll see in later episodes now looks rather quaint!).

The opening and closing titles are rather nostalgic for anybody of a certain age, since they mimic the computer graphics common at the time. Dave Greenslade’s title music and score is also very evocative of the era.

It’s Henry’s report, “Fraud And Related Security Problems In The Age Of Electronic Accounting”, which is the catalyst for all of his problems. He’s been liaising with Detective Inspector Richardson (Jim Broadbent) who shares his concerns about computer fraud and Richardson has been passing him information to use in the report. One piece of information concerns a recent attempted bank fraud centered on Turin and London.

Louis Vacheron (Nicholas Chagrin) was caught at the London end, but he tells Richardson that he’s confident he’ll be released in a matter of months as their organisation has connections at the highest levels. He mentions le Pouvoir (the Power) but when Vacheron is killed, it’s clear that the Power has silenced a weak link. And Richardson believes that the Power will also remove any other links (which is a problem for Henry, since there’s a reference to this fraud in his report).

Of course, nobody, especially Henry’s wife Anne (Carole Nimmons), believes him at first. Their marriage is best described as frosty and she spells this out quite succinctly.

I do a routine and boring job as well, only I don’t have to manufacture drama and excitement out of it. Some are born civil servants. Others achieve being civil servants. Others have being civil servants thrust upon them. You were born. Now after seven years of marriage, I accept that and the fact that you will never change or be anything else, so if you’re trying to make your job sound desperately important and exciting for my sake, don’t bother. When I said yes to you, I settled for cocoa, not champagne. Now I’m prepared to live with that. Sourly at times, mostly with mute acceptance.

Shortly afterwards, Henry is accused of soliciting an underage boy, although it’s clearly a set-up (which is confirmed by the two police officers as they leave Henry’s house). Henry sees this as a warning – leave well alone or the next time they’ll make the charges stick. Unfortunately for the shadowy conspiracy, they then send another policeman along to tell Henry that a woman at his office has made a complaint that he’s been following her. But as Henry says –

So, how was I fitting in my importuning of young boys in public toilets whilst pursuing Miss Callaghan? I mean, how common is this condition I’m suffering from, that renders me such a menace to young people of either sex indiscriminately?

The first episode ends with the murder of Richardson at Henry’s office (Bird of Prey and its sequel does have a pretty high body count – so it’s best to get used to the idea that many characters won’t last the series out). Quite why he was murdered isn’t clear at present – although the fact that they can strike at Henry’s office means that he’s not safe anywhere.

So Henry is literally on the run, armed with only a few files from the office as he tries to stay one step ahead of the people who want his head.

Next Episode – Mode Murder

The Rivals of Sherlock Holmes – The Case of Laker, Absconded

January 20, 2015June 8, 2016 archivetvmusings ITV Drama - 1970's peter barkworth, ronald hines, the rivals of sherlock holmes

Peter Barkworth as Martin Hewett in The Case of Laker, Absconded by Arthur Morrison
Adapted by Philip Mackie. Directed by Jonathan Alwyn

Martin Hewitt (Peter Barkworth) and Jonathan Pryde (Ronald Hines) have a new contract. They’ve been retained by the City Guarantee Society, an insurance company who guarantee the integrity of bank employees. So in the case of fraud or theft, the City Guarantee Society are naturally keen for the culprit to be apprehended as quickly as possible. And so are Hewitt and Pryde (they earn no fee, but collect a percentage of the monies recovered).

The case of a junior bank clerk called Laker seems to be open and shut. Laker is a walk-clerk, responsible for collecting money from various banks during his round and then returning it to his own bank – Messrs Liddle, Neal & Liddle. But after collecting fifteen thousand pounds, he disappears.

His fiance, Emily Shaw (Jane Lapotaire), remains convinced of his innocence and she begs Hewitt to help her. When the evidence of his guilt starts to pile up, even she starts to doubt him. But Hewitt wonders if some of the trail is just a little obvious – it’s almost as if he wanted to be tracked. Emily tells Hewitt that Laker is a clever man, so why has he acted in such a careless way, throwing clues about?

The Case of Laker, Absconded was the third and final Martin Hewitt story by Arthur Morrison to be adapted for the first series of The Rivals of Sherlock Holmes. The original story appeared in The Chronicles of Martin Hewitt, published in 1895, and it can be read here.

Jonathan Pryde, the Hewitt substitute from The Case of the Dixon Torpedo appears briefly, but this is very much Hewitt’s case. He spends the majority of the episode in the company of Emily Shaw and together they attempt to prove or disprove Laker’s guilt. Barkworth is his usual solid self and Jane Lapotaire impresses as a woman who remains unswervingly devoted to her finance – even though all the evidence suggests that’s he’s jilted her and run away to the continent with a horde of stolen money.

There’s two possible solutions to the story and it quickly becomes clear which is the more likely. So this isn’t a complex or surprising tale – instead the enjoyment comes from the lead performances of Barkworth and Lapotaire, as well as some of the supporting cast.

Chief amongst these are Leslie Dwyer and Toke Townley as two lost property men at the local railway station. Laker’s lost umbrella (which Hewitt recovers) is a minor plot point, but the main pleasure in these scenes is the comic timing of Dwyer and Townley.

Toke Townley isn’t the only connection to Emmerdale (he played Sam Pearson from 1972 to 1984) as Mr Wilks himself, Arthur Pentelow, appears as Inspector Plummer. Like many of the other policemen in the series, he’s always a couple of steps behind the private detective but Plummer doesn’t seem to mind – especially since with Hewitt’s help he manages to round up a dangerous gang of crooks.

The Case of Laker, Absconded brought the first series of The Rivals to a close. Overall, it was a very consistent run of episodes with some strong central performances from the various detectives. The series would return for a second, and final, series – which promised new detectives and more baffling cases for them to solve.

The Rivals of Sherlock Holmes – The Ripening Rubies

January 19, 2015June 8, 2016 archivetvmusings ITV Drama - 1970's robert lang, the rivals of sherlock holmes

Robert Lang as Bernard Sutton in The Ripening Rubies by Max Pemberton
Adapted by Anthony Skene. Directed by Alan Cooke

When an ex-con called Jaffe (Ron Pember) attempts to sell a valuable ruby necklace, he makes the mistake of taking it to Bernard Sutton (Robert Lang). Sutton was the jeweler who made the necklace in the first place and he’s well aware that it was recently stolen from Lady Faber (Lally Bowers).

Jaffe insists he didn’t steal the necklace – he bought it from a Dutch sea captain with a wooden leg. It seems an implausible story, but that’s only part of the problem. London society has been gripped by a wave of jewel robberies recently – and this is the first piece to have been recovered.

Sutton returns it to Lady Faber and she insists that he attend the grand ball she’s throwing that evening. Everybody who is is anybody in polite society will be there – and it seems certain that the thief will strike again. Sutton tries to demur, insisting that he’s a jeweler and not a detective, but Lady Faber is used to having her own way and reluctantly Sutton agrees.

The Ripening Rubies was written by Max Pemberton and was one of ten short stories featuring Bernard Sutton that were published in the book Jewel Mysteries: From a Dealer’s Notebook in 1894. It can be read here.

As Sutton says, he’s not a detective and can’t claim to have any special knowledge of crime or criminals. However, in Pemberton’s short story of The Ripening Rubies he does explain a little about what motivates him.

I have said often, in jotting down from my book a few of the most interesting cases which have come to my notice, that I am no detective, nor do I pretend to the smallest gift of foresight above my fellow man. Whenever I have busied myself about some trouble it has been from a personal motive which drove me on, or in the hope of serving some one who henceforth should serve me. And never have I brought to my aid other weapon than a certain measure of common sense. In many instances the purest good chance has given to me my only clue; the merest accident has set me straight when a hundred roads lay before me.

Robert Lang gives a steadfast performance as Sutton. He’s quite prepared to pull a gun on Jaffe to stop him leaving his shop and at the end of the story he confronts the gang with steely determination. It’s interesting that Inspector Illingworth (Windsor Davies) seems to suspect that Sutton himself has a hand in the robberies. Given some of the corrupt detectives we’ve seen in the series, that wouldn’t have come as a surprise – but Sutton proves to be totally honest.

Since the identity of the villains isn’t much of a shock, it’s fair to say that the majority of the pleasure in this one comes from the journey, rather than the destination. Lally Bowers is good fun as the autocratic Lady Faber and Richard Hurndall is his usual dependable self as Lord Faber.

Moira Redmond as the charming Mrs Kavanagh catches Sutton’s eye at the party. She has an impressive collection of jewels, which Sutton takes a keen interest in, and her witty byplay helps to keep up the momentum in the middle of the story. She’s not all she seems though – and events come to a head to provide a suitably dramatic finale.

There’s a terrible use of CSO right at the start (the background behind Sutton’s shop is CSO, but it stays static as the camera zooms in on the real shopfront – it’s astonishingly inept) but that apart, this is a pretty decent story with Robert Lang and Moria Redmond both on top form.

Next Episode – The Case of Laker, Absconded

The Wheeltappers and Shunters Social Club – 13th April 1974

January 18, 2015April 11, 2016 archivetvmusings ITV Comedy - 1970's the wheeltappers and shunters social club

Tonight’s Turns:

Ukranian Cossack Brotherhood
Lambert and Ross
Barbara Law
La Vivas
Freddie Garrity
Tessie O’Shea

Wheeltappers is a fascinating series for several reasons. Although the club was a studio mock-up, by all accounts it’s a pretty accurate recreation of a typical club of the era – and therefore it gives a good impression of the sort of environment that the majority of the Wheeltappers acts would regularly perform in.

Many up-and-coming performers honed their skills in clubs like these, appearing on the bill alongside popular acts from the 1960’s (like, for example, Roy Orbison), who found success harder to come by in the 1970’s and were therefore happy to find regular employment in the numerous clubs dotted up and down the country.

I can’t put my hand on my heart and claim that everything in the Wheeltappers is good, but there’s certainly some gold there. Alas, there’s plenty of god-awful singers and unfunny comedians as well – but for those hardy souls prepared to sift through the series, there’s quite a few nuggets of interest.

And for those who lack the stamina to watch it all, and because Network rather annoyingly don’t list the performers on the DVD sleeves, I’ve decided on this rewatch to put an artist listing on each entry, as well as highlighting those acts who are worth seeing (or are best avoided).

The Ukranian Cossack Brotherhood were quite good fun, although I’m not sure whether they were actually Ukranian or not – seems a long way to come just to appear on the Wheeltappers. Their performance is particularly impressive considering the small stage they have to perform on – one false move and they’d be sitting in somebody’s lap!

Lambert and Ross were certainly no Morecambe and Wise – or even Little and Large. Their’ USP seemed to be that one (Ross) was camp and one (Lambert) wasn’t. Sample gag: “We could appear in a film. What film? Ben Hur, I’ll play Ben. And I’ll play Her”. Although there’s little evidence of it here, Willie Ross would go on to have a successful career in television, on the stage and in films such as Rita, Sue and Bob Too, Riff Raff and The Cook, The Thief, His Wife and Her Lover, before his death in 2000.

Barbara Law belts out her song quite well. It’s worth watching the man directly behind her at the start – was he a plant or was he genuinely that drunk? La Vivas indulge in some knife-throwing, roping in a lady from the audience and Bernard for good measure.

Freddie Garrity has plenty of energy – that’s for sure. The former lead-singer of Freddie and the Dreamers would return to the Wheeltappers in the future and he’d be even more deranged – so this performance, by his standards, is fairly restrained.

Headliner Tessie O’Shea was something of an entertainment legend. Born in Cardiff in 1913, she was a popular music-hall act during the 1930’s – 1950’s and she’d go on to pick up a Tony award in 1963 for her appearance in Noel Coward’s musical The Girl Who Came to Supper. Another notable American appearance was on the Ed Sullivan Show in 1964, where she shared the bill with a young up-and-coming beat combo from England called the Beatles.

On the Wheeltappers she plays a paper bag and invites the audience to join her in a good old fashioned sing-along. It’s the sort of thing that we’ll see a lot of at the Wheeltappers (the sing-along that is, not playing with a paper bag).