Grange Hill. Series Eleven – Episode Eight

gh s11e08-01.jpg

Written by Sarah Daniels. Tx 29th January 1988

Mr Griffiths has had his eye on Tegs for some time and finally runs him to ground in the girl’s cloakroom. The moment when Mr Griffiths attempts to stop him escaping by holding onto his blazer – only for Tegs to slip out of it – is slightly clumsily done, as it’s plain that George A. Cooper is actually tugging it off him.

Tegs, escorted to Mrs McClusky’s office by Mr Griffiths, remains uncowed. He denies that he’s responsible for the recent spite of bike thefts – instead he offers the head his professional opinion about safety measures (locking stands and chains would be a good idea). Poor Mr Griffiths gets a roasting from Mrs McClusky after Tegs leaves the office. Mr Griffiths’ confident assertion that Tegs is the culprit is quickly shot down by Mrs McClusky, who tells him that they have absolutely no evidence against him. Mr Griffiths’ hangdog expression after being ticked off speaks volumes. His heroine-worship of Mrs McClusky has long been one of his defining traits, so to be in her bad books is a painful moment for him.

Sarah Daniels once again comes up with the goods for Michael Sheard. Mr Bronson, lurking for no good reason in Mrs McClusky’s outer office, happens to overhear the head telling Mr Griffiths that if she can’t deal with this spate of thefts then she should resign. The words “it’s time for me to resign” catches his attention and his facial expression after this apparent bombshell speaks volumes! Also good to see the ever-faithful, if mute, Janet back in her familiar position as Mrs McClusky’s secretary.

You may, or may not, be delighted to hear that Mauler’s reign of idiotic terror shows no sign of abating. Desperate as I am for any small crumb of comfort during these scenes, I have to say that there’s a very unusual camera angle (high above the set, looking directly down) during the moment when Mauler and his posse chase Clarke round and round the lockers. Top marks to director John Smith for attempting to liven up yet another “comedy” chase.

But better times are just around the corner as Mr Bronson, like an avenging angel, strides into the frame and declares that Mauler was the boy responsible for giving him the soaking. Quite how he’s worked this out is a slight mystery – he didn’t see him at the time – but no matter as it’s a chance for Michael Sheard to turn the intensity right up. “You are the boy responsible for my getting wet”. It’s a fairly innocuous line, but it’s all about Sheard’s line delivery – the way he emphasises each word with increasing force.

I also love the conclusion to the scene. Mr Bronson tells Mauler to “follow me” and the teacher strides off, only twigging after a few seconds that Mauler’s legged it in the opposite direction! It’s only a pleasure deferred though, as Mr Bronson then runs the unfortunate Mauler to ground during the next lesson. Sheard is once again on top form as Bronson tells the boy to explain to the class, in French, exactly what he did. Sheard milks every last moment out of lines such as “you pathetic, unteachable specimen”. And what exactly was Mauler’s French explanation? “Mr Bronson, in boy’s bedroom, with basket of water on the head”.

Tegs explains a little more to Justine about his philosophy of life. “I nicked two hundred quid in fifteen minutes once. You’d have to be a politician or a pop star to earn that much in quarter of an hour”.

It’s fascinating how public acceptance of tattoos has changed over the last thirty years. Ronnie (unsurprisingly, given her straight-laced persona) isn’t at all impressed with Helen’s tattoo, telling her that she’s got it for life and only a skin graft will remove it. Back in 1988, a tattoo seems to have been seen as a departure from the norm – Ronnie wonders if Helen’s gone a bit funny and Fiona agrees, commenting that it’s a bit mad.

Matthew’s travails continue. After behaving quite normally during his few brief scenes last episode, he’s back to his old, storytelling tales today. Paul Adams’ breathless listing of untruths and half-truths isn’t terribly convincing – although I’m not sure whether this was supposed to be as scripted or was simply due to Adams’ acting. For sure, it’s a difficult part to play – and reviewing Matthew’s initial storyline some thirty years on, it seems a pity that he wasn’t given the opportunity to settle into the school community for a while before attention was drawn to his fractured homelife. Had this been done, then it probably would have generated a more rounded character.

Matthew’s father once again is nothing but more than an intimidating profile. We never hear his reply to Matthew’s request that they give Clarke a lift, but Mr Pearson’s disgusted expression speaks volumes.

gh s11e08-02

Grange Hill. Series Eleven – Episode Seven

gh s11e07-01

Written by Sarah Daniels. Tx 26th January 1988

The episode opens with a rare sighting of Justine’s elder sister, Tracey (Penny-Belle Fowler). Since Justine has more than an echo of Trisha about her – today she’s once again straining against the limits of school uniform – had Tracey been a regular, then like Trisha’s sister – Carol – she could have been used to tease out other aspects of Justine’s character.

I’m afraid that Mauler and his Grid Iron crew are still infesting the school corridors. After haranguing Matthew for the crime of bringing a briefcase to school, they’re distracted by Tegs, who throws a water bomb directly into Mauler’s face. Once again his reaction is horribly overplayed and yet another “comedy” chase ensues. The most interesting part of the scene is the way it demonstrates how Tegs is completely at home moving through the nooks and crannies of the school (his small frame makes it easy for him to enter the ventilation ductings).

But this time, Mr Bronson is tugged into their orbit. After Mr Bronson views the out-of-order staff toilet with disfavour, we later see Tegs duck into the children’s urinals. Mauler and the others, hot on his heels, follow him in and prepare a series of water balloons to surprise the occupant of the locked cubicle, who turns out to be …. Mr Bronson. No, really.

Obvious though it is, this is still a decent payoff – the sight of a water-soaked Michael Sheard, complete with a distressed wig, is a lovely one. Even better is to come as Mr Bronson – a towel around his head – creeps into the staffroom. Only Mrs Reagan is there to begin with (reading a poetry anthology – Lovers Nosegay) but then Mrs McClusky walks in. Mr Bronson, caught behind the door, freezes and then delicately tip toes out of the room. That’s more like it, a nicely handled comedy moment which helps to erase the non-acting of the Grid Iron crew.

Indeed, having not featured a great deal this year, Sarah Daniels’ first 1988 script is a decent one for Mr Bronson. Post soaking, he has to deal with the sniggers of his fifth form French class (passing around notes that he’s wet himself) although the arrival of Justine, carrying a note for Laura from her mother, gives him the chance to reassert his authority. Was it scripted, or an involuntary reaction from Rachel Victoria Roberts, that Justine responds with a smirk after Mr Bronson booms at her? The latter, I think.

Tegs and Justine head out to the local café for a spot of lunch. En route, Justine spies a clothes shop and goes to investigate. Tegs, keen to please her, shoplifts a scarf she had her eye on. Before he reveals his unconventional present, Tegs tells her about his home life – a mother who left home when he was five, a father in and out of prison and an older brother currently in youth custody. When he tells her that his father was banged up when his mother left them, Justine asks him if he means hospital. This is either a signifier that Justine is more innocent than her streetwise persona might suggest or it’s designed to make Tegs’ situation crystal clear to the younger viewers.

Tegs explains his burglary modus operandi. As touched upon before, GH has had its fair share of criminally inclined children, but it’s always been made clear sense that eventually they would have to face up to the consequences of their actions. Tegs’ unrepentant, unabashed character feels different – mainly because he’s neither portrayed as an inherently “bad” person or a “good” one who’s temporarily gone off the rails. For him, this sort of life seems perfectly normal.

Helen’s latest dare involves her getting a tattoo ….

gh s11e07-02.jpg

Grange Hill. Series Eleven – Episode Six

gh s11e06-01.jpg

Written by David Angus.  Tx 22nd January 1988

The Grid Iron crew have been corralled to Mrs McClusky’s office.  As always, Gwyneth Powell is never more delightful than when we see Mrs McClusky turn on the sweetness.  Her feigned surprise at how Mauler and the others play a non-curriculum sport without a ball is nicely done.

Matthew’s dropped back to school after his weekend with his father (played by the non-speaking Bunny Losh).  So Matthew’s father is presented as little more than an intimidating presence – it’s Matthew himself who has to fill in all the blanks.  But considering the lies he’s continuing to spread (there was a strike, he tells Clarke, so they couldn’t go to Amsterdam but ended up touring the Lake District instead) it’s hard to believe anything he says anymore.  Especially when he mentions to Clarke that the Lake District is in Wales.

For once, Mauler and the others take part in a well choreographed comic scene.  Mr Griffiths has gone to the library in order to replace a lightbulb and after climbing the stepladder, he’s able to spot Mauler and his crew forceably “interviewing” a younger pupil.  After Mr Griffiths shouts out, they all quickly grab books from the nearest shelves and adopt poses of innocence!

Mr Robson is certainly a different character from the departed Mr Baxter.  Mr Baxter’s raison detre was to ensure that Grange Hill scooped up as many sports titles as possible – he was never happier than when his teams were crushing opposing schools into the ground.  Mr Robson’s vision of sport revolves around inclusiveness (ensuring that everybody gets a chance to shine) which means that he’s set on a collision course with Freddie, the first team captain, who believes that winning is everything.

Matthew sticking his fingers down his throat in order to make himself throw up is a disturbing image (which thankfully occurs just offscreen).  But it’s another indication that there’s something badly wrong with him (many children aren’t keen to do games, but don’t tend to go to those lengths).  In the girl’s changing rooms, Susi is equally unwilling to get changed, but she doesn’t act up so dramatically.  She’s simply uncommunicative, even brushing off Mrs Reagan’s delicate suggestion that it might be her time of the month.

Again, those with long GH memories might recall that Annette’s reluctance to get undressed during S7 was due to the fact that her body was bruised from physical abuse meted out by her mother.  Either Matthew or Susi could be in the same boat – with Matthew, due to his history of erratic behaviour, looking the more likely victim.

Fiona and Ronnie decide on a name for their hip-hop venture – Fresh ‘n’ Fly.  They meet in Ronnie’s bedroom in order to work on their masterpiece, but aren’t too impressed when Gonch comes calling.  They send him away, although Ronnie feels a pang of conscience afterwards.  But, as Fiona tells him, since Gonch only bothers with her when he feels like it, she shouldn’t feel too bad.  And after being slightly discomforted by Ronnie’s rebuff, Gonch is quite happy talking to Mrs Birtles (Angela Crow), especially when she starts dishing out the tea and cakes.

Mrs Reagan’s new beau, Simon, continues to irritate Laura.  Mind you, it’s hard not to feel slightly creeped out after he tells her that he wasn’t academically inclined at school – instead he spent most of his time watching the girls play tennis.  It’s when he then asks Laura if she plays tennis that you can’t help but squirm a little.  But Simon’s leering and boorish behaviour doesn’t seem to bother Laura’s mother, who locks lips with him as soon as her daughter exits the room.  Cue Laura standing by the door, looking on disapprovingly ….

gh s11e06-02.jpg

Grange Hill. Series Eleven – Episode Five

gh s11e05-01.jpg

Written by David Angus.  Tx 19th January 1988

The great PE kit reminder service is in full swing and to assist the process, school equipment (namely the computer and printer) is being pressed into service by Gonch and the others.  There’s nothing so evocative as the sound of a dot matrix printer printing inexorably slowly, whilst it’s interesting to see that Grange Hill still uses BBC B’s.  It’s odd though that back in the heyday of the BBC computer (say 1983) Grange Hill never took the opportunity to utilise them in order to generate a spot of sneaky product placement.  Barbara Thorn, later that year to join The Bill as Inspector Frazer, makes a brief appearance as the computer studies teacher.

It does look like Mauler McCall and his rubbish Grid Iron Crew will be providing this years Harriet the Donkey moments.  They pursue Tegs around the school in a “comedy” chase before deciding to tie Ziggy up.  Ziggy declares that Mauler won’t be laughing for too much longer, but considering the eons it took for him and Robbie to gain revenge over Imelda, I won’t be holding my breath …..

Some of the first years dress up as people from different points in history.  Chrissy isn’t happy with her clothes, but Susi likes what she’s been given to wear.  Although it’s the boy dressed as a Viking (complete with a helmet sporting two very large horns) which really catches the eye.  Whilst Chrissy is out front – glowering – Matthew’s ever increasing web of lies is becoming more obvious.  He’s told Clarke that he’s due to fly to Amsterdam for the weekend with his father, but has trouble in remembering which airport they’re going to use.  Matthew’s habitual storytelling is gently teased out during these early episodes – it’s a signifier that the boy is unhappy, but the reason behind his tall tales remains nebulous at present.

Miss Stone and Mrs McClusky later debate Matthew’s weekend trip, with Mrs McClusky deciding that Matthew could be going to Amsterdam, although it seems unlikely (she declares that it’s rather grand).  Given that the journey from London to Amsterdam is hardly a lengthy one (223 miles) and wouldn’t have been that expensive, this seems like a slightly odd statement to make.

Stephen Churchett’s an actor with one of those faces that you know, but you just can’t remember exactly where you’ve seen him (he’s got a lengthy track record though – from Up Pompeii! in 1970 to EastEnders in 2015).  Today, he’s playing an Education Welfare Officer who is on the hunt for the absent Danny, but is equally happy to snag a truanting Trevor.  Trev, thinking on his feet for once, gives him Vince’s name instead of his own.  Mind you, since the Welfare Officer later gives Mr Bronson a description of “Vince” it’s maybe not as clever as he first thought.

Robbie’s delighted with the way the strip hire business is going, telling Ziggy that they’ll be laughing all the way to the Leeds.  A cultural reference which would have made sense at the time, although is possibly more obscure now.

Old GH hands may find the next scene a little familiar.  Mauler’s suddenly taken an unhealthy interest in Calley but avenging knight Robbie happens to be passing by and isn’t impressed.  This seems to be a definite echo of Gripper’s obsession with Claire (Stewpot, of course, was her knight in shining armour).  But the 1988 love triangle is less effective, mainly because Mauler – a very underdeveloped character anyway – has never shown any interest in Calley before.  Neither has Robbie, it has to be said, but it seems obvious that they’ll become an item soon.  I wonder if Calley’s horoscopes have foretold this?!

Joshua Fenton, as Mauler, pulls some extraordinary faces when Mauler confronts Robbie.  Compared to Gripper (or even Imelda) I’m afraid that Mauler is a very second-division heavy.  He may spout plenty of threats, but there’s no sense that – unlike Gripper or the even more unhinged Booga – he’s actually dangerous.

Things you wouldn’t see today …. Georgina’s latest dare involves her covering her face with yellow food dye and giving us her best Chinese impression.  “Ah so”.  Also appearing in the cookery scene is Susan Field as Mrs Evans.  Like Stephen Churchett. she’s an actor who you might instantly recognise (she was active between 1961 and 2000) even if you can’t name too many of her credits off the top of your head.  SF fans might remember her from the first Blakes 7 episode, The Way Back, where she played the conniving Alta Morag.

The saga of Mr Robson’s missing motorcycle helmet rumbles on throughout the episode. It’s eventually discovered in Mauler’s locker, although he didn’t pinch it (Tegs – looking to gain revenge – framed him).  Mauler’s reaction when he finds it is priceless – pricelessly bad that is.   He opens his mouth wide like a gaping fish.  This is supposed to be shock I guess, but it appears to be another example of bad acting.  Since Fenton will be a regular in the series until the end of series thirteen, I hope he improves soon.  Rather better fare can be found when a desperate Ziggy tries every trick in the book to stop Mr Bronson from inspecting his locker.  He’s innocent of stealing the helmet, but explaining all the PE kits he’s got stashed away might be difficult ….

gh s11e05-02.jpg

 

Grange Hill. Series Eleven – Episode Four

gh s11e04-01.jpg

Written by David Angus.  Tx 15th January 1988

Mrs Reagan is driving her daughter to school.  She comments approvingly that Matthew’s mother has dropped him off a street away from the gates (and also wonders if eventually she’ll detach him from her apron strings totally and let him catch the bus).  Of course, since she’s driving Laura to school this seems like an odd double standard.

Laura’s face is still set in the same expression she’s worn whenever she’s been in her mother’s company recently.  Think of someone sucking a lemon and you won’t be too far from the mark.

Helen and Georgina’s latest dare is to kiss all the boys in the playground.  This causes old-before-her-time Ronnie to tut in a disapproving manner whilst Ziggy is sanguine about the fact that girls are always throwing themselves at him!  Wisely they both decide to give Danny a wide birth – he’s still radiating despair and irritation at being pushed down a year.  He doesn’t pull his punches when Mrs McClusky innocently asks him how he’s getting on.  “The staff don’t know whether to treat me as an invalid or retarded”.

Danny’s returned to his series nine persona.  An uncommunicative individual, unwilling to accept that any of the school rules relate to him.  The first stirrings of the later conflict between Danny and Mr Bronson can be seen after the senior teacher discusses the boy’s wandering ways with Mr Robson.  Mr Bronson believes that they can no longer put his erratic behaviour down to his illness as he’s – apparently – now fully recovered.

Having forgotten his PE kit, Gonch is forced to borrow a strip from Mr Robson.  This leads to a lightbulb moment as he tells a slightly nonplussed Robbie and Ziggy that they should run a PE reminder service (and offer to hire out strips for anybody who forgets to bring theirs).  The only flaw in this wonderful scheme is that Mr Robson already supplies kit – for free – to anybody who’s forgotten to bring their own, so why should anybody pay for the privilege?

Mauler and his ridiculous crew are once again roaming the school corridors, looking for pint-sized first years to use as American footballs.  Tegs seems like the obvious choice but a militant Justine is having none of it.  He finds it hard to say thank you though – as a loner the words don’t come easy – but Justine continues to shadow him nonetheless.  Clearly there’s something about Tegs (his thieving ways?) which fascinates her.  He later shows his gratitude in a non-verbal way.  This is a moment clearly set up to later address Teg’s fondness for taking things which don’t belong to him.

Meanwhile, Matthew’s absent father (he’s working aboard at a secret location apparently) continues to be an object of innocent interest for the others.  It’s plain that there’s rather more to this than meets the eye as Matthew may be many things, but a fluent liar he isn’t.  Possibly this is connected to his, as yet, unspecified home-life issues.

Fiona and Ronnie now venture further afield for their ration of hip-hop tunes.  They’ve gone to a local club, where they run into Danny who’s painting a mural on the wall.  Fiona is keen to get up on stage and perform, and her hip-hop ambitions intrigue the other two – even Danny, who’s rarely shown an interest in anything this year.  Ronnie’s blossoming friendship with Fiona has started to isolate her from her long-term friend Calley, although this means that Jane – reduced during the last few series to a character with only a handful of lines – has now moved slightly more into prominence (she’s now operating as Calley’s confidant).

gh s11e04-02.jpg

 

Grange Hill. Series Eleven – Episode Three

gh s011e03-01.jpg

Written by David Angus. Tx 12th January 1988

It’s surprising that Ronnie and Gonch’s on-off relationship still seems to be just about on (I’d have assumed she would have dumped him by now). It’s the same old story from last year – she’s constantly exasperated that he never shows her any attention (mini-mogul Gonch is too concerned about where his next fortune is coming from).

Calley’s interest in all things astrological is still one of her main character traits. This has been constant since she first appeared in 1985 – which is either decent continuity or a sign that, as yet, nobody’s been able to think of anything better to do with her. Her latest fad is reading bumps – although Jane suddenly becomes less keen to be her guinea pig after Ronnie acidly tells her that it looks as if Calley’s checking for nits ….

Vince is always keen though (and keen to believe) so when Calley tells him that his bumps suggest he’s due a close encounter with something or someone from America he swallows it hook, line and sinker. Calley isn’t being deliberately malicious – it’s simply that other people’s expectations are greater than her own competence. And what does Trevor think of it all? He’s not impressed.

Although Vince and Trevor briefly teamed up in the first episode, they’ve now regressed to their more combative S10 personas – with Trevor keen to ridicule Vince at every opportunity. But some of Trevor’s sting has been drawn by the arrival of Mr Robson (a teacher that he finds impossible to bait in the same way as Mr Scott). This episode Trevor has regained his posse of silent hangers-on. He briefly had a similar in the previous series, but they vanished after an episode or two.

Helen and Georgina had a brief walk-on appearance in episode one, but this is the first time this series that we’ve been able to get reacquainted with them. Imelda might be long gone, but the remaining members of the Terrahawks still possess a sense of mischief (albiet playful, rather than malicious). Georgina dares Helen to tell Mr Bronson the true reason why her homework is incomplete (she was watching a good film starring Clint Eastwood) and Helen duly obliges. This scene was an obvious gift for Michael Sheard – the way that Mr Bronson slowly and unbelievably repeats the words “Clint Eastwood” are worth the price of admission alone.

Helen then dares Georgina to drop something into the lunchtime baked beans. She duly obliges with a bottle of salt and the inevitable hilarity ensues when some Louise later asks for beans and is less than impressed with her salty fare.

Ziggy and Robbie, like Gonch, are strapped for cash – so Robbie suggests a merger. Neither Ziggy or Gonch are keen, but eventually they agree. With three great business brains now working together in perfect harmony, what can possibly go wrong? Let’s wait and see.

Madeline Church makes her first appearance as Miss Stone, a fairly background teacher who appears throughout this series and a few episodes of the next. Miss Stone is keen as mustard to join Mrs Reagan’s keep fit class, whilst Mrs McClusky and Miss Booth are far less enthused (although eventually they’re shamed into attending). Gonch, Ziggy and Robbie – already debating how to make their first fortune – decide to stay in the gym and spy on them.

This is an odd little scene, although it doesn’t seem to be that the boys are perving (they’re simply being mischievous, I think). Their wonderful hiding place? Inside the vaulting horse, of course. Everything’s going swimmingly until the teachers leave and Mr Griffiths locks the gym!

The school disco is still going and there’s a sense that the series is attempting to keep up with the times when Ronnie asks the DJ to pop a hip-hop track on. This meets with the approval of Fiona (Michelle Gayle). From small acorns to the birth of Fresh ‘n’ Fly. The Hip-Hop advisor for the series was the late Mike Allen, at the time a DJ on Capital Radio.

Mr Griffiths is supplied with some top comedy moments – baffled at Calley’s head readings (convinced that she’s checking the others for nits), grumbling at the way his screwdrivers keep getting pinched and (of course) pursuing Gonch, Ziggy and Robbie around the school. He seems to have forgotten that he and Ziggy were allies last year, meaning that they’ve slipped back into their old roles.

gh s11e03-02.jpg

Grange Hill. Series Eleven – Episode Two

gh s11e02-01

Written by Chris Ellis. Tx 8th January 1988

Freddie’s continuing to play the lovesick martyr. Positioning himself at a handy point on the route to school, he presents an abject picture of misery as Laura and Louise pass by. It’s all part of his master plan to ensnare Laura of course (quite why he’s suddenly decided that Laura is the only girl for him is a mystery). His cunning ways weren’t well received by his younger sister earlier on though. Chrissy tells him that he’s “disgusting” before stomping off to school by herself! Laura’s well aware of the game he’s playing, but she’s content to let him carry on for now. There’s a vague element of humour here, but it’s all rather laboured.

Matthew and Clarke’s friendship continues to bloom. Matthew seems to have decided that Grange Hill isn’t as bad as he’d feared …. and that’s when Mauler McCaul turns up. Like the rest of his gang, he roams the school corridors in full American football gear (like Freddie’s moping this seems less than credible) looking for vulnerable youngsters to use as a ball. Is this going provide us with S11’s Harriet the Donkey moments? Hopefully it gets, ahem, kicked into touch soon.

A little more dramatic meat is provided by a continuing spate of thefts. Miss Booth – with no evidence – seems to believe that Tegs is responsible whilst the new head of the first year – Mrs Reagan – seems much more relaxed about the whole affair. So far we’ve seen very little of Tegs, although we’ve heard quite a lot about him. Most of the accounts have been negative – meaning that his card already seems to have been marked by some of the teachers (especially Miss Booth who, despite her free and easy air, has been shown in the past to be rather dogmatic and inflexible). That his character has been sharply defined in his absence is an interesting touch – the question is, will he live up to these low expectations?

Gonch still hasn’t given up on his money-making exercises (even if his right-hand man Hollo has disappeared – never to be spoken of again). This episode he’s giving the first years a guided tour of the building and, complete with his rolled up umbrella, he’s the epitome of a cheerful tour guide. The moment when he introduces Mr Griffiths as one of Grange Hill’s finest ancient moments is a proper laugh-out-loud moment.

That pair of juvenile delinquents – Tegs and Justine – find their relationship developing. Both are cooling their heels outside Mrs McClusky’s office – Tegs because of his poor attendance (and it’s only day two) and Justine because of her shocking pick blouse.

There’s a cracking cliffhanger. Laura returns home to find out the reason why her mother has had in a spring in her step recently. She’s got a new boyfriend, the oily, moustachioed Simon (Peter Meakin). His opening line is a classic. “So this is the lovely Laura. But not quite as lovely as her mother”. I think the way he rubs the back of Mrs Reagan’s neck whilst saying this is what makes the moment just a little off-putting.

I think we’re going to have trouble with this new arrival ….

gh s11e02-02.jpg

Grange Hill. Series Eleven – Episode One

gh s011e01-01

Written by Chris Ellis. Tx 5th January 1988

This episode saw the debut of a new title sequence and a re-arranged version of Chicken Man. Although both moves might have upset some old-timers, you can’t really argue that it wasn’t overdue. The original titles may have been iconic, but they always looked rather old fashioned, even back in the seventies. The new titles are more frenetic (Phil Cool, remember him?) but not as distinctive. In some respects they seem like a placeholder between the originals and the more successful nineties efforts.

A new group of first years are rapidly introduced. For those who like to compare the new arrivals to old boys and girls (looking for archetypes) then Chrissy Mainwaring (Sonya Kearns) and Susi Young (Lynne Radford) fit very nicely as the new Trisha/Cathy, Fay/Annette or Calley/Ronnie. Throw in Justine Dean (Rachel Victoria Roberts) as a fashion rebel very similar to Trisha and it’s plain that – to begin with – the series was treading familiar ground with these new characters.

But Matthew Pearson (Paul Adams) and Clarke Trent (Darren Cudjoe) are hardly in the mould of Tucker/Alan, Zammo/Jonah or Gonch/Hollo. Matthew is positioned more as a Justin Bennett type – a fish out of water at Grange Hill – whilst poor Clarke (you possibly won’t be surprised to learn that he receives a few Superman jibes) seems to exist mainly to line feed his new friend.

Our first sight of Matthew sees him looking longingly at the comfort and security of home from the back seat of his mother’s car as she drives him and his sister to school. If the point that he’s an unwilling new pupil needs to be hammered home, then luckily his annoying younger sister is on hand to tell him exactly what awaits him (namely that his head will be shoved down the toilet on a regular basis!).

For the loveable bad-boy quotient, you have to look to Tegs Ratcliffe (Sean Maguire). Out of the newcomers, Tegs makes the most immediate impression. Grange Hill might have had its fair share of tearaways in the past, but Tegs is a little unusual. He’s sold to us as a positive character, even though his background is a dubious one (his family are comprised of unsuccessful petty criminals whilst he’s already racked up an impressive criminal record as well).

In time we’ll see how the isolated Tegs forms a bond with Justine which – again – is an uncommon move for the series. It wasn’t totally unheard of (Trisha and Simon Shaw for example, or Duane and Tracy/Clare) but those examples demonstrate that friendships between first year boys and girls hadn’t happened for some time.

Series eleven also saw the introduction of Mr Robson (Stuart Organ). He was by far the longest serving cast member (notching up 264 episodes) although I doubt few would have predicted back in 1988 that he would become such a fixture (he eventually left in 2003, shortly after the show relocated to Liverpool).

A few older pupils suddenly pop up without warning later on this year (an occasional hazard at this school). Fiona Wilson (Michelle Gayle) slots in neatly with the other fourth form girls whilst Mauler McCaul (Joshua Fenton) and Ted Fisk (Ian Congdon-Lee) initially exist solely to cause grief to the younger pupils.

Fair to say that Mauler’s not exactly a bully in the Gripper class (or even Imelda, come to that). He’s played much more for laughs with Ted operating as his even dimmer sidekick. But for those prepared to stick with the series, Ted’s character will undergo something of a transformation in the years to come …..

The opening few minutes plays out in a predictable way as we see various characters making their way to school – some willingly, some not. The old hands – Ziggy and Robbie – are quite casual whilst some of the younger pupils – like Susi – are more anxious. Luckily, she’s got a confident friend in Justine, who tells her that the horror stories she’s heard (about getting beaten up and having her dinner money pinched) are all rubbish. Justine’s positive attitude is therefore shown to be in sharp contrast to Matthew’s more negative viewpoint (like Susi he seems to think that everybody’s looking at him – hence the way he flinches when his mother attempts to give him a goodbye kiss).

It’s an old trick, but during these early scenes with Matthew, the camera is placed low – at his level – which makes the sudden arrival into the frame of Trevor and Vince (keen to make Matthew’s first day extra special) a little more impactful. A pity that Paul Adams seems to be registering amusement more than fear during this scene, but no doubt this was down to inexperience (although he did have a few credits prior to GH).

A few golden oldies from years gone by are given another airing – such as when Trevor and Ziggy send the first years the wrong way to the assembly hall. Another rehash from the first episode back in 1978 finds Matthew left alone in the assembly hall (everyone else has been assigned a form apart from him). Whilst this is almost certainly an intentional homage, it’s probably not a moment tailored for long term fans. Indeed, GH‘s core audience was no doubt self-renewing (new ones joining as the older ones moved on to the likes of EastEnders) so this would have seemed fresh to most of the viewers.

Both Chrissy and Justine seem to be channelling Trisha Yates. Chrissy has an overbearing older relative also at the school (in her case, Freddie) whilst Justine has a highly relaxed attitude to school uniform, which is sure to get her into trouble.

Poor Freddie is bereft to learn that Julia won’t be coming back to Grange Hill. Sorry? Considering the way that he’s burned his way through the female population at GH, it’s hard to take his sorrowful persona very seriously. But with Julia gone (and Banksie too) that leaves the way open for Freddie and Laura to hook up …..

Mr Robson lays down a marker with E4 right from the moment he first walks into the room. With a stentorian rant, he instantly silences them (easy to see that he’s not going to be a walkover like Mr Scott last year).

Mr Bronson and Danny pick up where they left off. Maybe it’s the fact that I’m growing older, but I now find it much easier to side with Mr Bronson than I do with Danny. The boy’s clearly aggrieved at being kept down a year, but since – due to his illness – he’s missed a considerable amount of coursework it’s easy to see why the decision was taken. Unlike his earlier targeting of Zammo and Ant, there doesn’t seem to be any malice – at present – from Mr Bronson’s side of the table.

gh s011e01-02.jpg

Hitting the Target. Doctor Who – The Mind of Evil

mind.jpg

Although most of the Pertwee stories were novelised during the seventies, four tales – The Ambassadors of Death, InfernoThe Mind of Evil and The Time Monster – were skipped.  It’s interesting that two of the titles were by Don Houghton, but presumably that’s just a coincidence as there’s never been any suggestion that he was actively blocking publication.

When Target eventually decided the time was right to mop up these stragglers, Houghton declined to tackle his stories – Inferno and Mind – so the task fell to that reliable old warhorse Terrance Dicks.  Published in 1985, The Mind of Evil is a very faithful transcript of the televised story (even keeping most of the original dialogue intact).  This had become Dicks’ style – something which was appreciated and mocked by different sections of fandom.

For some, in the days before VHS copies were widespread, having an almost verbatim novelisation of the television story was appreciated.  But others wanted books which went beyond the televised events and were less impressed with Dicks’ workmanlike style.  The printed word does had advantages over the television image in certain respects though – for example, the visual manifestations of the evil impulses generated by the Keller machine.  On screen we saw less than impressive superimposed images (water, fire) but there was no such limitations on the printed page.

Dicks also remembered that some readers might be unaware of the Doctor’s current status, so he helpfully sets the scene by informing them that, at present, the Doctor is exiled to Earth and working for UNIT.

The various criminal types are given very brief backstories.  We learn that Barnham had choked the life out of a security guard who had disturbed him whilst he was blowing a safe whilst Harry Mailer is painted as a Kray-like gangster (eventually caught because he was rash enough to kill somebody in public).

It’s notable throughout the television original that the Doctor’s in something of a bad mood, especially to begin with (his arrogance is very much on overdrive when attending the initial demonstration of the Keller process).  Dicks doesn’t attempt to soften this and, indeed, his condescending attitude to all around him – including Jo – is even added upon.  At one point, the Doctor despairs of having to leave the Keller machine in the hands of Jo (whom he regards as a feather-headed child).  But this was still early on in their relationship, so it’s maybe not as brutal a character assessment as it first seems.

Benton can always be relied upon for a comedy moment or two, and Dicks delightfully paints him as a wistful James Bond wannabe – dreaming of vodka martinis, shaken not stirred, Bentley sports cars and mysteriously beautiful international spies.  His actual assignment – keeping tabs on the suspicious Captain Chin Lee – is rather more down to earth though.  The Brigadier’s assessment of why Benton is fundamentally unsuitable for undercover work is also entertaining (Benton lurking in a doorway with his raincoat collar turned up, was about as inconspicuous as an elephant at a tea party).

Not the most essential Target then, unless you favour a very accurate reproduction of the events on screen, but it’s still one of those books which whetted my appetite for the television original.

Hitting the Target. Doctor Who – The Mind Robber

mind

I love the tranche of Hartnell and Troughton novelisations penned in the eighties.  Many were written by their original scriptwriters and it’s fascinating to see how they retooled the stories after a gap of several decades.  Peter Ling, like many of his fellow writers during the sixties, wasn’t steeped in Doctor Who lore.  He wrote a single story and then no doubt didn’t think about it or the series again until he was commissioned to write this novelisation in 1986.

This isn’t a problem though and in fact there’s something rather charming about the slight sideways feel that you get from many of these books.  There’s some odd moments to be sure (such as the sight of the Doctor pottering around the TARDIS engine room with a can of oil and a rag) whilst it’s hard to imagine Troughton’s Doctor ever uttering the line “ye gods. I need my brains taken out and buttered”.  But I’d sooner this approach than an obsessive fixation on continuity – where things are either “right” or “wrong”.

Ling sticks pretty closely to the original script, although there’s plenty of instances where he takes the opportunity to do things which would have been beyond the series’ budget.  When Jamie and Zoe are tempted out into the white void, they both see very personal images.  For Zoe, it’s the sight of her mother, looking down at her from the sky, whilst Jamie sees his cottage, complete with his family waiting for him and a spot of supper on the table.  These visitations upset Zoe especially (possibly this was a hint that her mother had died).

After the TARDIS has exploded, the image of Zoe slowly slipping off the console and descending into nothingness is an evocative and disturbing one.

I don’t know whether Ling’s script had originally intended for Zoe to briefly find herself dressed as Alice in Wonderland (encountering a white rabbit with a pocketwatch and falling down a rabbit hole) but if so, it’s a shame we didn’t get to see it.  Possibly the fact that the recording would have had to have been paused in order for Wendy Padbury to change clothes was the prosaic reason why it didn’t happen.

It’s slightly odd that Zoe has never heard of Alice (especially since she knows all about the Karkus – she’s aware of comic strips then, but not classic literature).  We’re told that this is because she comes from the twenty first century, which seems a fairly feeble rationale.  The Karkus is good fun – especially since he comes complete with Batman-style speech bubbles which accompany his every move and gesture.

Ling didn’t make any attempt to differentiate the Master in his story from the Doctor’s identically named arch nemesis, which no doubt would have confused some people.  Early reference books did make a distinction – The Making of Doctor Who called him the Mind Master, for example.  Mind you (sorry), that was confusing too – when I finally saw the story, I was surprised he wasn’t referred to as the Mind Master.

It’s characteristic that Jamie is disappointed when Rapunzel disappears (he was looking forward to getting to know her a little better).  Jamie – like Frazer Hines – always had an eye for an attractive female …

It’s a pity that Ling didn’t come up with an alternative ending as it seems to contradict everything we’ve previously been told.  Earlier, the Doctor realised that if he attempted to create fiction then he’d be trapped in the Land of Fiction forever.  But when he and the Master meet for their climatic battle, he does precisely this with no consequences.

But that apart, The Mind Robber is a cracking read.  There’s plenty of bonus material not seen in the original television production, but not so much as to make it unrecognisable.  Certainy a book that’s worth tracking down.

Hitting the Target.  Doctor Who and the Day of the Daleks 

day.jpg

My New Year’s resolution is to re-read all the Target novelisations.  And from time to time I’ll blog about the more interesting ones.

In the pre-VHS era they were incredibly important to me – every paperback was a window into the inaccessible past – but once it became possible to actually view the stories, the Targets were relegated to an increasingly dusty bookshelf.

Some I’ve re-read during the last few decades, but many have remained untouched since the early nineties. So, my non-chronological journey begins with an all-time favourite …. The Day of the Daleks.

Day is packed with extra value – the whole of chapter one (Moni’s flight through the workcamp and his tussle with the Ogrons) for example. I also love the many incidental touches added by Dicks which don’t alter the narrative, but help to broaden characters or generate more atmosphere. Jo’s dummy making skills (preparing an object for the Doctor to test the ray gun on) is a lovely example. It was very disappointing to later learn that on television the Doctor simply used a basic cardboard cut out (I wanted to see Jo’s lipstick smeared mannequin!).

The Doctor’s first encounter with the Daleks – in the railway tunnel – is another of those moments which works terribly well in print, but turned out to be something of a damp squib on screen. In the book, the Doctor is horrified to see the slowly advancing Dalek. On television, he hot-foots it the other way as soon as he claps eyes on it!

When the Doctor and Jo are rescued from the clutches of the Controller by Anat and the others, Dicks cleverly names the various characters who were anonymous extras on screen. By giving them identities and very brief back-stories, their deaths resonate just a little bit more.

Dicks also took the opportunity to restore a “deleted scene” (a second encounter between the present Doctor and Jo and their future selves). On television, the loss of this scene wasn’t really a problem (the story concludes very effectively with a close-up of the Doctor) but it’s a nice book-ending moment that enhances the print version.

The Saint – The Work of Art

work 01

Simon’s gone to Paris in order to spend a little time with the attractive Juliette (Yoland Turner). But this pleasant sojourn is cut short after Juliette’s brother, Andre (Alex Scott), is accused of murdering his business partner, Jean Bougrenet (John Bailey). Unbeknown to Andre, Jean was a member of an Algerian rebel organisation and since he recently defrauded Andre out of five hundred thousand francs, Andre had a clear motive for murder.

Attempting to clear Andre’s name, the Saint finds himself tangling with the implacable Major Quintana (Martin Benson) as well as Vladek Urivetsky (Hamilton Dyce), known as the Master Forger of Europe …..

The pre-credits sequence shows Simon relaxing at a street café. Everything is calm and peaceful, at least until the police turn up and drag a seemingly inoffensive man into the back of their police car. You might expect that this will have some bearing on the plot, but no – the man simply exists in order for Simon to tell the viewers that whilst Paris looks calm on the surface, revolutionary intrigue is bubbling away in the most unlikely quarters. It’s a slightly clumsy way of signalling what the thrust of the story will be, but no matter it’s only a passing irritation.

John Bailey was one of those actors who suffered beautifully (he had a wonderfully expressive face which could express a world of pain). He’s therefore perfect as the twitchy Jean, a man on the run from the imposing Major Quintana. Jean works for Quintana, but Quintana has come to distrust him (easy to see why, since Jean radiates unease and guilt). It’s therefore no surprise that Jean doesn’t last terribly long – he’s throttled to death within the first twenty minutes.

If the opening half of the story is rather dour and humourless – it’s mainly comprised of a number of grim looking men looking grimly at each other – then the arrival of Mère Lafond (Hazel Hughes) helps to lighten matters somewhat. Hughes – an experienced actress with a career which dated back to 1938 – is great fun as the fiery Madame Lafond. She’s a woman who operates on the shadier side of the law and expresses disbelief that the Saint may now be aligned with the godly! Hughes’ appearance is only brief but it helps to provide the episode with a much needed injection of levity.

Yolande Turner, in the first of her two Saint appearances, manages a decent French accent as the alluring Juliette. It’s not the greatest of parts, but she does her best. Robert Cawdron is given some decent comic material as the long-suffering Sergeant Ludic. Tasked with the job of staying by the Saint’s side at all times, it’s no surprise that Simon delights in leading him a merry dance.

At one point, Ludic is dragged along to a fancy dress party. He remains in plain clothes whilst Simon enters into the spirt of things by dressing as a clown (some twenty years before he did so again in Octopussy). It’s difficult not to love the groovy music and general revelries, although it won’t surprise you to learn that Simon organised this treat as something of a diversion ….

Part of the problem with The Work of Art is that the Algerian question isn’t really examined in much detail (we therefore never really know exactly what Major Quintana is fighting for). Urivetsky – although he barely features – at least is given a clear motivation. Unlike Quintana he’s not interested in politics – money is his only goal.

Roger Moore gets the opportunity to demonstrate yet again that the Saint is very handy in a fistfight, whilst his trademark calm under fire is also in evidence. It’s a pity that Simon doesn’t meet Quintana and Urivestsky until the last ten minutes or so, as when he does the story starts to pick up a little impetus.

Adapted from Charteris’ 1937 novella The Spanish War, Harry Junkin’s teleplay retooled the original quite considerably – changing many of the names and relocating the action from London to Paris. The Work of Art is solid enough, but isn’t terribly engaging and so only rates two and a half halos out of five.

Watch for the sign of the Saint, he will return …..

work 02

The Saint – Judith

judith 01.jpg

The Saint, relaxing in Canada, is approached by Judith Northwade (Julie Christie).  She  tells him that her uncle, ruthless businessman Burt Northwade (David Bauer), has appropriated the design for a revolutionary new engine from her father and plans to sell it for a small fortune.  So Simon agrees to break into Northwade’s house and steal back the plans …..

There’s plenty of stock footage used in the pre-credits sequence, which sees Simon attending an ice hockey game.  Although you might not have tagged this as Simon’s natural environment, he’s enjoying himself enormously (if the lusty shouts of encouragement he directs towards his team are anything to go by!).  His comfy sheepskin jacket was an unexpected fashion moment.

In the sort of remarkable coincidence that the series thrived on, Burt Northwade just happened to be sitting a few seats ahead of Simon.  They don’t talk – but this moment allows both of our principal characters to be seen together early on.  The episode then follows a traditional path as Simon, after popping up before the credits, fades away for a while in order to allow the guest characters to be established.

Northwade’s hard business streak is quickly spelt out.  His desire to press ahead with the sale of the engine distresses his wife, Ellen (Margo Johns) and their first scene together somewhat lurches into melodrama after he rather theatrically raises his hand to strike her.  She’s disgusted that he’s planning to swindle his own brother, whilst he blames her for not bearing him a son and heir.

We then see a mysterious and beautiful young woman keeping observation on their palatial house.  This is the titular Judith who – after being startled by Northwade’s guards – literally runs into Simon’s path (their two cars almost collide).   Judith drives off, but Simon finds himself arrested as a trespasser.  Clearly the Canadian laws on trespassers were very strict at this time – the Saint is told that if he moves before the police turn up then he could be shot!

This week’s police representative is Inspector Henri Lavan (John Serret).  He’s more suspicious of the Saint than some of his international colleagues and we’re left with the strong impression that he’s not prepared to be fobbed off by Simon’s easy charm.  The moment when he demolishes the Saint’s stated reason for visiting Montreal (Simon claimed he was planning to visit a favourite restaurant) is an interesting one, since it’s rare to see the Saint discomforted or outmanoeuvred by a member of the police force.  But Simon’s not knocked off his stride for long, as he then proceeds to laugh it off and disappears before Lavan has a chance to realise what’s happened.

Simon is given a police shadow – Sergeant Soustelle (Ross Parker) – who sticks to him like glue.  This is a little irksome, so the Saint boldly tells him that he’s planning to pick up a girl.  “And if you promise not to disturb me, you can sit at the bar and have an unlimited number of drinks at my expense”.  That Simon Templar, he’s something of a lad ….

But since the girl is Judith and Simon’s still curious about why she drove so erratically earlier, possibly his interest is purely professional.  Possibly.  Judith pours her heart out to him and it’s not surprising that her sob story hits home – after all, it’s a good story (and she’s gorgeous, which never hurts either).

Judith is an odd one.  For most of its duration it follows a linear path with no apparent mystery – Northwade’s deal is legally sound but morally reprehensible – which means that it’s not the most absorbing of yarns.  But you can still enjoy the various incidental pleasures along the way, such as the entertaining turn by Ross Parker as the gullible Sergeant (Simon is able to wrap the poor man around his little finger).

Although we shouldn’t feel too sorry for him as he doesn’t do badly out of their association – he’s able to eat and drink to his heart’s content!  And when Simon later locks him in the cupboard, the Sergeant’s half-hearted cries of “you’ll go to jail” never fails to amuse. Quite how he’s managed to stay in the force so long is a bit of a mystery.

Julie Christie is lovely of course, and she also helps to keep the interest ticking along although Judith isn’t the most sharply drawn or interesting of characters (at least not until the late twist).  This adaptation slightly softens the bite of the original, but otherwise it stays pretty faithful to Charteris’ story.  The reversal in the last ten minutes is a decent one, but since the rest of the episode is fairly forgettable, overall Judith only rates two and a half halos out of five.

judith 02.jpg

 

The Saint – The Bunco Artists

bunco 01.jpg

After the elderly Sophie Yarmouth (Mary Merrall) is cheated by two confidence tricksters, Simon – along with Mrs Yarmouth’s daughter Jean (Justine Lord) – decides to turn the tables and play the tricksters at their own game ….

We open in London’s glittering West End.  The scene-setting stock footage tells us that Phyllis Calvert, Marius Goring and Elizabeth Sheppard are playing in Menage A Trois whilst next door David Tomlinson is appearing in Boeing Boeing.

Simon is cooling his heels by the stage door, waiting for Jean to appear.  She’s delayed, which allows the Stage Door Keeper (played by Meadows White) to wax lyrical (“all the world’s a stage”, etc).  He also has one of the most arch deliveries of “why, you’re the famous Simon Templar” seen in the series to date.

She’s worth waiting for though (Justine Lord is a vision in white).  Jean’s a not terribly successful actress, but she’s hopeful that her big break is just around the corner.  I love her breathless précis of the exciting new role she’s hoping to snag.  “I go insane in act two, I yell and scream and carry on. And then in the end I put three bullets in my husband’s heart”.

But whilst Simon is squiring Jean around town, what of her mother?  She lives in a picturesque English village and is a big wheel at the Netherdon Parish Church.  She’s approached by a pleasant young American woman, Amelia Wade (Louise King), who tells her that the church is in line to receive a handsome donation from a mysterious American foundation (which would allow them to meet their restoration target).

This seems too good to be true – and alarm bells really start to ring when Amelia tells Sophie that she actually needs to see the money they’ve collected so far for the church restoration (records and receipts aren’t acceptable – only sight of the actual cash will do).  Of course, we’ve already got a good idea about what might happen, since Simon’s primed us in the pre-credits sequence about con artists.

But it seems as if Simon won’t be needed as Mr Henderson (Peter Dyneley), from the International Detective Agency in New York turns up, hot on Amelia’s heels.  Hurrah!  Along with the local copper, Charlie Lewis (Victor Platt), they ask Sophie to play along – if they can catch Amelia in the act, actually attempting to steal the cash, then she’ll be bang to rights.  But of course, Henderson isn’t what he seems either (he and Amelia – or Joyce, as she’s really called – are husband and wife confidence tricksters) so poor Sophie finds herself conned, good and proper.

The con is done very neatly – it’s not quite Hustle, but it’s still an effective set piece.  What’s especially entertaining is how Henderson explains to a rapt Charlie and Sophie exactly how “Amelia” carried out the switch (a case with a false bottom) only for him to then pull the same trick.  Dyneley and King make for an effective double act.  This was Dyneley’s second of three Saint appearances (it’s certainly a better role than his first, The Careful Terrorist).  American-born King made a string of appearances in British series during this period (her final credit was in 1964).  Her character is allowed a little twinge of conscience – after all, conning an old lady out of six thousand pounds (what will happen to the church roof now?) is a bit mean.

It doesn’t take Simon too long to work out that they’re actually called Mr and Mrs Richard Eade and have made their way to the South of France.  They can’t be terribly good criminals if they leave such an obvious trail ….

So the Saint and Jean set off for France and after the usual orgy of stock footage, Simon adopts the role of a friendly Texan and impresses Eade by flashing his cash about.  I’ve commented before about Moore’s interesting range of accents, and this is another good example.  Although as before, I’m not sure whether it’s supposed to be deliberately bad or not.  What’s certain is that Moore’s comic timing is put to good effect during these scenes (I like his bootlace tie as well).  But Simon’s not the only one with a silly accent as Jean’s gone all French.  Like Moore, Lord plays the comic scenes well.

There’s some familiar faces lurking about in the background. André Maranne makes his second and final Saint appearance. It’s not a terribly interesting role (hotel barman) but he does get a few lines.  John Standing plays a Gendarme whilst an uncredited Ingrid Pitt can be seen lounging by the hotel pool.

Charteris’ original tale appeared in the short-story collection, Thanks to the Saint (1957).  A fair bit of retooling went on during the first half of the adaptation (in the short story, Mrs Yarmouth believed she was handing over the money in order to make her nephew a film star) but the second half (Simon turns the tables with a sting revolving around a valueless necklace) was pretty much the same.

This change of emphasis – from film stardom to church welfare – allows Simon to make an amusingly impassioned speech after he and the Gendarme (Standing) run the crooks to ground.  “All over Netherdon parish, old people, widows, children, plumbers, bricklayers, carpenters, ordinary people, contributed their pennies and their shillings to the Netherdon Church restoration fund and these parasites stole it”.  Standing gets to react in a suitably shocked manner (“oh no”).

A lovely comic episode where everyone’s on fine form.  Roger Moore, of course, was made for this sort of role whilst Justine Lord is also very watchable.  Hard to see how this one could have been any better – five halos out of five.

bunco 02.jpg

The Saint – Marcia

marcia 01

Simon is mourning the death of Marcia Landon, famous film star, who took her own life after being disfigured in an acid attack.  Rising starlet Claire Avery (Samantha Eggar) has taken over the role Marcia was due to play in an upcoming film and after receiving a threatening letter – stating that unless she hands over five thousand pounds she too will be disfigured – calls on Simon for help.  So the Saint finds himself with a film studio full of suspects to investigate …..

The pre-credits sequence has a bleakness which wasn’t typical for the series, as we see Simon pay Marcia a fullsome eulogy.  Her face – prior to the attack – is prominently displayed both in the newspapers and on the studio walls where Simon has called to see Claire (and Marcia’s image will continue to appear throughout the episode).  The attack is shown in flashback – shot from distance and mostly using shadows, it’s effectively moody (and also isn’t explicit – which was always a consideration).

It’s a cliché but Samantha Eggar – just like Claire Avery – has undeniable star quality.  Director John Krish favours close-ups in the early part of the episode – as Claire and Simon chat about Marcia – and these shots, along with Eggar’s low, breathy voice helps to create a considerable impression.  The camera loves her and, to be honest, so do I.

Johnny Briggs creates an immediate impression as the chirpy runner, Johnny Desmond – he’s an upbeat sort of chap, always ready with a bad joke.  Marion Mathie, later to be the third and final television She Who Must Be Obeyed in Rumpole of the Bailey, is another familiar face who pops up (she plays Sheila – wife of Mike Sentinal, the director).

Jill Melford is deliciously bitchy as Irene Cromwell, an older actress who clearly believes that she should have been given Marcia’s role.  Dripping with honey-tongued venom, she’s highly entertaining.  Mix in Tony Beckley as Claire’s very disgruntled co-star and Philip Stone as a dogged police inspector and it’s hard to see how this story could have been better cast.

What’s nice about this one is that it gives us a rare chance to look behind the scenes at the studios where The Saint was shot.  It’s nowhere as self-reverential as some of the later UFO episodes, but it’s still interesting (and I daresay since it was pretty cheap to shoot, it would have pleased the producers).

As the story progresses, Claire continues to stress.  Things come to a head when a prop gun, used in the recording of the film, is substituted for a real one.  Simon, standing off-camera, shouts “drop that gun and nobody move!” in an incredibly forceful way (very uncharacteristic) whilst Claire just screams.  Oddly, she does so after the shot’s been fired (she appears to be working on a slight delay).  John Krish doesn’t really do Eggar any favours by zooming into her screaming mouth – it’s an arresting image, but not terribly flattering.

Towards the end of the episode, there’s a chance to see even more of the studio as Simon pursues a mysterious stranger through its various nooks and crannies.  This might be little more than padding, but it’s shot so well that it’s hard not to enjoy it.  Indeed, that sums up the story as a whole.  The mystery is fairly slight, but with such a strong cast it’s easy to be totally absorbed.

The use of Marcia’s photograph is an especially memorable touch.  It’s seen so often, in various different locations, that it’s almost like she’s always present – albeit as a passive, non-speaking observer.  This is one of the reasons why Marcia is a fascinating story which rates four and a half halos out of five.

marcia 02.jpg

 

The Saint – The Fellow Traveller

fellow 01

Simon is contacted by a man called Henry Matson (Brian Oulton) who tells him that he’s been forced to steal blueprints from the place where he works.  He and Simon meet in what appears to be a safe place – a deserted bus shelter in the middle of nowhere – but Matson has barely begun to pour out his story before he’s shot dead by a passing motorist.  With his dying breath, he’s able to point the Saint in the direction of the Blue Goose Club and the glamourous Magda Vamoff (Dawn Addams).

Globe-trotter Simon Templar has temporarily come back down to humbler surroundings, as the caption at the start of the story (Stevenage, England) makes plain.  Matson only makes a brief appearance before hitting the dust, but it’s enough to paint his character as a rather quiet, unassuming and insignificant man.  This makes his secret life – cavorting with the fleshpots and gamblers at the Blue Goose – a little hard to accept, but if he didn’t have some weakness (in his case gambling) then he wouldn’t have been blackmail material.

Interviews with Matson’s wife and employer temporarily place Simon in somewhat prosaic surroundings (and it’s rather odd that Simon – rather than the police – breaks the news to his employer that Matson is dead) but it’s not long before the Saint is ensconced in the comfort of the Blue Goose, which is much more his sort of place.

He quickly makes the acquaintance of Magda and elects to adopt the full frontal approach – telling her that he’s a friend of the late Henry Matson.  Since the club is occupied by individuals – such as Hans Blatt (Michael Peake) – who are just itching to kill him, going undercover probably would have been a waste of time.  Plus it would have been much less fun – there’s very much the sense here that Simon enjoys breezing around from place to place, stirring up trouble as he goes.

Magda professes not to know anything about Matson’s death, but can we believe her?  Addams is statuesque, but slightly stiff.  Magda does sport some impressive clothes though – the leopard skin coat and hat combination stands out especially.  She and Simon have a rather nice relationship – it’s all about the subtext – with Simon warily attempting to probe her for information.  At one point, as they share dinner, he casually tells her that she hasn’t told him one word of truth all evening.  She doesn’t take offence at this, so either Simon’s remarkable charm is operating at full strength or she’s so incredibly crooked that she just has to soak up the insults ….

Angus Lennie is good fun as the hotel receptionist, James Andrew MacTavish. I know this will come as a shock, but James is Scottish (no, really).  He’s a helpful sort – passing on messages to Simon and acting as a sounding board for his theories.  Another very familiar face, Glyn Owen, appears as Superintendent Kinglake.  The Superintendent is your typical Saint police officer – irritated at the way that Simon rides roughshod over his investigation, but powerless to stop him.  Owen doesn’t have a great deal to do until the last ten minutes or so, but he’s the recipient of a few decent exasperated lines.

Michael Peake had the face of a villain, so it won’t come as a surprise to learn that today he plays … a villain (Hans Blatt).  Indeed, it always came as a slight surprise whenever Peake turned out to be playing a good guy (such as in the Doctor Who story The Romans).  Blatt begins by attempting to run Simon off the road and when that doesn’t work he slips into his hotel room to pop something unpleasant into his bottle of wine.

Later, Simon reaches for the bottle and pours out a drink for himself and his visitor, Nick Vashetti (Neil McCallum).  Just in case we’d missed the scene of Blatt’s tinkering, the incidental music goes overboard with menacing drumbeats as the pair slowly raise the glasses to their lips, just to hammer the point home.  But in the split second before they take a swig, Simon senses poison and knocks the glass out of Vashetti’s hand.  A pity that Blatt didn’t choose an odourless poison (goodness knows what they were teaching people in crime school back then).

Vashetti’s death is just a pleasure deferred for Blatt though.  Vashetti has information which will allow Simon to solve the mystery, but he doesn’t get the chance to pass it over as a visit from Blatt (complete with his trusty silenced pistol) sorts him out once and for all.  It’s a rather odd scene, as although the tension is nicely ramped up by the slow and methodical way that Blatt attaches the silencer to his gun, the mood is then dissipated by the very unconvincing “pop” it makes.  It’s such an unconvincing sound that at first I wondered if it was a fake gun (designed to frighten but not kill).

The Fellow Traveller was adapted from Charteris’ short story The Sizzling Saboteur (one of two novellas published as The Saint on Guard in 1944).  The events were relocated from wartime America to modern Britain and the death of Henry (Matson on television, Stephens in print) was much grimmer in the novella.  The Saint’s car journey is interrupted by what appears to be a log in the road – but it turns out to be Henry’s blackened, dying body.

Although The Fellow Traveller has a mystery at its heart (just who is the Mr Big running the operation?) the eventual reveal of his identity is a bit of a damp squib.  It’s also difficult to be that invested in Magda’s fate as Addam’s icy persona doesn’t help to draw the viewers in.  As ever, it’s an efficient production, but since the story never quite kicks into gear it only rates three halos out of five.

fellow 02

The Saint – The Benevolent Burglary

burglary 01.jpg

Having had a successful evening in a Monte Carlo casino, Simon is in the process of cashing in his chips when he bumps into an old friend, Bill Fulton (Gary Cockrell).  Bill’s feeling depressed because the millionaire father of his sweetheart, Meryl (Suzanne Neve), has forbidden their union.  Meryl’s father, Elliot Vascoe (John Barrie), has an impressive art collection and the Saint – aiming to teach him a lesson – bets him five thousand dollars that sometime during the next four days his new gallery will be robbed.

Simon’s in full James Bond mode at the start of the episode.  He’s looking suitably dashing in a white tuxedo and – like Bond – is the sort of gambler who knows when to stop.  His taste for stylish casualwear can be seen later on when he relaxes in an impressive dressing gown.

Bill’s a penniless musician which means that in Vascoe’s eyes he couldn’t be a worse match for his daughter.  And then there’s the instrument he plays.   “A drummer! Not even a real musician, he just makes a noise”.  Needless to say, Meryl doesn’t take this sort of criticism very well – it just serves to drive a wedge between her and her father.

Suzanne Neve is rather lovely, although unlike some of the other ladies who cross paths with the Saint, Meryl carries herself with a more natural air.  Amongst her later credits, Neve would appear in The Forsyth Saga (1967) as well as popping up twice in UFO as Ed Straker’s bitter and estranged ex-wife Mary.

Simon’s baiting of Vascoe might be partly motivated by the travails of Bill and Meryl, but he’s also doing it because he despises Vascoe (they’ve clashed before).  Vascoe is the sort of character who simply rubs Simon up the wrong way – he tags him as a nouveau riche philistine, someone who doesn’t appreciate art (he simply delights in buying up various treasures in order to demonstrate that he’s “cultured”).

John Barrie racked up sixty six episodes of Sergeant Cork during the 1960’s.  Amazingly, all of the episodes exist and are now available on DVD – if you haven’t seen them then you really should (advert over).  It’s mainly thanks to Cork that Barrie has become a favourite actor of mine – meaning that it’s a treat to see him pop up in this episode.  Vascoe is not the most multi-layered of characters – he’s an arrogant type who you know is going to be taken down a peg or two – but thanks to Barrie’s performance he’s never less than completely watchable.

Another familiar face appearing is Rachel Gurney as Delphine Chambers.  Delphine has been commissioned by Vascoe to paint a portrait of Meryl, which gives her the opportunity to linger around the perimeters of the plot.  Other highly recognisable actors passing by include Ivor Salter as a typically inefficient policemen (just one of a number drafted in to keep tabs on Simon) and Andre Maranne as a radio operator.

Arnold Diamond, as Colonel Latignant, may be one of Simon’s lesser-known authority adversaries, but since he appeared in six episodes he possibly deserves to be more appreciated.  Latignant is tasked to stop the Saint (who of course runs rings around him with insouciant ease). This means that at one point the unfortunate Latignant buries his head in his hands and lets out a primal scream of anguish!

Simon’s public pronouncement has drawn a veritable rogues gallery to Monte Carlo – all of them keen to attempt the burglary, since they know that if they succeed then Simon will be blamed.  Jules Brant (Raymond Adamson) is the one who actually carries out the crime, although Simon is on hand to intercept him and give him a decent duffing up.  It’s a nice touch that Brant left the Saint’s calling card (the stickman figure) at the scene of the crime – this was something that the literary Saint tended to do in his early days.

Simon’s parting shot to Vascoe – he returns the stolen items and explains that any one of his trusted friends and advisors could have been the inside man since they all despise him – is devastating.  The television Saint has rarely been as ruthless as this, although since his actions do serve as a wakeup call for Vascoe, it’s not entirely vindictive.  This is easily Barrie’s best scene, as we see Vascoe slowly realise that whilst his life is materially rich it’s also emotionally barren.  We end on an optimistic note as Vascoe and Meryl are reconciled.

Given that it shares a few plot similarities, it’s not too surprising that this story was originally published in the same collection as The Charitable Countess (The Happy Highwayman, 1939).  Charteris’ story is set in New York rather than Monte Carlo and although Vascoe is blocking Meryl and Bill’s marriage, it’s for a very different reason.  In the short story, Bill has invented a new tube(!) that’s set to make him a fortune – but since grasping old Vascoe lent him the money to develop it, he’s now planning to foreclose on the loan and reap the rewards of Bill’s invention for himself.  The identity of the thief is also quite different and Vascoe remains unrepentant at the end.  Given that the story is pretty short, it’s not too surprising that the teleplay had to be bulked out somewhat.

Another typically strong guest cast – headed by the peerless John Barrie – ensures that this is another top quality Saint episode.  Four and a half halos out of five.

burglary 02

The Saint – The King of the Beggars

beggars 01.jpg

Simon, back in Rome, becomes aware of an odious protection racket targeting the city-wide population of beggars.  They’ve been forced to give a percentage of the money they collect to a mysterious figure known only as the King of the Beggars.  A young actress, Theresa (Yvonne Romain), has gone undercover in order to identify the “King” and Simon, suitably disguised, quickly takes her place (after all, he’s got much more experience of tangling with the ungodly than she has).  But events take a sinister turn after Theresa is kidnapped …..

The King of the Beggars touches upon a theme previously raised in The Charitable Countess, specifically the divide between Rome’s rich and poor.  As before, Simon shows sympathy towards those who have nothing, especially when one of them is brutally mown down before his eyes.

There’s plenty of familiar faces in this one – Oliver Reed (more of him in a minute), Ronnie Corbett (credited more formally as Ronald) and Warren Mitchell, who was making his third and final appearance as Simon’s Rome-based helper, Marco.  Moore and Mitchell slip easily back into their bantering partnership (Simon offers Marco a drink – he asks for a large whisky, but receives a small coffee instead!).  Marco is again partly present to give us the opposite view about beggars – he regards them as a workshy nuisance, whilst Simon is much more forgiving about the plight they’ve found themselves in.

Oliver Reed’s imposing physical presence is immediately evident.  As Joe Catilli, a member of the protection racket, he glowers splendidly and it isn’t long before he and the Saint come to blows.  Their bout of fisticuffs may be brief, but it feels quite convincing.  They tangle on several later occasions as well, with the most entertaining being when the Saint uses Catalli as an unwilling guinea pig in order to demonstrate to a group of impressively bearded vagrants the best way to defend yourself from unwanted street attacks!

Last time, I raised an eyebrow (in tribute to Roger of course) at the Saint’s previously unheralded skill with disguises.  Remarkably he’s at it again today – a pair of dark glasses, a little bit of stubble, mussed hair and he’s instantly transformed into a blind beggar.  It’s ever so slightly awkward though that he’s then approached by Catilli, who doesn’t seem to connect this blind beggar to the young chap who had earlier duffed him up.  I mean, it’s not that great a disguise.

Marco and Simon are teamed up for several very enjoyable scenes.  One of my favourites sees them interrogating an uncommunicative member of the gang.  But never fear, Marco has a pair of pliers in his pocket and attempts to give him an instant spot of rough dentistry!

Who could the King of the Beggars be?  We’re introduced to Stephen Elliot (John McLaren), a philanthropic American who appears to share Simon’s distress at the plight of Rome’s displaced citizens.  But everything points to the fact that this upstanding man will later be revealed to be the “King”.  Or will there be a twist?  Hmm ……

John McLaren seems a little stiff, although this may be due to the character he’s playing and not a lack of acting ability.  More naturalistic is Maxine Audley as the Contessa Dolores Marcello.  Dolores and Elliot first encountered the Saint when he was wearing his beggar disguise and when they all meet again at a swanky party she quickly makes the connection (which is more than Elliot did).

But it seems that Catalli eventually did twig as well, as Simon finds himself drinking a cup of drugged chocolate at the flop house run by Maria Calvetti (Jessie Robins).  As Simon slumps to the floor, Catalli pops up in a typically menacing fashion.  Maria and Catalli then team up to interrogate the kidnapped Theresa.  A shame that Robins’ role isn’t larger as Maria’s got a nice line in threats.  “Miss Mantania, don’t get rough with me. I can knock you right through the wall”.  I believe her ….

One of two novellas from the 1948 book Call for the Saint, Charteris’ story was set in Chicago, with Simon’s regular sidekick – Hoppy – assisting him.  Marco performs a similar function in the teleplay (and is considerably less irritating).  Many of the characters are essentially the same, although the names have naturally been changed to rather more Italianate ones.

John Gillings’ teleplay retains all the essential story beats of the original, including the chess piece left behind by the abducted Theresa (which gives Simon a vital clue).  The identity of the “King” is a decent twist and together with the strong guest cast, headed by Reed and Mitchell, it helps to make this another very solid story.  Four halos out of five.

beggars 02.jpg

The Saint – The Saint Sees It Through

through 01.jpg

Simon travels to Hamburg, at the behest of the American government, in order to investigate a fine art smuggling ring.  He has an “in” – since a former girlfriend, Lili Klausner (Margit Saad), seems to be implicated.  The Saint quickly works out that the sinister Dr Ernest Zellerman (Joseph Furst) is a key man, but finding evidence against him proves to be tricky ….

The Saint Sees It Through has a decent noirish atmosphere, with Simon meeting taciturn contacts on dark street corners before dodging into Tante Ada’s –  a smoky nightclub where Lili plies her trade.  Moore isn’t doing much during these early scenes, but as the cliché goes – less is more.  He enters the club whilst Lili is in mid song and moves to stand directly in front of her.  This could be taken as an oppressive gesture, but Lili doesn’t interpret it as such.  Later, as they share a drink, he asks her why she walked out on him several years back.  It’s unusual for Simon to show concern about a former relationship (like James Bond he generally tends to love them and leave them) but it may be that he’s simply using this as an excuse to re-establish a link with her.

Also at the club is Dr Zellerman, who has arranged a date with Lili.  But after Simon appears, she declines Dr Zellerman’s invitation – which rather infuriates the good doctor.  Luckily Simon’s on hand to forcibly teach him that good manners cost nothing.  Whenever I see Joseph Furst it’s hard not to have one line of dialogue running through my mind (“nothing in ze world can stop me now!”) but there was a good deal more to him than that over exuberant Doctor Who guest appearance.  Elsewhere he tended to be – as here – much more restrained and sinister (Furst carved out a very decent niche playing villains).

It was a good move to cast Margit Saad, a German actress, as Lili.  No doubt many British actresses could have played the role just as well, but Saad is naturally more authentic.  Mainly plying her trade in German-language roles, this was therefore something of a rare English-language excursion for her.  Given this, you might have expected her to be a little stiff, but that’s not really the case – or if it is, then it suits the character.  Saad also has several musical credits to her name, so it could very well have been her vocals which were used for the nightclub scene (it was fairly common for anonymous singers to dub beautiful actresses who weren’t such beautiful vocalists).

Guy Deghy makes his second Saint appearance (here, looming with menace as another member of the smuggling ring) whilst Elspeth March, a veteran actress with an impeccable list of stage and screen credits, plays Tante Ada – the slightly blowsy nightclub owner who is also connected to the nefarious goings on.  This means that the Saint has a number of adversaries to battle against – but is Lili one of them?

Her connection to the smugglers remains nebulous for a while, although Simon – in the course of a little light burgling of Dr Zellerman’s office – finds her details in his card index file.  She then explains to Simon that she’s his patient (Zellerman is a psychiatrist) which Simon has a hard time in believing.  “You’re no more mentally ill than I am” he tells her.

You have to be impressed at Simon’s snap diagnosis (presumably those people who do have issues display physical traits).  He’s convinced that Dr Zellerman has waged psychological warfare on her, in order that he can then bend her to his will.  Since this turns out to be the case it luckily lets Lili off the hook in terms of being a complicit criminal (although it also serves to reinforce Simon’s prejudices that it was laughable to believe that an attractive young woman could possibly have had mental health problems – not such a good thing).

There’s some impressive dressing gowns on display during this episode.  Firstly, Carl (Guy Deghy) sports a natty little number when Simon comes a calling.  The Saint puts the screws on him, which is enough to convince the physically imposing – but rather cowardly – Carl that he should cut and run.   Dr Zellerman agrees he should go (providing him with an escort out of the city) but it’s plainly telegraphed that Zellerman has arranged for Carl to be permanently silenced.  And so he is – via a rather striking death scene (Carl, shot once, sinks slowly to the floor in a very eye-catching manner).

Our second dressing gown moment occurs when Simon, equally as well attired as Carl, agrees to meet Dr Zellerman for lunch (although you’ll be happy to learn that he changed out of his dressing gown before the meeting).  It’s a trap though – Zellerman had arranged for Simon to admit that he’d earlier indulged in a spot of burglary (unaware that several police officers were stationed outside to hear his confession).  This could have been a sticky moment, but conveniently (a touch too conveniently maybe) Simon’s American contact appears from nowhere to bail him out.

Furst creates one of the best realised Saint villains to date.  Dr Zellerman might be largely single-minded in his desire to make money, but he also exhibits a spasm of tenderness towards Lili.  But he can’t bring himself to cease his brainwashing tricks on her since he knows that if he did then he’d never see her again.  Therefore we shouldn’t feel too sorry for him.

Simon later exhibits a previously unknown talent for disguises, as he saunters into Tante Ada’s bar sporting a beard and a wicked-looking scar.  It’s enough to fool Lili, which seems to suggest that she’s either very trusting or needs to visit an optician.  Simon’s Swedish accent (imagine the Swedish Chef from The Muppet Show) is also a joy.  It seems barely credible that Simon’s disguise would fool anyone for more than a minute (why not recruit a genuine unknown to penetrate the smuggling ring, rather than Simon who’s now a familiar face?) so that’s a slight mark against the story.

Published in 1946, The Saint Sees It Through was the final full-length Saint novel (from then on, Charteris would pen either novellas or short stories).  In the novel, opium, rather than art treasures, are being smuggled whilst the location is New York instead of Hamburg.  Simon’s contact, Hamilton, is the same in both – although his presence makes more sense in the novel, since he’d also been Simon’s wartime contact (the Saint – like Charteris – had relocated to America during WW2).

Notwithstanding Simon’s rather silly disguise, this is a well-crafted episode which has something for everyone.  A first-rate guest appearance from Joseph Furst, a decent romance between Simon and Lili and some energetic last-minute fisticuffs as the Saint duffs up several members of the ungodly.  A very early credit for Ian Kennedy-Martin (later to create The Sweeney and Juliet Bravo), this is good stuff – especially the heart-breaking final scene (absent from the original novel).  Four and a half halos out of five.

through 02.jpg

The Saint – The Ever-Loving Spouse

spouse 01

Otis Q. Fennick (Barry Jones) approaches the Saint for help. He’s been caught in a compromising position in his hotel room after a scantily-clad, attractive young woman, Norma Upton (Jacqueline Ellis), was thrust upon him, whilst a photographer, Vern Balton (David Bauer), took several incriminating snaps (paid for by Fennick’s wife, Lianne). But after Balton is murdered, Simon has a complicated mystery to unravel ….

Simon is indulging in one of his favourite pastimes – observing the foibles of others.  He’s staying in the same hotel as Fennick and his colleagues (a group of middle-aged businessman who, since they’re attending a convention far away from their wives, take the opportunity to cut a little loose).  Well most do, Fennick remains somewhat straight-laced.  He’s also not terribly American.  Presumably Guernsey-born Jones didn’t feel confident in adopting an accent – although most of the other cast were American or Canadian born, which helps with the authenticity.

David Bauer, making his second Saint appearance, casts an effectively evil shadow as the slimy Balton – although this is a much smaller role than his previous one (he’s bumped off mid-way through).  Jeanne Moody draws an immediate boo-hiss as the conniving Lianne Fennick, the scarlet woman scheming to divorce her husband and pocket a sizeable alimony payoff along the way.  Quite what poor Otis saw in Lianne is a bit of a mystery – but then, love is blind.

Although most of the performances are pitched at a steady level, somebody is doing something a little different.  That’s Alexis Kanner, always an idiosyncratic actor.  Kanner plays Alec Minser, Norma’s jealous boyfriend (it’s fair to say that he’s somewhat upset that she’s been posing for suspect photographs with Balton).  Since Alec is written as a somewhat unstable character you could argue that Kanner was perfect casting, since this was his usual stock in trade.  He certainly ensures that Alec comes across a twitchy, unpredictable type.

Alec becomes suspect number one for Balton’s murder and is taken downtown to be grilled by the grim Detective Williams (British born Robert Arden, managing a decent American accent).  This seems far too obvious though (and the Saint wasn’t involved in his capture) so there clearly has to be a twist along the way.  The last twenty minutes or so, when the Saint turns detective in order to unmask the true culprit, are the most effective of the episode since there’s a decent mystery to unravel (even if the list of suspects is rather small).

Taken from the short-story collection The Saint Sees It Through (published in 1959), Charteris’ tale has a few incidental details missing from Norman Borisoff’s teleplay.  Such as the reason why Simon’s somewhat slumming in a very average hotel with a group of boisterous executives (the convention types have so monopolised all the hotels in the area that the Saint concludes he’s lucky to have found a room anywhere).   Although the television Fennick, like his literary counterpart, is head of a sweet company – in print much more fun’s made with this.  Simon, on first hearing his story, ponders if it’s all a gag perpetrated by one of his colleagues.

If some prankster in this Convention is trying to sabotage your bid to be elected Supreme Lollipop by charging you with dissolute habits, the foul conspiracy may yet boomerang. With your new reputation as the Confectionery Casanova, you might become the hero of the Convention. Think what a few shots like that did for Brigitte Bardot.

Possibly the biggest change is reserved for the end.  I won’t disclose the identity of the murderer, but in print Simon is happy to let him or her walk free (considering that the murder of a blackmailer is an acceptable crime) whilst the television Saint is a much more law-abiding type.  As touched upon previously, Simon’s vigilante aspects had to be toned right down when the series was developed, in order not to affect the sensibilities of the watching millions, and this was something which rather neutered the character at times.

Not the best the series has to offer then – partly because of the changes made, but also because the story never really clicks into gear until we’re more than halfway through.  But the performances – especially Kanner and Jones – are strong, and this is enough to make me score it three and a half halos out of five.

spouse 02