Month: June 2016

Gordon Murray (1921 – 2016)

archivetvmusings Obituaries , , , ,

gordon murray

The news of Gordon Murray’s death closes another door on the golden age of British children’s television.  Camberwick Green (1966), Trumpton (1967) and Chigley (1969) were repeated for decades by the BBC and were then later picked up by Channel 4 and Nickelodeon Junior.

All three series were remastered a few years ago and are therefore available on DVD to enchant yet another generation.  And I see no reason why the magic of the Trumptonshire trilogy shouldn’t endure for years to come – as all three series have a timeless feel.

Murray didn’t make the shows on his own – Bob Bura, John Hardwick and Pasquale Ferrari were responsible for the animation, Freddie Phillips wrote the music, Alison Prince provided the scripts for Trumpton, Andrew and Margaret Brownfoot constructed the sets, whilst the unmistakable tones of Brian Cant enchanted a generation.

Why has Murray’s world endured?  In a 1996 interview for the radio series Trumpton Riots (this title was a sly nod to Half Man Half Biscuit’s legendary song) Murray felt it was due to the air of innocence that pervaded all three series.  “There’s no crime you know in Trumptonshire, it’s a happy world, and a lot of people say ‘well you shouldn’t encourage children to think that the world’s like that’. Some people throw their children into the deep end of the swimming bath at an early age and say ‘swim’. You know, that’s the way to learn, life’s hard. Hard things are coming to you. I don’t believe in that. I believe that you must protect your children while they are children for as long as possible from this dreadful world we’re living in.” You can listen to the episode here.

Another reason why they have such appeal is the sense of repetition.  For a pre-school programme this is quite important, as the audience will no doubt enjoy the comfort and stability of the same things happening again and again.  If most people were asked their memories of the shows, they might mention the music box, or Pippin Fort, or the Trumpton Clock, or Pugh, Pugh, Barney McGrew, Cuthbert, Dibble and Grubb, or Lord Belborough’s train, etc etc.  These things remain in the memory longer than the individual plots.

All the series had memorable opening and closing sequences.  Camberwick Green had the music box (“Here is a box, a musical box, wound up and ready to play. But this box can hide a secret inside. Can you guess what is in it today?”). Trumpton opened with the town clock (“Here is the clock, the Trumpton clock. Telling the time steadily, sensibly, never too quickly, never too slowly. Telling the time for Trumpton”) whilst they ended with the fire brigade entertaining the locals at the bandstand. True, the opening of Chigley was less iconic than the previous two series, but the closing sequence of the dancing workers from the biscuit factory made up for it.

Thank you Gordon, from millions of children of all ages.  RIP.

The Glory Boys – Episode Three

archivetvmusings ITV Drama - 1980's , , , , ,

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Helen reports back to Jones and is scathing about what she’s witnessed, describing it as a shambles.  As for Jimmy, she tells her boss that he’s “a knight in shining bloody armour ” setting off in hot pursuit.

Jimmy’s desire to finish the job is self evident.  Despite the fact he told Sokarev he’d be right beside him every step of the way, once he can scent blood in the air he’s off and running.  Although it’s probable there wasn’t a backup terrorist team in place – designed to take Sokarev out on his way back to the hotel maybe – Jimmy didn’t know this for sure.  But his dereliction of duty is never really remarked upon.

He tracks McCoy and Famy to a quiet cul-de-sac.  And when we see McCoy force his way into Norah’s house it becomes obvious that he wasn’t simply driving at random.  Before that, there’s a brief gun battle with Jimmy and the British agent hits him in the shoulder.  McCoy responds by lobbing a grenade under Jimmy’s car, which causes quite an explosion (although it’s odd that the neighbours are slow to investigate).

That we’re very much in the pre-mobile age is shown via a nice scene with Jimmy and an old man in one of the adjacent houses.  Jimmy’s desperate to use the phone but the man, no doubt spooked by the gunfire and explosion, tries to close the door on him, trapping Jimmy’s foot in the process!

The juxtaposition between a quiet suburban house and the onslaught of loud, ugly violence is striking.  McCoy, dripping with blood and brandishing a rifle, quickly rounds up Norah and her mother and father.  Famy darts out the back door, heading to Heathrow where he’ll have one more chance to complete his mission.  So for McCoy the position is clear – he has to stay holed up as long as possible.  The longer he can last out, the more time he buys Famy.

Because of his injury, he forces Norah to tie up her mother and father.  Although maybe this is also an exercise in control and fear – it’s certainly an effective moment as we see the girl attempting to bind her mother’s legs with a pair of tights.  As Norah is instructed to pull tighter, her mother reacts with distress.

When Jones arrives, Jimmy asks if he can go in with the assault team.  Jones, naturally enough, refuses.  Jimmy’s request reiterates his desire to be in at the kill – it isn’t enough to be close by, he wants to be right in the thick of the action.  He heads off to slump dejectedly in the back of a patrol car, another nicely played scene by Perkins.

Torture is seen several times in The Glory Boys.  The opening scene of episode one features Elkin and Mackiewicz brutally torturing a suspect whilst in this episode Jimmy indulges in a milder form of abuse following McCoy’s extraction from the house.  In some ways this makes Jimmy a proto Jack Bauer – a single-minded agent determined to do whatever it takes to complete his mission.  But Jimmy’s not acting without authority – Jones tacitly gives his approval (in front of McCoy) to do whatever he has to do.

So in the world of The Glory Boys, the ends justifies the means.  If the rights of prisoners are abused then so be it – provided it happens behind closed doors.  As is seen later, Jimmy’s downfall occurs after he decides to demonstrate his methods in public.

A little psychology and pain forces McCoy to admit that Famy’s going to make a last-ditch attempt to kill Sokarev immediately before he boards the plane.  But the security cordon is tight enough to nullify Famy’s attempt.

As Famy lies helpless – already downed by several shots from the ring of armed soldiers around the plane – Jimmy comes rushing over.  He couldn’t take part in the mission to extract McCoy and he wasn’t close enough to prevent Famy from launching his attack at the airport, but now he can finish the job.  As Famy struggles to get up, Jimmy aims his gun at his opponent’s head and pulls the trigger.  A quick cut to a roaring jet engine is a clever way of hiding the fact that we don’t see the fatal shot fired, but the power of the moment is still strong as we see Jimmy walk away, with a ring of onlookers behind him.

This most public of executions means that Jimmy is now highly toxic and the Minister (Ian Cuthbertson) tells Jones to fire him.  So Jimmy’s out of a job and Sokarev has safely left the country.  But there’s a final ironic twist, quite in keeping with the bleakness of the tale, which amuses a drunken Jimmy. We leave him as he slowly wends his way through the darkened London streets (with the haunting title music by Philip Japp and Julia Downes playing).

The Glory Boys has an excellent cast, although it’s pity that several familiar faces have very little to do.  The likes of Anthony Steel, Ian Cuthbertson, Alan MacNaughton and Robert Lang were all good enough actors to have taken major parts, but instead they only make the briefest of appearances.  Steiger and Perkins naturally dominate, although Alfred Burke has a quiet assurance as Jones.  Bur Joanna Lumley, despite being fourth billed, has little to do – Helen’s main usefulness seems to be that she can sense the real Jimmy behind the heroic façade.

YTV were no doubt hoping that this serial would repeat the success of their previous Gerald Seymour adaptation (Harry’s Game, 1982).  This didn’t really happen and the critical reaction was muted (with some newspaper reviews, latching onto the gunplay and violence, unimaginatively dubbing the series “The Gory Boys”).  The fact that it’s never been released on R2 DVD is another reason why it maintains a fairly low profile (although it’s available in R1).

As a time capsule of the mid eighties and also as a vehicle for both Rod Steiger and Anthony Perkins it’s well worth seeking out though.  It’s not perfect (and the 105 minute “movie” edit is tighter and more satisfying than the 3 x 50 minute serial) but the themes and characters continue to resonate down the decades.

The Glory Boys – Episode Two

archivetvmusings ITV Drama - 1980's , , , , ,

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Famy’s inexperience is demonstrated at various points throughout the serial. McCoy is appalled to discover that he doesn’t have a plan to kill Sokarev – Famy has to weakly admit that the others (now dead) had the plan – and he further complicates matters by killing a woman who was rifling through his possessions at the flat where he and McCoy were holed up.

This means they’re on the run – which delights Jones, as he believes this leaves them in no shape to make the hit. Jimmy isn’t convinced and Jones quickly picks up on the vibe that Jimmy’s hoping that they’ll attack anyway. “You want to be in work, cheering them on. That makes me sick.” For Jimmy, the thrill of the chase (not to mention the kill) is all.

Although Rod Steiger’s performance can be florid at times, he still manages to throw in some subtle touches. One occurs as he prepares to say goodbye to his wife, prior to flying to London (she’s been forbidden from traveling with him). As they embrace, his eyes dart around in a worried fashion, but he manages to put on a brave face as they pull apart.

We see Norah’stifling home-life, complete with a father (played by Hubert Rees) who reacts to the news of Famy’s murder of the girl by muttering that the killer should be strung up. Of course, neither he or Norah’s mother realise that their daughter’s boyfriend is involved. But although Norah now knows what sort of man McCoy is, her love for him overrides every other consideration. But does he have any feelings for the girl, or is he simply using her?

The difference between Famy and McCoy – the one who’s prepared to give up his life for the struggle he believes in and the other who has no interest in a suicide mission – is restated. Famy tells him that “because my people have suffered, are suffering now, they trust me, for what I will do for them. In my country, the martyrs of our movement are honoured”. McCoy responds by telling him to shut up, proving that the ideological gulf between them is too wide to be breached. But while McCoy doesn’t share Famy’s hope for a glorious martyrdom, he does seem to have some sympathy for him.

Whilat a modern terrorist would probably plant a bomb, Famy’s eventual plan is much more old school – a rifle through the window and, hopefully, a clear shot at the podium where Sokarev is speaking. It’s possible to see the ease with which Famy and McCoy breach the elaborate security procedures set up to protect Sokarev as a weakness of the story or it could be deliberate.

Windows from the lecture room are accessible from the street outside, but although the street is cordoned off no thought seems to have been given to positioning substantial numbers of police or security officers outside these very vulnerable spots. Jones suggests it’s due to lack of resources, but that seems strange given the number of officers deployed elsewhere.

So the pair are able to run across the road and – as McCoy gives him a leg up – Famy breaks the glass in the window and takes aim at Sokarev. His lack of experience is highlighted again as he fires off multiple shots but isn’t able to hit the target. In desperation he throws a grenade in, which is leapt on by Mackiewicz.

Mackiewicz therefore protects both Sokarev and the others, but at the cost of his own life. It’s a chilling moment which brings home the point that often a bodyguard’s job is to take the bullet (or grenade) intended for the person they’ve been charged to protect.

With McCoy now injured from a brief gun battle with one of the security officers outside, he and Famy make their escape. Once more Famy’s inadequacies are displayed when he admits he can’t drive a car – forcing the badly injured McCoy to take the wheel as Jimmy follows close behind.

The Glory Boys – Episode One

archivetvmusings ITV Drama - 1980's , , , , ,

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Palestinian terrorists hatch a plan to assassinate Professor David Sokarev (Rod Steiger), an Israeli nuclear scientist, during his forthcoming visit to Britain.  He has his own people protecting him – Maciewicz (Michael J. Jackson) and Elkin (Ron Berglas) – but the head of SIS, Mr Jones (Alfred Burke) plans to put his own man next to Sokarev every step of the way.

Jimmy (Antony Perkins) was the best, but in many people’s eyes he’s yesterday’s man.  His skill with a gun is still razor sharp, but he’s also inclined to be reckless and insubordinate.

Three terrorists attempted to reach Britain.  Two were killed in France, leaving one survivor – Famy (Gary Brown).  He makes contact with McCoy (Aaron Harris) a member of the Provisional IRA and together the mismatched pair begin to hatch a plan …..

The Glory Boys was a three-part serial, based on the novel by Gerald Seymour, made by Yorkshire television and broadcast over three consecutive evenings during October 1984.  That it was stripped across three nights indicates that it was seen as “event” television, and no doubt the two star names at the top of the credits helped to strengthen this feel.

Both Rod Steiger and Anthony Perkins were bona fide film stars, although it would be fair to say that their stock had fallen a little by the mid eighties, which probably explains how YTV were able to snag them.  But it was still a coup to see Steiger (On The Waterfront and In The Heat of the Night) and Perkins (Psycho) in a British television drama.

Steiger plays Sokarev in a very deliberate, ponderous way.  Sokarev is not a politician or a soldier, he’s a scientist and in his early scenes gives the impression that he’s somewhat unworldly.  He treats the news about the threat on his life with alarm and is keen to cancel his British trip.  But he’s told in no uncertain terms that this is impossible – it would send out a signal to the terrorists that they’ve won and Israel would then become a country under siege.  He eventually sees the logic in this.

Perkins’ British accent has met with mixed opinions down the years.  I think it’s pretty good and Perkins certainly impresses as the alcoholic, chain-smoking, cold-hearted killer.  If Steiger tends to be a bit wooden, then Perkins’ easy charm (although always with the sense that there’s something nasty lurking just below the surface) provides a nice counterpoint.

It’s no surprise, especially for this era of television, that the Palestinian terrorist Famy was played by a British born actor, Gary Brown.  It’s not a problem though as Brown is quickly able to sketch out Famy’s character quite effectively.  He was the youngest of the three terrorists and the most inexperienced.  But like them he has a fanatical desire to carry out his mission, even if it costs him his life.

This desire to die for a cause will be something that’s unfortunately all too familiar from modern acts of terrorism, but for British audiences watching thirty years ago it would have been more unusual.  The point is driven home by McCoy who tells Famy that he’s not prepared to throw his life away – McCoy might be IRA, but that doesn’t mean he has any desire to die.

Famy’s political ideology remains somewhat nebulous.  At one point he does attempt to explain his views to McCoy, but is cut off.  As for McCoy, in this first episode we learn that he has a British girlfriend, Norah (Sallyanne Law).  She seems an odd choice for an IRA terrorist, since she’s in her late teens and very innocent (with her love of cuddly toys she seems little more than a child at times).

The SIS we see is very much in the pre-computer age and for all intents and purposes it could just as easily been a snapshot of the 1950’s.  The offices are large, gloomy and old fashioned, complete with furniture that’s seen better days.  When Jones prepares to sleep in overnight, Helen (Joanna Lumley) makes up his camp-bed, complete with a hot water bottle.  To complete this very British picture, he spoons Ovaltine into a mug.

The first time Jones mentions Jimmy he looks at a picture on his wall, showing a wartime scene.  It’s a cliché moment for sure, and later the story is spelled out.  Jones and Jimmy served in Malaya back in the 1950’s and Jimmy saved Jones’ life.  So Jones feels he owes Jimmy a debt ever since, even up to and including today.  Did Jones chose Jimmy for this job because he’s still haunted by the events of Malaya or did he really think Jimmy was the best man to carry it out?

Alfred Burke, even with a fairly small part, catches the eye – as does Joanna Lumley.  Helen works for Jones and is Jimmy’s girlfriend, so her loyalties are somewhat divided.  Lumley has even less to do than Burke, but like him she’s a notable presence.

Pathfinders in Space – Rescue in Space

archivetvmusings ITV Children's Programmes - 1960's ,

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We left our heroes on the horns of a dilemma last time.  The rocket can only carry one adult and one child back to Earth, so what’s going to happen to the rest of them?  If only there was another ship they could use ….

The final instalment of Pathfinders in Space only ran for seventeen minutes (rather than the normal twenty five).  This was due to the rather unusual decision to launch a new (unconnected) serial following the commercial break.  It’s no great hardship though, since the shorter running time gives the episode a certain urgency.

Wedgewood decides that Henderson and Valerie should return to Earth.  That leaves the rest of them on the Moon with only fifteen hours of oxygen.  Wedgewood is matter of fact about their situation – it’ll give them time to complete their researches and their work will be of value to future expeditions.  Obviously it’s a bit of a pity they’re all going to die, but he maintains a suitably British stiff upper lip.

It’s no surprise that Jimmy asks if his pesky pet guinea pig can also make the trip to Earth.  His father agrees, so that’s one weight off everybody’s minds I’m sure!

The others don’t take their impending deaths with the same quiet equanimity as Wedgewood does.  Mary asks him how he can be so dispassionate when his two sons are going to die.  He doesn’t really have an answer, seemingly he just can.

But then (rather out of nowhere) he decides to pilot the alien craft back home.  This piece of dialogue by Wedgewood is priceless.  “First we’ve got to master those controls, then you’ve got to get that atomic power working, that’s going to take all of three hours.”  Work out how to pilot an alien craft that’s lain dormant for four hundred million years and restart its atomic motors within three hours?  Of course, it should all be quite straightforward ….

Since Wedgewood states that he first had the idea of piloting the ship when their rocket blew up, why hasn’t he mentioned it before?  It seems a little cruel to make his sons, not to mention the others, believe they were fated to die of oxygen starvation.

It proves to be a doddle to get the ship working and also out of the cave (although we never see this on screen).  Once it’s on the lunar surface then the wobbly ship can take flight (although the strings aren’t as visible here as they were in the last episode).  Everything so far has gone so swimmingly, but there’s a problem when they hit the Earth’s atmosphere – the ship breaks in two.  Hmm, strange that they’re not at all harmed by this catastrophe and it’s also lucky that Henderson’s on hand to mount a daring rescue.   It’s another impressive effects shot bearing in mind the era in which the programme was made (although once again, when considering the scientific plausibility of what you’re watching it’s important to suspend your disbelief).

Overall, Pathfinders in Space is very much a mixed bag.  Although it would be easy to mock the modelwork, most of it is very competently done.  It’s easier to mock some of the acting though and it’s interesting to see which characters were dropped for the next serial, Pathfinders to Mars.  In the main I think they made the right decisions, plus the introduction of George Coulouris as Harcourt Brown was a strong addition

The script, by Eric Paice and Malcolm Hulke, has a mix of pulpy moments and hard scientific facts.  It’s an odd juxtaposition, but it does work quite well most of the time.  One downside is that the production only seemed to have a handful of music cues and they do get played an awful lot (by the final episode it’s rather grating).

Not perfect then, but given the year this was made (1960) and the budget, Pathfinders in Space is never less than highly entertaining.  Now it’s onwards to Mars …..

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Pathfinders in Space – Disaster on the Moon

archivetvmusings ITV Children's Programmes - 1960's ,

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Wedgewood and O’Connell, after only a very brief time with the logs of the alien craft, seem confident to tell their story.  Astonishingly, there’s also a film record as well, which shows their (admittedly, very wobbly) craft taking off and heading for the Moon.

The fate of the alien’s planet is a bleak one – two rival factions fought for supremacy and their civilisation was destroyed.  When Jimmy wonders what the invisible death mentioned in the log could be, Geoffrey replies that it must refer to radioactivity from hydrogen bombs.  In the early sixties the shadow of the bomb was never far away – so this would been a highly topical touch, even if it seems an odd inclusion in what, until now, has been fairly light, escapist fare.  It’s an effective parable though which would have left the young audience with food for thought.

Henderson suggests that this other species could also have come from the Earth and after they destroyed themselves millions of years ago in a devastating war, it paved the way for the arrival of homo sapiens.  Although there are one or two problems with this theory, it does help to ground Pathfinders in Space to a certain level of reality – it would have been tempting to introduce little green men from a totally alien civilisation, but Paice and Hulke decided to keep things more down to earth, as it were.

Back on Buchan Island, Jean Cary (Irene Sutcliffe) is starting to feel the pressure.  She’s been a comforting and reassuring presence throughout the serial but now, with the possibility of heavy meteorite showers, she’s becoming much more anxious.

As with other programmes of this era, music and sound effects had to be added during the recording (post-production didn’t really exist).  This explains why the echo effect in the caves is rather inconsistent throughout the serial – at times it’s not really there and at others (as here) it just sounds odd, as if the correct setting hadn’t been made.  But time was at a premium, meaning that the luxury of retakes was a rarity.

As the episode title suggests, things aren’t going well.  The rocket which is due to take them all back to Earth is hit by a meteorite shower.  It’s destroyed in a blaze of stock footage whilst Ian manages to escape with his life. It’s remarkable that when he dives for cover behind a rather wobbly rock just a few feet away he doesn’t suffer any injuries. Clearly Moon rock has strange properties ….

All’s not quite lost. They can use the other rocket, but it’ll only be able to carry one adult and one child.  Cue everybody looking at everybody else as they wonder who’ll be the lucky ones …

Pathfinders in Space – The World of Lost Toys

archivetvmusings ITV Children's Programmes - 1960's ,

space 05-01

Although Pathfinders in Space was broadcast only a few months after Target Luna, all of the roles were recast (presumably this was the choice of new director Guy Verney).  This is a slight pity as it would have been interesting to see some of the actors featured in Target Luna (Frank Finlay as Henderson, Michael Craze as Geoffrey) carry on.  And quite what the audience made of the changes at the time isn’t recorded ….

At the end of the last episode, Valerie discovers a calcified figure.  Wedgewood decides it’s a stalactite, whilst O’Connell declares that it’s been there for at least four hundred million years.  So at the time when life on Earth had barely begun, a similar looking race had landed on the Moon.  Quite how and why this humanoid became calcified is a mystery though.

Jimmy, of course, can’t resist showing the figure to Hamlet.  It’s a little surprising to learn that Richard Dean (Jimmy) was actually older than Stewart Guidotti (Geoffrey).  Dean’s small stature ensured that he played characters younger than his actual age and whilst it’s true that Jimmy is rather irritating and juvenile, when you know that Dean’s older than Guidotti it does raise the possibility that Dean was giving a skilful acting performance all along.

Scattered about the cave are children’s toys – the toys of the children from this other, long vanished civilisation.  It seems that children from all over the galaxy have similar tastes in toys – stuffed animals, spaceships – and it helps to fill in a little more background.  Although I can’t help thinking that when Henderson returns to Earth and writes his story, nobody’s going to believe him.  After all, if Neil Armstrong returned from the Moon with a cuddly toy under his arm, what sort of reaction would he have received?!

Whilst everyone else has been having adventures on the Moon’s surface (and below) poor Ian’s been stuck in the spaceship by himself.  And it’s only after his long distance games of chess with Earth that I realised who he reminds me of, Tony Hancock in The Radio Ham!  There’s an extraordinary performance by Terence Soall as a Russian technician who broadcasts an urgent message (which turns out to be nothing more than a suggestion for his next chess move) to Ian in the rocket.  Let’s be kind and say Russian accents weren’t his speciality.

The news that a shower of meteorites is heading for the Moon could spell disaster for the two precious rockets.  If they’re damaged, then Wedgewood and the others will never be able to return home.

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Pathfinders in Space – The Man in the Moon

archivetvmusings ITV Children's Programmes - 1960's ,

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Jimmy’s made an impressive discovery – another spaceship – and this one’s deep in an underground cavern.  It’s a bit of a mystery though, how did the ship get there?  Henderson and the others join Jimmy to puzzle it out, but soon find themselves trapped underground ….

Budget limitations are rather exposed at the start of this episode, as our intrepid explorers puzzle over the mysterious ship.  The script no doubt called for an impressive landslide to trap them, but what we saw on screen was not so much a landslide, more of a trickle.

Professor Wedgewood’s party are hopelessly lost.  With only limited oxygen, this isn’t good news and Dr O’Connell continues to be a rather gloomy companion.  Once again, Wedgewood’s lack of forward planning is exposed – he suggests they try over there (more out of hope than from any sort of scientific judgment).  But when they find a mysterious marking in the ground – similar to the ones discovered by Henderson – it suggests they’re close to Henderson’s rocket.  This is a bit of a stretch – why couldn’t these marks be all over the Moon? – so you have to admit that the pessimistic O’Connell does have a point.  Wedgewood might be enthusiastic but he seems to bumble from one crisis to the next.

Wedgewood and the others reach Henderson’s rocket, but of course they find nobody there.  They’re still trapped in the cave and with their oxygen running out face certain death.  Jimmy responds by going a little stir-crazy (enthusiastic over-acting, shall we say) but just when it seems all is lost they’re rescued by Wedgewood.  It’s all a tad convenient, but no matter – everyone’s together and they can now set up camp and try and solve the mystery of the alien spaceship.

There’s some hard – well hardish – science fiction talk as Wedgewood and O’Connell ponder over the ship.  And then Hamlet goes missing, which means that Jimmy heads off to look for him.  I think we have to be very grateful that when Doctor Who was set up they didn’t decide to give Susan a pet which would run off every five minutes and therefore create an excuse to put her into danger.  Four episodes in, I’m getting a little tired of Hamlet.

We have to wait until the final shot of the episode before Valerie discovers the man in the Moon.  It’s maybe not what was expected, but it’s a very effective cliffhanger.

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Pathfinders in Space – Luna Bridgehead

archivetvmusings ITV Children's Programmes - 1960's ,

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Following a near collision with a mysterious ship orbiting the Moon, Henderson is forced to make an emergency landing.  After a slightly tricky descent, they land safely – although they find themselves some distance from Professor Wedgewood’s rocket.  The Professor, Mary and Dr O’Connell set out to find them, whilst Henderson and the others rig up a signalling beacon.

Jimmy is given the honour of being the first man to set foot on the Moon, but later they discover strange markings in the lunar surface – which indicates that others have been here before them …..

Gillian Ferguson, as young Valerie, certainly dials up the intensity at the start of this episode.  Her film and television career was fairly short lived (her last credit, an episode of Dixon of Dock Green, was broadcast the following year, 1961), so like many child actors she never carried on once she became an adult.  Her playing of Valerie lacks a certain naturalism, shall we say, which possibly isn’t too much of a surprise since the script is pitched at rather a melodramatic level.

Hamlet’s spacesuit is either a mark of genius or the silliest thing ever.  I’m leaning towards the latter at the moment.  As for the humans’ spacesuits, the most noticeable thing about them is that they lack any visors.  This was obviously done for dramatic purposes – otherwise we wouldn’t be able to see or hear the actors – but it does take a few moments before you can put out of your mind the fact they all should have suffocated as soon as they set foot on the lunar surface.

Henderson has a good explanation as to why they’re not bouncing about on the Moon’s surface – their spacesuits help to cancel out the lack of gravity, meaning that they can stroll about just as if they were out for a walk in the park.  That’s convenient of course,  since the studio wouldn’t have been set up to deal with the problem of demonstrating weightlessness!

The model shots of the lunar landscape continue to impress, and if the descent of Henderson’s rocket is a little wobbly then it seems churlish to be too critical.  The full-size lunar landscape is a little less convincing though, but the small budget and technical considerations obviously played a part in this.

I’m quite taken with Pamela Barney as Professor Mary Meadows.  With Dr O’Connell having once again slipped into “doomed, we’re all doomed” mode, she’s called upon to be the sensible voice of reason.  Apart from a role as a nurse in the film During One Night (also 1960) all of her other credits come from the Pathfinders trilogy.

With seven episodes to fill, the serial can afford to take its time.  So in this episode we’re teased with a few more revelations – the strange ship orbiting the Moon seems to have been abandoned, whilst marks in the lunar surface suggest that the inhabitants of the shp landed – but are they still here?  It seems impossible, but you never know.

Young Jimmy falls down a shaft and discovers more evidence of their handiwork.  His gobsmacked expression is a little extreme, but it sets us up nicely for episode four – The Man in the Moon.

Pathfinders in Space – Spaceship from Nowhere

archivetvmusings ITV Children's Programmes - 1960's ,

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In a highly unsurprising plot-twist, it’s revealed that Valerie has stowed away.  It’s also no surprise that the Professor’s far from impressed to discover that his three children are present with Henderson in the rocket.  He wants them to remain in orbit around the Earth, but Valerie – demonstrating a sly cunning – suggests to both Henderson and her father that it would be safer if they travelled on and orbited around the Moon instead.

A moment which warms the heart occurs when we see news of the Professor’s feat transmitted around the world.  In the UK this is represented by some over-acting extras, but the best is yet to come.  We travel to France (accordion music, a couple of sailors sitting outside a café), Canada (a man fishing in the wilderness with some very obvious cardboard mountains behind him) and Australia (a man in a stable with a piece of straw in his mouth).  It may be a touch stereotypical, but it’s a nice piece of shorthand that shows how, very much like the real Moon landings in 1969, this trip to the Moon was something that the whole world could share.

There’s a rather impressive weightless effect which shows Jimmy floating about.  In the years before CSO, I don’t think this inlay effect would have been that easy to produce (I can’t remember any similar examples in 1960’s Doctor Who, for example).

This episode gives us a chance to get to know the Professor’s crew.  Given the era this was made, it’s a progressive touch that a woman, Mary Meadows (Pamela Barney), is aboard.  And she didn’t have to stow away!  As we’ll see in a minute, Dr. O’Connell (Harold Goldblatt) is currently operating in full Private Frazer mode (he doesn’t go as far as telling them that they’re all doomed, but it’s close).  And for the moment, Ian Murray (Hugh Evans), hasn’t had a great deal to do.

Dr O’Connell’s a worried man.  He’s convinced that disaster awaits them if they attempt to land on the Moon – and he uses force to try to prevent the Professor from doing so.  You’d have assumed that the Professor would have screened his crew beforehand to prevent any such problems, oh well.  Luckily, once they manage to land O’Connell regains his composure and it’s smiles all round again.

I do like the scene where Mary is describing the Moon landscape, prior to the moment when they touch down.  The Moon we see through the viewscope looks pretty much like the real thing, so they clearly must have done some research.  We’ll see next time how accurate the full-size surface looks though …

Whilst the trouble in getting to the Moon has been the main plot-thread so far, the episode closes with an intriguing mystery.  The Professor spots a ship on the other side of the Moon and naturally assumes it’s Henderson.  But it’s not, so where has this unidentified ship come from?

Pathfinders in Space – Convoy to the Moon

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Target Luna and the subsequent Pathfinders trilogy (Pathfinders in Space, Pathfinders to Mars and Pathfinders to Venus) are of interest for several reasons.  Firstly because you have to admire the sheer gumption of the programme-makers (attempting to depict space travel to the Moon, Venus and Mars with a shoestring budget back in the early sixties certainly took nerve!) but also because of the proto-Doctor Who feel of the series.

Target Luna (sadly wiped) and the Pathfinders trilogy (rather amazingly all twenty one episodes still exist) were broadcast on ABC television during 1960 and 1961 and all four serials were produced by Sydney Newman.  It can hardly be a coincidence that when Newman jumped ship for the BBC a few years later and was looking for a Saturday tea-time serial to run throughout the year, the show that eventually became Doctor Who bore a strong resemblance to Pathfinders.

Both featured a strong, reassuring leading man (Conway Henderson in Pathfinders, Ian Chesterton in Doctor Who) and there was also a “kid to get in trouble” (three of ’em in Pathfinders in Space/Susan Foreman).

But most striking of all, the later Pathfinders serials (Mars, Venus) featured an older man “with some character twist”.  To begin with, we were never meant to identity with him directly – since he tended to do things which endangered our heroes – but ultimately he would demonstrate that his heart was in the right place.  The proto-Doctor in the last two Pathfinders serials was Harcourt Brown, played by George Coulouris.  Coulouris had worked with Orson Welles, most notably in Citizen Kane, and was no doubt (like William Hartnell later on) seen as rather a left-field choice to play in a children’s science fiction series.

And one last Doctor Who link – the scripts were written by Eric Paice and Malcolm Hulke.  Hulke would – after several abortive attempts – become a respected Doctor Who script-writer.

But although the connections to Doctor Who are of undoubted interest, do the serials hold up as good examples of children’s serial television in their own right?  That’s what this rewatch will discover …..

After opening with some dinky-looking model work, a well-dressed man, Conway Henderson (Gerald Flood), turns up at the gates of the Buchan Island Rocket Research Station.  This was still very much the era of Quatermass, so formidable (and British!) installations such as these were the order of the day.  It’s a slight pity that the opening dialogue between Henderson and the security guard is a little clunky (the guard greets him with the words “och, it’s yourself, Mr Conway Henderson”).  Why would the guard greet Henderson by telling him his own name?!  But on the plus side it helps to introduce him straightaway and the script also wastes no time in explaining that Henderson is a scientific journalist.

You may be wondering how a journalist manages to wangle his way aboard a rocket for seven weeks of action-packed adventures.  Good question!  There’s something endearingly charming about the way that Pathfinders in Space is so casual about space-travel.  In a way it harks back to the classic BBC radio serials of the 1950’s (starting with Journey into Space) and it’s possibly not a coincidence that the first Wallace & Gromit adventure, A Grand Day Out, seemed to have a similar vibe.

Henderson bumps into Valerie Wedgewood (Gillian Henderson), a rather squeaky girl.  Also somewhere on the base are her brothers, Geoffrey (Stewart Guidotti) and Jimmy (Richard Dean).  Their father, Professor Wedgewood (Peter Williams), is in charge and tells Geoffrey that he’s going to keep an eye on all of them – no more jaunts into space for his kids (as seen in Target Luna).  I wonder how successful he’s going to be.

It’s probably fair to say that the amount of pleasure which can be derived from Pathfinders in Space is strongly connected to how irritating you find the juvenile leads.  Geoffrey is the older, more sensible one, Jimmy is always worried about his pet guinea pig Hamlet, whilst Valerie spends her time worrying about the other two.

Professor Wedgewood’s trip to the Moon is announced in a very matter of fact way.  The scene where he briefs the other crew-members is a classic – the rocket hasn’t really been tested at this distance before, but no matter as he cheerily tells them that this will be the test flight!  He then states that there will be two rockets – the other one will carry supplies and be computer-controlled. Wedgewood’s crew have no need for spacesuits when they blast off – comfortable cardigans are the order of the day.

The model rocket taking off looks rather like a, well, model – but the brief animation of the rocket when seen above the Earth is a simple, but very effective shot (we see the secondary stage jettisoned).

Disaster!  A rogue screwdriver (no, me neither) destroys the automatic pilot in the secondary rocket.  Since this rocket is due to carry all the supplies, it spells serious problems for Wedgewood and the others.  It’ll take six days to repair the automatic pilot, but what other possibility do they have?  Luckily (well that’s one word for it) Henderson is a trained jet pilot and offers to fly the second rocket.  It seems a little remiss of Wedgewood not to have any stand-by astronauts, but I don’t think this is a series that you can really critique in too deep a fashion.

The plot’s been designed so that Henderson – and the enthusiastic kids – can pilot a rocket to the Moon.  Henderson’s happy to have the sensible Geoffrey along, whist Jimmy also bags a place.  But what about Valerie?  Her brothers aren’t happy – she’s a girl so is bound to be scared.  She seems to be reconciled to being left behind, but I’ve a feeling that the discussion about stowaways earlier in the episode was put there for a reason.

Gideon’s Way – The Perfect Crime

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Todd (Patrick Allen) and Casey (Patrick Bedford) have formed a profitable criminal partnership.  The mysterious Todd is a well-connected man who always seems to know when wealthy marks will be away from home – but he needs the skills of Casey, a noted safebreaker.

They’re very different characters though.   On their latest job, Todd thinks nothing of clubbing down an au pair who unexpectedly returns to the flat they’re burgling (with an off-hand comment of “stupid cow”).  This perturbs Casey, who hates violence and recoils at the sight of blood.  Casey’s wife, Sandra (Jean Marsh), urges him to cut his ties with Todd, but as he’s earning good money he’s prepared to ignore his scruples.

When the au pair dies and Casey is arrested on another job, things look bleak for him.  But a wily lawyer sees a chance to blame Casey’s self-inflicted injury on police brutality – with Gideon in the frame …..

The incomparable Patrick Allen – possessor of the type of voice I could listen to all day – is in fine form as Todd.  By night he’s a violent criminal, but by day Todd’s a respectable stockbroker, moving in the best of circles with his cultured and beautiful girlfriend, Anne Beaumont (Ann Lynn).  Lynn’s one of those actresses who, if you love television of this era, you can’t help coming across.  Sergeant Cork, Public Eye and Minder are just three series graced with her presence.

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Elsewhere, Jean Marsh is a vivid screen presence as Sandra.  Following her husband’s arrest, Sandra attempts to extract the money he’s owed from Todd, with fatal results.  The moment of Sandra’s murder is nicely done.  As so often in GW, we don’t actually see the fatal blow struck (the camera is elsewhere at the time) but the quick cuts – and Todd’s expression afterwards – still make it a chilling moment.

It’s an amusing character touch that whenever Todd’s in criminal mode he wears a pair of dark glasses.  Even when indoors!  How can he see what’s going on?!   It’s also noticeable how he’s able to edit his personality – when spending time with his girlfriend and their wealthy friends he’s urbane and pleasant.  But when he’s discussing the next job with Casey he’s blunt and business-like, seemingly uncaring that the au pair is hovering close to death.  When confronted by Sandra he explains why he’s embarked on a life of crime.  “I do it because stocks and shares are pedestrian, dull, inanimate. When I’m on a job with Casey I’m alive, quick turning in my guts of fear, excitement, even sensuality. There’s no rational explanation.”

It’s jarring to see Gideon accused of hitting a suspect.  Jack Regan maybe, but not the avuncular George Gideon.  This feels like a theme drawn more from the books, which tended to paint Gideon’s world in shades of grey, as opposed to the resolutely black and white world of the television series.   In Creasey’s novels, Gideon had to traverse a more morally corrupt landscape, where even his own colleagues couldn’t always be counted upon.  But whilst the series caught the flavour of the books they also tended to rub off the sharp edges (although the ending of this episode is rather bleak).  However I’m glad they never carried over the practice of having Gideon referred to by his colleagues as “Gee Gee”.  It wouldn’t seem right to me for John Gregson to be referred to that way!

There are some series which I’m glad to have, but don’t tend to get rewatched that often.  Gideon’s Way isn’t one of them.  Gregson and Davion form a solid partnership, the scripts are generally very strong, the guest casts can rarely be faulted and the extensive location filming in and around London is yet another reason why this is a programme to be cherished.  Possibly because it didn’t fit the usual template for ITC filmed series, it’s never had the profile of the likes of The Saint, but Gideon’s Way is an endlessly entertaining series that I can come back to time and time again.

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Gideon’s Way – Morna

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Everybody loved Morna Copthorne (Angela Douglas).  Or nearly everybody.  When she’s found shot dead, Gideon is tasked to investigate her murder – and he finds that a much more complex character emerges.

The opening scene is an interesting one – we see a fisherman discover Morna’s body and then we observe him rush off to inform the police.  But it’s all dialogue-free, instead the incidental music almost seems to be acting as a substitute.  It feels slightly odd, but it works.

We then cut to Gideon’s house as he, Kate and Matthew are planning a day out, although there’s no prizes for guessing that an important call will shortly force Gideon back on duty.  Kate looks far from happy (indeed, it’s pretty much the most disgruntled I can recall her looking throughout the whole series).

Morna was the daughter of an important man, Sir Robert Copthorne (Robert Adams), and some discrete strings have been pulled to ensure that Gideon heads the case.  During the early part of the episode we hear several fulsome tributes to the dead girl, starting with her father.  “What was Morna like? She was exquisite. She was like a rose, soft, fragile, lovely. Everything thing about her was beautiful.”  Poor Sir Robert seems a broken man.  Later he tells Gideon that since Morna was born late in his life, he now has nothing to look forward to.  The fact that he looks at his wife, Lady Copthorne (Shelagh Fraser), when he makes this statement is telling.

Gideon and Keen then travel to Morna’s exclusive public school, which is run by Harriet and Leonard Bright (Kay Walsh and John Justin) who continue the praise of the girl.  Harriet tells them that Morna was her favourite pupil (“she had all the qualities that make up a wonderful human being. She was so warm, so vital, so alive”).  Leonard is no less effusive. “She had a quality, you know. Same sort of quality a star has. She glowed.”

If all this sounds far too good to be true, then it’ll come as no surprise to learn that it is.  Everybody who praised Morna so fulsomely  had their own reasons and for many there’s an element of self deception.  For example, Lady Copthorne is the first to illuminate a chink in Morna’s armour – she drank.  Sir Robert seems disbelieving, but it’s more likely that he knew all along about her frailties, he just wouldn’t admit them.  Lady Copthorne then makes a damning statement about their child – by giving her every material gift they could, they ended up spoiling her.  She admits that they attempted to buy her affection, leaving the possibility open that Morna never cared for them at all.

Although Morna’s dead at the start of the episode, via flashbacks we do get to see her.  Because we’re effectively viewing her through the eyes of various people – her best friend Lydia Merritt (Alita Naughton), her fiancé Michael Usher (Norman Bowler) – there’s the possibility that the Morna we’re watching has been “edited” by them.  This doesn’t seem to be the case though.

Through various testimonies, we discover that Morna kept a flat in London, enjoyed gambling, marijuana and was pregnant.  She owed nightclub owner Chay (Johnny Sekka) eight hundred pounds and this seems at first to be the crisis she faced on the day of her death.  I’ve written elsewhere about how impressive Sekka was in the Z Cars episode A Place of Safety, and he’s equally good here.  Chay is someone with a chip on his shoulder – he’s a black man in a white man’s world – so below his charming exterior is a mass of resentment.  It bubbles to the surface after Gideon takes him in for questioning.  This interview is probably one of the most hostile seen in the series – compared to the likes of The Sweeney it’s tame stuff, but it pushed the series into an area that it didn’t often cover.

Angela Douglas (like Kay Walsh) was one of a select group of actors who played two different roles in Gideon’s Way.  Morna, like Cathy Miller in The “V” Men, is a vulnerable character.  Our perception of Morna certainly changes as the episode progresses, but she doesn’t suddenly turn into an “evil” person.  I think that Alun Falconer’s screenplay was attempting to make the point that she’s neither saint or sinner – just an ordinary person with human frailties.  And if she was painted by some as an untouchable goddess, then that was simply because they had agendas of their own.

As a big fan of Moonbase 3, my heart was warmed to see Barry Lowe in the small role of a forensics officer.  He clearly wasn’t a terribly good one though, as his examination of the boat house, close to where Morna’s body was found, failed to spot a bullet hole in the wall!

Kay Walsh had been the central figure in The Housekeeper, so the role of Harriet Bright appears, at first, to be much less interesting.  It’s certainly a smaller part, but it turns out to be a vital one.  John Justin is terribly good as her husband, a man who seems to have rather an inflated opinion of his teaching abilities.  Alita Naughton only had a handful of credits and there’s something a little distancing about her performance, which I think is down to the dubbing.  Her character, Lydia, was American, so possibly Alita’s American accent wasn’t terribly good and she was later redubbed?

Another good story, enlivened by some decent performances (most notably Johnny Sekka).

Liverpool 1 to be released on DVD by Simply Media on 15/8/16

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Liverpool 1 will be released on DVD by Simply Media on the 15th of August 2016.  Review here.

Liverpool: the home of heroes and legends. Football, The Beatles, Ferry Across the Mersey – people know this city. At least, they think they do… Merseyside CID know another Liverpool. Day to day, on the streets, they’re at the sharp end of the fight against the drug pushers, porn barons, paedophiles and pimps who run this great port’s crime networks.

Liverpool 1 is a gritty drama that originally aired on ITV in the late 1990s, from BAFTA award-winning directors Ken Horn and Terry McDonough. Starring a wealth of great British acting talent including Samantha Womack (Eastenders, Game On), Scot Williams (Mersey Beat, Meadowlands) and Mark Womack (Murphy’s Law, Babylon) and featuring the inimitable Carry On favourite Leslie Phillips CBE, it comes to DVD for the first time in the UK thanks to Simply Media.

DC Isobel de Pauli has taken on a new job, in a new city where she soon discovers she is a stranger to the ancient, hidden connections that tie Liverpool’s criminals together… and its cops. On arrival she comes face to face with John Sullivan, the city’s most charismatic and influential crime boss. He’s as fascinated by her as she is by him—but Sullivan is the least of her worries.

Her new partner, the silent and indistinctive DC Mark Callaghan, knows this world inside out ­– and he’s doing everything in his power to shut de Pauli out of it. Callaghan is the subject of an internal police investigation, and de Pauli has some serious suspicions about his links to Liverpool’s criminal underworld.

This uncompromising drama pits cops versus criminals, but who is on whose side? Liverpool 1: Complete Series 1 and 2 comes to DVD as a bumper 4-disc set on 15 August 2016.

The Ambassador to be released on DVD by Simply Media on 15/8/16

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Simply Media will release both series of The Ambassador on the 15th of August 2016.  Review here.

British acting legend Pauline Collins OBE (Shirley Valentine, Dickensien) stars as The Ambassador in this powerful BBC drama from award-winning, BAFTA-nominated Russell Lewis (Inspector Morse, Endeavour), which originally aired in 1998 and now makes its UK DVD premier courtesy of Simply Media.

Harriet Smith is the newly appointed British ambassador to Ireland; recently widowed, this sharp-witted confident woman, holds one of Britain’s most coveted and powerful Embassy posts and has unenviable task of quelling the mounting tensions between the two countries. She must perform a delicate balancing act between raising her two teenage sons and the demands of her career.

John Stone (Denis Lawson – Bleak House, Star Wars) is Harriet’s determined commercial attache and main aide. But the ever-crafty Stone also works for another master – MI6.

Harriet finds herself in a sinister and dangerous world far removed from the cocktail parties of Downing Street. Entangled in a complicated web of half-truths and withheld information – rife both in and outside of the Embassy walls – Harriet is up against a host of people who would love nothing more than to see her fail.

 

Gideon’s Way – Boy with Gun

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Chris Kirk (Howard Knight) is a quiet, bespectacled boy of fifteen who finds himself corned by three toughs of his own age, led by the knife-wielding Mick (Roger Foss).  Mick wants Chris’ rifle and after a struggle the gun goes off.  Mick falls to the ground, apparently dead, whilst Chris flees the scene.

Chris isn’t the sort of boy you’d expect to be tangled up in a shooting case.  His father, Dr Kirk (Anthony Bate) is the local police surgeon and a well respected man.  The reaction of the local Inspector, after Dr Kirk tells him that his son was responsible, speaks volumes.  He simply can’t believe it – after all, nice middle-class people don’t go around shooting other people.

Anthony Bate was an immaculate actor who I can never remember giving a bad performance.  His credits are too numerous to mention, but I’ve previously written about his turns in the likes of An Englishman’s Castle and Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy (both series are undeniably enriched by his playing).  He’s also first-rate in the classic Out of the Unknown episode Level Seven.  Dr Kirk is another well crafted creation – a cold, cold man who is indirectly responsible for the mess young Chris finds himself in.

Dr Kirk is pained that Chris takes no interest in sports and would sooner bury his head in a book.  He dismisses the boy as effeminate and then tells his wife Helen (Ruth Trouncer) that it’s mostly her fault anyway – she wanted a girl so (in his eyes) she’s stunted his development. Husband and wife have a blazing row, expertly performed by Bate and Trouncer (which is notable as it’s played at a more intense level than is normal for the series).

Helen concludes the argument by telling her husband that the reason he wants Chris to be a real man is because he isn’t one himself.  It’s a wonderful piece of character development which lays the character of Dr Kirk bare.  But this isn’t the whole story, as later Gideon remembers the time when Dr Kirk risked his life to save an injured policeman.  Gideon’s story helps to demonstrate that whilst the man may have many less than admirable traits, he (like all of us) is a more complex character than might first be supposed.

Kirk gave his son the gun because he’s been trying to interest him in various manly pursuits – hunting, shooting, fishing.  Of course, this doesn’t explain why Chris was carrying a loaded gun around the streets of London, which remains a slight weakness of the story.  The point where Mick is shot is also worth looking at – did Chris shoot him deliberately or did the gun go off by accident?  It’s possible to make a case for both, although it has to be said that anybody who walks around with an unbroken rifle is simply asking for trouble.  It’s also odd that when Chris goes on the run he takes the gun with him, why would he do that?

Mick isn’t dead, although his condition is serious.  His anxious parents, Tim (George Sewell) and Mary (Mary Quinn) wait anxiously at the hospital for news, as Tim vows vengeance on Chris.  I’ve always loved George Sewell but since the character he’s playing is Irish, he’s operating a little out of his comfort zone, meaning that every time he opens his mouth I find it hard to take him seriously.  Quite why Tim couldn’t have been played with Sewell’s authentic East-End tones is a bit of a mystery.

After Chris goes on the run he’s befriended by Vince Kelly (Michael Craze), a Borstal escapee.  Chris’ mother tells Gideon that her son is a lonely child – shunned by the boys in his area – so he latches onto the friendly Vince with alacrity.  Craze’s breezy naturalistic playing is a delight.  He’s the diametric opposite of Chris – whilst Chris has had everything, Vince has had nothing – but there’s no resentment from the Borstal boy.  He simply accepts Chris at face value, understands that he too is in trouble and makes an instant connection.

Mick’s father, Tim, is the one with the resentment.  In a memorable scene, he confronts Gideon and tells him that he knows the police won’t try too hard to find Chris – after all, Dr Kirk is a member of the establishment and they always look after their own.  “My boy never really had a father. For ten years I was sewing bags in Dartmoor for the Regent’s Street fur job. The Kirk boy’s had everything. Good school, clothes, family background the lot. And what happens? My boy’s walking along, minding his own business, doing no harm to nobody, and the Kirk kid blasts him with a shotgun.”  Even allowing for Sewell’s interesting Irish accent this is good stuff, capped off when Gideon tells him that his son wasn’t quite the innocent party his father has made him out to be.

Vince is an irrestable dreamer, who’s sure that his elder brother Ches (Michael Standing) will be able to spirit them out of the country. As they hitch a ride to Ches’s flat, Vince continues to express his respect for the fact that Chris was able to shoot a man. It’s therefore fairly obvious that Vince isn’t the brightest, but Craze manages to make the boy both vunerable and appealing.

It slightly beggars belief that Chris eventually finds himself pretty much back where he begun, meaning that a local petty criminal (played by the wonderful Joe Gladwin) is able to pop round the corner and tell Tim that the boy who shot his son is hiding in the area. This is the excuse for Sewell to dial his Irish accent to eleven and it also shows Chris levelling his gun at the struggling Ches and Tim. So although Chris has been somewhat painted as a victim, this moment is another indication that his sense of morality is rather skewered.

The ending – as Gideon and the others confront Chris, who’s still armed – is very interesting. Dr Kirk is on the spot, and everything seems set up for him to be the one who talks the boy down. But this doesn’t happen and it’s Vince who’s finally able to bring the stand-off to a peaceful conclusion. Father and son do walk off together though, which suggests that maybe, over time, there’s a chance for them to rebuild their shattered relationship.

As ever, good playing from the guest cast helps to enrich an already strong screenplay by Iain MacCormick.  MacCormick’s screen credits aren’t terribly extensive (he died, aged just 48, in 1965) but his contribution to Gideon’s Way was notable.  Boy With Gun was his fifth and final script, whilst the others (especially The Nightlifers, The Alibi Man and The Thin Red Line) are amongst the best that the series had to offer.

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Gideon’s Way – The Millionaire’s Daughter

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Alan Blake (Don Borisenko) is a handsome, smooth-talking conman who’s well known to Gideon.  So when the Commander learns that Blake has begun a relationship with Nina Henderson (Lans Traverse), the daughter of millionaire businessman Elliot Henderson (David Bauer), he’s very interested.  And following Nina’s kidnapping, Gideon’s interest only grows …..

The Millionaire’s Daughter opens with Blake and the Hendersons disembarking from the cruise liner which has carried them from New York to London.  During that time Nina has become totally besotted with Blake and it appears that her parents are equally impressed.  Elliot, supposedly a hard-headed businessman, later tells his wife Felissa (Lois Maxwell) that he prides himself on being a good judge of character and that Blake is a fine young man.  Uh, oh, he got that a bit wrong!

Gideon’s Way was a slightly atypical ITC film series as most of the others (The Saint, Danger Man, Man in a Suitcase, The Champions, The Baron, etc) appeared to have been crafted very much with foreign sales in mind.  Lew Grade, the boss of ITC, had clear views about what sort of shows would sell in the foreign (especially American) market.  Globe-trotting action (even if it was all filmed on the back-lot at Borehamwood with the help of a palm tree or two!) and an American star, or co-star, usually didn’t go amiss.

But Gideon’s Way, with its very British (and London feel) didn’t fit this pattern at all.  Having said that though, it’s possible that it did find a receptive overseas audience, as there were many who rejected Grade’s formula and believed that series which made a point of their Britishness tended to do well.

The Millionaire’s Daughter certainly seems to be designed to push some of those buttons as early on we see Blake and Nina enjoy a whistle-stop tour of many of London’s top tourist attractions (they feed the pigeons at Trafalgar Square, walk past Buckingham Palace and view the Houses of Parliament).  Alas, Nina’s happiness is short-lived after she’s chloroformed by Blake.

Erica Townsend (Georgina Ward) and Philip Guest (Donald Sutherland) are the other members of Blake’s gang.  Erica swaps clothes with the unconscious Nina, so that she and Blake can create the illusion that Nina returned to her hotel later in the day.  Erica seems to have a few qualms about this, leading Philip to drawl that “you’ve got to baby.  I look awful in high-heel shoes.”

Given Donald Sutherland’s later career, it’s hard not to be drawn to his performance – but even if he’d faded from view a few years later, I think his turn as Philip would still be regarded as one of the best things about the episode.  Sutherland gives Philip an edgy intensity that is totally mesmerising – he’s so obviously a loose cannon, teetering on the edge of sanity.  Philip spends most of the episode advocating that they kill Nina (Blake and Erica take the opposite view) and it’s possible to believe that he’s capable of carrying out his threats.  But when Nina later attacks him in an abortive escape attempt, it’s telling that Philip just crumbles and has to be led away by Erica.  So given how unstable Philip appears, it’s a little surprising that he’s the one left to guard Nina – but his non verbal actions (such as the way he gives her an extra dose of chloroform) certainly help to ramp the tension up.

Georgina Ward has a less showy role but still catches the eye.  Although at times she seems vulnerable, she’s also often shown to be in command (she – not Philip – makes the ransom demands, for example).  But in many ways she’s just as much a victim of Blake as Nina is.  Gideon explains that the only reason he sought her out was for her resemablance to Nina.  And the fact that Blake’s run out on them (taking Fellisa’s diamonds) proves his point.

Lans Traverse has a slightly thankless role, since Nina isn’t really allowed to be much more than a easily duped mark, but David Bauer and Lois Maxwell fair a little better.  Bauer was an American actor who moved to Britain and became a familiar television face.  Authentic sounding American actors were quite rare in Britain during the 1960’s so it’s no surprise that Bauer prospered.  Canadian born Lois Maxwell will forever be known as the original (and best) big-screen Miss Moneypenny, but like many other actors – including Bauer – she was no stranger to the numerous ITC series that were flourishing at this time.

The relationship between Elliott and Felissa is put under great strain following the kidnapping.  Elliott is happy to leave matters to Gideon but Felissa is haunted by the kidnapper’s threats that they’d kill her if the police were involved.  All ends well, but not before both characters have been put through the wringer a little.

Gideon’s his usual efficient self.  There’s not really too much memorable material for John Gregson in this one – so possibly his best scene comes early on, as he’s seen relaxing at home.  His older son, Matthew (Richard James), is reluctant to speak to his (girlfriend?) on the phone, because his parents are in the room.  “I can’t talk now, older generation you know?”  John Gregson’s expression is pricless, as is Daphne Henderson’s (she makes it plain that Kate knows just how much this statement will irriate her husband).  Lovely stuff!

David Keen gets to tangle with Erica later on and his method of restraint – putting an arm around her waist – is an unusal one.  And after everything’s sorted he seems to have an eye for young Nina too.

Had it not been for Donald Sutherland this episde may have fallen a little flat, but his twitchy, edgy performance certainly helps to keep the interest up.

Gideon’s Way – The Reluctant Witness

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witness

Red Carter (Mike Pratt) and his brother Syd (David Gregory) run a successful stolen car ring.  Their success sticks in the craw of Tiny Bray (Frederick Piesley) though.  Tiny spent four years inside for a crime he didn’t commit, thanks to Red, and the thought of revenge has obsessed him ever since his release.

Tiny is one of Gideon’s top informers – but Syd caches up with him before he can spill the beans to the Commander.  The younger Carter brother dishes out a savage beating and Tiny later dies from his injuries.  There was an eye-witness – Rachel Gulley (Audrey Nicholson) – but she’s a quiet, shy girl who’s reluctant to speak out.  However, the local beat copper, PC John Moss (Trevor Bannister), has a plan …..

The Reluctant Witness is packed full of incident and interest.  Like a number of actors, Mike Pratt made two appearances in Gideon’s Way, playing different characters.   Red was the more substantial role and Pratt certainly holds the viewers attention.  Elder brother Red is clearly worshipped by the younger Syd.  But Red’s not only older, he’s also wiser (at least during the early part of the story) as it seems more than likely he wouldn’t have lost his temper with Tiny, as Syd did.

In contrast, Syd is portrayed as violent and reckless.  An insight into his personality is given during a party thrown by the two brothers.  Syd is slightly rough with his female companion and remains unrepentant – the clear implication is given that his treatment of the opposite sex is often far from chivalrous.

The party scene also has one of my favourite Gideon/Keen moments, as the officers gatecrash the swinging hop to sow a little discord.  They tell the brothers a fairy story – all about a stolen car ring – although there’s no happy ending (they drop the bombshell that Tiny’s dead).  Gregson and Davion work really well here.

You might wonder why Tiny was Gideon’s informant or indeed why the Commander is involved in such a low-key murder.  It’s a fair question, but for once there’s a good reason – Tiny was the only man convicted by Gideon who he later discovered was innocent.  If Gideon’s never been responsible for convicting anyone else who wasn’t guilty, then that’s a remarkable (if slightly unbelievable) strike-rate.  So Gideon feels obligated to get involved (not that he usually needs an excuse, he just tends to pitch in!).  But with Rachel hesitant to speak up, how will they obtain a confession from Syd?

This is a fairly unusual episode of GW, since a generous amount of screentime is given over to a uniformed copper.  Trevor Bannister, forever Mr Lucas in Are You Being Served?, is the fresh-faced man on the beat.  He gives a lovely performance as the friendly beat bobby who’s been carrying a torch for Rachel for some time.  Their relationship hadn’t really got past the “good morning” stage, although there’s no doubt that he’s smitten.  The way that he stops the traffic to allow her to cross the road is a good example of this.

The only criticism I have of Audrey Nicholson’s performance as Rachel Gulley is that several times the script tells us that she’s plain and mousy.  Eh?  She’s a lovely looking girl!  But it’s true she’s something of a downtrodden waif, thanks to her domineering mother (played to great comic effect by Patricia Burke).

Mrs Gulley is a man-eater, plain and simple.  She tells Rachel to pretend to be her younger sister, as she doesn’t want her latest date to know that she’s old enough to have a grown-up daughter.  Later, when the relationship between Rachel and John deepens, Mrs Gulley is invited to tea with Rachel, John and John’s mother.  The tone is set when she asks for something a little stronger than tea – both John and Mrs Moss look a little askance at this, but politeness dictates that they don’t comment directly.  Alas, things go downhill from there, but John isn’t bothered – he tells Rachel that he wants to marry her, not her mother.

John’s plan to catch Syd is a decent one.  Gideon, Keen and John lie in wait at Rachel’s house and when Syd calls round – threating her to keep quiet or else – they’re in a position to overhear everything. But Rachel will still need to testify and this is the point in the story where Red starts to become a little unhinged.  Earlier, when he sent Syd round to threaten the girl, he was quite clear – no excessive violence.  But after Syd is arrested he changes his tune – now he wants the girl dead.  As he says himself, Syd’s all he’s got in the world, so he’ll do anything – including murder – to protect him.

However, Rachel escapes his clutches (quite why he didn’t send more men after her is something of a mystery).  This means that he has to make an even more desperate gamble – attempting to hijack the prison van.  He must clearly love his brother, although it might have been a good idea for at least one of his gang to tentatively ask if this was altogether wise.  No matter, it concludes the story in an exciting way and there’s a nice twist which totally knocks the wind out of Red’s sails.

Mike Pratt, Trevor Bannister and Audrey Nicholson are three reasons why this episode is a favourite of mine.  The other supporting players are far from shabby though and there’s familiar faces to spot, such as Gretchen Franklin (playing Tiny’s wife).  The eagle-eyed may also spy an uncredited Peter Purves as one of Red’s gang.

It’s getting a little predictable to keep on saying how good this series is, but it’s true nonetheless and The Reluctant Witness maintains the high standard.

Gideon’s Way – The Great Plane Robbery

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plane

Terence Bailey (George Baker) has organised what seems to be the perfect crime – a million pounds in gold bullion, hijacked from a Russian plane.  Bailey remains confident that he’s covered all the angles, but then cracks begin to show amongst his gang …..

The Great Plane Robbery is something of a pun title, which would have been obvious to most of the audience at the time (The Great Train Robbery had occurred the previous year, 1963).

What’s remarkable about the plane robbery is just how straightforward it is.  There seems to be no security at all, either on the plane or at the airport.  They were carrying a million pounds in gold, for goodness sake!  You’d have assumed there would have been the odd guard lounging around, but no.  So Bailey’s right-hand man, Frank Dobson (Edwin Richfield) and the others are pretty much able to scoop it out of the plane at their leisure.  And even when the people in the airport control tower spot there’s a robbery taking place, all they can do is stare through their binoculars and sound the alarm.  The police are obviously a long way away, because Dobson and the others are easily able to make their escape before anybody turns up.

Edwin Richfield graced many a series with his presence (UFO, Doctor Who, The Avengers, Z Cars, Dixon of Dock Green, Adam Adamant Lives!).  He’s perfect as Bailey’s trusted second-in-command, who becomes rather disenchanted when a newcomer, Harold (Jeremy Burnham), turns up.  Harold is somewhat fey and camp and this doesn’t seem to go down well with Dobson (after Harold rests his hand on Dobson’s arm, he angrily tells Harold that he doesn’t like people touching him).  But that doesn’t seem to be the only reason why Harold irritates him – Dobson has enjoyed his time as Bailey’s closest confidant, but now there’s a newcomer who knows more than he does.  Their simmering discontent will later have serious consequences for Dobson ….

Jeremy Burham’s something of a renaissance man, not only an actor (including The Saint, The Avengers, Randall and Hopkirk and The Persuaders!) but a writer as well (Bergerac, Inspector Morse, The Gentle Touch, Minder, The Professionals, When the Boat Comes In, to mention but a few).  He helps to liven up the middle part of the episode, which otherwise might have sagged a little.

For me, this is one of the less essential GW episodes, and it only really succeeds because of the quality of the cast (as well as a few entertaining sequences which we’ll come to in a minute).  George Baker is certainly one of the reasons why it works as well as it does.  Much later he’d become very well known for playing a detective, but in the early part of his career he did a nice line in criminals, as he does here.  Bailey is a confident, cultured man.  He treats everybody around him with a casual air of indifference – he’s top dog and he knows it.  Of course, it’s his air of superiority which makes his eventual comeuppance all the more satisfying.

Memorable moments include young Malcolm and Gideon clashing over the best way to deal with the malfunctioning television.  Gideon is convinced he knows best, but Malcolm does know best and manages to restore the picture.  As with most of Giles Watling’s scenes throughout the series, this has no impact on the plot – it’s simply a nice character moment that helps to humanise Gideon.  Police officers, especially senior ones, with stable home lives are a rarity on television and whilst there’s an undeniable sense that their family set-up is simply too idealised to be true, it works nonetheless.

A quite different sort of family can be seen when we visit one of the gang, Kautsky (George Murcell).  His wife (played by Freda Bamford) is a remarkable creation, with big hair and a fag dangling from her lip.  And their son, Sid (John Hall), is remarkable too.  Although Hall was only in his early twenties when this episode was made, he looks a good deal older – meaning that it’s hard to take him seriously as the rebellious teen he’s written as.  His long hair is a bit of an eye-opener too.  Long hair for men isn’t really something that we’ve seen too often on GW – as touched upon before, the series has more of a fifties sensibility than a sixties one.  However, it’s not really the hair that’s an issue, more of the fact that it just looks so false (it surely must have been a wig).  If you can watch Hall’s performance and not think of Peter Sellers in What’s New Pussycat then you have more self control than me.

Not the best that the series can offer then, but it still has its moments.

Gideon’s Way – The Thin Red Line

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thin red line

Commissioner Scott-Marle (Basil Dingham) and Gideon have a meeting with General Sir Hector McGregor (Finlay Curie).  Sir Hector still commands the Commissioner’s old Regiment and Scott-Marle regards the old man with barely concealed awe.  Even Gideon is impressed (“old hell-fire Mac” as he calls him).

Sir Hector is a worried man.  The Regiment’s pride and joy – the Balaclava Silver – is being stolen piece by piece and replaced with good quality fakes.  Sir Hector wants the culprit caught, but the honour of the Regiment is uppermost in his mind.  So Gideon has to work unofficially to bring the culprit to book – and the burning question for him is whether one of the upstanding officers and gentleman could be responsible.

It’s possibly coincidental, but The Thin Red Line has something of the feel of Redcap (ABC, 1964-1966).  Like Gideon, Sergeant Mann (John Thaw) was an outsider who frequently had to battle against the superior nature of the officers under investigation.

Gideon’s lack of enthusiasm for this job is very plain.  He’s too polite to tell Sir Hector so (and his respect for authority means that he’s not going to be openly critical to his superior) but the thought of giving the Regiment preferential treatment is something that obviously rankles a little.

Sir Hector is presented as something of a man out of time – he believes in the honour of his officers, simply because they are officers and gentlemen.  But Gideon is not prepared to take anything on trust and tells them that they, like everybody else, will be investigated.  This leads to one of the most entertaining scenes in the episode, as the superior Major Donald Ross (Allan Cuthbertson) leads the others in pouring icily polite scorn on the Commander.  Although Gideon mentions to Ross that he commanded a Regiment during the war, that doesn’t impress the Major at all.  “Oh, in war lots of very strange people become officers.”  The arrogance of the professional soldier (who no doubt viewed the influx of new officers during WW2 with horror) is beautifully expressed here.

There’s not enough time to examine the characters of many of the officers in detail – so the focus is mainly on Ross.  Allan Cuthbertson was a very familiar face on British film and television screens between the 1950’s and the 1980’s.  Equally at home in drama or comedy (a memorable appearance in Fawlty Towers and a stint as Tommy Cooper’s straight man, for example) he gives his usual assured performance as the rather shifty Ross.

It’s quickly revealed that Ross owes a substantial sum of money to the well-heeled bookmaker ‘Bookie’ Barton Smith (Donald Pickering) and he has to face the humiliation of his wife’s public affair with a brother officer, Captain James Murray (Michael Meacham).  But the pain of being cuckolded quickly fades when he realises that he can threaten to divorce his wife, thereby destroying Murray’s career in the Regiment when he names him as the guilty party or he can force Murray to pay off his gambling debts.  Murray plumps for the latter, although the revelation that Ross is broke does tend to rule him out as a suspect.

To be honest, the culprit’s identity is probably not the most taxing mystery in the world.  Sir Hector’s grandson, Captain Robbie McGregor (John Cairney) dotes on the old man and has been selling off the silver in order to make Sir Hector’s last years a little more comfortable (Sir Hector gambled away his fortune and Scottish estates many years ago).

We’re invited to look kindly on Robbie’s motives, but although it’s true that he didn’t steal the silver for himself, it’s all still a little odd.  Robbie bemoans the fact that a brave old man like his grandfather is broke, but then nobody knew the truth about Sir Hector’s finances.  It seems inconceivable that the Regiment wouldn’t have looked after him, so Robbie’s theft could be less about his grandfather and more about making a statement.  He tells Gideon that he regards the Balaclava silver with loathing.  To him, the silver is a dead reminder of the Regiment’s past.  With it, the Regiment remains backward looking, always concentrating on their great victories from previous centuries.

The end of the episode is nicely underplayed, as Gideon leads Robbie away.  Although not explicitly stated, it seems obvious that Robbie will face the full force of the law – exactly what Sir Hector didn’t want to happen.  But although Gideon did seem to agree with Sir Hector that his investigation would be unofficial, this ending tells us that Gideon’s duty to the law overrides all other considerations.  In this way, we can compare Gideon’s sense of duty and honour to that of Sir Hector – just as the old man has his own set of values, so the Commander has his.

We never find out Sir Hector’s response to the revelation that his grandson was responsible for stealing the Balaclava Silver, but it’s not difficult to guess.  To the General, honour is everything – so this might very well be a blow from which he finds it impossible to recover.  It’s an uncomfortable thought that Robbie’s love for his grandfather will, in the end, be the cause of a great deal of pain.

This episode isn’t one that’s adapted from John Creasey’s novels, which may explain why the plotting feels slightly loose.  For example, late on, suspicion briefly falls on Sir Hector after Gideon discovers that he’s penniless.  This makes no sense at all – if Sir Hector was responsible, why would he have asked Scott-Marle and Gideon to investigate?  It’s also slightly hard to swallow that nobody (apart from Robbie) is aware of the perilous state of the old man’s finances.  By his own admission, at one time Sir Hector was a major landowner – so how was he able to sell off his land, properties and other possessions without anybody realising?

The Thin Red Line is one of the best-cast episodes of GW.  Finlay Currie, already in his mid eighties at the time, gives a nicely judged performance as the General.  Allan Cuthbertson is, as previously mentioned, first-rate and Donald Pickering oozes upper-class disdain in his trademark fashion.  Mary Yeomans only has a small role as Ross’ philandering wife, but she still manages to make quite an impression.  And if a Scottish Regiment of this era didn’t feature Gordon Jackson then I’d feel somewhat cheated.  As Sgt McKinnon he’s only in a couple of scenes, but his presence is a reassuring one.

If you want to read more about the episode, then I can recommend this wonderfully detailed post on a new blog called You Have Just Been Watching.