The Rivals of Shelock Holmes – The Sensible Action of Lieutenant Holst

holst

John Thaw as Lieutenant Holst in The Sensible Action of Lieutenant Holst by Palle Rosenkrantz
Adapted by Michael Meyer. Directed by Jonathan Alwyn

Copenhagen, 1905.  A Russian countess, Maria Wolkinski (Catherine Schell), claims that her brother-in-law has travelled to Copenhagen to kill her.  Dimitri Wolkinski (Philip Madoc) is a hunted man in Russia, due to his revolutionary views (which were shared by his late brother, Maria’s husband).

Maria is placed in the care of Lt Holst (John Thaw) and after he leaves her with his wife Ulla (Virgninia Stride) he interviews Dimitri.  But although Maria seemed convincing, so does Dimitri (who tells Holst that his sister-in-law is hysterical).  Who is telling the truth and who is lying?  And will the mild-mannered Holst be able to negotiate the tricky tangle of political intrigue without losing his job?

Baron Palle Adam Vilhelm Rosenkrantz was a Danish writer who wrote several crime stories.  The majority of his works don’t appear to have been translated into English and there doesn’t appear to be an online version of this story.

John Thaw would spend a large part of his career playing policeman, although his two most famous roles (Jack Regan and Morse) were still in the future when this was made.  At first glance, Holst seems to be a world away from the rough-and-tumble Regan – he has a settled home-life and gives every impression of being someone who doesn’t plan to rock the boat.  He reminds his wife that those who do tend to find their careers cut short (something he claims he has no desire to do).

But as the case wears on he finds himself coming under great pressure from various quarters.  After listening to Maria’s story, his wife is convinced that she’s telling the truth and angrily wonders why Holst doesn’t either arrest or kill Dimitri.  Holst replies that Dimitri hasn’t committed any crime and therefore there’s nothing he can do.

When Dimitri is later in Holst’s custody (arrested on a technicality) the Russian embassy make it plain they want him back (Dimitri has told them that if he returns to Russia he’ll be executed).  Holst refuses to let a representative from the embassy visit Dimitri in his cell since he’s made it clear that he doesn’t want any visitors and Holst respects his wishes.

This brings him into direct conflict with his superior who tells him that “in this job one has to be a diplomat, not a saint.”  Dimitri’s eventual fate doesn’t come as a surprise and nor does Holst’s reaction – although it’s an excellent scene for John Thaw.  One of the joys of The Sensible Action of Lieutenant Holst is watching Thaw’s performance over the course of the episode – from the conformist dutiful officer he is at the start, to the wiser and cynical individual he becomes by the end.

Philip Madoc and Catherine Schell both help to enhance this production.  Madoc invests Dimitri with the sort of brooding presence he always did so well and Schell is also in her element – Maria is an icy, remote figure who may, or may not, be in fear of her life, a role Schell plays to perfection.

In the end, the question of whether Dimitri did plan to kill Maria is never resolved for certain.  If it was true, there would appear to have been just cause – Dimitri claimed she was a Tsarist agent responsible for many deaths (including, presumably her own husband).  Holst challenges her about this at the end and whilst she doesn’t confirm it, her silence implies that it’s true.

Whilst Ulla’s sympathies remain with the countess, Holst isn’t so sure.  It’s a suitably intriguing point to close on as Thaw is once again able to give us an insight into the conflicted psyche of Holst.  Dimitri might have been an anarchist, but Holst admits that if he had to choose, he’s not sure which side he’d be on.

With strong performances from Thaw, Madoc and Schell, this is one of the most dramatically satisfying episodes from series two.  It’s low on crime and mystery as it’s much more of a character piece.  And whilst The Rivals was never a series – thanks to being mostly studio-bound – that had a great deal of directorial flair, there was one moment that did make me smile.  After the credits we see a picture of Copenhagen, complete with a caption.  A few seconds later the camera pans out to reveal that this was merely a postcard in the hotel lobby.  Considering that similar pictures have been used, with no such irony, in previous episodes maybe this was a sly wink to the series’ low-budget!

The Doctor Who DVD Range – An Appreciation

five docs orig

The welcome news that The Underwater Menace (or what remains of it) will finally be getting a DVD release gave me pause to reflect on the decade and a half I spent as a dedicated collector of Classic (i.e. proper) Doctor Who DVDs.

The procedure didn’t vary much.  Firstly, the next title was announced.  This, especially in the early days, tended to generate heated debate online – usually consisting of why x rather than y was being released.  If you were a fan of Jon Pertwee for example, you’d no doubt feel shortchanged as yet another raft of Tom Baker stories would be set for release.  But given the amount of work required on a number of Third Doctor titles it’s maybe not surprising that certain stories didn’t turn up until very late in the day.

Other Doctors did suffer as well though, which was especially noticeable before the range went monthly.  For example there was a three year gap between The Visitation in 2004 and New Beginnings in 2007, which was apparently due to Peter Davison’s lack of availability (it was felt that his presence on each commentary track was essential).

Although by the time the range was coming to an end it probably would have been a blessed relief to have dropped him from some of the comms as his shtick (and also that of Janet Fielding) was wearing more than a little thin.

So once the suitability (or otherwise) of the story and special features had been debated, the next important question was where to pre-order?  Blackstar/Sendit were popular in the early 2000’s, although they became increasingly slower as the decade wore on.  The New Beginnings debacle (where many copies, including mine, were stuck at an airport for more than a week) was probably their lowest point.  Yes I know it’s ancient history now, but I’m a Doctor Who fan so these things are still going to rankle.

Various vanished e-tailers such as Play were also popular, although in more recent years the BBC Shop (and their blessed 10% code) always tended to have the best pre-order price.  And they almost always delivered on the Saturday prior to the Monday release date.  This was another very important consideration as getting the DVD before the official release date was crucial – any delay was painful in the extreme.

Eventually after all this effort and worrying, the DVD would arrive, be watched and then put on the shelf and the whole process could be repeated for the next DVD.  Ah, happy days!

Casting an eye over the several (long) shelves of Doctor Who DVDs complete with their plethora of special features, it’s worth remembering that at the start things were much more modest.  The first DVD, The Five Doctors SE, only had the isolated soundtrack (which wasn’t syncronised to the picture and didn’t run at the correct speed).

The next DVD was The Robots of Death which featured a comm track featuring Chris Boucher and Philip Hinchcliffe.  One day I’m going to attempt to sit through all four episodes of this (although probably not in one go) but it’s going to take some effort, thanks to Boucher (who may be a lovely chap, but isn’t exactly a laugh-a-minute).

Up until mid 2002 the releases continued on an irregular basis and the special features settled down to include a commentary, production subs and whatever additional footage could be sourced from the archive.  This usually meant trailers, out-takes, studio footage, etc.  Tomb of the Cybermen in early 2002 did have a convention panel from a decade earlier – when the story had been rediscovered – but until The Aztecs (in mid 2002) there hadn’t been a specially-shot making of.

The Aztecs documentary might have been a bit basic (and Walter Randall’s belly remains an unforgettable sight) but it proved that it could be done and over the next decade we’d see hundreds more documentaries/featurettes/interviews that, together with the commentaries, form an incredibly impressive audio/visual history of the programme.

A few of my favourite special features –

Origins (The Edge of Destruction).  A comprehensive documentary covering the creation of the series.

Looking for Peter (The Sensorites).  An unexpectedly moving tribute to Peter R. Newman and one of many excellent contributions to the range from Toby Hadoke.

The reconstruction of the original parts three and four of Planet of Giants.  It’s not perfect by any means, but this is a very decent approximation of what Planet of Giants would have looked like before it was cut from four episodes to three.  Had more time and money been available then it obviously could have looked a great deal better, but you still have to applaud the effort.

The Cosgrove Hall animated episodes of The Invasion.

The complete studio tape on The Claws of Axos SE and also Toby Hadoke’s Living with Levene on the same release.  Most studio tapes tend to feature long periods where nothing at all happens (Time-Flight for example) but The Claws of Axos is more interesting than most, especially since it’s only one of two studio tapes that exist from the Pertwee era.  And the John Levene documentary is a treat from beginning to end!

Roger Delgado: The Master (Frontier in Space).  Not only is the documentary full of archive clips from his numerous BBC appearances (most of which are frustratingly not available on DVD) there’s also many fulsome tributes paid from his friends and family.  The closing minutes, especially the comments from his widow Kismet and Barry Letts, are simply heart-breaking.

Cheques, Lies and Videotape (Revenge of the Cybermen).  If you weren’t involved in trading or watching pirate Doctor Who videos in the 1980’s and 1990’s this probably won’t be of interest, but if you were then it’ll strike more than a few chords.

A New Body at Last (Logopolis).

Lots of interest on The Five Doctors 25th Anniversary Edition, especially the studio footage.

Trials and Tribulations (The Ultimate Foe).  One of Doctor Who’s most fraught eras, production-wise, is covered in detail with everybody’s point of view given airtime.

Endgame (Survival).  And the Anthony Ainley footage from Destiny of the Doctors is fab as well, if only he’d played the Master on TV like that.

Whenever I rewatch a story I like to dip in and out of the commentary track.  As with the special features, there’s far too many to mention – but The Gunfighters, The War Games, The Monster of Peladon (possibly because of Nina Thomas’ sultry voice), Robots of Death SE, Horror of Fang Rock, Earthshock, The Twin Dilemma and Remembrance of the Daleks are all favourites.

It does seem a bit remiss that I’ve got this far without mentioning just how good the stories look, courtesy of the incredible work of the Restoration Team.  Yes, there was the odd controversy (remade credits, changing a shot in The Chase from day to night, “spanngergate”, etc) but these pale into insignificance compared to the overall improvements in both PQ and sound.  And to have every Jon Pertwee episode in colour was something that seemed an impossible dream back when the range started.

If The Underwater Menace really is the final Classic Doctor Who DVD then whilst I’ll confess to having a slight twinge of sadness, it’s tempered with a deep appreciation for everyone who worked so hard to ensure that each DVD was as good as it could possibly be.  And in an era where we’re told that physical media is dead or dying, it’s possible that we’ll never see another series treated with such care and attention.

day

The Rivals of Sherlock Holmes – The Absent-Minded Coterie

 

absent

Charles Gray as Eugine Valmont in The Absent-Minded Coterie by Robert Barr
Adapted by Alexander Baron. Directed by Peter Duguid

French amateur detective Eugine Valmont (Charles Gray) is consulted by Inspector Hale (Barry Linehan) of Scotland Yard.  Whilst Valmont easily manages to wrap up Hale’s little problem (a gang of counterfeiters) it leads him onto another case, which may be much harder to crack …..

The Absent-Minded Coterie was written by Robert Barr and was published in 1906.  Barr was responsible for the first published Sherlock Holmes parody, The Adventures of Sherlaw Kombs (in 1892) and followed this up with The Adventure of the Second Swag in 1904.  Although these two stories took gentle digs at the Sherlock Holmes phenomenon they didn’t affect his friendship with Conan-Doyle.  Both of these stories, along with his tales of Eugine Valmont (including The Absent-Minded Coterie) can be read here.

Although he didn’t write many Valmont stories (only eight in total) each one was an entertaining inversion of the sort of tales which had already become cliches, thanks to the popularity of Sherlock Holmes.  And at first glance The Absent-Minded Coterie does seem to be little more than a Holmes knock-off since Valmont, like Holmes, is a private detective who finds himself constantly badgered by Scotland Yard to help them solve their cases.

In Valmont’s own words, courtesy of Robert Barr –

Myself, I like the English detective very much, and if I were to be in a mêlée tomorrow, there is no man I would rather find beside me than Spenser Hale. In any situation where a fist that can fell an ox is desirable, my friend Hale is a useful companion, but for intellectuality, mental acumen, finesse—ah, well! I am the most modest of men, and will say nothing.

Alexander Baron’s dramatisation and Peter Duguid’s direction takes Barr’s source material to craft a very familiar late Victorian/early Edwardian setting – complete with fog shrouded streets.  The case of the counterfeiters rumbles along for a while, but it seems so commonplace that it’s difficult to understand why Hale should need Valmont’s help.

At this early stage the episode is nothing special, but it changes gear once Miss Mackail (Suzanne Neve) comes fully into view and Valmont’s fallibilities are laid bare.  When you understand that Valmont lost as often as he won (making the title of Barr’s book – The Triumphs of Eugine Valmont – deeply ironic) things begin to fall into place.  Both Barr’s original, and Baron’s dramatisation, take delight in using tropes familiar from the Sherlock Holmes stories and then turning them on their head.

Valmont jubilantly confronts Miss Mackail but is perturbed to find that she’s quite calm about it and gently goes onto remind him that as the only evidence he holds was obtained illegally it’s inadmissible in a court of law.  Just prior to this there’s a lovely moment where Valmont turns all the lights off, except for one directed straight at him.  As he stands in the spotlight, he grandly reveals to Miss Mackail that his name is Eugine Valmont.  Alas, the spell is broken when she admits she’s never heard of him!

Charles Gray sports an outrageous French accent as the vainglorious Valmont.  It’s interesting to ponder whether Agatha Christie was influenced by Valmont when creating Hercule Poirot.  Certainly the two share some similarities, although Poirot’s belief in his own abilities was well founded.  Gray’s performance is somewhat stagey, but it suits the material since Valmont isn’t supposed to be a rounded, three-dimensional character.

Barry Lineham gives a rather odd turn as Hale.  I can’t quite put my finger on what the problem is, maybe it’s his slowness of speech, but there’s something about him that doesn’t quite click.  But Suzanne Neve is lovely as the cunning Miss Mackail and it’s a joy to watch her run rings around Valmont at the end.

The adaptation probably loses some of the sparkle of Barr’s stories (which are certainly worth a read) but it does have a lightness of touch which makes it something of a joy.

The Rivals of Sherlock Holmes – The Secret of the Magnifique

secret

Bernard Hepton as Mr J.T. Laxworthy in The Secret of the Magnifique by E. Phillips Oppenheim
Adapted by Gerald Kelsey. Directed by Derek Bennett

Sydney Wing (Christopher Neame) and Anderson (Neil McCarthy) have both recently been released from prison, but that’s where the similarity ends.  Wing has the sort of casual, upper-class air which ensures he can easily mix with the highest in the land whilst Anderson hails from a much lower rung of society.

But whilst they’re very different people, both are selected by the mysterious Mr Laxworthy (Bernard Hepton).  Laxworthy has a proposition – he wants Wing to pose as a rich man-about-town whilst Anderson takes the role of his valet.  And since both Wing and Anderson are penniless they readily agree (especially when Laxworthy tells them there’s a fortune to be made).

The three later travel to the South of France, where the French warship Magnifique lies in port.  It possesses an innovate new torpedo and Laxworthy sees an opportunity to make a great deal of money …

Edward Phillips Oppenheim was a highly prolific author, penning more than a hundred novels between 1887 and 1941 as well as numerous short story collections.  Dubbed “the prince of storytellers” he was a pioneer of the spy-fiction genre – although like many of the authors featured in The Rivals he slipped into obscurity following his death.  The Secret of the Magnifique was one of a number of short stories collected in the volume Mr Laxworthy’s Adventures, which was published in 1913.  It can be read here.

Bernard Hepton is a great, albeit rather underrated, British actor.  His fairly low profile, despite his impressive list of credits, may be partly due to the type of characters he usually plays.  They don’t tend to be flamboyant or demonstrative – Hepton specialises in self-contained, internal performances.  So he’s never going to be an actor that commands the screen, he’s much more subtle than that.

The 1970’s were something of a golden period for him.  He took the lead in two WW2 series produced by Gerard Glaister – Colditz, in which he played the Kommandant and Secret Army, which saw him switch sides to take the role of Albert Foriet, a member of the Belgian underground network “Lifeline” (which was dedicated to returning Allied airman to the UK).  Other notable series, such as I Claudius and Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy were also graced by his presence and there were numerous one-off appearances, such as this one.

Our first sight of Hepton is as the cabby who picks up both Wing and Anderson.  Had there not be a caption-card at the start, proclaiming Hepton as the star of the episode, then this slight misdirection might have worked a bit better.  As it is, when Laxworthy takes off his cabby’s overcoat and removes a fake moustache it doesn’t really come as any sort of surprise.  But it does give us an early indication that he’s a man who likes to be in control and also enjoys manipulating people.

Christopher Neame had also starred in Colditz (and would appear in the first series of Secret Army too).  His trademark charm is on display here, making it obvious why Laxworthy selected him.  Neil McCarthy is present for a spot of comic relief – Anderson is a rough, gruff sort of chap who’s inclined to blurt out the wrong thing at the wrong time.

The Secret of the Magnifique offers something of a change in pace for The Rivals, as there’s no detective (Laxworthy loosely fulfills this role though).  But whilst Mr Laxworthy might not be an honest man he’s not a totally dishonourable one either.  He makes a handsome profit from the secret of the Magnifique’s torpedo, but it’s maybe not in the way one might have expected.

Elsewhere in the cast, the likes of Gary Watson and John Nettleton adopt French accents of varying accuracy whilst Canadian-born Bruce Boa plays an American, Freeling Poignton.  Boa was one of a handful of Canadian actors resident in the UK during this time (Shane Rimmer was another) and this small band of ex-pat Canadians were able to earn a very good living by playing Americans.  And at least their accents always sounded convincing!

The Secret of the Magnifique is one of those episodes that leaves you wanting more.  Hepton, Neame and McCarthy make an entertaining team and a run of further adventures would have been very welcome.  As mentioned previously, it’s strange that The Rivals was never used as a series of pilot programmes since a few episodes, including this one, could have spawned their own series.   Unfortunately it wasn’t to be.

The Rivals of Sherlock Holmes – Cell 13

cell 13

Douglas Wilmer as Professor Van Dusen in Cell 13 by Jacques Futrelle
Adapted by Julian Bond. Directed by Reginald Colin

Professor Van Dusen (Douglas Wilmer) doesn’t believe Fielding’s (Donald Pickering) claim that the prison he’s designed is escape proof and says so to his face (Van Dusen states he could escape from any cell in any prison within seven days).

Fielding, slighted by this attack on his professional abilities, agrees to the challenge and so shortly afterwards Van Dusen finds himself at the imposing Grangemoor prison.  The governor (Michael Gough) and the chief warder (Ray Smith) are certain that escape is impossible and the odds certainly seem stacked against the Professor.  Seven locked doors lie between Cell 13 and freedom.  Can Van Dusen really just “think” himself out of the prison?

The Problem of Cell 13 was written by the American author Jacques Futrelle and was originally published in 1905.  It was the first of a number of stories written by Futrelle about Professor Van Dusen, nicknamed “the thinking machine” and was later included in a volume of short stories which can be read here.

Futrelle’s promising career was cut short following his decision to travel aboard the Titanic. He refused to board a lifeboat, insisting that his wife take his place.  This ensured that whilst she lived, he didn’t.  His last book, My Lady’s Garter, was published posthumously in 1912, with his wife May adding the following inscription.  “To the heroes of the Titanic, I dedicate this my husband’s book.”

The peerless Douglas Wilmer is excellent as Van Dusen.  The Professor appears to be somewhat dreamy and remote, but it later becomes clear that he’s a man of rare intellect.  And Wilmer’s comic timing is used to good effect in the early part of the story, when he finds himself subjected to the attentions of the chief warder.

But as the days wear on, Van Dusen doesn’t seem to be any closer to escaping and his various attempts (a note thrown out the window, attempting to file the bars) seem to be both painfully obvious and terribly half-hearted.  Of course, he does manage to escape in the end – but for maximum impact this doesn’t happen until virtually the last minute of his seven days

In terms of the episode’s running time, this occurs at the end of part two – so part three allows Van Dusen to explain in detail just how he did it.  He also gets the opportunity to throw a few, well-deserved insults at the chief warder such as “it’s a pity you don’t exercise your wits as often as you exercise your tongue.”

With no actual crime, it’s much more of an intellectual exercise as well as an early example of the locked-room mystery, which would be a staple of the golden age of detective fiction.  And although it’s very much a vehicle for Wilmer, there’s some decent performances from the supporting cast. Michael Gough, Ray Smith, Clifford Rose and Donald Pickering are all worth watching (although Smith’s very fake beard and overly gruff voice are a little distracting).

It’s also nice to see Nicholas Courtney pop up in a small role and Derek Ware (a well-known stuntman) is the star of the pre-credits sequence (he plays a convict who attempts to escape, but is recaptured).  This sequence is notable since it’s shot on film (a rarity for The Rivals) and also at night, which gives it a glossy, expensive feeling – making a brief change from the usual, studio-bound nature of the series.

This is good stuff, thanks to Wilmer, and there’s another appearance from the Professor, later in the series, to look forward to.

The Rivals of Sherlock Holmes – Five Hundred Carats

carats

Barry Keegan as Inspector Lipinzki in Five Hundred Carats by George Griffith
Adapted by Alexander Baron. Directed by Jonathan Alwyn

When a diamond worth millions is stolen from the small mining town of Kimberley, South Africa, Inspector Lipinzki (Barry Keegan) is quickly on the trail.  The security, organised by Mr Arundel (Patrick Barr), was impressive – so how was it stolen?

But even if he doesn’t know how, the dogged Inspector is convinced he knows who – Philip Marsden (Martin Jarvis).  Marsden, along with his colleague Charlie Lomas (Richard Morant) were tasked with guarding the diamond and therefore both must be considered prime suspects.  But Marsden is a powerful man and Lipinzki will have to tread carefully, otherwise he may find himself out of a job.

Five Hundred Carats was written by George Griffith and was originally published in 1893.  It can be read here.

The second series of The Rivals saw a greater international cast of detectives and this story, set in South Africa, is the first example.  But despite the foreign setting it’s still very much a studio bound production (although there is some location work later on – with a sandpit doubling for the South African outback).

Barry Keegan gives Lipinzki a lovely world-weary air.  Unlike some of the other detectives featured in the series, he’s not analytical or given to flights of fancy – Lipinzki is just a hard-working, methodical policeman who uncovers the truth by effectively waging a war of nerves with his suspects.  And after suffering a brief moment of doubt when he realises he’s no idea how the robbery occurred, the Inspector is on much firmer ground once he’s found a suspect he can pressurise.

He admits he doesn’t possess any evidence but he’s prepared to press Marsden hard and see what happens.  This isn’t easy though, since Marsden is a gentleman and Lipinzki isn’t.  The point is brought up early on after the affable Arundel mentions to Marsden that he’s been politely asked not to invite the Inspector to the club quite so often.  It’s a sentiment that Marsden agrees with (he views Lipinzki as being uncouth in the extreme) but Arundel is a great respecter of the Inspector’s abilities and isn’t concerned with issues of class.

But Marsden is and he wastes no time in letting Lipinzki know exactly how little he thinks of him.  The confrontation between Keegan (softly-spoken Irish) and Jarvis (upper-cut English) is one of the highlights of the episode.  And although Marsden is a character whose actions and dialogue verge on the melodramatic at times, Jarvis is a good enough actor to still make him a believable and rounded figure.

Richard Morant is effective as Lomas, whilst Aideen O’Kelly takes the only main female role as Bridie Sullavan.  Bridie is a widower who runs the local bar and finds herself an object of attention from both Lomas and Marsden.  She views Lomas with the indulgence of an elder sister but has little time for the icy-cold and superior Marsden.

Patrick Barr, always such a dependable actor, doesn’t have a terribly interesting part as the upright, honest Arundel, but manages to make him watchable anyway.  Another very good character actor, Alan Tilvern, has a more meaty role as Mr Cornelius.  Cornelius is visiting from America and is most interested in both the diamond and Arundel’s security procedures.  This makes him a suspect (and Tilvern specialised in playing shifty characters anyway) but Cornelius turns out to be nothing more than a diverting red-herring.

There’s also a murder (it occurs in the pre-credits sequence although events then flashback so it doesn’t actually happen until towards the end of the story)  Another death occurs shortly afterwards and this does tend to reinforce the point that diamonds might be beautiful but they’re also deadly.

Although the culprit is caught, the exact place where he buried the diamond isn’t known.  Lipinzki isn’t concerned, as the diamond is back in the soil of South Africa – where it should be.

Apart from some slightly over-melodramatic incidental music this is an effective episode.  The battle between Keegan and Jarvis is excellently done and this ensures that the pace never flags.

The Rivals of Sherlock Holmes – The Mysterious Death on the Underground Railway

mysterious 01

Judy Geeson as Polly Burton in The Mysterious Death on the Underground Railway
by the Baroness Orczy
Adapted by Alan Cooke. Directed by Graham Evans

A beautiful young woman, Beatrice Hazeldene (Lois Baxter) is poisoned on a subway train.  Later, her husband, William Hazeldene (Anthony Corlan) and sister, Laura Stanley (Cyd Hayman) arrive at the mortuary to make the identification.

Also present is rising young reporter Polly Burton (Judy Geeson) who is keen to solve the mystery.  Together with her friend on the police-force, Frobisher (Richard Beckinsale), they find a prime suspect, one Frank Errington (Tom McCarthy).  The evidence against him seems overwhelming, but later both her uncle, Sir Arthur Inglewood (John Savident) and Polly herself start to have doubts …..

The Mysterious Death on the Underground Railway was written by the Baroness Orczy, best-known today for creating the Scarlet Pimpernel, who first appeared in a successful play written by herself and her husband in 1903.  Equally popular was Orczy’s novelisation, which spawned a number of follow-up books (the final one was published in 1940).

But prior to this, Orczy had dabbled with crime fiction and had written a series of thirteen short-stories which had been published in 1901 and 1902.  A dozen of them were re-written and collected in book form as The Old Man in the Corner in 1910.  This book, which includes The Mysterious Death on the Underground Railway can be read here.

At the turn of the twentieth century, Sherlock Holmes still cast a long shadow over many writers of crime fiction and this spurred Orczy to create something different.  The Old Man in the Corner was very much a thinking detective – a prototype for a generation of “armchair detectives” who solve mysteries without ever visiting the scene of the crime.  Instead, he spends his time at the A.B.C. tea-shop where he is frequently visited by Polly Burton who recounts various baffling mysteries.  And after listening to her accounts, he considers the facts and delivers a solution.

Later authors would also use this device, most famously in The Thirteen Problems by Agatha Christie but it does seem that when adapting this short-story Alan Cooke found there were dramatic limitations.  The most obvious being that the Old Man never interacts with the protagonists and his solutions are rarely provable in a court of law.  So Cooke chose to excise the Old Man from the adaptation and move Polly into the centre of the narrative.

This is something of a pity, since it means that the whole point of the Old Man stories (how he is able, without moving from the tea-shop, to come up with a plausible solution which may or may not be true) is lost. But having to tell the whole story in flashback wouldn’t have been very satisfying, so it’s understandable why this happened.

Judy Geeson is very appealing as the bright young reporter Polly Burton.  Because she’s written as a rather single-minded, humourless individual, it’s Geeson herself who manages to turn her into a more rounded, less cold character.  Richard Beckinsale is rather wooden as Frobisher, which is surprising since there was some comic mileage to be mined in his relationship with Polly (Frobisher’s in love with her but she’s ruthless in exploiting this, as she’ll do anything to aid her investigations).

The studio-bound nature of the episode does become apparent at the start as tight camera-angles, sound effects and shaky camera-work are all employed to create the illusion of a moving train.  Later, captions are used to signify locations (for example, a picture of the Old Bailey).  These do tend to highlight the limitations of the production, but they’re only fleeting moments so aren’t too damaging.  Elsewhere, director Graham Evans produces some interesting shots – particularly in the scenes set in the coroner’s court, some of which are shot from very high-up.  This does help to make what would otherwise be a rather static section of the story more visually interesting.

There’s also the usual high-quality supporting cast, including Michael Sheard, Christopher Timothy and Simon Lack whilst George Tovey has a lovely scene-stealing moment as a porter.  John Savident seems to be enjoying himself as Sir Arthur Inglewood whilst Cyd Hayman is as luminously beautiful as ever.

Like some of the other stories adapted for the series, this is a who-dunnit with very few suspects – so the identity of the murderer shouldn’t be terribly hard to guess.  But the paucity of the story isn’t that important since it’s the performances that drive it along.  And even if Alan Cooke’s adaptation does take liberties with the original source material, thanks to Judy Geeson’s engaging performance this isn’t too much of an issue.

mysterious 02

Dixon of Dock Green – Reunion

reunion

Twenty years ago a number of officers, including George Dixon, were involved in a major operation at the Docks.  Information received suggested that a well-known villain called Trunky Small was planning to steal half a million pounds in silver from a ship called the Galveston Bay.  Trunky and his gang were caught, but the operation wasn’t without incident as one of the officers lost his life that night.

Cope (Glynn Edwards), now a detective sergeant, has organised a reunion dinner.  It appears at first to simply be a chance for old colleagues to meet up and compare notes, but Cope clearly harbours animosity against Ashe (Jack Watson).  At the time Ashe was the DI in charge, today he’s risen to the rank of Commander.  As the evening wears on it seems obvious that revelations will be made.

The final episode of Dixon of Dock Green, Reunion doesn’t acknowledge this, even obliquely, so when Dixon bades us good night at the end there’s no sense that it’s a final goodbye.  But when you consider that the last episode of the previous series, Conspiracy, was very obviously crafted as a farewell episode (Dixon’s final monologue about his life in the police, the shot of the blue lamp as the credits rolled) it’s understandable they didn’t decide to play the same trick twice.

It does place Dixon more in the centre of things though, which was reasonable enough, although even here he’s still in his familiar role as an observer – watching proceedings, occasionally asking the odd question, but never directing events.  It’s Cope who’s in charge.  He set up the dinner and also arranged for an extra place to be set (in honour of their dead colleague).  Like the rest of the evening this is for Ashe’s benefit – as is the fact that the waitress, Joyce (Jo Rowbottom), was the dead officers wife.

Glynn Edwards might be best known as the long-suffering Dave in Minder, but his CV is a long and impressive one.  He guest-starred in many popular series during the 1960’s and 1970’s, such as The Baron, The Saint, The Avengers, Public Eye, Out of the Unknown, Callan,Target and many others.  He also had a regular role in the later series of The Main Chance and appeared in films such as The Ipcress File and Get Carter.

And like many other actors he also racked up a number of credits in Dixon, playing several different characters.  He appeared as Jackie Silver in two 1963 episodes and would later play Chief Inspector Jameson in several stories during the late 1960’s and early 1970’s (one of these, Jig-Saw, still survives).  The fact that he then turned up several years later playing a different copper shouldn’t come as a surprise, as it was a very common occurrence.

Alan Tilvern is another example of this.  In Reunion he plays Morrie Finn, now an ex-policeman and someone doing very nicely indeed on civvy street.  This was Tilvern’s seventh Dixon appearance, each time playing somebody different.  His previous role had only been the year before – in the wiped episode It’s a Gift (although an infamous outtake still exists, showing Tilvern sharing a scene with Victor Maddern who finds it impossible to say the words “Dock Green Nick”).

I’ve mentioned it several times before, but the guest-casts of this final series have been very strong.  Apart from Edwards and Tilvern, there’s also Jack Watson as Ashe.  Another very familiar face from both films and television, Watson pitches his performance perfectly – showing an increasing unease as the evening wears on.

The resolution of the story is quite understated and low-key.  It later becomes clear that Ashe was made aware that one of his officers had fallen into the dock.  He could have stopped and rescued him, but that would have meant Trunky Small would have escaped.  So he chose to ignore this and press on.

It’s a mystery why nobody has ever brought this up during the last twenty years, but even after it’s made public here that’s as far as it goes.  Joyce has the chance to finally confront Ashe, but there’s no anger as she tells him that “I feel sorry for you. It can’t have been easy. Not then, nor since.”  And that seems to be that, as there’s no suggestion that any proceedings will follow.  As Joyce makes clear, the burden Ashe himself carries is punishment enough.

Another piece of the puzzle is supplied by Sam Platte, a man rescued from drowning by Harry Dunne.  For most of the episode this appears to be just a secondary story, but at the end Platte’s connection to the events of twenty years are uncovered.  He’s Joyce’s father and was the man who tipped off the police that Trunky Small was planning to rob the Galveston Bay.

It’s an outrageous coincidence that Platte should turn up on the same night as the reunion dinner and it can’t help but feel like rather clumsy plotting, but Bill Dean is excellent as a merchant seaman reflecting on a lifetime of toil with little to show for it.  It also allowed Stephen Marsh (as Dunne) a chance to shine.  For the majority of this series he’s had the fairly unenviable task of operating as the junior collator (largely existing to feed Dixon lines).

Low-key it might be, but Reunion is also a satisfying fifty minutes of drama.  With one exception, it’s very pleasing to have all the colour episodes of Dixon of Dock Green available on DVD and hopefully the black and white ones will follow soon.

Dixon of Dock Green – Legacy

legacy

After a couple of years in Wormwood Scrubs, Jack Montelbetti (Tom Adams) has an unusual homecoming after he discovers a dead body in his flat.  The dead man, Bruno Pacelli, was an old-time criminal, specialising in jewel robberies.

Jack knew Bruno well (he was engaged to his daughter Julia at one time) and though he died from natural causes that’s only the starting point of the case.  After years out of the game it appears that Bruno went back to his old tricks and pulled a diamond heist in North London and was then keen to use Jack’s skills as a fence.  The jewels were stolen from Van Heerden (John Savident) who issues Jack with a stark choice – the jewels or his life.

This was Tom Adams’ second appearance as Jack Montelbetti (the first, Jack the Lad was broadcast in 1974 and like most episodes of Dixon it sadly no longer exists).  Adams gives Jack a cool, laconic presence – he’s a man who’s rarely perturbed, even when he stumbles over a corpse.  And though he’s a convicted criminal the old-timers at Dock Green (especially Dixon) seem to have a grudging respect for him.

But a newcomer to the manor, Len Clayton, doesn’t share their views.  He knows that Jack’s a newly-released prisoner and is extremely aggressive when questioning him.  This might have been another slight attempt to toughen up the series – at one point Clayton asks him if he’d like a slap in the mouth – but equally it might have been designed to show that rough-and-tumble tactics don’t always work.

Jack doesn’t take to Len Clayton at all and doesn’t waste any time in telling him exactly what he thinks of him.  “I spent two years banged up with a pair of incontinent morons. I worked six hours a day in a laundry for ten fags and a jar of jam. I said yes sir, no sir to the biggest shower of illiterate screws you ever met in your life and then when I come home I get you. Oh brother, life can be hard.”  He goes on to say that he’s not prepared to answer any of his questions, due to Len’s attitude, so he’ll wait for Bruton to turn up instead.

Jack and Julia were estranged several years ago (at the start of the episode Julia flinches when she hears his name) but it doesn’t take too long before they re-establish their old love.  With several different plot-threads running at once there’s not a great deal of time spent on their relationship, but Adams and Gigi Gatti do their best with the limited time available .  Gatti’s film and television CV is quite small (several appearances in Survivors as Daniella later in 1976 are possibly the highlight) and her lack of credits is quite surprising as she’s an appealing presence.

John Savident makes the most of his role, affecting a Dutch accent and waving a gun around.  There’s not a great deal of menace with his character though, possibly due to Dixon‘s status as a pre-watershed series.  The Sweeney would have been able to get away with displays of violence from Van Heerden (to prove that he could follow through on his claim he would do Jack serious harm) but that would never happen in Dixon.

The ending is another example that crime sometimes does pay.  Van Heerden is arrested but Jack gets away (and it’s implied he’s pocketed the jewels).  Dixon, in his end of episode summing-up, doesn’t sound at all aggrieved about this – another sign that Dixon of Dock Green operated on a different level from most police series.

For Dixon a conviction isn’t everything – sometimes villains will walk free (especially if they’re seen as basically decent people) and there’s a tacit acknowledgment that although the strict letter of the law hasn’t been followed maybe it’s for the best.  This certainly sets the series apart from many cop shows where the “result” is all that matters.

Dixon of Dock Green – Jackpot

jackpot

Harold Tovey (Kenneth Cope) is a bookish, mild-mannered man who continually finds himself hen-pecked by his wife Margaret (Pat Ashton).  When she tells him to take a relaxing holiday abroad by himself, he’s suspicious – as he’s certain she’s involved with the smooth-talking Mickey Walker (Tim Pearce).

But if there was any fight in him, it appears to have long gone and he dutifully plods off to the airport.  However, when his flight is cancelled he heads home to see his wife and Mickey heading out together.  This is the catalyst for a series of unlikely adventures, which start when he appropriates a large sum of money previously stolen by his brother-in-law Tony Kinsley (Paul Darrow).

Jackpot is a comic treat with Kenneth Cope (Coronation Street, TW3, Randall and Hopkirk) on fine form as the bookworm who turns.  The first fifteen minutes or so constantly reinforce the notion that Harold is a complete and utter nonentity – his wife says so, Tony Kinsley says so, even the boys at Dock Green nick say so!  But even the mildest-mannered man can only take so much and his eventual revolt is a delight.

He turns up at a posh hotel, complete with chauffeur, and proceeds to take the grandest suite.  He’s also acquired a nice new suit and, best of all, a full head of hair (thanks to a very impressive wig).  Outrageously tipping the hotel porter (Eric Mason) ensures that he gets the very best service – including some female company to help him relax.  His encounter with the escort Sybil (Pamela Moiseiwitsch), is another highlight of the episode as he does everything he can to impress her.  “Do you have a bucket of caviar for dinner every night?” she asks him

The performance style of the guest-cast is best defined as “broad”.  The likes of Pat Ashton tended to play comedy anyway whilst Paul Darrow’s broad cockney accent also raises a smile, although that probably wasn’t the intention.  Darrow’s very entertaining though, even if it’s hard to accept he’s a hard-bitten villain.

The comedic antics of Harold do contrast somewhat with the more serious scenes at Dock Green nick.  The two different environments don’t really connect very well – probably because the Dock Green officers aren’t integrated into Harold’s story (in fact, we could have concentrated solely on Harold and we probably wouldn’t have missed the input of Dixon and the others).

Quite a short episode, clocking in at just over forty-six minutes, it’s another one that succeeds thanks to the guest cast, especially Kenneth Cope.

Dixon of Dock Green – Alice

alice

Mohinder Singh (Renu Senta) is involved in the trafficking of illegal immigrants.  Forty individuals are currently in Ostend, awaiting shipment to Britain – but they won’t be going anywhere until the captain of Dutch vessel is paid in cash.

Singh contacts a dodgy import/exporter called William Keeley (Harry Landis).  Keeley is unwilling to make the trip himself, but a likely candidate presents herself at just the right moment.  Alice Benfield (Angela Pleasence) is a gifted music student who rents a room above Keeley’s office.  She appears to be vague and lacking in any social skills, which encourages Keeley to use her as an unwitting courier.

But Alice isn’t quite as innocent as she appears and is more than willing to undertake the job, provided the price is right.  And this isn’t the only surprise that Alice springs …..

Alice takes a while to get going (the first twenty minutes or so drag somewhat) but once we get into the heart of the story things pick up nicely.  Angela Pleasence, daughter of Donald Pleasence, gives an intriguing performance as the titular Alice.  When we first meet her she’s incredibly vague and hardly seems able to string two words together.  Is this an act?  By the end of the episode (after she’s pocked the money from Singh and taunted him that he’s powerless to do anything) she’s transformed completely.

Keeley ends up as her partner in crime (Dixon’s closing piece to camera states that they later went into business together).  Harry Landis is hardly pushed, but is good anyway, as the sharp Jewish businessman not averse to accepting a crooked deal.

The one discordant note comes from Tania Rogers as Keeley’s secretary Samantha Jones.  Her jive talking (referring to white people who annoy her as “honky”) hasn’t aged well and her acting in general is rather brittle and forced.  A sample of some of her other performances during this period, such as Zilda in the Doctor Who story The Robots of Death, shows that she did tend to overact.

Renu Setna is much better value as Singh – a man who professes he only wants to help his fellows, but isn’t averse to making a healthy profit out of them.  Refugees and migrants remain a hot topic today – although they’re not not really the focus of the episode.  As we never see them, the migrants are only used a plot device to put the sum of money into Alice’s hands and it could have equally been drugs or pornography Singh and Keeley were dealing in.

This is an episode where it seems that crime does pay, as Alice uses the money she’s stolen from Singh to give a recital at the Wigmore Hall.  All Dixon can offer any viewers concerned to hear she’d got away scot-free is the news that the critical response was poor!

Although the opening is dull and Alice’s character transforms rather too completely over the course of the episode for my tastes, this is decent enough fare.

Dixon of Dock Green – Everybody’s Business

business

Mrs Hooker (Queenie Watts) is a familiar presence at Dock Green nick.  She might be motivated by a strong sense of public duty (or could simply an officious busybody).  Her suspicious nature is a running joke with her tenants, such as Dave Palmer (Rod Culbertson) and Rita Batty (Cheryl Hall).

When Dave tells an incredulous Rita that Mrs Hooker examines their rubbish (in the hope of finding something incriminating) they decide to play a joke on her by drawing a plan of a fictitious robbery and popping it in the next bag of rubbish.  Naturally enough she finds it and goes rushing off to the station to report her latest find.

But whilst Dave and Rita are planning make-believe crimes, a real one is happening right next door.  Mrs Collins (Sylvia Coleridge) has become quite the local celebrity, following a piece in the local paper about how she discovered one of her paintings was worth forty thousand pounds.  This makes her a target and Walker (George Sweeney) and Ron Fielding (Roger Lloyd-Pack) plan to relieve her of this precious work of art.

When Ron Fielding turns up at Mrs Hooker’s house, looking for a room, it’s pretty clear from the outset that something’s not quite right.  Although he’s offered a nice, quiet room at the back he prefers the smaller one at the front.  Problem is that Rita has the front room and doesn’t want to move.  Ron spins Mrs Hooker a yarn about how his wife has moved in over the street with another man, which gives Queenie Watts a lovely moment as she purses her lips and declares that spying on people isn’t nice at all.

Of course, he’s simply interested in the room because of its location to next door and the painting.  But though he doesn’t get the room he still plans to use it – as soon as Rita leaves to work at the pub that evening.  Alas, she comes back too soon and finds herself bound and gagged by Ron and Walker.

Everybody’s Business is another good character-based story.  Roger Lloyd-Pack and George Sweeney (both to later find fame in John Sullivan sitcoms – Lloyd-Pack in Only Fools and Horses and Sweeney in Citizen Smith) exude a certain menace.  Their initial meeting, in a bleak and rubbish-filled street, is another snapshot of how grim many areas of London were back in the 1970’s.

Cheryl Hall (who would also later appear in Sullivan’s Citizen Smith, alongside her then husband Robert Lindsey) is rather appealing as Rita.  She has a mischievous streak, brought on by Mrs Hooker’s snooping, but also finds herself tramautised after spending the night tied up.  Sylvia Coleridge, who had a lengthy career largely playing eccentric old women, plays somewhat to type as Mrs Collins.

Bruton is very brusque with both Rita and Dave (it appears that he doesn’t believe her story to begin with) and this causes Dave to call him a pig, once he’s out of earshot of course.  It’s quite rare for the police in Dixon to behave quite so off-hand to witnesses, so this is possibly a sign that the series was gently trying to toughen up a little.  There’s also a very brief, Sweeney-like, bit of action at the end as we see police cars racing through the urban wasteland to nab the criminals.

With the crime only taking up a small part of the running time, Everybody’s Business is much more about character interactions and because the story is so well-cast this makes it one of the stronger episodes from this final run.

Dixon of Dock Green – The Vagrant

vagrant

A vagrant (John Carson) is knocked down by a car in the street.  An eye-witness, Fred Smethwick (Bill Treacher), is insistent that the car deliberately drove into him and his statement catches the interest of the Dock Green police.  The vagrant is later identified as Joseph Conway, a career criminal who turned Queen’s Evidence a few years previously.  He helped to put two criminals, Gerald Tate (Johnny Shannon) and Bert Flower (John Hartley), behind bars and since they’re both now back in circulation it seems likely one of them was the driver.  But the truth is rather more complicated …..

The Vagrant benefits from John Carson’s guest turn.  Whilst he’s rarely been a leading man, he’s a quality actor who enhances any production he appears in.  Still active (he popped up in an episode of Midsummer Murders a few years back) he’s enjoyed a lengthy career stretching back to the 1950’s.  The Doctor Who story Snakedance and the Out of the Unknown episode This Body Is Mine are two of his credits which have been covered previously in this blog (both of which are enriched by Carson).

He’s rather cast against type here as a down-and-out.  The part calls for him to adopt a hoarse and hesitant voice and a rather vague manner, but it’s obvious from fairly early on that there’s more to Conway that meets the eye.  He may appear now to be a broken wreck of a man but that wasn’t always the case (in fact he’s not even Joe Conway).

His real name is Francis Spurling and the reason for him changing his identity helps to spin the story off in another direction completely.  After Spurling and Joe Conway swapped identities, it allowed him to drop out of circulation (Conway’s dead body was mis-indentifed as Spurling).  His wife, Margaret (Suzan Farmer), has since remarried and naturally views his return with horror.  But Spurling hasn’t returned to make trouble – he simply wants to try and make amends with Margaret and also help his friend Percy (a lovely turn from Paddy Joyce).

The Dock Green boys take a back seat in this one as the bulk of the episode revolves around Conway/Spurling, although Clayton and Bruton do entertain themselves by questioning Tate and Flower (Johnny Shannon is wonderfully belligerent as Tate).  As I’ve said, Paddy Joyce is very entertaining as Conway/Spurling’s fellow vagrant Percy and whilst he adds little to the plot, he’s a colourful character who enriches the episode no end.

There’s little for George Dixon to do and the story does somewhat splutter to a conclusion, but as ever, the first-rate guest cast (John Carson, Paddy Joyce, Johnny Shannon, Suzan Farmer), helps to keep the interest bubbling along.

Dixon of Dock Green – The Job

target

Sgt Wills fishes a barely conscious petty criminal called Phil Harvey (George Innes) out of the river.  It wasn’t suicide though – as Harvey was bound and gagged.  After he’s taken to the hospital Wills in unable to get any useful information from him.  DC Clayton is equally unsuccessful with Harvey’s wife, Jessie (Mela White).

The first breakthrough comes when Harvey’s car is found – close to the office of Stephen Gilles (David Lodge).  Gilles is a target criminal and therefore of special interest to the Serious Crimes Squad.  Dixon contacts DCI Bassett (Stephen Greif) who’s been keeping Gilles under observation and suggests they pool their resources.

There’s some effective film-work at the start of The Job as we see Wills rescue Harvey.  It once again shows that one of Dixon‘s strengths during this period was the dock-based location filming (which helps to break up the generally studio-bound, static feel of the series).  There’s not a lot of location work in this one but every little helps to open out the show a little.

The opening of the story also brings Sgt Johnny Wills a little more into the centre of the action.  Between 1960 and 1976 Nicholas Donnelly chalked up over two hundred appearances and was therefore as much a fixture at Dock Green as Jack Warner or Peter Byrne were.  Donnelly was able to give Wills a likeable, friendly air which fitted in well with the general tone of the series.

Here, he spends most of the story at the hospital – cadging endless cups of tea from a friendly young nurse (played by Glynis Brooks).  She only appears to have eyes for the dashing young DS Bruton though and later views Wills’ habit of listening at doors with a little disfavour.  Wills is unabashed though – if it means gaining information then it’s a legitimate tactic.

As ever, there’s a very decent guest cast.  George Innes (Upstairs Downstairs, Danger UXB) gamely opened the episode by being caked in mud and submerged in the river (kudos to him, considering the early hour the scene was shot and how cold it looked).  Mela White (best known as Diamante Lil from Bergerac) is gloriously vacant as his wife.  But is she really that slow on the uptake or is it just a way of concealing what she knows?

It’s possibly not a surprise that it’s Dixon (rather than Bruton or Clayton) who realises that Serious Crimes have been keeping tabs on Gilles which is confirmed after he arranges a meeting with DCI Bassett.  It’s another subtle demonstration that whilst he may be getting on, Dixon’s knowledge still remains formidable.  Greif’s scenes are rather distracting, thanks to his false-looking moustache, but his meet with Dixon is a good excuse to get Jack Warner out of the studio and onto film.

David Lodge, an actor with an impressive list of comedy credits (appearing alongside the likes of Peter Sellers and Spike Milligan), has a fairly small role but casting a name actor helps to make it a memorable appearance.

As so often with television of this era, it’s the period feel which makes it an interesting watch.  The Harvey’s house (especially the wallpaper) screams out that it’s the 1970’s and some of the film-work – as Bruton and Clayton tail Gilles down the local high-street – is also rather evocative.  This filming also highlights the somewhat ad-hoc way these programmes were made.  Often it appears that they’d just turn up and start filming, without attempting to close off the street.  Meaning that you’ll often see members of the public unable to resist the temptation of staring straight down the lens!

The second of Derek Ingrey’s five scripts for series twenty-two, it’s another effective, character-based story.

The Last Detective – Pilot

last

“Dangerous” Davies was created by Leslie Thomas and first appeared in Thomas’ novel Dangerous Davies: The Last Detective which was published in 1976 (three further books would follow – in 1987, 1993 and 1997).

Davies’ first small-screen appearance came in 1981, in an adaptation of Thomas’ 1976 novel which saw Bernard Cribbins play Davies and Bill Maynard appear as Mod.  We then fast-forward some twenty or more years to The Last Detective which starred Peter Davison and Sean Hughes and ran for four series between 2003 and 2007.

Peter Davison has always had a tendency to play somewhat bewildered everymen, so was perfectly cast as Davies.  Dangerous Davies (an ironic nickname, as he’s anything but) is an old school copper who’s genuinely interested in people and is content to listen to what they have to say and help if he can.  This earns him barely disguised contempt from his younger colleagues who are much more interested in just nicking villains.

There’s no solace to be gained from his superior, DI Aspinall (Rob Spendlove), either.  It’s Aspinall who tags him the Last Detective – i.e. he’d always be the last detective chosen to investigate any important case.  So Davies ends up with the jobs nobody else wants to tackle – which is how he stumbles across a twenty year-old unsolved missing persons case and decides, completely on his own authority, to re-investigate it.

Josie (Joanne Froggatt) was a seventeen year-old girl who went missing in 1982 and hasn’t been seen since.  When leafing through files relating to a connected case, Davies becomes intrigued by the story and decides to take a look at it, although the potential consequences of reopening such an old investigation are quickly spelled out.  Josie’s mother (played by Rachel Davies) has never got over her disappearance and there’s the uncomfortable suggestion that if Davies doesn’t come up with anything he’ll simply have raised her hopes only to have them dashed again.

Talking about Josie also impacts on her sister Celia (also played by Joanne Froggatt).  Ceila was conceived shortly after Josie went missing and has lived her whole life knowing that in some respects she’s a replacement for her.  Her lack of identity and also her relationship with Davies (which shifts between vulnerability and hardness) is a key part of the story.

The picture of exactly what sort of person Josie was is slowly built up as Davies questions the people closest to her.  As he meets each witness we see a flashback to events back in 1982 and they help to bring her character into sharper focus.  There’s several potential suspects, although the mystery element of the story is fairly weak since the culprit is somebody that was never even considered.  This can’t help but feel like a bit of a cheat.

As Davies continues to uncover the facts he finds a useful sounding board in his friend Mod (Sean Hughes).  With Davies seemingly shunned by his colleagues, Mod effectively becomes his partner and is always on hand to listen to his theories.  The notion that Davies could operate with no supervision might have been more likely when the book was originally published but it does strain credibility a little in 2003.  Still, television doesn’t have to be real to life so it’s best just to go with the flow and just enjoy the comic banter between Davison and Hughes.

The pilot also introduces us to Davies’ estranged wife, Julie (Emma Amos).  If his career is a bit of a disaster then it’s obvious that his marriage was as well.  This does sort of ram home the point that he’s a loser – but thankfully Davison is able to bring some light to proceedings (otherwise things would be even more depressing than they are).

But there is a dark tone to this story.  Although Josie’s mother tells Davies that all she wants is closure – if she knew Josie’s fate then she could find some sort of peace – the solution to the mystery isn’t one that provides anybody with a neat, happy ending.  Should Davies have just left well alone?  At one point he does confess that he’s possibly only continuing the investigation because he wants to prove to himself that he can solve it (rather than considering what the consequences of his actions will be).

David Troughton, who had starred alongside Davison in A Very Peculiar Practice, makes a welcome guest-appearance as Sergeant Yardley.  Like Davies, he’s an old-fashioned copper and the pair seem to have a certain connection.  Rachel Davies and Leslie Schofield both impress as Josie’s parents, but the stand-out performance comes from Joanne Froggatt as Josie/Celia.  Now a familiar face, thanks to a regular role in Downton Abbey, she had still managed to rack up an impressive list of credits between her television debut in 1996 (in an episode of The Bill) and this production.

Thanks in part to Peter Davison’s unshowy performance, this is a strong opener.  Richard Harris’ adaptation skillfully manages to take the best from the novel whilst presenting a less comedic adaption than the 1981 version.  Rather bizarrely, the series isn’t available as a R2 DVD, although R1s and R4s are available (it’s also just begun a rerun on the UK channel Drama) so it’s worth checking out if you can find it.

Dixon of Dock Green – Domino

domino

When Annabelle Sturmer (Sally Faulkner) moors her impressive-looking yacht at Dock Green she instantly catches the eye of dock-worker Ron Mason (Alan Lake).  Annabelle and Ron share a drink and everything seems friendly enough – but in an instant her mood changes and there’s a struggle.  She returns with a gun and then a shot is heard.

Ron is seen leaving the boat, pausing to throw something in the water.  When Annabelle’s disappearance is noted, the boys at Dock Green investigate.  All the evidence suggests that Ron murdered her – but things aren’t quite as straightforward as they first appear …..

Domino was the first episode of Dixon of Dock Green‘s twenty first and final season.  This series saw several changes to Dixon‘s tried and tested format.  Firstly, we’re told that Andy Crawford (Peter Byrne) had transferred to another area, so there’s several new faces in CID – DS Alan Bruton (Richard Heffer) and DC Len Clayton (Ben Howard).

As for Dixon himself, he’s moved from being the desk sergeant to taking up the post of collator.  In some ways this wasn’t too drastic a change – as per the previous few series George stays in the station and provides the others with nuggets of information that enable them to run the criminals down.

As is probably well known, Jack Warner had some trouble moving about, so Dixon tends to remain either seated or standing upright.  He does walk about a bit, but not very far (his days of pounding the beat were long, long over).  But the job of collator was an inspired one, as it allowed him to still have a decent input into the stories as well as giving him a chance to mentor a younger officer, PC Harry Dunne (Stephen Marsh), who we’re told will take over from him in due course (was there thought given to continuing the series following Warner’s retirement?).

Whilst Peter Byrne’s departure was a loss, Richard Heffer is a very welcome addition to the cast.  A familiar television face already (Captain Tim Dowling in Colditz and JImmy Garland in Survivors were amongst his numerous roles) he brings a touch of class and charm to Dock Green nick.  Ben Howard, as Len Clayton, provides a nice contrast, since he seems to have an ironic sense of humour as well as possessing a harder streak.

Derek Ingrey’s script sets up a mystery which isn’t resolved until the closing minutes.  Sally Faulkner doesn’t have a great deal of time to make an impression, but still manages to do so.  Annabelle Sturmer appears to be a spoiled little rich girl, who took her father’s yacht without permission and sailed it back to Britain.  The implication is that she’s an alcoholic, which would explain her fondness for drinking early in the morning as well as her violent mood swings.

Alan Lake, who died at the very early age of forty three in 1984, might be best remembered as Diana Dors’ husband, but he also had an impressive list of acting credits (including eight appearances in Dixon, playing eight different characters).  He didn’t tend to do subtle very often, but that works perfectly well here. Ron Mason needs to be a twitchy, unpredictable character, that way it makes the question as to whether he’s harmed the girl harder to answer

Lake is one of the episode’s chief attractions and he enjoys a generous amount of screen-time.  Also worth watching are Gwyneth Powell (in her fifth and final Dixon appearance) as Mason’s long suffering wife and Simon Lack (later to star with Richard Heffer in LWT’s Enemy at the Door) as Annabelle’s father.

The down-beat ending might have been easy to guess, but it still has a certain impact.  A solid, if not spectacular, series opener.

Minder – You Gotta Have Friends

gotta

Billy Gilpin (David Buck) is a wanted man.  The police want to question him about the attempted murder of Lord Ingrave, whilst local villain Bobby Altman (George Baker) is also keen to track him down.  Billy worked for Altman and has absconded with seventy thousand pounds worth of bearer bonds.

As Terry gave Billy a lift, that makes him an object of interest for both the police and Altman.  The police are fairly easy to deal with but the barely stable Altman is another matter.  He’s convinced that Billy gave Arthur the bonds and issues a stark ultimatum – if Arthur doesn’t return them, his life expectancy will be very short.

Moments of levity are few and far between in You Gotta Have Friends.  They mostly occur at the start, as we see a very drunken Arthur making his way home after a night spent with his friends at the Lodge.  He’s accosted by Billy who urgently needs a ride out of town.  Arthur’s in no fit state to drive (some lovely drunk acting from Cole in this scene) but he knows just the man – Terry, of course.  It may be the middle of the night, and Terry’s rather preoccupied with the lovely young Valerie, but this doesn’t really register with Arthur.

After this, things take a darker turn when Terry’s picked up by the police for questioning the following day.  In the years to come he probably would have been quizzed by either Chisholm or Rycott and that would pre-condition the viewer to know that nothing particularly serious is going to happen.  But here we have the more imposing form of D.I. Barnett (Allan Surtees).

Although Terry’s never really in serious trouble, it’s the tone of the scenes at the station which feel different from similar moments from later series.  The bleak, whitewashed walls do seem to have a more oppressive feeling here.  Even Terry’s temporary cell-mate, Whaley (a decent cameo from Roy Kinnear), might not be all that he appears.  On the surface, Whaley looks like a friendly chap, genuinely interested in Terry’s plight – but is he one of Barnett’s tame grasses, there to act as a possible prosecution witness?  We never find out for sure, so Terry may just be acting a little paranoid (possibly brought on by his brief confinement).

George Baker is imposing and powerful as Bobby Altman.  His meeting with Terry demonstrates he has trouble keeping his temper under control.  This, together with his group of minders (including Brian Hall and Prentis Hancock), give us an early indication that he won’t be a pushover.  When Altman tells Terry that he’s going to kill Arthur, we believe him.  And whilst Terry could easily take the older Altman, he’s told quite plainly that with the superior numbers on his side, Altman would always emerge victorious.

There’s a fairly heavy use of library music in this episode and since most of the cues tend to be dramatic and suspenseful ones, that simply adds to the tension.

Later, Altman abducts Arthur and gives him one more chance to tell him where the bonds are.  As Arthur doesn’t have them he can’t do this – but Altman has long since passed the point of reason.  A health-fanatic, he forces Arthur to go for a jog with him and pushes him to the point of collapse.  When Terry rescues him, it’s slightly played for laughs, but before this it’s another disturbing scene.

Luckily for Arthur, Terry arrives in the nick of time with the bonds, which had been in the possession of Lady Ingrave (Deborah Grant).  Despite their mis-matched backgrounds, she was in love with Billy and the pair planned to disappear together (although his death – he’s later fished out of the river – puts paid to that).

The Arthur/Terry dynamic is quite obviously what makes Minder work.  Arthur might be self-centered and manipulative, but there has to be some kernel of respect between the two of them – otherwise the series simply wouldn’t work.  This is demonstrated when Terry finds a barely-conscious Arthur, with Altman towering above him.  He hands over the bonds, but has no hesitation is aiming a well-thrown punch in Altman’s direction, knocking him down.

Honour is therefore satisfied.  Altman’s got his bonds back, but Terry’s struck a blow for his friend.  And despite the power (and man-power) Bobby Altman has, he knows that this is one time he should walk away.

You Gotta Have Friends brought the first series of Minder to a conclusion.  It would be Leon Griffiths’ last script for a few years, due to ill-health, but he’d set up a very firm foundation which ensured that the many writers who followed in his footsteps would have plenty to work with.

Minder – The Dessert Song

dessert

Terry and Arthur rescue a Greek-Cypriot called Charlie (Peter Bland) who was being attacked in the street by three men.  They take him back to a restaurant, run by his cousin Christina (Diane Keen), who although initially unwelcoming later seeks Arthur’s help.

She tells him she’s being hounded by Omar (Godfrey James) – the brother of Christina’s late husband, who wants to take over the running of the restaurant.  Arthur’s rather taken with Christina and agrees that Terry will keep an eye on the place.  But things turn out to be slightly more complicated than they first appear …..

One notable thing about The Dessert Song is that all the actors playing Greeks – Diane Keen, Godfrey James, Peter Bland, Daniel Hill (as Johnny) and Michael Angelis (as Nick, the waiter) – are British.  It was common enough during this era of British television, as the pool of ethnic actors was much smaller than today, but it is a little distracting.

Still, it’s always a pleasure to see Diane Keen (one of those actresses who was ever-present during the Seventies and Eighties) and it’s plain that Arthur’s equally taken with Christina.  Just one episode after his misadventure with Sharon, he seems prepared to make a play for Christina’s affections.  Although it’s probable that her restaurant is more appealing to him than she is!

Once Terry is installed as the restaurant’s minder, Arthur’s quick to take advantage – dropping in for a meal (on the house, of course) and delighting in ordering Terry about.  Understandably, Terry doesn’t appreciate this, nor does he really like having to wear a shirt and tie.

Peter Bland is rather endearing as Charlie.  He appears to be harmless, if a little eccentric, but things take a strange turn when he pulls a gun on Terry and Arthur.  Luckily, no harm is done – he’s come to England to right an old family wrong and doesn’t mean them any harm – and Christina resolves to put him on the next plane back to Cyprus.  But the conniving Johnny is easily able to manipulate him into attempting to kill Omar – which means that once again Terry has to wade in and save the day.

Terry and Arthur are slightly less prominent in this episode, although Terry has some decent fight scenes and even Arthur manages to be proactive (trapping Johnny in a telephone box).  The banter between the pair of them (Terry ribbing Arthur about his interest in Christina, Arthur treating Terry like a waiter – clicking his fingers and asking for a menu!) is, as ever, top notch.

The first of twelve episodes written by Andrew Payne (including the feature-length Minder on the Orient Express from 1985) The Dessert Song might feel a little inconsequential (there’s no impressive bad guys – Omar’s quite a reasonable chap after all and Johnny’s obviously no match for Terry) but it’s still an entertaining fifty minutes.

Minder – Monday Night Fever

monday

Arthur is convinced that Sharon Dobbs (Sheila White) is a singing sensation just waiting to be discovered.  He’s so enamoured of her, both personally and professionally, that he hands over six hundred pounds to Chris Lambert (Eric Deacon).  Lambert runs a local nightclub and tells Arthur he’ll use his record business contacts to invite some top people down to hear her sing.

But the evening ends in disaster for Sharon (a combination of the sparse audience’s disinterest and her own flat singing) and Arthur (when he realises that Chris has conned him).  Arthur demands that Terry goes round to give him a spanking and retrieve his money, but Terry refuses.  Those days, he says, are over – since it’s a certain way to ensure he goes back inside.  So Arthur fires Terry and seeks an alternative …..

Whilst Monday Night Fever has some gags, at heart it’s a very bleak tale.  And the bleakness mostly revolves around Arthur as it shows us just how out of touch and insignificant he is.  He blithely assumes he’ll be able to get Sharon engagements at all the top West End nightclubs – only to be told by Terry that they all shut down a decade or so earlier.  His portrayal as yesterday’s man is reinforced when he later tells Terry that he’s still a respected man around the manor.  In a few drinking clubs and car auctions maybe, says Terry, but nowhere else.

Arthur’s relationship with Sharon is the most intriguing part of the story.  He’s clearly attracted to her (although he reacts strongly to Terry’s label of her as the “singing scrubber”).  We see them kiss and after he’s thrown out of his house by ‘Er ‘Indoors, he even floats the possibility of them moving into a flat together.  But this, just like his promise to her that he’ll be able to use his contacts to get her a record deal, is nothing but a pipe dream.

There doesn’t seem to be anything malicious or exploitative in his relationship with her.  He does seem to genuinely believe she’s talented (although he’s in a minority there) and thanks to his deluded belief in his own importance once he’s told her that he’s a connected man in the business, he can’t back down.

This leads him to Chris Lambert, who cons the usually astute Arthur very easily.  Maybe this is because he’s outside of his comfort zone – if it was dodgy jeans or perfume then he’d drive a hard bargain, but Sharon’s clearly impairing his judgement.

Sheila White gives a nice performance as the seemingly innocent and naive Sharon.  She appears to have genuine affection for Arthur, but later we see her shacked up with a keyboard player who’s offered to show her some chromatic scales.  This suggests that like everyone else she’s used Arthur for her own ends.  Her singing had to tread a delicate path between being slightly off-key, but not so bad that Arthur’s interest in her would strain credibility.  And it works, just!

Arthur and Terry’s falling-out is another key part of the story.  It demonstrates that, despite Terry’s protests, he does have genuine affection for Arthur (his girlfriend Penny reminds him that he’s mentioned how he looks upon him as a father figure).  So when Arthur enlists the unstable Vic Piner (Anthony Heaton) to help him get his money back from Lambert, Terry can’t sit on the sidelines.  As Dave says, if things go wrong then Arthur will be in the frame for conspiracy to murder.

As might be expected, all is sorted out in the end and Arthur and Terry are reconciled (once Terry’s felled Vic with a single punch).  He may have lost the girl, some of his money and everything from his lockup but at least he’s got his minder back.

Minder – Come in T-64, Your Time is Ticking Away

t-64

Candy Cabs, a minicab firm that Arthur has a share in, has suffered a series of attacks over the last few weeks – drivers have been beaten up and cars torched.  Arthur enlists Terry’s help by giving him the most clapped-out car imaginable and adding him to the drivers roster.  It soon becomes clear that these aren’t random acts of violence though, there’s a definite reason behind them.

The first of twenty Minder scripts written by Tony Hoare (his last, The Long Good Thursday, aired in 1994 and was the final episode of the original run).  He would end up writing more episodes than series creator Leon Griffiths, and whilst Griffiths’ contribution was absolutely key, in many ways Hoare would be as important as Griffiths in shaping the direction of the series.

Come in T-64 has its comic moments, but it’s also very much a product of Minder‘s earlier, more gritty, period.  It captures the late seventies run-down nature of London perfectly – Candy Cabs is located in a dilapidated part of town and whilst Arthur dreams of taking the business more upmarket and appealing to a more refined clientele, it’s clear that this will remain just a dream.

Early on, one of the drivers is attacked by two young tearaways.  Terry drives him home and before he drops him off he wonders why he’s spending his time mini-cabbing.  Terry’s told that he doesn’t have a choice – he married young, at nineteen, and has a wife and two children to support.  They live in three crummy rooms and in order to try and get on the property ladder he works nights in a bakery and spends the afternoons and evenings driving a cab.  It sounds like quite a bleak existence.

There are a few lighter moments though.  Terry agrees to spar with the local boxing champ as his regular partner hasn’t turned up.  Whilst he’s in the ring, Arthur turns up and gives Terry plenty of, no doubt well-intentioned, support even though it’s clear that Terry’s coming off second best.  When he’s knocked down again, Arthur’s incensed – he tells the barely conscious Terry that this is very damaging to his (Arthur’s) reputation!

One of Terry’s customers is Debbie (Diana Malin) who works as a stripper (the first of five appearances she’d make in the series).  Terry’s instantly attracted and it doesn’t take too long before they get together.  The next morning, Arthur calls to see him and is shocked by her nakedness (“oh my good gawd”).  This is the more familiar, prurient, Arthur that we’d grow used to seeing – always disapproving of Terry’s numerous liaisons – and is far removed from the lecherous Arthur of the earliest episodes.

By far the best comic moment comes when Kevin walks out, leaving Arthur in charge of the office.  His increasingly frantic efforts to keep track of the calls and direct the cabs makes him more and more stressed!  It’s a lovely comic sequence from George Cole.

Come in T-64 also highlights Arthur’s ruthless nature.  Although he’s invested £5,000 into the business, Kevin bitterly complains that he leaves him to do all the work.  Kevin’s keen to buy Arthur’s share, that way he claims he’d be able to make a decent living, but Arthur’s not interested – unless Kevin can come up with £8,000, some three thousand more than Kevin was expecting.

As might be expected, Alfred Burke is excellent as Kevin.  Best known for Public Eye, Burke brings a similar level of laconic weariness to this character.  There’s a few other familiar faces that pop up, such as Oscar James who’d later be a series regular in the early years of Eastenders.

In the end, both Arthur and Terry do quite well.  Arthur ends up buying Kevin’s share of the business (for a mere two thousand) and it’s plain that he’ll make a great deal more money once the site forms part of a new redevelopment.  It was Kevin, of course, who was behind the attacks – attempting to panic Arthur into selling his stake cheaply, so that he could benefit.  And even Terry, who spends most the episode being conned by Arthur, manages to make some money (a rare victory for Terry at this early point in the series).