Year: 2016

Dear John – Series Two

archivetvmusings BBC Comedy - 1980's , , , , , , , ,

dear john 02

Series two opens with several new recruits to the Wednesday night meetings of the 1-2-1 club.  We’ve already met Sylvia (Lucinda Curtis), possessor of an incredibly annoying nervous laugh, during the first series but Rick (Kevin Lloyd) makes his debut here.  He automatically expects everybody to know who he is – as Ricky Fortune he had a brief moment of pop glory in 1969 – so is crushed when nobody recognises him.  John, nice guy that he is, pretends that he owns all of Ricky’s records, but Kirk recognises this as a barefaced lie and delights in needling the unfortunate Rick.

Rick proudly tells them that his big hit went to number one.  But not in Britain.  Or America.  Eventually he has to shamefacedly admit that he was a chart topper in Iceland. Not quite the same thing really.  The observant viewer may have noticed that Mrs Arnott isn’t present, this is purely so she can turn up later and scream with delight when she spies her pop hero Ricky!  This is another lovely use of Mrs Arnott’s character, which makes Sullivan’s decision to write her out of the series in episode two a baffling move.  As I touched upon before, although she didn’t do much her brief contributions were always telling – with the result that her absence was certainly felt.

I’ve a feeling that Sullivan was tiring of the 1-2-1 club format, as several later episodes are much more focused around John, with the others rather pushed into the background.  The fact that John was becoming more central, a change from the ensemble feel of series one, might also explain why Belinda Lang didn’t appear in the final two episodes (although she briefly returns for the Christmas Special).  But another series which starred Lang, The Bretts, was also in production at this time, so it could be that her commitments meant she could only do the four episodes.  Either way, she’s another loss.

Rick features heavily in the first two episodes and then abruptly leaves.  His departure is left fairly open (his confidence takes a knock after believing he’ll be the star of a 1960’s disco – not realising that Louise had already booked Freddie and the Dreamers) but we never see him again.  A pity, since Kevin Lloyd (probably best known as Tosh Lines in The Bill) has an appealing sense of vulnerability as the faded pop star.

The third episode centres around John’s relationship with his son Toby (played by Ralph Bates’ real son, William).  Knowing this, and also being aware of Ralph Bates’ early death, does add several layers of poignancy to any scenes they share.  This was the younger Bates’ only acting job – he’s now carved out a successful career as a musician.

If Rick’s departure felt like a slight structural oddity, then so are episodes four and five.  In episode four we’re told that John has met an attractive divorcee, Liz (Lucy Fleming), but as we never see their initial meeting she just seems to appear out of nowhere.  Since John’s the eternal loser it seems obvious that his attempts to romance her will come to naught.

This appears to be the case when they both return to his room as he’s astonished to find his best friend Ken (Terence Edmond) sleeping in his bed.  Ken’s been turfed out of his house by his wife Maggie (Sue Holderness) and has sought refuge with John.  Earlier, John, Ken and Maggie shared an icy dinner together (the highlight being Maggie’s forced politeness – nicely played by Holderness).  Ken’s presence puts a dampner on any carnal thoughts that John and Liz might have entertained and she quickly leaves.  That, you would think, would be that, but the next day she tells the dumfounded John that she’s booked them into a hotel in Brighton for the weekend.

It’s an intriguing point to end the episode on, but that’s the last we see of her.  Next time John tells the others that Liz dumped him for another man she met at the hotel (well he did have a Ferrari).  Given all we’d seen of Liz during her – admittedly brief – appearance, this seems rather out of character with the result that everything feels very odd.  If you create a relationship that looks like it has legs then the audience may feel aggrieved if it’s curtailed in such an off-hand way.  Why Sullivan couldn’t have written Fleming into episode five as well is a mystery – as her final, unseen, phone conversation with John doesn’t convince.

The slightly strange tone continues with episode six.  John’s finally got some good news – he’s shortly to be promoted to headmaster.  And when he meets a beautiful young woman called Karen (Elizabeth Morton) everything seems to be going his way.  The revelation that Karen isn’t twenty three as he thought, but is a seventeen year old schoolgirl just transferred to his school, is a brilliant comic moment, although it’s an undeniably dodgy topic which you probably wouldn’t find in a pre-watershed sitcom today (always assuming there are any pre-watershed sitcoms of course).

I do find Sullivan’s treatment of Karen to be a little troubling.  It’s revealed that she has a history of forming relationships with her teachers and has already cost at least one of them his job.  Although she’s presented as innocent romantic, just not interested in boys her own age, there’s something slightly off-putting about the way her character is handled.  For John, it’s another indication that he’s a born loser.  Although innocent of any wrongdoing, his liaison with Karen is enough to ensure that he’s passed over for the headmaster’s job this time.  Although David (Frank Windsor) airily tells him he’ll be able to apply in a few year time, when all this blows over.

It’s always a pleasure to see Windsor, and since Elizabeth Morton (now acting under the name of Elizabeth Heery) was twenty six when this episode was made it’s possible to find her attractive as a schoolgirl with a clear conscience.  But that still doesn’t stop this episode from being a somewhat strange watch.

Dear John ended with the 1987 Christmas special.  Kate returns – as eventually does Kirk.  Peter Blake spends most of the episode as Eric, telling John that Kirk is dead and he’ll never ever be him again.  But when Eric, by a stunning coincidence, happens to be present in the same pub where the others have gathered (he’s not brave enough to meet his former friends as Eric) and observes Ralph being harassed by some Hells Angels, he knows what he has to do.  Clutching his Kirk suit, which he had planned on binning, he strides into the gents toilets – to emerge as Kirk in all his glory.  The Superman theme helps to reinforce the obvious joke, but it’s clearly one that delights the audience as they launch into a round of applause.

The notion that Eric is a feeble nobody whilst Kirk is a master of martial arts is hard to swallow, so this is the moment when Dear John jumped the shark (Kirk is able to take on and beat the gang of Hells Angels without breaking a sweat).  It’s a great comic moment – as is the sight of Ralph hung up on the coatstand! – but it stretches credibility to breaking point.  Still, it was Christmas so we’ll let them off.

Better defined character comedy closes the show.  John has had a strained relationship with Mrs Lemenski (Irene Prador) for the whole of the run.  She regards him as a nutcase and was never backwards in coming forwards to tell him so.  But this episode is where we learn a little more about her and discover that she’s just as lonely as the rest of them.  But whilst John and the others have the dubious pleasures of the 1-2-1 club, she has nothing, so when she offers to cook him Christmas dinner he – after a brief struggle with his conscience – agrees.  His ex-wife has asked him to spend Christmas with her and he’d agreed with alacrity.  Mrs Lemenski seems to have put a spoke in this, but I’ve no doubt that John will be able to work something out, meaning that the series ends on a slightly positive note.

Although I’ve been slightly critical here, series two of Dear John still has plenty of excellent comic moments, it’s just that when watching it back-to-back with series one it becomes clear that something was missing.  Probably John Sullivan was right to introduce new characters and move away from the 1-2-1 club setting (otherwise it could have ended up in a rut) but given the strained nature of some of series two it does seem that everybody was aware that the show had run its course.

Dear John – Series One

archivetvmusings BBC Comedy - 1980's , , , , , , , , ,

john

By the mid eighties John Sullivan was on something of a roll.  Having started as a gag writer for the Two Ronnies in the late seventies he then quickly created a trilogy of classic sitcoms – Citizen Smith (1977-1980), Just Good Friends (1983-1986) and the series for which he’ll always be best remembered, Only Fools and Horses (1981-2003).

So despite having Just Good Friends and Only Fools and Horses on the go at the same time, Sullivan then increased his workload by adding another show, Dear John (1986-1987), into the mix.  Although popular at the time (and it was strong enough to spawn an American remake a few years later) it’s possibly not so well remembered today.  This may be because unlike Only Fools it never enjoyed blanket repeats (indeed the last terrestrial outing I can find a record of was back in 1991).

It also had quite a short run – two series and a Christmas Special, so just a total of fourteen episodes.  It’s sometimes been assumed that Ralph Bates’ tragically early death was the reason why the series didn’t continue, but the last episode aired in 1987 and Bates died four years later, so it seems more likely that Sullivan had run out of ideas for the characters.  This is something we’ll touch upon when we discuss series two, as there were several very clear attempts made to shake up the format.

The opening titles for the first series act as a very good shorthand to explain the concept of the show.  John Lacey (Ralph Bates) returns home to find a Dear John letter – his wife, Wendy, has left him.  We then cut to the court, where he looks optimistic (before he goes in that is).  Afterwards, things clearly haven’t gone well and he’s forced to pack his bags and move into a dingy one-room flat.

From the first scene John is presented as a loser.  A nice guy maybe, but a loser.  He’s enjoying a solitary pint, when an old friend, Roger (Michael Cochrane), pops up.  John attempts to put a brave face on his life as a divorcee, telling Roger that he’s having a great time – parties every night.  Roger must be pretty dense as he swallows these obvious lies and then tells him that it’s shame he’s so busy as a few of the lads are heading out for a Chinese meal.  John’s now dug himself into a hole – he’d love to go out with Roger and the others, but since he’s created such an active fantasy social life for himself, Roger thinks he’s joking.  It’s interesting that Roger never appears again – he seems to have been created as a potential regular (and Cochrane is the sort of actor that would enhance any series) but after this scene he vanishes, never to be seen again.

Tired of sitting in his tatty bedsit, he decides to join the 1-2-1 club, a divorced/separated encounter group.  It seems to be well attended, although it turns out that most of them are in the wrong room – they want the alcoholics anonymous meeting next door – which caps the opening gag which saw John go into the alcoholics anonymous meeting by mistake.

Once that confusion’s been settled we’re left with the motley bunch of characters who will be the main focus of the first series.  Ralph Dring (Peter Denyer) is a charisma free zone – seemingly a man with little personality or self-awareness.  Kirk St Moritz (Peter Blake) could hardly be a greater contrast – he has personality, far far too much of it and dresses in a way that can best be described as “flamboyant.”  Kate (Belinda Lang) is quiet and fairly reluctant (at first) to be the centre of attention, but she’s not as quiet as Mrs Arnott (Jean Challis) who it’s easy to forget is there at times.  Leading the group is Louise (Rachel Bell).

The characters are clearly defined in their opening scene.  Ralph and Kirk are the obvious comic creations, so they’re particularly useful when the mood needs to be lightened after a serious moment (Ralph can always provide a bizarre conversational non sequitur whilst Kirk usually has an insensitive insult ready).  Kate is a not such an extreme character, but she has a savage wit which is used to great effect to cut Kirk down to size (not that he ever minds, like a rubber ball he just bounces back).

Mrs Arnott rarely speaks – but this is a masterstroke, as whenever she does utter a few words they’re so well chosen by Sullivan that they invariably bring the house down.  Louise is something of a monster, although it takes a little while for her true nature to come to the surface.  Whilst she gives the impression of solicitous interest in her charges, it’s obvious that she really, really enjoys hearing all the gory details.  Her catchphrase (“were there any … sexual problems?”) doesn’t generate any reaction from the studio audience the first time, but when it’s quickly repeated they cotton onto the fact and begin to respond.

We see her delight in learning about all the juicy bits very clearly in episode two when John inadvertently goads Kate into admitting that her three marriages broke up because she was frigid.  Louise’s pleasure is plain to see and later, in the pub, she continues probing (“did your husbands try and force themselves on you?”) even after Kate’s made it quite plain she doesn’t want to talk about it.

My favourite episode from the first series is the third one, since it features Ralph heavily.  Peter Denyer was a joy from start to finish – deadpanning his way through each and every episode.  It’s the sort of character that has to be played completely straight (with no sense of self-awareness) and Denyer was spot on.  Here, he’s holed up at home, bemoaning the fact that not only has he lost his job but he’s suffered a death in the family.  Terry the Terrapin may not look like much, but he meant the world to Ralph.  “He was my best friend. We’d been together for years.”

This episode also shows Kirk in a different light.  He may appear to be rude, obnoxious and  narcissistically self-obsessed, but when he learns that Ralph’s razor is broke he goes out and buys him a top of the range replacement.  We’re waiting for the gag, but it’s a genuine present and offered in a true spirit of friendship.  It’s the hapless John who provides the laughs – he borrows the razor to have a quick shave, but it drops out of his hand into the fishtank (destroying Kirk’s gift and killing Ralph’s replacement terrapins in one fell swoop).  Bates, so good at both verbal and non-verbal comedy, is a delight in this scene.

The seventh and final episode of the first series is another favourite.  Kirk continues to indulge in his wild flights of fancy, which nobody (except for the gullible Ralph) believes.  But the extent of Kirk’s fantasy life is greater than anybody realised – as John discovers when he meets Kirk at home.  He’s not Kirk at all – he’s Eric Morris, a bespectacled nerdy character who lives at home with his mother (who’s entertainly abusive towards him).  The difference between the confident Kirk and the downtrodden Eric is immense (although it just about stays within the bounds of credibility here, unlike the later Christmas Special).  And there’s a decent gag at the end, when Kirk returns and berates John for coming round to one of his safe-houses.  Did he not realise he was undercover on a dangerous spying mission?!

So with a solid series of seven episodes it was inevitable that the show would return for a second series.  But whilst series two was still extremely funny in places, there were also signs that the concept was beginning to run out of steam.

dear john 01

Z Cars – A Place of Safety

archivetvmusings BBC Drama - 1960's , , , , ,

safety

Tx 24th June 1964

A Place of Safety has something of an abstract opening.  We see a man climbing up several flights of stairs, but then the camera seems to lose interest in him as it tracks away – firstly to record some children going down the stairs and then to observe a woman slowly walking upwards.

But we can still hear his voice.  He’s banging on a door, demanding entry – promising that things will be worse if he has to come back.  The relative peace is then shattered as the man falls down the stairs.  We cut to the inside of a room to reveal a man holding a bloody axe.

If parts of Newtown (Z Cars‘ fictional location) were indeed new, then others most certainly were not.  The building where the man (who we later learn is a bailiff called Wallace) lies injured is a crumbling wreck, mostly populated by those on the poverty line (and who also happen to be black).  This doesn’t seem to please Fancy Smith (Brian Blessed) who is visibly exasperated when he’s unable to get any of the other residents to utter a word.  He ironically comments that they’re deaf, but the inference seems to be that they can’t, rather than won’t, speak English.

To begin with, it’s possible that the same could be said for the man with the axe – Adignu Sadik (Johnny Sekka).  Barricading the door, he’s depicted as a mute, irresolute figure.  He’s not alone, as his wife Nana (Alaknanda Samart) and his two young children are also present.  Bathed in sweat, Sadik doesn’t utter a word during these early scenes – not even when he’s tempted out of the room by Detective Chief Inspector Barlow (Stratford Johns).

Indeed it’s not until about twenty minutes in, when he’s being questioned at the police station by Detective Sergeant Watt (Frank Windsor), that Sadik utters his first words.  And he’s revealed to be an articulate, softly spoken man, unable to explain why he should have exploded in a sudden burst of anger against Wallace.

That Sadik is not an unthinking, violent creature is surely an intentional piece of scripting – as several characters have already expressed negative opinions about Sadik and the black community in general.  Wallace’s boss, Lowther (Norman Bird) regards them as savages whilst Fancy makes the unoriginal observation that they all look alike.

A Place of Safety doesn’t offer any glib answers or pat solutions and nor does it shie away from suggesting that the police are capable of prejudice just like anybody else.  Barlow gently probes Lowther to try and find out what Wallace was like as a person – did he enjoy his job too much?  Lowther reacts angrily.  Wallace was an ex-copper, doing a dirty job, he says, but he didn’t deserve to be the victim of an unprovoked assault.  After he leaves, Watt tells Barlow that Wallace does have a reputation as a troublemaker, but nothing ever comes of this (we never see Wallace after his tumble down the stairs, so he’s not a defined character).

Lowther bitterly believes that Barlow’s attempting to find excuses to excuse Sadik’s attack.  But when Barlow and Watt are alone, Barlow admits quite the reverse – he suffers from prejudice as well, so he’s doubly keen to ensure that he treats Sadik fairly.

Johnny Sekka is excellent as Sadik, a man with no previous history of violence who finds events has spiraled out of his control.  But the script also poses the question  about exactly how much sympathy we should have for him.  Another very strong performance comes from Alakanda Samarth as his wife, Nana.  She has several key scenes, but possibly the most notable one is right at the end.

With her husband locked up, she and her children have been thrown out onto the streets.  Watt arranges a temporary place for them to stay, but the children can’t remain with their mother.  Fancy and Jock drop her off and there’s an intriguing moment of tension between her and Fancy.  We’ve already seen that the bluff Fancy has an undisguised raft of prejudices and Nana is prepared to meet him head on – she’s proud and independent and can clearly pick up the negative signals from Fancy (and isn’t prepared to ignore them)

An excellent episode by John Hopkins, which also works as a fascinating slice of social history.

Doomwatch – The Battery People

archivetvmusings BBC Drama - 1970's , , , , ,

battery

Quist is called to a meeting with the new Minister (David Davies).  Although the Minister is full of Welsh bonhomie, he makes it clear that he finds both Quist and Doomwatch to be something of a problem.  He’d much prefer it if they didn’t do anything controversial – but Doomwatch exists to stir up controversy and Quist isn’t prepared to sacrifice their independence.

Returning to the office, Quist is intrigued to learn of some interesting statistics from a small Welsh village that forms part of the Minister’s constituency.  The divorce rate is much higher than the national average, the ex-miners prefer to drink gin rather than beer and there’s been several reports of cock fighting.  All  of this is enough to make him send Ridge down unofficially (posting as a journalist) to do some digging.

The decline of the coal industry in the 1970’s and 1980’s hit the Welsh valleys hard – whole communities who had relied on the mines for employment found it difficult to find alternative employment.  The Battery People takes this as a starting point and depicts a typical Welsh village where the ex-miners have been fortunate enough to find new jobs – in the battery farm run by Colonel Archibald Smithson (Emrys Jones).

It’s undeniable that the Welsh here feel a little stereotyped, boyo – which might have something to do with the fact that several of the actors, such as Jeremy Young (born in Liverpool) and Ray Mort (born in Lancashire), had to put on Welsh accents.  With a fairly small cast it’s surprising that they didn’t try and recruit more Welsh actors, presumably the likes of Talfryn Thomas were busy that week!

But although Young might not be Welsh-born, he’s still very good as Vincent Llewellyn, the foreman at the Colonel’s farm.  Llewellyn has recently broken up with his wife and although it’s not explicitly stated, his impotence was the main reason.  Eliza Ward, as his wife Elizabeth, also gives a powerful performance – she sounds like she was Welsh-born, although with only two acting credits to her name it’s difficult to be sure.

The Battery People was one of Emrys Jones’ final television appearances.  In the few years prior to this he’d had several notable credits, including the Master (not that one) in the Doctor Who story The Mind Robber and Dr Roger Full in the Out of the Unknown episode The Little Black Bag.  He’s equally as good here – Colonel Smithson appears to be a generous benefactor, bringing wealth and prosperity to what would otherwise be a deprived area, but there’s naturally a catch.

His battery farming methods cause sterility and impotence among his workers.  This is one of the reasons why he insists that the majority of them are over forty (although he claimed this was because he wanted a stable labour force).  That nobody’s put two and two together before Doomwatch start poking around seems slightly remarkable, as the high breakup of marriages would indicate that Llewellyn isn’t the only one to have suffered from performance issues.  And the reason why the ex-miners now favour gin over beer remains unexplained!

The Colonel seems to be a totally ruthless man, who knew (but didn’t care) about the problems he was inflicting on his workforce, but there is room for a slightly different reading.  At the start of the story we hear him ask Llewellyn to make sure all the men wear gloves when handling the fish (it’s the fluid in the fishtank which is the major problem).  Llewellyn and the others put the gloves on, but take them off again when the Colonel leaves.  It’s difficult to handle the fish when wearing gloves and Llewellyn seems to believe that the Colonel knows this and is simply going through the motions by asking them to wear gloves at all times.

Was this the case?  Or was the Colonel simply slack in ensuring that his orders were carried out?  At another point in the story it’s strongly implied that he rarely ventures onto the factory floor, so it’s not quite cut and dried.  But whether he’s incompetent or uncaring, he suffers a fairly grisly fate, which Quist seems to regard as poetic justice.

A thought provoking tale (the stock footage of battery chickens is enough to turn anyone vegetarian) The Battery People, the last surviving series one episode, is another strong story.

Doomwatch – Train and De-Train

archivetvmusings BBC Drama - 1970's , , , , , , ,

train

Train and De-Train opens with John Ridge investigating several hundred wildlife deaths in Somerset.  The evidence suggests that some form of pesticide has been used, so Quist asks Toby to contact all pesticide manufacturers in the area and obtain samples.

Rather conveniently a container is found near the dead animals marked “AC” which suggests that Alminster Chemicals are involved (that’ll save Toby a lot of running about).  It’s also a coincidence that the chief chemist at Alminster is Mr Ellis (David Markham) who was Toby’s old tutor.

One of the main themes of the story concerns Toby’s rashness and way he acts without considering the consequences.  This sets him apart from the others, even Ridge, who all favour a more rigid, analytical approach.  In science, you have to be sure of your facts – something which Toby has trouble with (although it’s ironic that his information is what finally saves the day).

It seems likely that Alminster are responsible for the animal deaths.  They’re developing a new pesticide called AC3051, for export use in counties which have seen vast areas devastated by locusts, and it’s probable that they’ve tested it in Somerset, hence the animal deaths, but there’s no proof.  Toby’s first mistake occurs when he meets Alminster’s managing director John Mitchell (George Baker).

Toby’s delight in meeting his old tutor is tempered when he realises how badly he’s being treated by Alminster.  Ellis has been the victim of a creeping campaign by Mitchell which is designed to break his morale and force him to resign.  First Ellis’ carpet from his office went, then his parking space was reassigned, next his phone was taken away and the ultimate insult is when he finds somebody else in his office.  After demanding an explanation from Mitchell, he receives a blunt answer.  “Oh for god’s sake, do you not see that you’re no use to us anymore?”

Ellis is fifty one and therefore is regarded as over the hill.  As Ridge later explains, it’s the American way of business – if you can’t force the person to resign with these sort of methods then you “de-train” them – make them take a more lowly position in the company.

Mitchell is quite clear – they have to export and it has to be in considerable numbers.  If not, the company has no future.  This touches upon a similar argument to the one expressed in The Red Sky, where commercial interests are seen to be (in some people’s eyes) the most important thing.  George Baker is splendidly controlled and arrogant as Mitchell, which makes his eventual comeuppance at the end of the episode (his mishandling of matters sees him replaced) even more satisfying.

So Toby’s not only appalled at Mitchell’s off-hand manner, he’s also angry at the way Ellis has been treated.  This eventually makes him launch into a tirade against Mitchell, which is tape-recorded and forwarded onto Quist.  Quist has no compunction in (temporarily) firing Toby  because, irrespective of the rights and wrongs, he’s proved not to have the objectivity that a scientist requires.

Although Train and De-Train revolves as much around office politics at Alminster as it does about the pesticide issue, it’s still another strong series one entry.  With Quist largely absent, it’s Toby who’s the focus of the story, meaning that for once Ridge has to play the voice of reason.  David Markham seems a little distracted as Ellis, but that may be as scripted.  Ellis is portrayed as the sort of compromised scientist that any of the Doomwatch team may become – if they let their standards slip.

Ellis knew that 3051 was dangerous, but went ahead with the tests in Somerset anyway.  Following his resignation he commits suicide, but beforehand he writes a letter to Mitchell.  Mitchell treats the letter with contempt – using it to light a cigar – but a copy was sent to Toby and it’s this piece of evidence that sinks Alminster, as it links them to the pesticide tests.

Given that 3051 was designed for use against locusts I’ve never really understood why they decided to test it in Somerset (not many locusts about there).  Mitchell does make the very good point to Quist that although 3051 could be dangerous in an environment with varied wildlife, that won’t be an issue in the places where it’ll be used.  So the tests only serve to draw attention to Alminster.

Mitchell also mentions that the locusts are responsible for deaths now – so they have to press the pesticide into service straight away.  Yes, there may be some ecological side-effects, but they can be worked on in due course (to delay would be to cause more deaths).  Mitchell’s undeniably motivated by the profit margin, but there’s a certain logic in what he says.

The shades of grey that make up Don Shaw’s script are fascinating.  It would have been easier to make Alminster and Mitchell “evil”, but although George Baker relishes the ruthless side of Mitchell’s character things are not as straightforward as they seem at first.

Doomwatch – The Red Sky

archivetvmusings BBC Drama - 1970's , , , , , ,

red

At the start of The Red Sky Quist seems to be a man on the verge of a nervous breakdown.  As Ridge, Wren and Bradley look on – all with varying degrees of concern – Quist snaps at Pat and isn’t able to complete a simple scientific experiment (his hand trembles so much that he drops a glass beaker).  His colleagues all agree that he needs to take a break, but will the workaholic Quist agree?

Unsurprisingly it’s Ridge who’s the most outspoken.  It’s often been observed that Quist’s guilt at being involved in the development of the atomic bomb was one of the main reasons why he pushed himself so hard afterwards – in order to make amends for his “crime”.  Ridge has another suggestion, that he’s motivated by hate and is a control freak.  “That man’s obsessed. There’s nothing worse than a paranoiac leader; he wants to know everything, he won’t listen, he’s got no confidence in anybody.”

Quist, of course, has come back into the office and has heard every word.  John Paul deadpans nicely through this initial scene, as well as giving the impression that Quist really is at the end of his tether.  Toby tells him that if he takes a break then all their work stops.  This is a little odd, as there’s no doubt that although Quist is a key figure there’s no reason why the others can’t function without him.

What makes this scene interesting (if not slightly perplexing) is that Quist then tells them that he plans to go away for a couple of days.  His trip had already been arranged  before the scene in the lab, so did Quist simply engineer it in order to play power games (Ridge seems to imply so) or was he really close to breaking point?

He heads off to the countryside, for something of a busman’s holiday.  His old friend Bernard Colley (Aubrey Richards) is concerned about the noise from a nearby airfield, run by the Palgon Corporation.  Before Quist arrives, Colley and his daughter Dana (Jennifer Daniel), witness the death of Tommy Gort (Edward Kelsey).  Tommy lived in a lighthouse directly in the airplane’s flight path and apparently committed suicide by throwing himself off the cliff (it’s obviously a dummy, but it looks quite realistic).

It’s clear that the planes are somehow responsible and not only did they drive Tommy to his death they’ve also deeply affected Colley.  After spending some time at Tommy’s lighthouse, Colley is hospitalised with what Quist says is a cerebral hemorrhage.  He later dies without regaining consciousness.

Quist meets with the man from Palgon, Reynolds (Paul Eddington).  Unsurprisingly he brushes off Quist’s concerns and reminds him that thousands of people work for Palgon (strongly hinting that any interference with their work would have severe economic repercussions).  It’s a theme that’s replayed throughout the series – if you rock the boat then innocent people’s jobs will suffer.  Quist knows that innocent people are already suffering – from noise pollution – and won’t give up that easily.

The Red Sky, written by Kit Pedler and Gerry Davis, is classic Doomwatch.  At its heart is a solid mystery and a strong dynamic between the regulars.  Quist has a personal stake as his friend has died (“he was a splendid man you know, when my wife died …”) whilst he and Ridge butt heads in a very entertaining manner.  The relationship between Quist and Ridge continues to fascinate. Ridge has undeniable respect for Quist as a scientist, but as a human being?  Quist’s views on Ridge remain fascinating to ponder as well.

Given that two people have died after spending time at the lighthouse it seems foolhardy in the extreme for Quist to decide to go back there alone to monitor events (and also that Ridge and Wren – who’ve now travelled down at Quist’s request – didn’t raise any objections).  Visual effects were somewhat limited in the early 1970’s, but thanks to the wonders of inlay we’re able to share his nightmare vision.

After Quist collapses at Gort’s lighthouse, Ridge is content to ship him off to a nursing home and go home.  For him, the work of Doomwatch is the most important thing – more important than any one man – and he also believes that fighting a battle against Palgon (who have the confidence of the minister) is pointless.  They can’t win, so attacking Palgon would simply give the government the excuse they need to close Doomwatch down.  It’s possible to see Ridge’s actions as something of a palace revolution – the king is dead, long live the king.

But by the merest chance Toby is at the lighthouse to witness another attack.  If he hadn’t then no doubt the whole thing would have been dropped, which is a slight weakness of the story.  It’s also hard to credit that Ridge dismisses the notion that there’s anything wrong at the lighthouse so quickly.  Two deaths and Quist’s injuries should have hinted that something wasn’t quite right.

Eventually Toby comes up with an answer and Quist is able to manipulate both Reynolds and the man from the ministry, Richard Duncan (Michael Elwyn) very neatly.  Reynolds is adamant that there’s no substance to Quist’s story, so when they all meet at the lighthouse he’s happy to remain there whilst the next jet flies overhead (as does Duncan and Ridge).  Reynolds is therefore unusual, a member of the “enemy” who becomes a convert after he realises that Quist’s story was true.  At the enquiry, he supports him – even though it might cost him his job.  And although Duncan had been described as the Minster’s hatchet-man, that’s not actually the case.  He seems a reasonable chap and is more than ready to listen to Quist’s suggestions and offer his support.

The ending is rather downbeat.  They’ve convinced Reynolds, but that’s about all.  The government agrees to fence off part of the coastline, purchase Tommy’s lighthouse and suspend flights for a month, but nothing more as Quist mutters that they “can’t let an isolated death stand in the way of progress.”  Bradley asks what will happen when the planes start flying all over the country.  Quist’s response is bleak.  “We don’t know and as usual we won’t know. Until it happens.”

Doomwatch – The Devil’s Sweets

archivetvmusings BBC Drama - 1970's , , , , , ,

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The episode opens with four young women, dressed in checkerboard miniskirts, who are offering samples of sweets.  A group of businessmen are eager to sample them and Pat Hunnisett, who’s a bit pressed for time, also grabs one.

In the Doomwatch office, Quist is interested in a computer report that smoking has increased by 49% in the local London area.  There’s been no new brands launched, so why the staggering change in the figures?  Ridge is sent to buy sample cigarettes from various shops whilst Wren visits Checkerboard cigarettes.

Checkerboard certainly seems to be the common factor – Ridge discovers that the majority of the increased sales are for their products.  The trail leads to Shiptons, an advertising agency who have the Checkerboard contract.  The company is run by Peter Shipton (Maurice Roëves) who clearly has something to hide, as well as a very natty dress sense.

After numerous tests, the incredible truth comes out – the chocolates are laced with a drug that over time generates a craving for Checkerboard cigarettes.  Since Pat has eaten a chocolate, she’s an ideal guinea pig for the team to test, but she becomes increasingly ill and is rushed to hospital.

Ridge is still attempting to get the truth from Shipton and Pegg (the owner of the chocolate factory) when he receives a devastating call – Pat is dead and his anger is enough to force the whole story out of them.  Ridge remains angry though, especially when he learns that Pat is fine – Quist had arranged for the call to be made stating that she’d died in order to force Shipton and Pegg’s hand.

RIDGE: Are you telling me that she’s alive and you knew it?

QUIST: Sitting up in bed… and cheeky.

RIDGE: You bastard.

The Devil’s Sweets is a story about manipulation.  The pretty young women are used to manipulate people into taking the chocolates and then the chocolates themselves manipulate the people who have eaten them.  Shipton is the one pulling the strings as he’s able to convince the cigarette manufacturers that it’s his advertising that’s increased their sales (they don’t know about the doctored chocolates).  And finally Quist is able to manipulate Ridge into extracting the truth when he believes Pat has died.

This is a key moment between the two of them and the bald transcript, reproduced above, can’t really do the moment justice.  Given the episodic nature of the series, the needle between Quist and Ridge tended to wax and wane but this is still a powerful scene.

The episode allows Wendy Hall a larger than regular role as Pat.  Normally confined to answering the phone, line-feeding the others or simply standing around looking glamorous, this is a welcome change from the norm. Sadly this was to be pretty much a one-off, so it’s no particular surprise that she quit at the end of the first series.  Maybe in retrospect, given how underused she was, it might have been a good idea to kill her off anyway?

Maurice Roëves is the stand out performer from the guest cast – he’s very good as the unscrupulous Shipton, keen to get ahead in advertising by any means necessary.  And like Ridge he dresses in a way that just screams early seventies.

Unlike most of the previous stories, this isn’t a Government conspiracy – instead it’s private enterprise (courtesy of Shipton and Dr Benson, who developed the drug).  And the fact that one of the Doomwatch team is affected adds a little more frisson to their efforts to bring things under control and prevent any deaths.

Doomwatch – Re-Entry Forbidden

archivetvmusings BBC Drama - 1970's , , , , , ,

re-entry

Re-Entry Forbidden was yet another story which was very much of its time.  During the late 1960’s and early 1970’s NASA’s numerous space missions had extensive television coverage and Re-Entry Forbidden taps into this by having Michael Aspel and James Burke play themselves at the start of the story.

The story was transmitted in March 1970, and the real-life problems encountered by Apollo 13 happened only a month later.  Although this could be seen as an example of prescient writing on behalf of the production team, it’s fair to say that space stories did seem to be popular at the time.  The Doctor Who story The Ambassadors of Death was also in production and has a solid connection to Re-Entry Forbidden since both productions agreed to split the cost of the space capsule and re-use it in both series.

Dick Larch (Michael McGovern) is the first British astronaut to journey into space.  He’s part of a three man crew piloting the NASA module Sunfire 1, along with American colleagues Bill Edwards (Craig Hunter) and Max Freedman (Noel Sheldon).  During re-entry, Larch is given the task of punching the co-ordinates into the computer.  He makes an error, unnoticed by his colleagues and Mission Control, which causes the module to drift off course.  Corrected co-ordinates are fed to Sunfire 1, but the last minute adjustments could make their return to Earth something of a “a hot ride down.”

Quist and the rest of the Doomwatch team are following the events on television.  Quist is concerned that there would be enough radioactive fuel on-board the module to create a major disaster, although James Burke reassures anxious viewers at home that there would be no danger of radioactive fall out.  The capsule splashes down safely and while Quist is happy there wasn’t any radioactive contamination he seems disinterested about the fate of the astronauts.  This puzzles Ridge, especially since Dick Larch was a student of Quist’s and Quist was responsible for providing Larch with a reference when he applied to join the space programme.

Although all three astronauts are unharmed, Larch seems to be in a slightly odd mood.  He snaps at his wife Carol (Veronica Larch) and doesn’t respond well to the questions of NASA psychologist Doctor Charles Goldsworthy (Joseph Fürst). Goldsworthy visits Quist and suggests he conducts some tests on Larch to see if he can identify any problem areas. Quist isn’t keen as he believes that Goldsworthy is organising a witch-hunt to find somebody to blame for the re-entry error.  “Scapegoat without reason, draped in the Union Jack” as Quist says. But eventually he agrees and Larch is invited to the Doomwatch office.

The tests are inconclusive, but Quist can console himself with the fact that Larch won’t be part of the next mission. Several months pass and Carol visits the Doomwatch office. She’s come to thank Quist for apparently giving her husband a clean bill of health. During the conversation Quist is concerned to learn that the same crew on Sunfire 1 will also be piloting Sunfire 2, due for blast-off shortly.

Toby chats with Carol and wonders whether being the first British astronaut put an extra strain on her husband.  Carol agrees and ponders if this was the reason why he was so edgy.  Toby asks her to elaborate and apparently he blamed everybody else for the error – even her.  This example of his behaviour concerns Quist and he, Ridge and Carol travel to the tracking station.  Once there, Quist is quite blunt. “We have evidence that Larch is a schizophrenic paranoiac and could endanger the mission. Over.”

Disastrously, this message is accidentally broadcast to the capsule and the astronauts sit in stunned silence, just as the re-entry co-ordinates are read out to them.  Larch attempts to leave his seat to input the co-ordinates, there’s something of a struggle and the window to input the data is lost.  The capsule seems doomed and Command Pilot Bill Edwards broadcasts a final message to Houston.

We have missed the corridor due to my error and my error alone. … What you may have seen just now on your screen… Dick Larch is a friend of mine. We are not judged by how we die, but by how we have lived…

Re-Entry Forbidden is a human drama where the Doomwatch team have to take something a back seat.  Dick Larch is the central character here and the whole story revolves around him.  What’s captured very well is the national and political tensions that the original re-entry creates.  Whilst there may be some suspicion that Larch was responsible for the error, there’s no proof and the Americans are well aware of the potential political fall-out if they accuse, without solid evidence, the only British member of the team.

It does stretch credibility to breaking point that nobody spoke to Carol about her husband and also that she didn’t discuss her concerns with anyone.  Had this happened then it’s probable the tragedy would have been avoided. Quist should also shoulder some of the blame – he was fairly detached throughout the story, much more concerned with the problems that would arise from radioactive fallout than with the possible physiological stresses encountered by the astronauts.

Because it never feels like a  Doomwatch story, there’s something a little unsatisfying about Re-Entry Forbidden.  It’s not really possible to feel any empathy with Dick Larch and the catalogue of blunders that lead to the fatal error – did nobody spot that he might not be A1? – feels a little contrived.

Douglas Wilmer (1920-2016)

archivetvmusings Obituaries

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Time marches on alas, and it’s more sad news that another favourite of this blog – Douglas Wilmer – has passed away.

Blessed with a long life and a lengthy career, he was also fortunate that he seemed to keep his sharpness pretty much to the end – he was a pithy contributor to the BFI DVD release of his Sherlock Holmes series last year.

I’ve written in depth about Wilmer’s Sherlock Holmes elsewhere on the blog, but suffice it to say that if you love Holmes,  or you love archive television,  then the BFI set is something you really should have in your collection.

And even if you have no interest in Holmes, there’s plenty of other fine Wilmer performances to seek out.  RIP Douglas Wilmer.

Doomwatch – Project Sahara

archivetvmusings BBC Drama - 1970's , , , , , ,

sahara

Scripted by N.J. Crisp, although it was heavilly rewritten which made him ask for his name to be taken off the credits, the Project Sahara of the title is something of a McGuffin.  The Doomwatch team are investigating a new defoliant, Sahara, and have been joined by Dr Stella Robson (Hildegard Neil) who is an expert in this field.  Her presence has certainly ruffled some feathers (Pat dislikes her desk being covered in plants) but it’s not surprising that John Ridge is more than happy to have another pretty face around the office.

The results of the tests on Sahara seem to be conclusive – it’s deadly to any form of plant life and Stella is also concerned about the effect Sahara would have on the soil – she posits that it could take years to recover.  It’s been designed as a weapon, but a horrified Robson insists it should never be used. A normal Doomwatch episode (even this early in the run) would then develop this theme, but Sahara is merely a means to an end, as the main plot now comes into view.

Quist calls Stella and Toby into his office and tells them they have both been suspended on the orders of the Minster.  The reasons why are far from clear and Toby takes it particularly badly.  Both Stella and Toby have a few drinks to drown their sorrows and after Stella leaves the bar Toby has a few more.  He is joined by Commander Keeping (Nigel Stock).  We’ve already seen Keeping at the start of the episode – he works for the National Security Section, department XJ7.  Keeping opened the episode by reviewing the files of the Domwatch personnel via computer and waited for the computer to pass judgement on each team member.

Toby, of course, is completely unaware of this and in his increasingly befuddled state finds Keeping a sympathetic shoulder to lean on.  Toby proposes a toast. “Here’s to false hopes, false dreams, naive idealism and pure fantasy”.  Whilst Toby and his new friend leave the bar to find another place that’s still serving drinks, Quist asks Ridge to find out exactly who’s behind the suspensions.

Ridge discovers department XJ7 and Quist has a meeting with Keeping where they have a lively exchange of views.  Quist believes Toby and Stella have been suspended as part of a witch-hunt, whilst Keeping maintains there are vital national security considerations.  Quist wants to know where the information about Toby and Stella came from. He’s clearly perturbed to discover that it came from a computer and is far from impressed with its findings.  “Wren has occasional drinking bouts during which his reliability cannot be guaranteed.  Stella Robson is considered unreliable because of her Arab background and her assumed antipathy to Israel.”

He maintains that even the most sophisticated computer is no match for human understanding and dismisses its recommendations.  The fears concerning the power that computers could wield were just beginning in the early 1970’s and it’s a debate that continues to this day.  The computer seen in Project Sahara is naturally large and unwieldy, but the basic themes expressed in the story are still valid today. Quist’s vision is of a nightmare future, where computers hold a vast store of information on every person that can be accessed at the click of a button. And worse than that, it would be computers who were charged with making decisions about people.

Quist, naturally, favours human interaction and intuition.  And it’s interesting that ultimately Keeping is also of the same opinion.  He’s eventually able to confirm that Stella was a security risk (her boyfriend attempted to steal information about Project Sahara) but Keeping discovered this by good old-fashioned police work.  After talking to her, he become convinced she was hiding something, “I felt she was lying.  Her manner. I’ve seen women like her before. My trade, Doctor. Thirty years experience.”

So although the computer was right about Stella, it was for the wrong reasons as it didn’t know about her boyfriend.  Toby is reinstated and Stella’s time at Doomwatch comes to an end.  The message of the story is clear – computers will come to play an increasing part in many areas of society, but human judgement must always have the last word.  If not, then as Quist says, “God help us all.”

This is an episode where science very much takes a back seat as the team dynamics are brought to the fore.  Both Hildergard Neil and Nigel Stock are very effective guest stars.  Neil could have easily slotted into the Domwatch setup (we’d have to wait until series two for a female scientist to join the team) and Stock gives his usual efficient performance.  Stock’s character initially seems to be unsympathetic (he works for a shadowy department that can make, in employment terms, life or death decisions) although in the end his suspicions are seen to be sound.  Robert Powell gets a decent share of the story and is able to demonstrate his drunk acting, which is entertaining.

One of my favourite episodes from the first series, if there had been problems with the script (which necessitated Gerry Davis’ rewrite) then it didn’t show in the finished product.

Doomwatch – Tomorrow, The Rat

archivetvmusings BBC Drama - 1970's , , , , , ,

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Tomorrow, The Rat is one of the best-remembered Doomwatch episodes, partly for the concept of super-intelligent rats but also for the sequence in which Robert Powell struggles with patently some fake rats which were attached to his trousers.  Powell’s very successful later career inevitably meant that this clip would be a favourite to be wheeled out when discussing his early acting days.  But this unintentionally hilarious scene shouldn’t detract from the quality of the story as a whole.

As Doomwatch progressed, there were two differing opinions as to how the series should proceed.  In the one corner we had series creators Kit Pedler and Gerry Davis and in the other was series producer Terence Dudley.  And because Dudley writes, directs and produces this episode, it offers a clear distillation of the programme he wanted Doomwatch to be.

With two missing episodes, most people go direct from Pedler and Davis’ The Plastic Eaters to this, and it’s quite a jarring transition.  The Plastic Eaters was written in a fairly cold and clinical way, as although there’s a considerable loss of life (the crashed plane) we never really got to know any of the people on the plane (only indirectly, via the Minister’s secretary) and so their fate doesn’t really resonate.

Tomorrow, The Rat is quite different, as the dangers of scientific meddling are shown to have a direct impact on ordinary people (the Chambers family).  And Dudley is very happy to ramp up the tension as the Chambers family are first menaced and then later attacked by the rats.  There’s also a certain amount of gore as we see both a mutilated horse and then later a mutilated human, Mary Bryant (the scientist responsible for the super-rats).

As with The Plastic Eaters we see how the government has indirectly led to the crisis – a combination of penny pinching and a wish for deniability regarding Bryant’s research has ensured the rats weren’t housed in a secure facility.  Instead they are placed in an ordinary London house, so it’s very easy for them to escape and terrorize the immediate neighbourhood.

Doomwatch are called in, and Quist’s investigations soon lead him to Dr Mary Bryant, who has been working for the Ministry on rodent disposal.  He dispatches John Ridge to seduce and (as it were) pump her for information.  Quist has clearly no qualms in using Ridge’s lady-killing skills to the benefit of the department, which is an eye-opener.  In a post-coital atmosphere, Bryant outlines her ultimate aims to Ridge – rats are just the first step.

We roll in the hay, I’m less than careful, you have a chromosonic idiosyncrasy and I give birth to an abnormal child. In my view, the height of human irresponsibility. The work I do on rats will be extended to human beings. By adding and subtracting from the genetic structure you can eliminate the abnormal.

She’s not the first person to hold such views of course, a chap called Adolf Hitler also was keen on genetic engineering.  As might be expected, this doesn’t go down with the Doomwatch team, but they also have the more pressing need of dealing with the rats at large in the community.

Bradley and Wren take up residence in the Chambers household and wait for the rats to appear again.  This leads to the famous rat attack scene and also it allows Wren (and the audience) to appreciate just how intelligent these rats are.  They managed to use spoons and forks to jam open the traps left by Wren and Bradley (although it’s probably best not to dwell too much on exactly how they could manage to extract the cutlery and manoeuvre it).

Overall, Tomorrow,The Rat is an excellent episode that manages to successfully juggle the demands of producing a story that not only has a strong scientific message but also has human characters in peril that we can identify with, plus a few scares thrown in along the way.  There are a few puzzling moments though – I’ve never quite understand how Dr Bryant’s desire to remove chromosonic instabilities in human beings connects to breeding intelligent rats who have a taste for human flesh, for example.

But although the plot seems a little loose at times, it definitely was an episode that sparked debate amongst the viewing public – it was obviously fiction, but like many of the Doomwatch stories there was always the faint worry that it might all happen.  And the number of times that a storyline from Doomwatch did actually come true was a vindication of how the series managed to keep its pulse firmly on the latest scientific advances.

Doomwatch – The Plastic Eaters

archivetvmusings BBC Drama - 1970's , , , , , , ,

plastic

Kit Pedler and Gerry Davis use an old story-telling trick to introduce the audience to the Doomwatch team – we meet them through the eyes of a new recruit, Toby Wren (Robert Powell).  Wren, young, keen and eager, first meets Dr John Ridge (Simon Oates) and Pat Hunnisett (Wendy Hall).  Ridge is a non-conformist and something of a lady-killer, which is confirmed when he confides to Toby that Pat would have introduced them, but she’s still upset as he pinched her bottom earlier on!  The nattily dressed Ridge screams early seventies, and whilst his behaviour can be a little eyebrow raising at times, it’s usually rescued by Simon Oates’ spot-on comic timing.  And as we’ll see as the series progresses, he’s also no slouch when it comes to playing the dramatic scenes.

Pat has little to do except stand around and look attractive, which is pretty much par for the course for all the stories she appears in.  Colin Bradley (Joby Blanshard) is the technical expert, and comes across as somewhat blunt and absorbed in his work.  He’s also not very well developed here, mainly existing as a line-feed for Quist.

That just leaves the head of Doomwatch, Dr Spencer Quist (John Paul).  It’s made clear early on that he’s a celebrated scientist – a Nobel Prize winner, no less – but it’s also established that he’s battling demons from his past.  It was Quist’s mathematical genius that was, in part, responsible for the creation of the atomic bomb.  This is something that continues to haunt him (and Ridge, knowing this, can’t resist mildly taunting him about it).  The Quist/Ridge dynamic is key to the series.  Both respect the others abilities, but there’s often no love lost between them (and they rarely see eye to eye about how to achieve their goals).  The first law of decent drama is that you have to have conflict and Quist and Ridge will certainly deliver this.

If Quist sometimes has trouble from his subordinates, that’s nothing to the problems he encounters from the Minister (John Barron).  The Minister regards Quist and the Doomwatch organisation as a major irritation and aims to close them down at the first opportunity.

Toby is dispatched to investigate why a plane crashed, whilst the others work on the same problem at the office.  With the Minister so keen to clip Doomwatch’s wings, it’s rather a coincidence that the trail leads to his office, but there you go.  Ridge suggests that they burgle the Minister’s office to find the information they need and Quist, after a brief struggle with his conscience, agrees.  As a former intelligence operative, Ridge is happy to work outside of the law.  Quist prefers to play things by the book, but when he feels that information is being withheld (and lives could be at risk) he’s prepared to put his finer feelings to one side.

A top-secret formula which can break down plastic is found to be responsible for the destruction of the aircraft.  The increasing proliferation of plastic was a major concern at the time and whilst this formula could eventually be of immense use, it should never have been let out into the open.  This only happened due to carelessness at the Minister’s office (something which Quist can later use as a lever to guarantee the Minster’s cooperation).

Additional drama is generated when the plane that Toby’s travelling back on is infected by the same plastic virus – although to be honest the drama level is fairly low.  It would have been unusual (although not impossible) for Toby to be killed off in the first story, so we can be fairly sure that he’ll be safe.  And if he’s safe, then so are the rest of the passengers and crew, which makes the various attempts to generate tension slightly futile.

So although the ending is something of a damp squib (and the pre-credits sequence, showing the original plane crash is also less than effective, thanks to the too-obvious stock footage of crash-test dummies) The Plastic Eaters is still a decent opening episode thanks to the efficient way it introduces the main characters.

The Children of Green Knowe – Simply Media DVD Review

archivetvmusings BBC Children's Programmes - 1980's, Christmas Television, Simply Media , , ,

knowe

The 1980’s saw a number of well remembered BBC children’s telefantasy adaptations of which The Children of Green Knowe, originally broadcast during November/December 1986, is a prime example.

It bears some superficial resemblance to The Box of Delights (1984).  Both have a roughly 1950’s setting and feature as its central character a young boy who’s leaving school for the Christmas holidays.  On the production side, Paul Stone – producer of Box – would act as executive producer on Green Knowe, whilst the incidental music was again provided by a stalwart of the BBC Radiophonic Workshop (Roger Limb on Box, Peter Howell on Green Knowe).

But although they’re both very much fantasy stories, the tone of Green Knowe is quite different to Box.  Box has an air of threat and menace whilst Green Knowe, even though strange things happen, tends to exude an atmosphere of warmth and security.

The Children of Green Knowe was the first of six interconnected novels written by Lucy M. Boston which were published between 1954 and 1976.  John Stadelman adapted the book into four episodes, each with a duration of between twenty five and thirty minutes.

Episode one opens with the rather strangely named Toseland (Alec Christie) alone at his boarding school.  Everyone else has gone home for the holidays, but with his parents in Burma it seems inevitable he’ll have to stay within the confines of the school.  But out of the blue he receives a message to say that his great-grandmother Mrs Oldknow (Daphne Oxenford) has just learnt that he’s in the country and invites him to stay at her estate, known as Green Knowe.

Toseland doesn’t look terribly keen when he’s given this news, but things look up when he eventually gets there.  It’s something of a trek though – floodwaters have made it almost impossible to reach and he fears he might have to swim across to the imposing castle-like structure, before the faithful servant Boggis (George Malpas) turns up with a boat (the rain machine was clearly working overtime during those scenes).

Mrs Oldknow, who tells the boy she’ll call him Tolly, explains about the history of Green Knowe.  Their family have lived there for generations and it becomes clear from very early on that the spirits of their ancestors are still with them.  Tolly is intrigued by a painting which shows three children who lived during the reign of Charles the Second – Toby, Alexander and Linnet.

The serial is content to take its time.  Episode one sets up the location and the basic premise, but although it seems clear that Toby (Graham McGrath), Alexander (James Trevelyan) and Linnet (Polly Maberly) will manifest themselves, they haven’t done so by the time the episode draws to a close.  Tolly hears the children playing at the start of episode two, but can’t see them.  Later, Mrs Oldknow asks him to “make up a great blaze, Tolly. And I’ll tell you a story.”

HILDREN OF GREEN KNOWE, THE (1986)
Picture Shows: (L-R) Alexander (JAMES TREVELYAN), Toby (GRAHAM MCGRATH), Linnet (POLLY MABERLY) and Tolly (ALEC CHRISTIE)

Her story concerns the time young Linnet fell ill and Toby (on his trusty steed Feste) set off into the dark and stormy night to get help.  Once again the rain machine is pressed into service and this, together with the night recording, flashes of lightning and sound effects all helps to create the appropriate atmosphere.  Later stories include when Alexander sang before the King and the time Linnet wasn’t able to join the others at Midnight Mass.

Tolly continues to be frustrated that the children won’t play with him.  We catch a brief glimpse of them at the end of the second episode and again at the start of the third.  When he explains this to his great-grandmother she’s not surprised and tells him that “they’re like shy animals. They don’t come just at first till they’re sure.”  That she’s fully aware of what’s happening is interesting – it removes a layer of drama (you’d normally expect only the boy to be able to see and hear them) but it works in the context of the story.  This may be a ghost story, but they’re ghosts of a very benign nature.

A slightly more discordant note is struck in episode four with the tale of the Green Nowe – a demon tree that’s brought tragedy to the Oldknow family over the generations.  And because by then Tolly has been able to hold a brief conversation with the children, who have gradually begun to accept him, this means they’re on hand to help when the demon tree strikes (which probably looks as effective as it sounds – luckily it’s only a brief scene).

With a fairly small cast, Alec Christie has to carry a fair amount of the serial on his shoulders, but he acquits himself well and gives young Tolly an innocent and open nature.  The other children are less developed, but that’s understandable since their screen time is rather limited.  Daphne Oxenford (a regular during the early days of Coronation Street amongst many other credits) casts a reassuring presence as Mrs Oldknow.

The Children of Green Knowe, like other productions of this era, was shot entirely on videotape.  Given the large number of video effects used on The Box of Delights it was understandable why that was an all-VT production, but since Green Knowe was very light on effects it’s a pity it wasn’t made on film.

It’s a strange sort of story – lacking any genuine threat (I can’t count the tree) or mystery it succeeds by creating an aura of warmth and Christmas cheer.  But although very little actually happens it’s still a comforting watch, which I’m sure would work even better at Christmas time.  For those who have memories of watching it nearly thirty years ago it probably won’t disappoint and since it’s a solid enough production there’s every likelihood it could enchant a new generation.

The Children of Green Knowe is released by Simply Media on the 28th of March 2016.  RRP £19.99.

HILDREN OF GREEN KNOWE, THE (1986)

The Missing Postman – Simply Media DVD Review

archivetvmusings BBC Drama - 1990's, Simply Media , , , ,

postman

Clive Peacock (James Bolam) has been a postman for thirty five years.  He loves his job and is shattered to be forced into early retirement by the heartless personnel manager Peter Robson (Robert Daws).  So on his final day he decides to take all the post he’s collected and, rather than drop it off at the sorting office, sets off around the country to deliver each letter by hand.  But stealing the Royal Mail is a criminal offence and he soon finds himself pursued by DS Lawrence Pitman (Jim Carter) as well as a pack of hungry journalists, led by Sarah Seymour (Rebecca Front).

The Missing Postman is, at heart, a simple story.  It features one man (Clive) who appears to take a stand against the new, faceless technological systems that will allegedly make all our lives easier.  Peter Robson is keen to tell Clive all about OCR. “Optical character recognition. A sorting machine that actually reads the addresses. I mean can you believe that? Doing the work of eight people?”  This is clearly meant to be a bad thing – the machine lacks the human touch of Clive and, worse, it’s maintained by a surly computer expert who spends most of his time with his feet up, reading the paper.  Just to hammer the point home, this “progress” is flawed anyway, as OCR doesn’t like letters with paperclips or stamps affixed the wrong way round, etc.

There doesn’t seem to be any place for Clive in this technological new world.  He’s the last remaining postie to ride a bike and Robson is adamant that bikes are old hat – they just don’t fit into the new, upmarket Royal Mail.  It’s undeniably implausible that they couldn’t have just reassigned Clive to be a walking postman (he’s told that they’ve got all the walkers they need) but you have to accept this, otherwise there’d be no story.

Clive’s friend Ralph (Stephen Moore) suggests he comes and works with him at the local burger bar.  They’d have to work in the back of course – only young people are allowed to serve out front – and this gives us another fairly broad dollop of satire.  The kitchens are manned by old people who complain about their fungal infections whilst impossibly young managers boss them around.

The unsubtle nature of these early scenes (and the jaunty music which is clearly designed to be quirky and charming) does mean that the opening fifteen minutes or so do feel rather forced.  The humour and drama needs to come from the characters, rather than the viewers being bludgeoned by the script, but things then settle down and the first-rate cast can begin to enjoy themselves.

James Bolam is The Missing Postman‘s trump card.  It’s not the easiest role to play, since Clive is a rather diffident and undemonstrative character, but Bolam is gradually able to winkle out some genuine moments of pathos as his odyssey around Britain continues.  Alison Steadman, as Clive’s wife Christine, also gives a very decent performance, managing to rise above the cliche of the woman waiting tearfully at home for news.

It seems rather strange that Clive only makes a cursory attempt to contact Christine. He does call her again later, but by then she’s decided to move on with her own life. She’ll have him back, if and when he returns, but she won’t spend her time pining for him. At this point in the story Bolam cuts a very folorn figure, as we see Clive wrapped in a sleeping blanket and stuck a phone box somewhere in the the Scottish countryside, miles from anywhere.

Jim Carter as DS Lawrence Pitman and Gwyneth Strong as WPC McMahon make an amusing double act.  Carter spends his time with a permanent long suffering, hangdog expression on his face whilst Strong has a teasing, playful nature which obviously makes her superior officer feel somewhat uncomfortable.

One of The Missing Postman‘s strengths is that it features a series of character vignettes, as Clive moves from place to place delivering his letters.  Roger Lloyd-Pack (as Ken Thompson) is a good example.  Clive stops off for a few minutes to repair his bike and falls into conversation with Ken.  Ken asks Clive who he’d like to play him in a film, Clive suggests Dustin Hoffman(!) but Ken has other ideas.  He tells Clive that Ronnie Corbett or Michael Fish would be perfect casting.  Bolam’s expression is priceless!

Considering his job, you’d assume that Clive would be an experienced bike rider, but he does seem to spend a great deal of time falling off it, gradually becoming more and more battered. This leads to a moment where he exchanges his broken glasses for a new pair that belonged to a man who’s recently died. True, he won’t need them anymore but it does feel a little off that he’d take them from the man’s still warm body.

A meeting with Linda Taylor (Barbara Dickson) offers Clive a chance to stop and reflect. Her husband was a Scottish trawlerman who was lost at sea two years ago. Clive and Linda are drawn together and he quickly makes himself at home in her guest house. Romance blossoms (pity poor Christine) although Clive remains unrepentant. He tells Linda the story of Christine’s miscarriage, which he offers as the justification for his unfaithfulness. Bolam’s never better than during this monologue and Dickson, although she has little to do except react, also commands the screen.

The conclusion is interesting.  Clive returns home to find himself accosted by a barrage of reporters – his travels were widely reported and he’s become something of a celebrity.  But he finds it impossible to articulate the reasons for his flight, denying that it was any strike against the system, and then seems more than a little hurt when the press quickly lose interest in him.  They’re much more intrigued with Christine’s skills as an interior designer, which suggests that although Clive’s trip might have been a somewhat selfish one, it’s allowed her the space to express herself and begin a new and more fulfilling career

Transmitted in two parts (72 minutes for episode one, 80 minutes for episode two) The Missing Postman provides the viewer with an entertaining travelogue around the British Isles as well as some decently observed character comedy/drama.  It may sometimes overdose on its own charm and quirkiness, but the cast always ensure that it’s worth watching.

The Missing Postman is released by Simply Media on the 28th of March 2016.  RRP £19.99.

Man in a Suitcase – Brainwash

archivetvmusings ITV Drama - 1960's , ,

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McGill is lured into a trap by Colonel Davies (Howard Marion-Crawford) and his associate John (Colin Blakely).  Davies was, until 1958, the white leader of an African nation called Iquala.  Following a coup he was ousted and remains a bitter man.  He knows that McGill, at the time working for American intelligence, was present in Iquala and wants him to sign a confession confirming that the coup was organised by American and British intelligence. McGill proves to be a tough nut to crack though ……

Brainwash features a character that wasn’t an uncommon one for ITC adventure series of the time.  Variations of Colonel Davies can be found in series such as Danger Man and The Saint – men who don’t realise that their time has passed and that the days of the British empire are long over.  When Davies asks McGill what he believes Iquala now stands for, he’s far from impressed by the American’s reply of “democracy”.

Whether McGill was involved in an American plot to oust Davies is irrelevant – we know that McGill will never betray his people by signing the confession (even though they abandoned him) and it’s also plain that Davies is little more than a tired (and sick) man.

John’s motivations remain nebulous for a while.  Although nominally subservient, he clearly sees himself as the power behind the throne.  He also enjoys his work – John is a sadist and delights in attempting to push McGill over the edge by whatever means necessary (drugs, sleep deprivation, etc).  At one point he discusses how, back in the old days, his methods of gaining information were much cruder but just as effective.  He then provides us with the statement used so often during the decades – he was only ever obeying Davies’ orders.

The other main character is Judy (Suzan Farmer).  Initially presented as little more than a maid, it’s later revealed that she’s Davies’ daughter.  She clearly loves her father, but is conflicted when she sees how McGill is suffering.  As for McGill, he regards her as a possible way out and threatens to kill her.  In a key scene, he strangles her whilst John looks on, amused, from a hidden observation point.  This poses several questions – would McGill really have killed her or was John right when he later told Davies that Judy was never in danger?  It’s very possible to believe that John would have been happy to sit and watch McGill murder the girl.  And it’s also notable that few other ITC stars would have acted in such a brutal manner.

As for McGill, he’s put through the wringer as the episode proceeds and Bradford is typically good at showing McGill’s gradual disintegration (as he becomes unkempt, sweaty, bruised and blooded).  The eventual revelation – that the dying Davies wants to be murdered by McGill and become a martyr – is a decent twist which confirms just how deluded the former leader of Iquala has become.  And for McGill there’s no particular victory, he’s just content to stagger away still alive.

Richard Bradford (1934 – 2016)

archivetvmusings Obituaries , ,

2016 has been a wretched year so far for losing people from the era of television that I love and the death of Richard Bradford (1934-2016) is yet another sad passing.

Probably best known for Man in a Suitcase, Bradford’s American method acting might not always have won him friends amongst some of his fellow crewmembers, but it certainly helped to elevate what would otherwise have been a rather standard ITC adventure series.

But thanks to Bradford’s insistence of throwing punches for real and looking like he was actually suffering, the series stood apart from its contemporaries.

So time to dig out the DVD to spin an episode in tribute.  RIP.

Doomwatch – Simply Media DVD Review

archivetvmusings BBC Drama - 1970's, Simply Media , , , , , , , ,

doom cover

The Series

Created by Kit Pedler and Gerry Davis, Doomwatch was an unsettling programme which ran for three series during the early 1970’s.  By this time, Pedler and Davis had been collaborators for several years – ever since Davis, working as script-editor on Doctor Who during the mid sixties, brought Pedler on board as a scientific advisor.  Although a scientist himself, Dr Christopher Magnus Howard Pedler had deep concerns about the way certain scientific advances were impacting on the world.  In Doctor Who this was given voice when Pedler and Davis created the Cybermen – today just another monster, but in their debut story – The Tenth Planet – there was room for debate about the morality of spare part surgery and where it might possibly end (would we all become emotionless Cybermen?).

Moving forward a few years, Pedler continued to be appalled by certain scientific and ecological stories which he was reading about in the newspapers and also in various scientific journals.  Like Davis, he was concerned that mankind was slowly destroying their planet and both of them wanted to raise the public’s consciousness – and so Doomwatch was born.

Always keen that they should base their stories on science fact rather than science fiction, the pair quickly drafted a raft of story outlines.  These were then passed over to a team of writers who would flesh out Pedler and Davis’ concepts into complete scripts.  Appointed as producer was Terence Dudley, who also crafted one of the series’ most memorable early episodes – Tomorrow, The Rat.  As is well known, Dudley enjoyed an uneasy working relationship with both Pedler and Davis and eventually the creators of Doomwatch were eased out as Dudley took creative control during the third and final series.  History would repeat itself a few years later, when Dudley ousted series creator Terry Nation from Survivors and recreated that show to his own tastes.

Whilst later behind-the-scenes squabbling might have affected the show, cracks were beginning to appear as early as the second series (when one of the regulars, Simon Oates, announced he wanted to leave).  Since so little of series three remans it’s hard to really pass judgement on Dudley’s sole stewardship (although some light can shed via the book Deadly Dangerous Tomorrow which contains a number of scripts from wiped Doomwatch episodes, most of which are drawn from the final series). It currently seems to be out of print, so it’s worth keeping an eye on the publishers website (Miwk) to see if there’s a reprint in the future.

In the opening story, The Plastic Eaters, it’s explained that the Department for the Observation and Measurement of Scientific Work, nicknamed “Doomwatch”, was created by the government in response to overwhelming public concern about the dangerous side-effects of modern scientific research (such as pollution and other environmental hazards).  We’re told that the Doomwatch organisation was one of the chief reasons why the government was re-elected, but it’ll come as no surprise to learn that the Minster (John Barron) distrusts the small band of scientists and is keen to close them down.  Doomwatch are frequently seen to come into conflict with both the government and private companies, who are keen to ensure that this independent organisation doesn’t reveal inconvenient truths.

Doowatch is headed by Dr Spencer Quist (John Paul) a nobel-winning scientist who remains haunted that his research work was responsible – in part – for the creation of the atomic bomb.  John Ridge (Simon Oates) is his polar opposite, as whilst Quist is methodical and stern (although with the occasional glimmer of humour) Ridge is younger, much more flippant and very much the ladies man.  Resplendent in a series of impressive cravats, Ridge is used on occasions as Doomwatch’s secret weapon.  If there’s a lady scientist to be seduced, then Quist has no compunction in letting Ridge loose!

Colin Bradley (Joby Blanshard) tended to be stuck in the office during the early episodes, sometimes fretting over his computer (also called Doomwatch).  Doomwatch’s secretary, Pat Hunnisett (Wendy Hall) remained the most undeveloped character during series one.  Presumably created to provide the series with a little bit of glamour, she spends most of her time standing around looking pretty, stating the patently obvious or beating off the unsubtle advances of John Ridge.  She does have at least one episode that allows her to shine a little though – The Devil’s Sweets – where she’s central to the conclusion of the story.

These then are the characters who Tobias “Toby” Wren (Robert Powell) meets when he enters the office early in episode one for a job interview.  Toby is young and idealistic and neatly acts as a buffer between Ridge and Quist – he’s not as playful as Ridge but he’s also not as driven as Quist.

This line-up would remain in place for series one, but there would be several changes before Doomwatch returned for a second series.  Powell had decided to leave, as he didn’t want to get tied down to a long running show, and Hall, no doubt tiring of having little to do, also departed.  Geoff Hardcastle (John Nolan) was introduced as something of a Toby Wren clone, although he didn’t have much of a character and therefore remained a fairly secondary figure.  More interesting was Dr Fay Chantry (Jean Trend) who became a fully fledged member of the Doomwatch team.

I’ll go into more detail about the existing episodes when I start an episode by episode rewatch shortly, but there’s plenty of interest in what remains (with, it’s fair to say, a few undeniable duffers).  From series one, Tomorrow, The Rat, Project Sahara and The Devil’s Sweets have all long been favourites.  You Killed Toby Wren (a great performance from John Paul) and Invasion are early highlights from series two and whilst series three only exists in very reduced circumstances it’s good to have a decent copy of the untransmitted Sex and Violence.

The DVD

Doomwatch has been a desired release of many for a considerable time, but until Simply announced that they’d licenced it late last year it seemed doomed (as it were) to remain out of reach.  Four episodes were released on VHS in the early 1990’s and two of these were ported over to DVD during the early days of the DVD format.  There was also a single repeat run on UK Gold in the mid 1990’s, but after that everything went quiet.

A total of thirty eight episodes were made (thirteen episodes apiece for the first two series and twelve for the final run).  Eight from series one, all thirteen from series two but only three from the third series remain in the archives.  Ten episodes (six from series one, one from series two and all three from the third series) exist in their original PAL format whilst the remainder are now only available as NTSC conversions (the PAL tapes were converted to the NTSC picture format for sale to Canada and then back again to PAL when they were returned to the UK).

The quality of the NTSC episodes will be the main point of interest for many and it’s fair to say that they’re a mixed bag.  Although it was believed that the BBC had processed all the NTSC tapes they held in their archives with a process called Reverse Standards Conversion (RSC) and then dumped the original tapes – thereby only retaining the raw RSC output – looking at the varying quality of the NTSC episodes on this release I wonder if that was the case.

Some – like Tomorrow, The Rat – look very nice indeed, not too far removed from the original PAL master, whilst others – such as You Killed Toby Wren and Invasion – seem to be very noisy, raw RSC conversions.  But later series two episodes – The Iron Doctor, Flight Into Yesterday – might possibly be the original NTSC tapes which therefore lack the RSC process.  If so, then I find this preferable to the raw RSC look – these episodes may look a little blurry but for me that’s better than the heavy picture noise.

My main fear was that all the NTSC episodes would look like You Killed Toby Wren, luckily that’s not the case.  In an ideal world the episodes would have had extensive restoration, but it seems that little or no work was carried out.  That’s not a criticism of Simply – it’s more than likely that restoration and picture grading would have pushed the RRP to a point where the release wouldn’t have been economic.  So although some episodes do look poor in places it shouldn’t detract from the fact that we now have Doomwatch on DVD – better to have it looking a little rough around the edges than not at all.  It also has to be understood that there’s only a finite amount of work that can be done anyway – several Jon Pertwee Doctor Who DVDs include RSC episodes which have undergone a great deal of restoration work, and even those don’t look perfect.

The extras are the untransmitted episode Sex and Violence and the thirty minute documentary The Cult of Doomwatch.  Narrated by Robert Llewellyn, it’s a decent little programme which is chiefly of interest due to the interviews with Robert Powell and the late Simon Oates.

One puzzling thing about the DVD is why Simply haven’t included the episode titles, either on the packaging or on the DVD menu screens.  So if you want to watch, say, In The Dark, then it might take a little trial and error to select the right disc and then find the correct episode.  Hopefully in future Simply can provide an episode listing somewhere, it’ll make things much easier!

But apart from that minor niggle, this is an excellent release at a very decent price.  Simply’s catalogue of archive BBC releases continues to grow and this is a very worthy addition.  Highly recommended.

Doomwatch is released by Simply Media on the 4th of April 2016.  RRP £39.99.

The Cleopatras – Episode Eight

archivetvmusings BBC Drama - 1980's , , , ,

cleopatras 08

The end of the previous episode made it quite clear that the power dynamic between Cleopatra and Mark Anthony was weighted entirely in Cleopatra’s favour.  Indeed you have to feel a little sorry for Mark Anthony as he finds himself obsessed and dazzled by Cleopatra’s beauty and becomes her pliant and willing slave.  Whether Michele Newell has done enough to convince us of Cleopatra’s mesmerising qualities is open to debate – personally I found Cleopatra’s sister, Arsinoe (Francesca Gonshaw), to be much more alluring, even though she only had the merest fraction of Newell’s screentime

When Cleopatra asks Mark Anthony to do her a tiny favour and kill her meddlesome sister it did raise my hopes that Gonshaw would have a more substantial role in this final episode, but alas she’s dealt with very abruptly (like most of the deaths in the series, it’s brief and almost abstract).

Christopher Neame continues to chew the scenery in an alarming way – witness his reaction early on when he realises that Cleopatra doesn’t want to sleep with him that night – and it’s interesting to compare his performance with that of Robert Hardy.  Hardy’s Caesar was equally as besotted, but he played it in a much more undemonstrative way.  Neame lacks any sort of subtlety which means he begins to grate after a while.

Octavian (Rupert Frazer) offers Mark Anthony a deal – the world divided up between them.  Anthony agrees (although with more than a hint that this won’t be enough to satisfy him).  Octavian seems quite content with his half though and proposes a way to cement the deal – he offers Anthony his sister Octavia’s (Karen Archer) hand in marriage (he agrees).  This sparks an imperial bout of sulking from Cleopatra …..

Needless to say they kiss and makeup and when Anthony decides to divorce Octavia it puts him on a collision course with Octavian, who’s more than a little miffed at the slight his sister has suffered.

Amongst the decadence at Cleopatra’s court, one man – his oldest friend Ahenobarbus (Matthew Long) – stands apart.  He views Cleopatra as a malign influence and has the nerve to tell her so to her face.  Before Ahenobarbus takes his leave, he tells Mark Anthony that because he loves Cleopatra “there’s no saving you from doing what legendary lovers do, dying for love. I shall die of something much more commonplace, like fever. But then I’m not the sort of person of whom legends are made.”

Although The Cleopatras ends with a bit of a whimper rather than a bang (a little of Neame’s overacting goes a long way) overall there’s a great deal to enjoy across the eight episodes.   Richard Griffiths, Ian McNeice, David Horovitch and Adam Bareham all made excellent – and very different – Kings of Egypt, whilst Robert Hardy was wonderful as the urbane Caesar (who it’s true had more than a touch of Seigfried Farnon about him).  During the series many actors flit on and off, some – such as Morris Perry and John Bennett – are memorably good, whilst others are memorably …. not so good, but we’ll spare their blushes.

The Cleopatras is a strange production which asks a great deal of the audience.   I think that in order to connect with it you have to embrace its highly theatrical nature.  Battles, riots and other major occurrences happen off screen and the sets are minimal (with scenes often played against plain black backgrounds).  One weakness is that too much was crammed in across the eight episodes, so at times it can feel rather repetitive – there’s an autocratic ruler, someone gets poisoned, the mob starts to riot, etc.

But although it’s a curio, it’s definitely worth seeking out.  It may sometimes baffle and frustrate, but it’s never less than thoroughly entertaining.

Network announce new BBC deal

archivetvmusings Forthcoming DVDs

Heralded by a short, enigmatic video (which seemed to suggest they’d be offering old copies of the Radio Times for sale!) Network have announced that they’ll be releasing some choice archive gems from the BBC archive.

With Network having recently signed long term deals with both ITV PLC and Fremantle, this is another intriguing announcment – although it’s slightly tempered by the fact that a slew of proposed ITV DVDs announced last year have gone back into limbo (possibly this is why they mention that delays may occur with certain titles).

The lack of new archive releases from Network recently has been slightly puzzling, but the BBC deal is encouraging news.  Their announcement is reproduced below –

They’re Back! – BBC Announcement

The early days of our fledging label saw us rescuing Robinson Crusoe, crossing borders into Communist-state fairyland and presenting some old public information films to a baffled 21st century audience. It all looked just a bit weird on paper.

These unusual and now almost library-standard releases led us, inevitably, to ask for more of the same but we instead got ’The Goodies’, ‘Ripping Yarns’ and ’Till Death Us Do Part’ for our troubles.

So now we are almost back where we started, having recently concluded an agreement with the BBC to revisit some of our older releases as well as bring a lot of new material to add to our range.

Towards the end of the year and beyond we’ll be releasing complete series box sets of shows that we’d distributed many years ago including ‘The Goodies’, ‘Till Death Us Do Part’ and ‘Sykes’ amongst rarer fare like ‘All Passion Spent’ and ‘Johnny Jarvis’, some Screen Two presentations such as ’The Vision’, bafflingly unreleased classics like ’The Life And Times Of David Lloyd George’ and much more.

We’ll be sharing news on these releases with you as we work through them but you’ll need to be patient. There are substantial technical and clearance issues to attend to but it is underway as we write. The first titles will appear before the end of the year, hopefully sooner.

 

The Cleopatras – Episode Seven

archivetvmusings BBC Drama - 1980's , , , ,

cleopatras 07

Cleopatra has a bombshell for Caesar – she’s pregnant.  He’s obviously delighted and after the child (as she predicted, a boy) is born, she visits Rome.  Cleopatra’s self absorption is made very plain within the opening minutes of this episode.  Her two maids, who are completely sycophantic in her presence, have a very different opinion of her when she’s not around.

Ammonius (Frank Duncan) is the Roman official who’s been tasked with preparing Cleopatra’s Roman villa.  When he mentions that he was a great admirer of her father, he receives a polite but cool response.  After she’s left the room her maids tell him that he shouldn’t “harp on about her father too much, she didn’t care for him. She cares only for herself. We recommend flattery, you can’t lay it on too thick.”

It’s interesting that Caesar later tells her that “you’re an intelligent woman, you like plain speaking. And you hate meaningless flattery.”  According to her maids she loves flattery – so who is closer to the truth?  Of course, the fact that Caesar tells her to her face that she hates flattery is a form of flattery in itself.  Caesar doesn’t seem very manipulative – Hardy plays him as an affable sort of chap – so maybe he’s sincere in what he says.

The only scene between Caesar and Mark Anthony is highly entertaining.  Caesar tells him of his desire to be crowned king, but can he persuade the republican loving Roman citizens?  Neame’s Anthony is full of boyish enthusiasm for his plans and exuberantly tells him so.  Compared to Hardy’s laconic Caesar, Neame’s Anthony is much more hyperactive.  Like some of the other performances throughout the series it’s not a subtle one, but there’s a certain amount of pleasure to be derived from watching him chew the scenery.

For all Cleopatra’s self-centeredness, she did seem to be genuinely in love with Caesar – and he with her – and she takes the news of his assassination hard.  When Mark Anthony presents himself to her, she wonders why he “didn’t die protecting him? Or die with him?”  Mark Anthony’s equally as upset as her though, as is made plan as Neame full-throttles his way through the scene.

Familiar faces (and voices) who turn up in this episode include Geoffrey Chater as Perigenes, a plain-speaking Egyptian official.  Amongst his many credits he had a memorable recurring role as Bishop, opposite Edward Woodward in Callan.  John Moffatt, as Quintus Dellius, might not have been such a familiar face, but he was a highly skilled radio actor, playing the role of Hercule Poirot over several decades.

With Mark Anthony and Octavian victorious, Cleopatra should be glad that Mark Anthony is now ruler of half the world – but that’s not enough for her.  Julius Caesar ruled the world and she wants Mark Anthony to do the same ………