Month: April 2015

Cadfael – One Corpse Too Many

archivetvmusings ITV Drama - 1990's ,

corpse

Between 1977 and 1994, Edith Pargeter (writing as Ellis Peters) penned twenty novels featuring the Crusader turned Benedictine monk Brother Cadfael. The Cadfael novels were set during the early part of the 12th Century, a period when England was divided by a bitter civil war fought between the Empress Maud and King Stephen.

Whilst the Cadfael Chronicles didn’t invent the historical genre of detective fiction (Peter Lovesey’s Victorian detective Sergeant Cribb, for example, first appeared in 1970) it’s fair to say that Peters’ books encouraged other writers to try their hand with historical detectives and the last thirty years have seen something of a boom in this genre.

The character of Cadfael himself is undoubtedly one of the reasons for the continuing appeal of Peters’ novels. When we first meet him, he’s a man in his early sixties and is obviously someone who’s lived a full and rich life before deciding that the world of the cloister was for him. Prior to this, he had been both soldier and sailor, fighting in the Holy Land.

His knowledge of the outside world tends to give him a broader outlook than many of his brothers (some of whom have little knowledge of life outside of the cloister) and his independent spirit tends to bring him in conflict with Prior Robert (as well as his obsequious shadow, Brother Jerome).

With such rich source material, it was inevitable that radio and television adaptations would follow. On radio, Cadfael has been portrayed by both Glyn Houston and Philip Madoc, whilst thirteen of the novels were adapted for the Carlton series, broadcast between 1994 – 1998, which starred Derek Jacobi.

For lovers of the original novels, the Carlton series can be a frustrating watch at times. Some stories are more faithful to the original source material than others, but it’s true that all of them lose out somewhat in the transfer from the printed page to the screen. Partly, this is unavoidable, as one of Ellis Peters’ strengths was her deft descriptive ability.

It’s hard to replicate her atmospheric prose style on screen (the radio adaptations retained it with the use of a narrator) so this ensures that all the television versions lack a little something. Also, Peters herself never made the claim that she was the greatest whodunnit writer – and after you’ve read a few of her stories, a pattern becomes obvious.

Most of them feature a young man and woman who meet and fall in love – but we see that their potential union is threatened (usually because the man is either suspected of the murder or is being hunted by the authorities for some other reason). You can tell that Peters was always kindly disposed towards them and eventually Cadfael is able to unmask the true murderer and see the pair off to safety. Other crime-writers (like Agatha Christie) would have been far more ruthless and nobody could be ruled out as a suspect (even the young lovers).

So if the mysteries aren’t always the strongest and the Carlton series could never hope to replicate the atmosphere of the novels, it was therefore essential to cast a strong actor in the role of Cadfael. Derek Jacobi, of course, fits the bill nicely. He’s never less than totally compelling and his commitment to the part is clear.

One Corpse Too Many was the second Cadfael novel, but it was the first set in Shrewsbury and also the first to feature Hugh Beringar, so it was an obvious choice to launch the series with. The first six minutes or so are rather stilted, but when Cadfael makes his first appearance things pick up instantly.

It’s a very efficient introduction for the character, as it clearly demonstrates exactly who he is, who he was and what he stands for. Cadfael is castigated by Prior Robert (Michael Culver) and Brother Jerome (Julian Firth) for his late attendance at Vespers. Cadfael explains that the Abbot gave him leave, as he was tending the sick. For Robert, devotions come first and the secular world is a very distant second. Cadfael has completely the opposite view – whilst he accepts his duties as a Benedictine monk, he also considers they have an equal duty to the world at large. This difference of opinion will drive much of the tension between Cadfael and Robert for the rest of the series.

Immediately after, we see Cadfael disarm a solider who had been attacking an unarmed man. It’s a moment invented for the series, but it works well as another shorthand moment to demonstrate that Cadfael is not only a man who will stand up for the underdog, but he also has the skills to do it.

The success of Inspector Morse in 1987 had an impact on all ITV crime series that followed in its wake. Before it aired, the two-hour (100 minutes excluding adverts) slot was seen as a risk. Until then, drama had tended to be broadcast in a one-hour (50 minutes excluding adverts) slots. Morse proved that audiences would stay with a two-hour drama if it was good enough, and many series that followed (the revived Van Der Valk, A Touch of Frost, etc) followed suit.

Cadfael had a ninety minute slot (75 minutes excluding adverts). This was quite unusual and it’s something of a comprise, I think. Had the novels been compressed to 50 minutes then far too much would have been lost, but there seems to have been concerns that 100 minutes would have stretched the material too far. One Corpse Too Many manages to be a reasonably faithful adaptation, but for those familiar with the leisurely original novel, it does tend to move at a breakneck speed.

The story opens with the aftermath of the siege of Shrewsbury. The town had declared its loyalty for the Empress Maud, but King Stephen’s forces were too strong and afterwards the King is totally ruthless – calling for all the rebels at the castle to be hanged.

Cadfael and the other brothers are given the grim task of preparing the ninety-four hanged men for burial. But as he counts the bodies he becomes perplexed – there are ninety-five and one of the corpses was clearly not hanged. He appears to have been killed and then placed with the others in the hope that nobody would spot the extra body. But Cadfael does, and he’s intent on bringing the murderer to justice.

One of the less successful parts of this adaptation is the introduction of Godric, who’s a young lad brought to help Cadfael. This isn’t really the fault of the programme though, as it’s plainly obvious that Godric isn’t a lad at all – she’s actually Godith (Juliette Caton), daughter of the rebel Fulke Adeney. In the book, Godric’s deception lasts a little longer (although not much) but here, Cadfael unmasks her instantly.  Characteristically, Cadfael doesn’t give her away – he has no allegiance to either Maud or Stephen, as he answers to a higher authority.

There seems to be a lot of dubbing in this story. Juliette Caton appears to be dubbed throughout as does Maggie O’Neill as Aline Siward. It’s possible to accept that smaller parts (such as the boy who appears at the end) might have been played by played by local actors (the series was shot in Budapest) who were then dubbed at a later date, but it’s hard to understand why some naturally-speaking English actors were dubbed. It’s a little distracting, especially when the two of them share a brief scene!

One Corpse Too Many is the only television story in which Aline Siward appears. She’s another casualty of the streamlining process – in the books she marries Hugh Beringar following the conclusion of the adventure and the pair become Cadfael’s close friends. Here, she vanishes, never to be seen again.

But Hugh Beringar does turn out to be a close ally of Cadfael’s in the years ahead, although to begin with he appears to be an enemy. Sean Pertwee played Beringar during series one (he was unavailable for the second series, so the role was recast). It’s a pity that he didn’t remain as there’s a nice rapport between him and Jacobi. The opening story puts Hugh in the middle of the action – he’s hunting for the treasure which was spirited away by the rebels (and Cadfael fears he’s also hunting for Godith). But Cadfael comprehensively outwits him and Beringar admits, without rancour, that he’s been bested (although it’s a pity that we don’t see him burst out with laughter when he realises that what he believes to be the bag of treasure contains nothing but rocks, as per the novel).

Although the story sometimes suffers from having to fit into the 75 minute format, it’s still a decent enough adaptation which benefits enormously from Derek Jacobi’s performance as the wise and wily ex-warrior monk.

Juliette Caton
Derek Jacobi
Derek Jacobi & Sean Pertwee
Juliette Caton
Sean Pertwee & Maggie O’Neill
Sean Pertwee & Derek Jacobi

Douglas Wilmer in Sherlock Holmes – The Retired Colourman

archivetvmusings BBC Drama - 1960's , , , ,

retired

Watson briefly meets Holmes’ latest client, Josiah Amberley (Maurice Denham), on the stairs.  When Holmes asks what opinion he formed of the man, Watson confesses he found him to be “a pathetic, futile, broken creature.”

Holmes agrees, but Amberley certainly seems to have cause for distress.  His wife has disappeared, along with Dr Ray Ernest (a friend of both of them).  Also, his strong-box has been forced and a considerable amount of cash and securities taken.  Can Holmes locate the pair as well as Amberley’s missing money?  Naturally, he can.  But the solution to the mystery isn’t quite as straightforward as it initially seems.

The Retired Colourman was one of the final Sherlock Holmes stories, originally published in 1926.  Given that it’s a very decent mystery, it’s surprising that this was the only time it was adapted for the screen.

With Holmes otherwise engaged, it falls to Watson to begin the investigation.  And this means that the story is a lovely vehicle for Nigel Stock’s Watson.  His performance in the series has, it’s fair to say, attracted some criticism over the years.  He’s not quite in the Nigel Bruce buffoon category, but neither is he as competent as the Granada Watsons.

Stock’s Watson is honest, loyal and totally unimaginative.  Yes, the series does delight in showing him to be several steps behind Holmes at all times, but if you closely read the original stories that’s a perfectly valid interpretation.  For example, in this story Holmes is very blunt when he tells Watson that his initial enquiries have missed almost everything of importance (this is taken directly from Conan-Doyle’s original story).

He’s paired up for most of the duration with Maurice Denham’s Amberley.  Denham, as expected, gives a fine performance and there’s something very entertaining about the combination of the relentlessly cheerful Watson and the doom-laden Amberley.

Holmes is rather cruel to Watson – as he sends him and Amberley off on a wild-goose chase so that he can do a spot of burglary at Amberley’s house.  Indeed, Holmes sends them so far afield that Watson and Amberley have to spend the night in a rather uncomfortable country hotel.  In the original story Watson speaks to Holmes on the phone, but here Holmes dictates a telegram to his unfortunate colleague.  The result is the same though and it’s clear from the expressions on the faces of Holmes and Mrs Hudson (making a rare appearance in the Wilmer series) that they have little pity for poor Watson, trapped at a hotel at Frinton with the unpleasant Amberley!

Denham and Stock are the chief reasons why this one is very watchable.  It’s true that there are a few plot-holes (particularly why Amberley decided to consult Holmes in the first place) but these are problems with Conan-Doyle’s story and Jan Read’s dramatisation is content to faithfully adapt the original material.  A generous amount of location filming helps to open the story out (some of the other studio-bound ones do tend to feel a little claustrophobic).

An interesting adaption of one of the “lesser” stories from the canon.

Douglas Wilmer in Sherlock Holmes – Charles Augustus Milverton

archivetvmusings BBC Drama - 1960's , , ,

charles

Lady Eva Brackwell (Penelope Horner) has become the latest victim of master blackmailer Charles Augustus Milverton.  Milverton has acquired a bundle of rather indiscreet letters that she wrote to a young army captain.  If they fall into the hands of her intended husband,is the preferavle version.the Earl of Dovercourt, then there’s little doubt that their forthcoming marriage would be in serious jeopardy.

Holmes agrees to act for Lady Eva, but when Milverton holds all the cards, what can he possibly do?

Charles Augustus Milverton was originally published in 1904.  It’s a rather interesting story, mainly because Holmes doesn’t provide any resolution to the tale – a third party does – and therefore he needn’t have appeared at all.  Plot-wise, it strongly resembles A Scandal in Bohemia (both revolve around an incriminating item, which Holmes decides to retrieve via burglary).

Barry Jones’ Milverton isn’t demonstratively villainous.  Since he knows that his position is unassailable, he’s able to project a relaxed persona (although there’s little doubt of the evil that lurks beneath).  Holmes is well aware just how formidable a foe he is, as he tells Lady Eva.  “You have fallen into the hands of a very dangerous man. Charles Augustus Milverton is far from commonplace. In fact, one may safely call him the king of blackmailers. There are hundreds in this great city who turn white at his name.”

Holmes quickly discovers that Milverton can’t be threatened or intimidated and he won’t negotiate.  His price is seven thousand guinees – no more, no less.  When Holmes tells him that surely it’s better to accept a smaller amount than to expose Lady Eva for no personal gain, Milverton replies that it would suit his purposes very well.  If it become known that he had ruined Lady Eva, then his other victims would be all the more anxious to settle.  Penelope Horner’s Lady Eva is the nominal central figure, but it’s Lady Farningham (Stephanie Bidmead) who brings the story to its conclusion.  She had previously suffered at Milverton’s hands and we see her return to exact a measure of revenge.

If the main plot is quite linear, there’s a great deal of incidental business (mostly centered around Holmes and Watson) which make this one very enjoyable.  Nigel Stock is on fine form from the start – he’s disgusted with Milverton’s treatment of Lady Eva (indignantly calling him “a blackguard”) and later picks up a chair to attack him!

When Holmes decides that the only course of action is to burgle Milverton’s house, Watson insists on coming with him – despite Holmes’ protests.  Eventually Holmes agrees and tells him that “we have shared the same rooms for a number of years, my dear fellow. I suppose it might be amusing if we ended up by sharing the same cell.”

Wilmer has some lovely comic business when he’s disguised as a plumber who’s been courting Milverton’s maid (he later tells a shocked Watson that he’s become engaged to the girl) .  The pair enjoy a kiss and it’s obvious how discomforted Holmes is.  He gingerly places his hands on the girl and then shortly afterwards attempts to break free of her tight embrace.  Once they’ve finished, his first thought is to check that his false moustache is still in place!

The Granada adaptation was extended to two hours (and was broadcast under the name of The Master Blackmailer).  It kept the same basic plot as the original short story,  but the two hour running length ensured that a great deal of additional material had to be added.  This means that the Wilmer adaptation does bear more direct resemblance to Conan-Doyle’s original and so, for me, is the preferable one.

Douglas Wilmer in Sherlock Holmes – The Bruce-Partington Plans

archivetvmusings BBC Drama - 1960's , , ,

bruce

Holmes’ brother Mycroft (Derek Francis) is a man of regular habits. Nothing (except the gravest crisis) would make him deviate from his normal schedule.  So when he turns up at Baker Street, with Inspector Lestrade in tow, Holmes knows it’s serious.

But his brother’s arrival is just what Holmes needs, as prior to this he had bitterly complained to Watson about how dull the London criminal had become. Now, Mycroft offers him an intriguing case of the most pressing urgency.

A clerk from the Royal Woolwich Arsenal, Arthur Cadogan West, has been found dead on the Underground tracks near Aldgate tube station. On his body were several documents relating to the top secret Bruce-Partington submarine. Several more vital documents about the submarine are missing and Mycroft urges Holmes to use all of his powers to track them down.  It seems obvious that Cadogan West stole the plans and had intended to sell them to the highest bidder. But as we’ve seen in previous stories, the truth is sometimes not quite so straightforward ….

The Bruce-Partington Plans was originally published in 1908.  It featured the second and final appearance of Mycroft Holmes. He first turned up in The Greek Interpreter, which was adapted for the second series of Sherlock Holmes (starring Peter Cushing).  Sadly, that episode is missing.

We’re slightly more lucky with this one, as the first half of the story exists (and there’s an audio copy of the second half).  For this DVD, the audio for the missing half has been nicely cleaned up and is synchronised to a reproduction of the script (with images of the cast in the background).

This works pretty well, although since the soundtrack is so clear it probably wasn’t necessary to have the script on-screen at the same time as the audio.  Instead, a decent reconstruction could have been made with images taken from the first half, along with on-screen descriptions for any visual sequences.  But while the script is sometimes distracting (mainly because it often varies from the actual dialogue spoken) it still clearly allows the viewer to understand how the story concludes.  It’s also interesting that the soundtrack for the existing half of the story doesn’t seem to be in the greatest shape – at various points the odd word is inaudible.

But although the ravages of time have rather compromised this story, what remains is very decent fare.  Derek Francis is a rather good Mycroft and though this story doesn’t have the same sort of one-upmanship that The Greek Interpreter did, there’s still some nice moments between the brothers (mainly visual ones).  For example, when Holmes offers Mycroft a seat, Mycroft promptly takes Holmes’ own – much to Holmes’ annoyance (and Watson’s amusement!).  Later we see Mycoft very freely use Holmes’ tobacco – and again there’s a slight flicker of annoyance from Sherlock.

An effective piece of model-work (a rather nice train!) and a smoky studio set help to bring the railway section of the story alive in the first half of the story and, as ever, The Bruce-Partington Plans boasts the usual quality cast (even in the smaller roles).

John Woodnutt (a highly familiar face during four decades or more of British film and television) is the station-master, whilst Gordon Gostelow (again, another very well-known actor) plays Sydney Johnson, Cadogan West’s superior.  Allan Cutherbertson, whose lengthy career included a visit to Fawlty Towers as well as a stint acting as Tommy Cooper’s straight-man, was no stranger to dramatic parts – and he’s well-cast as Colonel Valentine Walter.  It’s a pity that his more intense scenes come at the end of the story, when we don’t have the visuals.

As we’ve previously seen, Wilmer’s Holmes can be incredibly rude and off-hand at times.  His dismissal of Lestrade early in the story is a case in point and Stock’s Watson covers well for him – Holmes is clearly a man for whom social niceties count for very little.  But although he can be chilling at times, he’s also able to extend a degree of courtesy – witness his interview with Cadogan West’s fiance Violet Westbury (Sandra Payne).  Violet was convinced that her late fiance was innocent and though Holmes couldn’t hide his irritation when he realised she had little useful to tell him, he was still able to reassure her that he would do everything he could to restore Cadogan West’s honour.

Few actors have ever quite managed to capture all the nuances of Holmes’ character quite as well as Douglas Wilmer did – and he’s a major reason why this series should continue to be enjoyed by anybody who loves the original Sherlock Holmes stories.

Douglas Wilmer in Sherlock Holmes – The Beryl Coronet

archivetvmusings BBC Drama - 1960's , , , ,

beryl

Alexander Holder (Leonard Sachs) is a well-respected city banker.  Early one evening he is visited by a prominent member of society who urgently needs £50,000.  Holder is happy to advance the money, especially when he’s given the Beryl Coronet as collateral.  Holder shows it to his son and niece and though he admits it’s not quite the Crown Jewels, it’s certainly highly impressive – and is worth at least double the amount he’s advanced.

Holder’s son, Arthur (Richard Carpenter), is worried about such a valuable item residing overnight in their house, but he also has concerns of his own.  Although he’s an amiable sort, Arthur is a gambler and owes a considerable sum.  He asks his father for several hundred pounds, but Holder refuses – he’s tired of settling his son’s gambling debts.

In the middle of the night, Holder is awoken and comes downstairs to find the coronet in the hands of his son.  He is appalled to find that the crown is broken and three beryls are missing.  Arthur offers no defence and is arrested.  Although an intensive search is carried out, there’s no trace of the missing jewels.  It seems to be a simple case and Arthur’s guilt appears to be obvious, but Holmes is never prepared to take anything at face value.

The Beryl Coronet was one of the earliest Sherlock Holmes short stories (originally published in the Strand Magazine in 1892).  Since it was never adapted for the Granada series, the Douglas Wilmer version is quite noteworthy, as it’s the only sound version of the story (it was twice adapted for the silent screen, in 1912 and 1921).

Although Wilmer and Stock don’t enter the story until the 17th minute, it’s still a lovely vehicle for both of them.  Wilmer’s Holmes is rather enigmatic in this one – until he reveals the true solution to Holder at the end, he’s not prepared to share any of his theories.  This, of course, helps to sustain the mystery, which is no bad thing.  Holmes also gets to don a disguise (which totally fools Watson!)

The story boasts a strong supporting cast.  Leonard Sachs (best known for The Good Old Days) is the unfortunate Holder, whilst Richard Carpenter is his son, Arthur.  Carpenter was a decent actor, but it’s his later career as a writer that he’ll undoubtedly be best remembered for.  Amongst his many writing credits were the well-remembered Look and Read serial The Boy From Space, Catweazle, The Ghosts of Motley Hall, Dick Turpin and the best television adaptation of the Robin Hood legend – Robin of Sherwood. He’s very appealing as the unfortunate Arthur, who’s regarded by everybody (except Holmes and Watson) as clearly guilty.  Another noteworthy appearance comes from David Burke as the devious Sir George.  Burke would later play Watson opposite Jeremy Brett’s Holmes during the first two series of the Granada run.

The Beryl Coronet possibly wasn’t the most obvious story to adapt, but I’m glad they did – especially since nobody else had done so since 1921!  Wilmer continues to dominate the screen and it’s easy to see why, for so many people, he’s regarded as the archetypical Holmes.

Douglas Wilmer in Sherlock Holmes – The Man with the Twisted Lip

archivetvmusings BBC Drama - 1960's , , , ,

twisted

Mrs St. Clair (Anna Cropper) has travelled to London to conduct some business.  On her way back to the train station, she passes through Upper Swandam Lane (home to a notorious opium den).  Mrs St. Clair is astonished to see her husband briefly at the upper window of this disreputable place – but a second later he vanishes (as if pulled back by some unseen hand).

Neville St. Clair is a respected journalist who would have no reason to visit such a dive – unless he was a secret opium addict.  When Mrs St. Clair returns with the police they find no trace of her husband, although in the upstairs room they do discover a box of children’s blocks.  Mrs St. Clair collapses, as her husband told her he planned to buy such a toy for one of their children that very day.  Mr St. Clair’s clothes are also discovered.

All the evidence suggests that a well-known beggar, Hugh Boone (Anton Rodgers), was with Mr St. Clair when he was spotted by his wife.  Boone is quickly picked up by the police, but he’s saying nothing.  Holmes is convinced that Boone holds the key to Neville St. Clair’s disappearance – which he does, although Holmes’ solution is a most unexpected one.

The Man with the Twisted Lip was one of the original batch of Sherlock Holmes short stories, published in the Strand Magazine in December 1891.  Jan Read’s dramatisation is pretty faithful to the source material, but it’s a pity that the original, striking, opening wasn’t used.  In Doyle’s story, Watson travels to the opium den to extract a friend of his, Isa Whitney, who has fallen under the thrall of the drug.  When he’s leading his friend outside, he’s accosted by an old man (who turns out to be Holmes in disguise).  Holmes then explains that he’s investigating the disappearance of Neville St. Clair.  In Read’s adaptation, Watson does discover a disguised Holmes, but it sits rather uneasily in the middle of the story (where it makes less sense).

Although his screen-time is quite limited, Anton Rodgers is very effective as the disfigured beggar, Hugh Boone.  Anna Cropper, as Mrs St. Clair, is the latest stoic beauty to turn to Holmes for help.  A sign that retakes were only undertaken in the gravest circumstances is demonstrated by the scene where Mrs St. Clair visits Baker Street.  After lifting the veil from her hat, it falls down again and she simply has to push it back up and carry on.

Given the small pool of ethnic actors working in the UK during the period, it was very common to see British actors playing characters of every nationality.  Here we see Olaf Pooley (as the villainous Lascar) browned up.  To modern eyes it may seem strange, but it wasn’t an unusual occurrence at the time.

The Man with the Twisted Lip benefits from some atmospheric location filming in the East End.  The story could have been shot entirely in the studio, but the real locations certainly add something to the end product.  Within a few years redevelopment would have changed the locations beyond all recognition, so they were used at just the right time.

The first story of the series to be made (it was recorded in September 1964) it’s a very efficient production.  Given that the majority of the stories adapted for this series were later also adapted for the Granada series, it’s difficult to avoid comparing the two.  It’s slightly unfair though, since the Granada series had a much larger budget and therefore it would always score highly, particularly in a visual sense.  But whilst the Wilmer series has more modest production values, it can certainly hold its own performance wise, and in the end it’s the performances that really matter.

Douglas Wilmer in Sherlock Holmes – The Six Napoleons

archivetvmusings BBC Drama - 1960's , , ,

six

Inspector Lestrade (Peter Madden) pays a visit to Baker Street and recounts a strange tale to Holmes and Watson.  Someone in London seems to have such a hatred of the late Emperor Napoleon that they’ve taken to smashing miniature busts of him.  What’s even odder is that they’ve resorted to burglary to do so.

Dr Barnicot (James Bree) is a collector of Napoleonic memorabilia, and he’s disturbed to find both his office and house have been burgled and in each case a bust of Napoleon has been smashed to smithereens.  When another burglary takes place, at the home of a journalist called Horace Harker (Donald Hewitt), Harker not only finds his statue smashed, but a dead body as well …..

Like The Abbey Grange, The Six Napoleons was one of the stories published after Holmes’ return from his tussle with Moriarty at the Reichenbach Falls (later collected in the volume entitled The Return of Sherlock Holmes).

The farcical side of the story is emphasied in Giles Cooper’s adaptation.  Bree’s Dr Barnicot is a character who’s certainly played for laughs – he’s depicted as a highly eccentric devotee of Napoleon who advances three theories (all of them bizarre) to Holmes, Watson and Lestrade in order to explain who could have committed such an outrage.

Wilmer, Stock and Madden have little to do in Bree’s scene – but Wilmer especially is a joy to watch as he rolls his eyes at Barnicot’s wild flights of fancy and beats a hasty retreat as soon as he politely can.  When Barnicot is alone again, he takes out a Napoleonic hat and, after putting his arm inside his jacket, strikes a suitably heroic pose by the mirror.  You get the feeling that he does this a great deal!  James Bree was certainly an idiosyncratic actor, capable of performances of depth and subtlety (series one of Secret Army) as well as turns which verged on the bizarre and unwatchable (the Doctor Who story, The War Games).  He’s quite odd here, but since he plays it as scripted and only has a small cameo appearance, it’s quite acceptable.  Had he appeared throughout, it might have been quite wearying though.

The opening of the next scene is nice – Watson is striking a Napoleonic pose back at Baker Street, to the amusement of Holmes and Lestrade.  It’s only a little throwaway moment, possibly worked out in rehearsal, but it does help to reinforce the bond of friendship between them.  Since Wilmer’s Holmes tends to be quite serious, the odd lighter moment is welcome.

The Six Napoleons sees the first appearance of Peter Madden as Lestrade.  Characteristically, Wilmer’s Holmes doesn’t pretend to be particularly pleased to see him at the start of the story – he offers him a chair with the air of a man who’d be equally happy if he left straightaway.  But as soon as he piques Holmes’ interest, the Great Detective is clearly much more kindly disposed to him!

It’s a studio-bound production, but director Gareth Davies does manage to make the most of the limited space and he offers the viewer a few good flourishes.  My favourite is the scene set immediately after the burglary at Harker’s house.  The camera tracks past a number of statues, as well as a policeman standing so immobile that he could be mistaken for a statue.  Which is almost what Watson does, as we see him walk down the line, identifying each statue to Holmes – before giving a double-take as he reaches the policeman.

Elsewhere, the limitations of the studio environment are more apparent.  There’s a brief scene set in the garden outside Harker’s house, which shows the sky to be a rather wrinkled backdrop.  Moving clouds are projected on it – had the backdrop not been so tatty it would have been quite effective.

The comic turns contunue throughout the story.  Later, Holmes finds himself caught in the middle of Josiah Brown and his wife (Arthur Hewlett and Betty Romaine) who are a rather voluble couple.  Wilmer’s pained expession is priceless.

Indeed, this is a story where the solution of the mystery is somewhat secondary to the performances.  Giles Cooper’s adaptation is good fun and certainly allows the cast plenty of scope to produce some ripe turns.

Douglas Wilmer in Sherlock Holmes – The Abbey Grange

archivetvmusings BBC Drama - 1960's , , ,

abbey

Holmes and Watson are summoned to the Abbey Grange by Inspector Hopkins (John Barcroft) to investigate the murder of Sir Eustace Brackenstall.  His wife, Lady Brackenstall (Nyree Dawn Porter), was also attacked, but only received superficial injuries.

Holmes is irritated to have been called out as the solution seems obvious.  The district has been plagued by the Randall gang (a father and two sons) who have committed several burglaries in the neighbourhood.  After listening to Lady Brackenstall’s story, there seems no doubt that the Randall gang were responsible for this outrage as well.

But on the way back to London, Holmes isn’t happy.  It’s only a small point which worries him (concerning three wine glasses) but it’s enough to make him return to the scene of the crime and look again at the evidence.

The Abbey Grange was originally published in 1904 (it was one of the stories published directly after Holmes’ remarkable return from the Reichenbach Falls).  Sadly, this is one of two episodes which are incomplete in the archives.  Each story was made up of two 25 minute reels – and in the case of The Abbey Grange the first reel is missing (for The Bruce Partington–Plans, the second reel has been lost).

The DVD has filled in the missing section in a novel way – with a reading by Douglas Wilmer.  Since the adaptation made a few changes to the original story, the text has also been slightly adjusted – but it’s basically the same as Conan-Doyle’s original.  This reading runs for around twenty minutes and works pretty well – although it might have been better to have reduced the text to a summary of around half the time.  But kudos to the BFI and Douglas Wilmer for making it happen, it’s certainly a nice bonus feature.

When we get to the existing section, it’s a chance to observe Holmes at his analytical best – puzzling over the three wine glasses and the severed end of the bell-rope.  His observations are enough to reveal the identity of the true murderer (which is something the police never discover).  As with several stories in the canon, Holmes elects to take the law into his own hands, calling on Watson to act as the jury.  Watson finds the man not guilty – so he’s allowed to go free.

The gorgeous Nyree Dawn Porter is effectively winsome as Lady Brackenstall, a woman who now finds herself freed from the clutches of a cruel and abusive husband.  Peter Jesson has the small (but important) part of Captain Croker, whilst Peggy Thorpe-Bates (later to be a formidable “She” opposite Leo McKern’s Rumpole) is Lady Brackenstall’s faithful maid.

With a large portion of the story missing, it’s difficult to assess how effective it is overall – but what we do have is impressive, and it works particularly well as a showcase for Wilmer’s Holmes.

Douglas Wilmer
Douglas Wilmer

Doctor Who – Rose

archivetvmusings BBC Drama - 2000's , , , ,

rose

It’s somewhat astonishing to think that ten years have elapsed since Rose was transmitted.  But then, as somebody once said, time is relative.  In many ways, it’s difficult to rewatch any Doctor Who story and not be aware of the place it holds in the history of the series (i.e. what came before it, what was to come later).

But for those new viewers tuning in on the 26th of March 2005, Russell T. Davies had written Rose in such a way that it was possible to have a clear grasp of the fundamental aims of the show without having seen any previous episodes.  He’d clearly learnt the lessons from the TVM nine years earlier (which was an uncomfortable continuity-fest in many ways).

For us old hands, there were plenty of nods to the series’ past (Autons breaking through shop windows!) but never at the cost of alienting the new audience.  Rose was therefore a clean slate – with no previous baggage.  Of course, over the next ten years, Doctor Who would start to load all of the baggage back on (as soon as the show was an established success.)

Whether this is a good or bad thing depends on your point of view.  There’s no denying, for example, that many people’s inner-fan was warmed by the return of Rassilon (and played by Timothy Dalton, no less) but too many returning elements from the series past will tend to stifle originality and creativity.  It’s often said that 1980’s Doctor Who was continuity-obsessed, but NuWho has been equally (if not more) guilty of the same crime.  But since NuWho is a ratings and critical success, it seems to be tolerated.

All this was in the future when Rose first aired.  Nobody knew how successful the series would be.  Many were convinced that the 2005 series would be the first and last of the revived show.  After all, Doctor Who (whilst it’s always maintained a small but vocal fandom) had been a critical punching-bag for the majority of time it had been on the air.  There had been good reviews from time to time (especially during the early Tom Baker years) but generally the show had acquired the air of a faded, shabby institution – tolerated at best, rather than loved by the BBC.  In its later years it still attracted love and affection from the fans – but more for what it had been, rather than what it was at the time.

The ratings success of Rose (9.9 million viewers) came as a surprise to many.  Of course, this was written off by some critics as simple curiosity – in the weeks to come, they said, the ratings would slide inexorably downwards.  But though there was the odd dip, usually during the weeks when the weather was at its best, the ratings held firm and the show was an undeniable hit.

Revisiting Rose after a number of years, it’s possible to see that it has many of the strengths (and the weaknesses) of NuWho in general.  It has a decent story (if a little vague in places) and it moves at a fast pace.  But this is part of the problem – as 45 minute stories will never allow for the same character development which the original series enjoyed.  Outside of the regulars, only Clive (Mark Benton) has any decent screen time – and his function is essentially to tell Rose (and the audience) exactly who the Doctor is.  NuWho would employ many fine guest actors, but the reduced running times of the stories tended to ensure that many were rather wasted.

Let’s rewind back to the start of the episode.  It hits the ground running and by the time we’re 120 seconds in, we have a good idea about Rose’s life.  She works in London (the big red buses are a giveaway!), lives with her mum, has a boyfriend and has a job in a department store.  Once these visual clues have been laid before us, the story proper can begin.

Rose is menaced by a collection of shop window dummies in the store’s basement and is rescued by a mysterious stranger.  He tells her that the dummies are living plastic and he intends to destroy their relay device on the roof.  Oh, and he introduces himself as the Doctor.

The Doctor does destroy the relay device (and most of the building as well).  It’s certainly a dramatic opening – although it begs the question as to whether the Doctor miscalculated the strength of the bomb or whether he simply didn’t care about the possible loss of life that might follow.

Christopher Eccleston was seen as a considerable casting coup, although the announcement (four days after the transmission of this episode) that he wouldn’t be returning for a second series did rather put a dampener on things.  He’s fine in this episode – not outstanding, just fine.  He never seemed totally at ease in the role – although this may be an inevitable consequence of knowing that his time in the role was already ticking away.

He does have some good moments though – the flat scene with Rose (where he’s in the background – examining his ears, fooling around with playing cards, etc) is nicely done as is the following scene which is clearly an important one, as it shows Rose beginning to understand who the Doctor is.  It starts with a long scene shot with no cuts (this lasts 1:20, which in modern television terms is an absolute age without a cut).

By this time, the idea that the Doctor has some connection to a small blue box has been made – although there’s still no assumption that the audience will know what it is or what it does.  That comes later, when it’s fully explained.

So now we’re 15 minutes in and the basics of the series have been established.  Mysterious plastic mannequins, a strange man who fights them (alone and without help) and a young shop-girl who’s been drawn inexorably into his orbit.  Although this is the second time that the Doctor’s left Rose behind, it’s inevitable that they’ll meet again – and already we’ve seen that they’ll make perfect travelling companions, as Rose appears to have little to keep her at home.  She obviously loves her mother (but is irritated by her at the same time) whilst her boyfriend is rather a dead loss.

This is one of the drawbacks of Rose.  It seems that the only way that Rose could be made such a strong character was by painting Mickey (Noel Clarke) as an ineffectual coward.  It really does him no favours at all, although later stories were able to redress the balance somewhat.

If the plot is gossamer thin (the Nestene Consciousness wishes to take over the world, because it can) it’s maybe inevitable this would happen, since establishing the main characters and the series format was the most important concern of story one.

In the end, it’s Rose that saves the day by rescuing the Doctor.  Did the Doctor actually need her help or was he subtly manipulating her?  It’s possible to view the scene in either way, but it’s true that once she has saved him, Rose feels more of a connection to the Doctor – which makes it more likely she’ll decide to accept his offer of travelling in the TARDIS.

Apat from the odd dodgy CGI effect, this has aged pretty well.  As the episode title suggests, Rose dominates and Billie Piper is pretty much perfect.  It’s a solid opener that didn’t attempt to be too ambitious and therefore gives the series a decent platform to build on.

Douglas Wilmer in Sherlock Holmes – The Red-Headed League

archivetvmusings BBC Drama - 1960's , , ,

red

Holmes is distracted from the pursuit of a daring young criminal called John Clay (David Andrews) by the arrival of Jabez Wilson (Toke Townley) who has a most curious tale to tell.

Wilson makes a decent, if not particularly profitable living, as a pawnbroker.  But then his young assistant Vincent Spaulding draws his attention to the following newspaper advertisement.

On account of the bequest of the late Ezekiah Hopkins, of Lebanon, Pennsylvania, U.S.A., there is now another vacancy open which entitles a member of the League to a salary of four pounds a week for purely nominal services. All red-headed men who are sound in body and mind and above the age of twenty-one years are eligible. Apply in person on Monday, at eleven o’clock, to Duncan Ross, at the offices of the League, 7 Pope’s Court, Fleet Street.

Wilson and Spaulding duly apply and Ross (Trevor Martin), most impressed with Wilson’s fiery red hair, offers him the position on the spot.  His duties are quite straightforward – each day he has to copy out pages from the Encyclopedia Britannica.  But he has to remain within the offices of the League the whole time (if he leaves for any reason, then he forfeits his position).  Spaulding tells him that he’d be happy to run the shop whilst Wilson is working at the League, so all seems well.

For a while, everything is ticks along nicely.  But then, without warning, Wilson arrives one day to find that the office is shut and nobody else in the building has ever heard of the Red-Headed League.  Was it all just an elaborate practical joke or is there a more sinister purpose at play?

The Red-Headed League (originally published in 1892) is one of my favourite Sherlock Holmes stories, although I do find this adaption to be a little flat.  This is partially because it’s a tale that works better on the printed page than on the screen, but there are other problems.  The story rests on the notion that Jabez Wilson has such a head of fiery red hair that Duncan Ross, once he sees him, instantly sends all the other applicants away.  It’s difficult to show this in black and white though!

The major difference between Anthony Read’s teleplay and Conan Doyle’s original is that in Read’s version we know about John Clay from the start, whereas in the Doyle original we open with Wilson’s strange story and it’s only much later that Holmes realises that Clay is involved.  I’m not sure whether Read’s embellishment is an improvement or not, but it helps to bulk out the running time somewhat.

Toke Townley (best known as Sam Pearson from Emmerdale Farm) doesn’t look much like Doyle’s description of Wilson (he described him as a stout, florid-faced elderly gentleman) but he has decent comic timing and is quite a sympathetic character.  Although Carla Challoner (as Wilson’s maid) only has a small role, she’s rather striking and coincidentally one of her other 1965 television appearances (as Zenna Peters in the Out of the Unknown episode Thirteen to Centaurus) has also recently released by the BFI and is well worth a look.

The other notable guest turn comes from David Andrews as Vincent Spaulding/John Clay. He had an interesting career, and had begun to make the change from an actor to a director at around this time. Along with Trevor Martin, Andrews discusses this and numerous other matters on a chatty commentary track moderated by Toby Hadoke.

This is a wholly studio-bound production which is competently handled by Peter Duguid, although the opening scene does have some quick cuts which maybe don’t quite work as well as they should.  Whilst this episode has a certain charm, for me the later Granada version with Jeremy Brett edges it.

Book Review. Drama and Delight: The Life of Verity Lambert by Richard Marson (Miwk Publishing)

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drama and delight

Drama and Delight: The Life of Verity Lambert is a rich biography of a woman who was at the heart of British television for five decades.

When Lambert first began to make her mark in television (during the early 1960’s) it was still a highly male-dominated preserve, so her appointment as the first producer of Doctor Who, in 1963, was met with a certain amount of resistance and gossip.

Richard Marson (drawing on an impressive list of interviewees as well as numerous archive sources) is deftly able to recreate the atmosphere of those early days.  Hired by the head of drama, Sydney Newman, there were many who blithely assumed that she had only got the job by sleeping with him.

Verity Lambert (centre) with the original cast of Doctor Who
Verity Lambert (centre) with the original cast of Doctor Who

Doctor Who proved to be an ideal training ground and it launched a production career which only ended with her death in 2007.  After leaving Doctor Who, her major career highlights included the Adam Faith series Budgie (for which she cast Iain Cuthbertson as Charles Endell) and Minder (where she cast George Cole as Arthur Daley).

The story of Verity Lambert’s television career is also, in many ways, the story of how British television has changed between the 1960’s and today.  When Lambert was in charge of Thames’ film unit, Euston Films, she was able to green-light projects she liked straight away.  A good example of this is Minder – she read Leon Griffiths’ initial four-page outline, instantly saw it was a winner and the series went into production shortly after.

But from the mid 1980’s onwards (when she became an independent producer) she’d find herself at the mercy of an increasing number of executives and many decent-sounding ideas (which are discussed in the book) never got past the planning stage.

The 1960’s and 1970’s were Lambert’s peak years in many ways.  Firstly as a producer at the BBC (Doctor Who, Adam Adamant Lives!, the Somerset Maugham plays).  Then after the BBC decided to dispense with her services in 1970, she moved to LWT and scored a considerable hit with Budgie.  She then returned to the BBC as a freelance producer in 1974, with Shoulder to Shoulder (six 75 minute plays about the suffragette movement).

After this, she went to Thames as Head of Drama (overseeing production on programmes such as The Naked Civil Servant and Rumpole of the Bailey).  She would later fulfill the same function at Euston Films (amongst their greatest successes were Minder and Reilly: Ace of Spies).  But when she left Euston in the early 1980’s to take up a plum position as Director of Production for Thorn-EMI, it was to be the start of a frustrating period in her professional career.

She found it difficult to put the films she wanted into production, whilst some that she did back eventually proved to be less than satisfactory.  After several frustrating years (and once notable film success, A Cry in the Dark, as an independent film producer) she returned to television – with her own company Cinema Verity.

verity

As an independent producer she would sometimes have to battle with the television executives of the day, although her company did score some hits – such as May to December and Sleepers.  But her later career was rather overshadowed by one notorious failure – Eldorado.

Launched by the BBC as a thrice-weekly soap-opera in 1992, the series was bedeviled by problems.  The purpose-built structure in Spain had been hastily constructed and boasted poor acoustics, whilst many of the cast were young and inexperienced.  But it’s debatable whether the blame should rest with producer Julia Smith (painted by many contributors in the book as an intensely controlling character) or Lambert herself (who seems to have been a rather passive figure until late on, which for her was unusual).

But she was able to bring her career to a happier conclusion by producing Jonathan Creek from series two onwards, as well as forming strong friendships with both David Renwick and Alan Davies.

Indeed, friendship is at the heart of Richard Marson’s book.  The number of people who agreed to be interviewed is a long one and this is a clear testament to how loved Verity Lambert was.  The figure that emerges from this book is an energetic, driven, intensely loyal, occasionally volatile woman with a strong sense of humour.

Richard Marson is also content to let both the contributors and the numerous archive sources he’s assembled speak for themselves.  Some biographers seem to have a desire to have their voice dominate proceedings.  Not so with Marson, and the section concerning Lambert’s marriage to Colin Bucksey is a good example of this.

Their marriage in 1973 took many of her friends by surprise – Bucksey was not only some ten years her junior, but the fact that he was just a cameraman (whilst she was already a respected figure in the industry) was clearly also a problem for many of them.  But while there are numerous disparaging comments about Bucksey, these are countered by positive ones from other people.  Marson made the right decision in this case (and throughout the book) to not let his own voice intervene – which means that the reader can judge the merits of individuals encountered during the book for themselves.

Given that Richard Marson’s previous book was a biography of Doctor Who‘s last producer from the original run, John Nathan-Turner, it’s a nice dovetail that his next book is a biography of Doctor Who‘s original producer.  Drama and Delight is quite different in tone though.  JN-T certainly had his friends and admirers, but he was a much more divisive figure – and his biography reflects that.

The tone of Drama and Delight is much more upbeat – Verity Lambert had a hugely successful career (although inevitably there were setbacks and disappointments) and she was able to attract and keep a large group of loyal friends.  It’s not a complete love-fest though, as Verity’s long-running feud with fellow producer Irene Shubik is examined (their strained relationship culminated in the alleged BAFTA vote-rigging scandal).

Like the JN-T biography, Drama and Delight isn’t a book about Doctor Who, so anybody who buys it for that alone is likely to be disappointed. The series was a very important part of Lambert’s career (and is discussed in a very decent chapter) but in total it only took up two years of her life.  Where Drama and Delight really excels is in highlighting areas which are less well known (such as the frantic live performance of Armchair Theatre, which saw the cast and crew attempting to work around the death of one of the actors, mid-transmission).

Overall, this is as well-researched and comprehensive a book as you could hope to expect.  It’s a fine record of a true pioneer of British television.

Douglas Wilmer in Sherlock Holmes – The Copper Beeches

archivetvmusings BBC Drama - 1960's , , , ,

copper

When Sherlock Holmes proffers the letter he’s received from Miss Violet Hunter (Suzanne Neve) to Watson, he tells him that it marks a new low-point in his career.  Miss Hunter has been offered a position as a governess, but wishes to seek Holmes’ advice before accepting the post.

Although it initially seems like a trivial matter, once Miss Hunter begins her strange story it becomes clear that there may be more to it than meets the eye.  Miss Hunter has been offered a position by Jephro Rucastle (Patrick Wymark).  Rucastle seems to be a charming man and he makes her a very generous offer – a salary of one hundred pounds a year (a considerable amount, which is much more than many people in her position could ever expect to earn).

Rucastle goes on to tell her that he and his wife (faddy people, he admits) may ask her to sit in a certain chair or wear a certain dress from time to time.  This isn’t a problem, but when Rucastle insists that she has to cut her long hair very short, Miss Hunter protests.  When Rucastle later increases the salary to one hundred and twenty pounds, she weakens – but she wishes to consult Holmes first.  Miss Hunter decides to take up the post, but keeps in contact with Holmes as strange events begin to happen.

The Copper Beeches was originally published in June 1892 and later formed part of the first collection of Holmes short-stores, The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes.  Patrick Wymark (best known as the scheming Sir John Wilder in The Plane Makers and The Power Game) is wonderful as Rucastle.  Alternatively charming and sinister, it’s a very memorable performance.

Suzanne Neve, as the plucky young Miss Hunter, is another strong piece of casting (fans of UFO will remember her as Straker’s ex-wife Mary).  As with the original story, Holmes and Watson are very much on the periphery, so it’s Miss Hunter and Rucastle who dominate proceedings.

It’s certainly a strange household that she finds herself in.  Rucastle’s wife (played by Alethea Charlton) is polite, but seems somewhat under her husband’s thrall.  There’s a rather surly couple of servants, Mr and Mrs Toller (Michael Robbins and Margaret Diamond), whilst the Rucastle’s young son, Edward (Garry Mason), is a most peculiar child.

Although Rucastle insists that his son will grow up to be an important man, there’s little evidence of that in the very brief time we spend with him.  As per the original story, Edward doesn’t feature very much – but Vincent Tilsley’s adaptation does add a little something which sharpens the characters of both father and son.  In Conan-Doyle’s story, Miss Hunter tells Holmes that Edward delights in catching all manner of animals, such as mice.  Tilsley adds a scene where Edward bashes a mouse to death in front of Miss Hunter (with Rucastle looking on approvingly).  It helps to add another rather discordant note and it’s one of a number of good character moments for Wymark.

Although, as mentioned, Wilmer and Stock don’t have the largest of parts in this one, they do enjoy some decent byplay, especially at the end when Watson appears briefly convinced that Holmes had asked Miss Hunter to marry him!  We saw that Holmes was enamored of Miss Hunter’s analytical abilities, but his appreciation of her clearly went no further than that.

It’s a decent comic moment to end the story on and overall The Copper Beeches is a faithful and entertaining adaptation of one of the most atmospheric of the early Holmes stories.

Douglas Wilmer in Sherlock Holmes – The Devil’s Foot

archivetvmusings BBC Drama - 1960's , , , ,

devil

Stress and overwork have affected Sherlock Holmes’ iron constitution, so both he and Dr Watson have decided to take a holiday in Cornwall. Holmes, naturally enough, abhors inactivity and is keen to seize on any distraction – so when the vicar (John Glyn-Jones) bursts into their cottage early one morning with a tale of death and madness, he’s immediately interested.

Three members of the Tregennis family have been struck down in a most inexplicable way – the sister is dead whilst the two brothers have been driven quite mad. A fourth Tregennis sibling, Mortimer (Patrick Troughton), was present with them the previous evening, but he insists that when he left all was well.

Holmes and Watson risk their own sanity to solve this devilish puzzle ….

Originally published in 1910, The Devil’s Foot was one of Conan-Doyle’s favourite Sherlock Holmes stories (he ranked it ninth out of twelve favourites). With a very limited number of suspects it’s not really a whodunnit, rather it’s a howtheydunnit.

According to legend, when the script was delivered it was found to be dramatically under-running, so both Douglas Wilmer and Nigel Stock intensively worked on it and were able to bring it up to the correct length. This is mentioned in the BFI booklet, so there must be some credence to the story, but it’s hard to understand why the actors had to do this (rather than script-editor Anthony Read).

Douglas Wilmer does give his opinion about what Anthony Read was doing at the time (via the highly entertaining commentary track). I won’t reveal what he says, but it’s not terribly complimentary! The comm track on this episode is a must listen as though Wilmer is 95, he’s still as sharp as a tack. Although his dissatisfaction with some parts of the series was well known (this was the reason he didn’t do a second series) I wasn’t quite aware just how unhappy he was.

He seems to have had problems with the producer, some of the directors (who he considered to be far too inexperienced) as well as several of the adaptations. Overall, he doesn’t seem to have enjoyed himself at all – which is a pity, partly because it’s still an impressive series (despite whatever was happening behind-the-scenes) but also because it’s the programme he’ll always be best remembered for. But although making the series wasn’t always a happy one, he’s still got a sharp sense of humour and this helps to stop the commentary track from simply being a long list of complaints.

The story benefits from location filming in Cornwall (the jagged cliffs and stormy seas are particularly photogenic). It’s just a shame that the original film sequences no longer exist (as the telecine process has made the images rather murky).

There’s a remarkable performance from John Glyn-Jones as the vicar. I can’t decide whether he’s playing his initial scenes (where he describes the horror of the Tregennis house) for laughs or if he’s simply overplaying to a ridiculous degree. Much more assured is Patrick Troughton as Mortimer Tregennis. It’s always a pleasure to see Troughton and whilst it’s a fairly low-key part, Troughton’s class still shines through (although his Cornish accent is a bit hit and miss).

Mortimer Tregennis is a rather shifty type, so he appears to be the prime-suspect – meaning that his death (in an identical fashion to his sister) mid-way through the story is a good twist. Suspicion then falls on Dr Sterndale (Carl Bernard) who has already clashed swords with Holmes earlier on.

Holmes eventually divines the way the murders were carried out and elects to undertake an experiment to replicate the same effect. Watson is steadfast in accepting to stay with him and afterwards we see a very nice moment between Holmes and Watson (and Wilmer and Stock of course). If Wilmer’s Holmes is often rather detached and analytical (with not too much of the warmth and humour that some actors have brought to the part) then the aftermath of the experiment provides us with a telling scene.

Holmes berates himself for risking both his and Watson’s life, although Watson tells him that “it is my greatest joy and privilege to help you.” Any Holmes/Watson relationship will only work if you believe that they enjoy a strong bond of friendship – if Holmes is too remote or Watson too stupid, then it’s difficult to fully invest in the characters.

Some of Doyle’s stories, like this one, do feel slightly stretched when adapted for a fifty minute slot, but overall The Devil’s Foot is very decent fare – thanks to Troughton, the Cornish location and the continuing good work from Wilmer and Stock.

Douglas Wilmer in Sherlock Holmes – The Illustrious Client

archivetvmusings BBC Drama - 1960's , , , ,

client

Holmes is consulted by Sir James Damery (Ballard Berkeley) who is acting for an unnamed (but illustrious) client. Violet de Merville (Jennie Linden) is engaged to be married to Baron Gruner (Peter Wyngarde). Gruner has an evil reputation (several deaths, including that of his former wife, can be laid at his door – although he’s never actually been convicted of anything).

Many people have attempted to warn Violet off, but she is completely besotted with Gruner and won’t hear a word against him. Holmes agrees to act but Gruner is a very dangerous man, so by opposing him Holmes will put his life in danger …..

The Illustrious Client was one of Conan Doyle’s final Holmes tales (originally published in 1924). The majority of stories adapted for this series tended to be drawn from the earlier runs (which are generally considered to be stronger) but since this one has a formidable villain it’s no surprise that it was selected.

Peter Wyngarde (later to play the dandy writer and sometimes detective Jason King) is compelling as the malevolent Gruner. Yes, his accent is a little distracting, but he manages to display such a sense of menace that you can forgive him for that. Gruner’s relationship with the unfortunate Violet is an interesting part of the adaptation – he makes no attempt to hide his cruel streak, instead he seems to revel in mistreating her (and she either enjoys it or is so blinded that it simply doesn’t register).

Linden (who would play Big Screen Barbara later that year in Doctor Who and the Daleks) exerts an icy control over herself whereas Rosemary Leach (as Kitty Winter) barely has any control at all. Kitty was one of the Baron’s many previous conquests – used and then tossed aside. She agrees to help Holmes in his attempt to make Violet see exactly what sort of a man the Baron is, but she also has her own agenda.  It was one of Leach’s earliest television appearances and she’s very watchable as the bitter and damaged Kitty.

There’s plenty to enjoy in this one. Holmes and Watson take a trip to a music hall to visit one of Holmes’ underworld contacts. Although it’s only a studio set, it looks very impressive and clever camera angles manage to hide how small it is (and how few people are actually there).

Holmes and Gruner face off in a spellbinding scene (lifted virtually verbatim from the original story) which is a perfect showcase for both Wilmer and Wyngarde. The only thing that slightly spoils it is some rather wonky camerawork at the start (which was something that tended to happen in VT dramas of the period – a pity they couldn’t have gone back for another take).

Nigel Stock might be largely used for comic relief, but he still manages to instill Watson with a certain dignity. Although it must be said that one of the drawbacks of making his character seem a little dense is that when Holmes asks him to swot up on Chinese pottery (so he can distract Gruner, whilst Holmes burgles his study for incriminating evidence) it’s difficult to believe that he’d be able to pull it off.

But he does pretty well and the scene between Stock and Wyngarde is another good one – Wyngarde is arrogantly playful, whilst Stock falls back on bluster when he realises he’s on shaky ground.

Like some other Sherlock Holmes stories, there’s no real mystery here – rather the story revolves around the different characters and the way they interact with each other. And thanks to the first-rate guest cast (headed by Peter Wyngarde and Rosemary Leach) it’s a memorable fifty minutes.