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Survivors (BBC 1975 – 1977) – Series Introduction

June 6, 2015June 9, 2015 archivetvmusings BBC Drama - 1970's BBC, carolyn seymour, ian mcculloch, lucy fleming, survivors, terry nation

Forty years after Survivors was originally broadcast, it’s still a disturbing and thought-provoking series. The notion that the whole of civilisation was hanging by a single, delicate thread had long been a favorite topic of SF and speculative fiction and Terry Nation certainly seemed to have sampled the best of the available literature when creating the series.

In many ways, Survivors is essentially The Day of the Triffids but without the Triffids. The broad narrative sweep (the majority of the population is killed off, the survivors relocate to the countryside, conflict between different groups, etc) is pretty much identical. Terry Nation could never be said to have been a particularly original writer, but he had a knack for taking familiar concepts and giving them a twist. Indeed, it’s fair to say that some of his best work can be found during the first series of Survivors (it’s certainly several steps up from his very generic Jon Pertwee Doctor Who scripts a few years earlier)

When DD Video released series one in 2003, the SARS virus was very much in the headlines. Working my way through the DVDs at that time, whilst SARS was such a regular topic of conversation in the media, was a strange and rather chilling experience – it certainly helped to give the series an extra edge of reality.

One of the key concepts of Survivors is how people are able to survive when the luxury of technology is removed. It was a valid point in 1975 and forty years later it’s even more relevant (the cushioned, cocooned world of the 21st century has seen an ever increasing reliance on gadgets). How many people would know how to do even the most basic of jobs, such as making soap?

The actual day-to-day problems of existence would be examined in detail in the second series, which wasn’t to the liking of Ian McCulloch (who played Greg). He considered the more settled concept of series two was inferior to the first series (which had a more wide-ranging and action feel). Partly the change in tone was due to the departure of Terry Nation after series one. He hadn’t seen eye-to-eye with producer Terence Dudley and Nation left – allowing Dudley to reshape the series in his own image. Dudley had previous form for this – he’d also forced the creators of Doomwatch (Kit Pedler and Gerry Davis) to leave that series.

The changes across all three series of Survivors is one of the shows strengths, as is the ever-rotating cast of characters. It’s clear that Dudley had a ruthless streak as actors seem to be dropped with very little ceremony. The most obvious example is Carolyn Seymour (who played Abby Grant). Abby was the central figure in series one and her quest (to find her son Peter) was the MacGuffin which drove the narrative. But following disagreements with Dudley, she was unceremoniously dropped from the show. The fire at the Manor, at the start of series two, was another blatant way of removing unwanted characters – as all of the, literal, deadwood could be said to have died in the blaze.

Although McCulloch was unhappy with the direction series two took, it did allow him to move centre-stage (and despite what some people say, there were still solid and pacy stories, such as Lights of London and Parasites). It’s ironic that he decided not to appear in series three (apart from a few key episodes) as the format changed again and Survivors went back on the road.

If the second series had seemed, at times, a little “safe” – with the survivors living a fairly comfortable life in the community headed by Charles Vaughan (Denis Lill) – series three would see some of them (the ones that Terence Dudley had decided not to write out) venture out into the wider world again – and they would discover just how dangerous a place it was.

The first series had been based around the quest by Abby to find her son and series three had a similar theme – Charles, together with Greg’s wife Jenny (Lucy Fleming) spent their time scouring the country looking for Greg. Greg does reappear, but his final episode The Last Laugh (one of several scripted by McCulloch) is a bleak coda to his story (perfectly consistent with the pessimistic feel of the whole series) .

One of the reasons for digging this one out again is thanks to Big Finish’s excellent series of audio plays based on the series. Big Finish’s series one was released last year and series two is out now. The plays slot between the existing stories and they manage to capture the spirit and feel of the original series very well. They were able to secure key members of the original cast (Ian McCulloch, Lucy Fleming, Carolyn Seymour) alongside new characters created especially for audio. At present, episode one of series one is available to download for free here. It’s certainly well worth your time.

If you’ve not seen the television series, then I’d recommend watching it before reading any of the forthcoming posts (since there’s no way to examine the series in any detail without revealing numerous spoilers). The complete boxset is ridiculously cheap at the moment – around £20.00 at Amazon say – so there’s no reason not to snap up a classic slice of 1970’s BBC drama.

Return of the Saint – The Poppy Chain

June 5, 2015July 13, 2017 archivetvmusings ITV Drama - 1970's ian ogilvy, itc, return of the saint

The episode opens with Simon Templar and Sandy Platt (Jenny Hanley) desperately racing across London to try and reach Sandy’s sister, Jane. But they’re too late – when they get to her flat she’s dead (killed by an impure batch of heroin).

Sandy is naturally distraught, but her father, General Platt (Laurence Naismith), is even more so. An old-school, but now retired, soldier, he vows to find and kill the pushers. But he only serves to drive them underground. So it falls to the Saint to risk his life by travelling to to Carmague region of France as he attempts to destroy the business at its source.

The Poppy Chain certainly has an arresting opening as Simon and Sandy discover Jane’s lifeless body. It gives the episode a harder-edged feel than many of the others in the series. Laurence Naismith’s pig-headed General Platt drives the action in the first half or so of the episode (with Simon trailing behind somewhat). This plotline has the advantage of enabling the General to do all the spadework, but then allowing Simon to step in when things get really dangerous.

Along the way, the General tracks down the pusher who sold the drugs to his daughter. A well-spoken, well-dressed man known as the Gent (Christopher Timothy). He doesn’t get to kill him though, as the Gent’s wife intervenes (with a heavy object which knocks the General out). It’s possibly just as well, since Simon tells the recuperating General that the pusher was just small fry – if you’re going to bring down the operation, then you need to aim for the head.

The Saint does this by posing as a member of the London connection, Rickman, and travels to France to meet the men responsible for supplying the raw drugs. A change of location helps to keep the interest up and the different locale is quite interesting, as it’s probably not what might have been expected. Scorbesi (Gregoire Anslan) and his son Dominic (Jonathan Burn) run the operation, but Scorbesi is an apparently friendly, gregarious chap and the patriarch of a village that appears to be happy and prosperous. The fact that their idyllic lifestyle is founded on drug money is, no doubt intentionally, jarring.

Scorbesi’s realisation that he knew the General back in WW2, when Scorbesi was a Partisan, is a coincidence that’s possibly a little hard to take – especially since this revelation doesn’t really further the plot in any way. Notwithstanding this, Anslan is good as the cheerful Scorbesi, although Burn is less impressive as his son. I’m not quite sure why, it’s just a slightly off-key performance.

The best part of the second half of the episode is Simon’s infiltration of Scorbesi’s setup – although it’s rather bizarre that he takes no backup with him. So it’s lucky that when the General learns about Simon’s efforts he makes the trip over and comes to the rescue. It’s hard to believe that the Saint didn’t think that drafting in some younger assistance might have been a good idea, but this moment does allow the General a chance to prove that he’s not entirely over the hill.

I also like Ogilvy’s cockney accent when he’s pretending to be Rickman. He makes a very effective criminal!

It’s a solid episode and rates three and a half halos out of five.

Return of the Saint – Yesterday’s Hero

June 3, 2015June 3, 2015 archivetvmusings ITV Drama - 1970's ian hendry, ian ogilvy, itc, return of the saint

Several years ago, Simon Templar, Roy Gates (Ian Hendry) and Diskett (Tony Vogel) were part of an unofficial mission in Aden. Mid-way through the mission something went wrong and Gates was captured by the Yemenis. Simon and Diskett weren’t aware of this though – they thought he was dead.

But Gates was alive and, having lost an arm during the fighting, languished in an Arab prison until he was bought by the Bader-Meinhoff gang of terrorists (who wanted his expertise to train their people). Gates was initially reluctant, but he finally realised that any life was better than the life he currently had.

Eventually he was caught by the Germans and ended up in prison there. He’s shortly due to be released and Simon pays him a visit to caution him not to directly approach his young son Michael (Matthew Ryan) before his ex-wife Sandy (Annette Andre) has had a chance to talk to him (as Michael has grown up believing that his father is dead).

But Gates is a bitter and vengeful man and once released he’ll be set on a course of revenge. Which will inevitably bring him into direct conflict with the Saint …..

This is a bleak and atypical Return of the Saint story. The usual humour and byplay is pretty much absent and it’s also notable that there’s few “good” characters featured. Gates does have his compassionate side (especially when we see him spend time with his son) but it’s obvious that his various imprisonments have warped his judgement.

Normally, you’d expect the character of the ex-wife to be written in a sympathetic way, but that’s not the case here. Simon tells her that “in your own way, you’re as crippled and bitter as Roy is. And that’s a pity.”

It eventually becomes clear that Gates is targeting Cleaver (Gerald Flood) who ran the Aden operation and betrayed Gates. Cleaver (now an arms dealer) is yet another unsympathetic character (which robs his death of some of its impact). Prior to this, we see him demonstrating some weapons to the military – although the stock footage is so grainy it’s not terribly convincing,

At the centre of the episode is Ian Hendry. In another unusual move, he dominates the action whilst the Saint has to react to events and remains, until the end, a few steps behind. There’s an undeniable sense of melancholy hanging over the whole episode – partly because of the script, but it’s also down to Hendry’s performance (and the reading that anybody familiar with his personal life will bring to the viewing).

Yesterday’s Hero is an uncomfortable summation of Ian Hendry’s life and career. In the early sixties, as the star of The Avengers, he seemed to have a glittering career ahead of him, but various factors (most notably a dependance on alcohol) ensured that whilst he remained a familiar presence in films and television, he never attained the heights he should have done (and he also died rather prematurely, aged just 53 in 1984).

The following comments from Annette Andre (as quoted in the book Send in the Clowns: The Yo-Yo Life of Ian Hendry by Gabriel Hershman) about her work with Hendry on this episode tend to bear these observations out.

I didn’t have many scenes with him. In the morning he was fine. Then we broke for lunch and Ian went off on his own to the pub for lunch. When we went to get him later to take him to the location for filming he was falling down drunk. We managed to get him into the car and into the make-up room and then he walked out and did it.

There was an unhappiness to him. I never really experienced Ian being unpleasant – I was fine with him and he really liked me – but I could see that when I was trying to get him out of the pub that he could get difficult. He didn’t want to eat. I sensed a deep hurt, a sense of dissatisfaction that affected his whole career. He looked older than his age, he’d lost his hair and was on a downhill spin.

This real-life unhappiness is very much mirrored in his portrayal of Roy Gates, which means that the lines between fantasy and reality become somewhat blurred. There’s a point later in the episode where Gates breaks into Simon’s flat and is clearly drunk – it’s an uncomfortable thought that there may not have been any acting involved.

But although this knowledge does make Yesterday’s Hero a rather hard watch at times, Hendry is always solid and professional – so whatever turmoil he felt off-screen, he still commands the frame when the camera is rolling. Thanks to his performance, this rates four halos out of five.

Return of the Saint – Assault Force

June 2, 2015June 2, 2015 archivetvmusings ITV Drama - 1970's ian ogilvy, itc, kate o'mara, return of the saint

Catching the bus at Heathrow, Simon notices that one of his fellow passengers is receiving unwelcome attention from several men. And since the passenger is female and attractive, the Saint simply has to step in – he can never resist helping a damsel in distress.

Jeanette (Kate O’Mara) has information about Nodiam Mataya, the new strong-man of South-East Asia. She plans to take it to the newspapers and expose Mataya’s appalling record of human rights (which include a group of nuns held captive and awaiting imminent execution). Simon’s foreign office contact, Randolph Smith (Neil Stacey) is polite, but noncommittal. He tells them that the British government is continuing to explore all diplomatic avenues, but that’s all they can do.

The Saint, however, is keen for more direct action. A key member of Mataya’s government, Surinit, is due to land in the UK shortly. Simon suggests to Jeanette that they kidnap him and offer to exchange him for the nuns. Jeanette agrees and Simon assembles a crack force to carry out the plan. But when Surinit disappears after the kidnap is successfully carried out, Simon bitterly realises that he’s been used …..

Assault Force sees the Saint team up with a group of mercenaries and it’s a departure from the episodes we’ve seen so far (where Simon is either operating on his own, or with limited help). Here, he’s the leader of a well-drilled gang who abduct Surinit with military precision. It’s the planning and the actual raid which forms the heart of the episode, and the realisation that Surinit is actually a good guy (and the one man who can expose Mataya’s crimes) drives the story onwards to its conclusion.

Kate O’Mara is suitably histrionic as the damsel in distress, whilst Carolle Rousseau (as Colonel Dibha) is rather alluring as a woman who appears to be on the side of the angels but turns out to be working for Mataya. Although to be honest, this probably isn’t a great shock since she does give off a rather “evil” vibe in all of her scenes!

Elsewhere, we see the Saint recruit some colourful characters, such as O’Hara (Bryan Marshall) and Morgan (Norman Bird). Marshall sports a broad Irish accent which occasionally crosses over into parody, but he’s still convincing as a resourceful mercenary. Bird provides some welcome comic relief as the bookish Morgan.

Although everything is resolved in the end quite neatly (too neatly, you may say) there’s still a slightly discordant note struck which implies that the new status quo may not last forever. Simon rescues Surinit, who returns to his country as leader after Mataya’s downfall. Colonel Dibha seems unconcerned though, as she tells Simon that Surinit is a weak man (who clearly won’t last long in the bitter and dangerous world of South-East Asian politics)

The plot is driven by coincidences which means that it’s probably best not to examine it too deeply (although that’s not going to stop me!) Surinit arrives in the UK to testify at a Human Rights Commission in order to expose Mataya’s crimes. It seems obvious that Mataya’s people would try and silence him (but they don’t seem to have had any plans to do so). Instead, rather fortunately they were able to learn of Simon’s plan to kidnap him and took advantage of this. But had Simon not run into Jeannete at the airport by chance then nothing would have happened. If Mataya’s men simply needed to silence Surinit why didn’t they, say, put a bomb on the plane?

Minor plot quibbles apart, the “caper” feel of the episode makes it a break from the norm and earns it three and a half halos out of five.

Return of the Saint – The Village That Sold Its Soul

June 1, 2015April 27, 2018 archivetvmusings ITV Drama - 1970's ian ogilvy, itc, return of the saint

Simon is travelling through a remote area of Italy when he witnesses a murder – he sees a woman thrown off a cliff by two men. When Simon reaches her, she’s mortally injured but manages to tell him to “warn Vincenzo” before she dies.

Father Vincenzo (Tony Calvin) is the priest of the local village, Santa Maria. When Simon makes his way there, he discovers that Father Vincenzo is away and that nobody else is interested in offering assistance (including the police). There’s a sinister menace that seems to hang over the town. What is the secret that binds everybody together and how is it connected to the patrone of the village, Prince Lorenzo Castracano (Maurice Denham)?

As with Duel in Venice, part of the success of the The Village that Sold Its Soul is down to the location. Filming took place mostly in Sermoneta, a hill town in the province of Latina. Thanks to its twisting streets, it was a location that offered director Leslie Norman plenty of scope for interesting and atmospheric shots.

It’s also an unusual episode since Simon has to mostly operate on his own. Often, he’s paired up with an attractive female and can also count on official or semi-official help from his friends in high places. But as Santa Maria is an isolated village there’s no help for him to call on. There is an attractive female, Sophia Castracano (Katia Christine), but she’s a relatively minor character.

It’s a solid production, although there are a few mis-steps. The body thrown off the cliff in the pre-credits sequence is clearly a dummy and later we see Simon desperately running away from an out-of-control cart. But even if it had hit him, it’s difficult to imagine it causing him much of an injury!

The concept of a whole village that’s complicit in a series of murders is an intriguing one (although it maybe owes something to The Avengers episode Murdersville). Maurice Denham adds a touch of class as the Prince and it eventually becomes clear that he holds the key to the mystery.

Because of the location and Maurice Denham, as well as a solid script from John Goldsmith, The Village That Sold Its Soul rates four halos out of five.

Return of the Saint – One Black September

May 31, 2015September 23, 2015 archivetvmusings ITV Drama - 1970's ian ogilvy, itc, return of the saint

Abdul Hakim (Garrick Hagon) is a leading member of the Black September terrorist group. It’s rumoured that he’s in London and is being pursed by his own people. The Israelis are also desperate to pick him up and interrogate him (Hakim knows the names of all the top operatives in the organisation).

Simon Templar, due to his knowledge of London, is regarded by the Israelis as the ideal man to partner their leading counter-terrorist officer in a race against time to track Hakim down before his former friends find him. Simon is initially reluctant, but when he learns that the officer is an attractive young woman (Prunella Gee playing Captain Leila Sabin) he becomes much more interested …..

One Black September is a slightly uneasy mix of real world politics and the usual escapist fare of an ITC adventure series. For a modern audience, their name might not be instantly recognisable, but in 1978 they would have been very familiar. Just six years earlier, Black September killed eleven Israeli athletes and a German police officer during the Munich Olympics. During the early to mid seventies they also carried out numerous other attacks (and copycat activities were also attributed to them) which ensured that their name often featured in the headlines.

It’s the decision to use a real terrorist organisation that ensures One Black September has a slightly off-key feel, which is reflected in the attitudes of Simon and Leila. Simon is his usual relaxed, flippant self whereas Leila is humourless and completely focused on the mission.

Matters come to a head later on, when Simon tells her she’s forgotten that she’s a woman (mainly because she seems to have no interest in sleeping with him!) Leila counters this by telling Simon that her entire family were murdered by terrorists, so until Hakim is captured she cannot afford to let her concentration slip for even a moment. Immediately prior to this, both Simon and the camera spend a little time ogling her shapely bottom as she bends over a map of London. Both this, and Simon’s unsubtle efforts to romance her, mean that this is very much of product of its time.

Dodgy politics (both political and sexual) aside, this is a decent run-around. Hakim’s former colleagues are led by Masrouf (Stephen Grief) and Rahaman (Nadim Sawalha). Like everybody else, they’re lightly sketched characters, so the actors have to put the meat onto the bones (Grief is particularly effective with this).

Eventually Simon is able to pick Hakim up – but Leila is captured by Masrouf and the others. Masrouf suggests a trade, which the Israelis strongly resist, but Simon gets his way. In real life, of course, it’s impossible to imagine they would have acceded so readily to Simon’s request (he threatens to expose their illegal capture of Hakim, but it’s doubtful whether that would have really worried them).

Naturally, the Saint is able to extract Leila and keep Hakim – and in exchange for a plane ticket out of the UK Hakim gives the Israelis the names they need. Leila bemoans that fact that a man like Hakim, responsible for countless murders, is simply going to get away. But Simon has seen Rahaman in the airport terminal and makes no attempt to raise the alarm.

It’s another example of the Saint’s ruthless nature, which comes to the fore occasionally. He knows that Black September will execute Hakim and is content to stand by and let it happen. It’s a powerful moment and would have worked very well as the final scene (alas, a more conventional tag scene is added – with Simon and Leila heading off on holiday).

Although it’s not perfect, One Black September still rates three halos out of five.

Return of the Saint – Duel in Venice

May 30, 2015June 16, 2018 archivetvmusings ITV Drama - 1970's ian ogilvy, itc, maurice colbourne, return of the saint

When the daughter of one of his oldest friends is kidnapped in Venice, the Saint faces a desperate race against time. Linda (Cathryn Harrison) has been abducted by Jed Blackett (Maurice Colbourne). Blackett and Simon have crossed paths before – five years ago in Mozambique.

Ever since, Blackett has been waiting for the opportunity to exact his revenge and Linda finds herself the unfortunate bait in his trap. Simon has just six hours to find the girl, but luckily for him he has assistance from an attractive gondolier called Claudia (Carole Andre) …

Ian Ogilvy’s favourite episode, it’s clear that the star of Duel in Venice is the city itself. Had it been set in London it would have been a decent runaround but nothing special. The gorgeous sights and sounds of Venice make all the difference.

It’s a pity that the storyline bears some similarities with the previously transmitted episode The Nightmare Man (an adversary from the Saint’s past is out for revenge) but that’s down to the vagaries of scheduling I guess. And the problem of dubbing raises its head again – everybody (especially Maurice Colbourne) sounds like they’re dubbed for large parts of the episode.

Colbourne has a nice line in hysterical giggling and portrays Blackett as a completely deranged character. It’s by no means a subtle performance, but since his screen time is quite limited (he mainly just pops up every now and again to taunt Simon) it’s not really a problem. Cathryn Harrison has little to do except react to Blackett’s villainy with wide-eyed fear – such as when he fits her with an acoustic necklace (any loud sound would cause it to instantly tighten, killing her instantly).

So the bulk of the story is a two-hander with Simon and Claudia. Carole Andre gives a lovely performance as the headstrong, argumentative Claudia and it’s her local knowledge which helps the Saint to eventually track Blackett down.

We never find out exactly how Simon and Blackett originally met. Since Blackett is a mercenary and he claims that Simon left him for dead, the inference is that they were both fighting on the same side in some war. It seems an uncharacteristic thing for the Saint to have done, but there’s another moment in the story which does hint at a darker side to Simon Templar.

Early on, Simon approaches Guido (Enzo Fiermonte) for assistance. He’s a man of great knowledge and power (presumably a local gangster) but is initially reluctant to help, until Simon (with the aid of a gun) persuades him. When the Saint threatens to put a hole in his head, it’s possible to believe that he’s bluffing – but he might not be.

It’s easy to believe that Leslie Charteris’ Saint would have been prepared to shoot, since the literary Saint was a much more amoral, violent character (when transferred to television, the Saint was greatly watered down). This (and the reference to Mozambique) helps to imply that the relaxed, affable playboy that Simon Templar appears to be may not the whole picture.

Helped by the location, Duel in Venice scores four halos out of five.

Return of the Saint – The Nightmare Man

May 29, 2015August 2, 2020 archivetvmusings ITV Drama - 1970's ian ogilvy, itc, return of the saint

Simon, together with the beautiful Gayle (Kathryn Lee Scott), is enjoying a weekend in Paris. On the way back to their hotel room, he’s distracted by a series of screams from a nearby room. The occupant is an Italian woman who tells Simon that she’s had a nightmare which foretold her husband’s death.

In her dream, they’re both riding in an open-top carriage in London (by her description, it’s clear that they’re travelling through Parliament Square). She then hysterically tells Simon that during the journey her husband is shot dead. Amongst the details she remembers is that the assassin has very blonde, almost white, hair. When Simon learns that her husband is Dr Bernardo de Vallesi, Italy’s new ambassador to Britain (who is due to travel to the UK shortly) it appears that there may be some truth in her strange story.

The Nightmare Man is an odd one. At first it seems that Mrs de Vallesi’s nightmare is simply a clumsy way of ensuring that the Saint takes an interest in the story. But when Simon meets Dr de Vallesi, he’s introduced to his wife (who isn’t the woman from the hotel room) so the plot thickens. But the main problem with the story is that all the action takes part in the last ten minutes or so and it’s a long slog to get there.

The real reason for the presence of the assassin is frankly bonkers and makes no sense at all. It’s been organised by Colonel Ramon Perez (John Bennett). He’s a bitter and vengeful man who lives for one reason only – to make the man responsible for his downfall pay. That man, of course, is Simon Templar (but why he chose this plan is anybody’s guess).

Another problem with the story is the choice of Joss Ackland as the assassin, Gunther. Ackland is an actor of many qualities, but this part doesn’t play to his strengths. Gunther’s a cruel and psychotic man, but there’s never any sense of menace from Ackland. The tone is set from his opening appearance – it’s hard to fear a man with such an obvious wig and flapping flared trousers!

There’s some other unlikely casting too – the diminutive Welsh actor Roy Evans as a supplier of guns and Stanley Lebor as a mercenary. Although in Lebor’s case, this may be because now he’s probably best known for the Richard Briers sitcom Ever Decreasing Circles (back in the seventies he did play his fair share of heavies).

His encounter with the Saint is rather amusing. He’s holding court in what’s supposed to be a rather rough pub (in which Simon is obviously meant to stand out). In fact, it doesn’t really look too threatening at all – social realism was never a strong point of Return of the Saint.

Some nice location shooting in London apart, there’s not much to recommend in this one. Two and a half halos out of five.

Return of the Saint – The Judas Game

May 28, 2015May 28, 2015 archivetvmusings ITV Drama - 1970's ian ogilvy, itc, return of the saint

When I was a child, I was always disappointed that the animated stick-figure who appeared in the opening credits wasn’t the one who had the adventures (Ian Ogilvy was obviously a rather poor substitute!) Time is a great healer though and I’m now reconciled to the fact that Ogilvy is the star of the show, rather than the stick-man.

ROTS was the last gasp for the ITC adventure series. It follows their other 1970’s shows such as The Persuaders! and The Zoo Gang in having the luxury of foreign location shooting (something their 1960’s counterparts had to do without) and it’s easily the strongest series in this genre since The Persuaders! Although it’s rather variable in quality (like many of the ITC series) at best it’s a cracking little show that’s still very enjoyable today. I’m going to take a look at the early episodes and blog a brief, capsule review of each – as well as awarding them a mark out of five.

Simon Templar’s holiday in Italy is brought to an abrupt end, courtesy of MI6. Led by Dame Edith (Mona Bruce), they want Simon to undertake a dangerous rescue mission. They seem sure he’ll agree, since the kidnapped woman is an old flame of Simon’s – Sarah Morell (Judy Geeson).

Sarah has been kidnapped by a group of revolutionaries who wish to use her knowledge of counter-intelligence to train their terrorists to operate even more effectively. Simon reluctantly agrees and with the aid of Vlora (Olga Karlatos) manage to infiltrate the heavily guarded fortress. But a surprise awaits the Saint …..

The Judas Game has a slightly stodgy opening. Rather obvious dubbing (a trait of many ITC series) is a little distracting in the early scenes (it’s very obvious with Mona Bruce, for example). But once Simon snorkels his way to the island, things pick up – especially when he runs into the lovely Vlora. Whist Judy Geeson might be the nominal female lead, Olga Karlatos has more screen time and she and Ian Ogilvy make a very effective team. She’s remarkably easy on the eye too, especially when dressed in uniform!

If bad dubbing is always an intermittent problem with ITC series, then day-for-night filming is the other regular irritant. It’s bizarre that even a series like ROTS, which enjoyed extensive overseas shooting, couldn’t afford to film at night. Instead, a filter is placed over the camera to give the impression that it’s night-time, although the blazing sky is a dead-giveaway. Alas, this rather saps the tension out of Simon and Vlora’s escape from the beach.

Happily, they infiltrate the fortress during the day-time and Simon is easily able to rescue Sarah. Suspension of disbelief is required here – as he single-handedly has to make his way past numerous guards and then has to carry the unconscious Sarah back to Vlora and the van. Why is Sarah unconscious? When they meet, she tells him that she wasn’t kidnapped – she defected.

At this point, there’s an interesting edit. We cut away from them and what appears to be a punch is heard. When we cut back, Sarah is unconscious and the clear inference is that Simon’s knocked her out. It’s a slightly clumsy edit, so it might be that after the scene was shot it was felt it wasn’t a good idea to show Simon hitting a woman (even though it’s obvious what’s happened). I also love the way they make their escape, with Simon blowing up the fortress gate with a rocket launcher! It’s pure James Bond.

Sarah and Vlora don’t get on, mainly because Vlora regards her as a traitor and wants to shoot her. When the guards catch up with them, Simon seems to be of the same opinion. “It’s quite simple Major, she’s insane. Now why don’t you just treat her as a mad dog and put a bullet through her head?”

There’s a further twist to the tale though (as well as the reveal that one of the MI6 agents is a traitor). Overall, this is a strong episode and it’s easy to see why it was chosen as the first to air in the UK. It’s got action, foreign filming and two attractive female co-stars for Ian Ogilvy to tangle with. The bad-guys don’t make much of an impression, but all in all this rates four halos out of five.

House of Cards (BBC 1990) – Episode Four

May 27, 2015May 27, 2015 archivetvmusings BBC Drama - 1990's andrew davies, BBC, house of cards, ian richardson, susannah harker

The first ballot for the Conservative leadership election is six days away and Francis Urquhart has finally thrown his hat into the ring. Patrick Woolton and Michael Samuels are formidable opponents, but Urquhart and his faithful shadow, Tim Stamper, can certainly deal with some of the others, such as McKenzie and Earl.

Ian Richardson and Colin Jeavons make a deliciously entertaining team. Both have immaculate timing and obviously relish the lines they’re given. Urquhart begins by mentioning Samuels, the health minister and wonders if they can work something at his next public appearance. Stamper acidly tells him that he “doesn’t go to hospitals anymore. Kept getting beaten up by the nurses I think he has trouble getting insured now.” But a visit to Cybertech (a wheelchair maker) serves just as well and a demonstration is engineered which culminates with Samuels mowing down a demonstrator in a wheelchair. One down …..

Next up is Harold Earle. He was tangled up with a rent-boy on a train some years ago (although it was all hushed up). Urquhart wryly observes that it would be very bad form to bring it all up again but Stamper counters that “getting sucked off for sixpence in a second class compartment is hardly prime ministerial behaviour.” A few pictures sent to Earle is enough to convince him that he should step down from the race.

After the first ballot, neither Urquhart, Woolton and Samuels have a clear majority – so a second ballot is called. The sex tape from Brighton (with Penny and an enthusiastic Woolton) is now pressed into service and this is enough to force Woolton out of the running, He proclaims his support for Urquhart (which should be enough to guarantee his victory). Patrick Woolton later tells his wife the reason why he decided to support Urquhart – and it wasn’t out of friendship. He believes that Samuels and Lord Billsborough engineered his downfall, so whilst he may dislike Urquhart he detests Samuels. Another small detail that feels very true to life is when he tells her that it’s also worth supporting Urquhart because he’s the older man. Old men die sooner and the sooner Urquhart dies, the quicker Patrick Woolton will be back.

With the house of cards beginning to wobble, Urquhart has to go to even greater lengths to protect himself. Roger O’Neill is clearly a liability, so Urquhart invites him down to his country house, gets him drunk and then laces his cocaine with rat poison. Whilst he’s doing this, he makes the following speech to camera. His soft, matter-of-fact delivery is truly chilling. “This is an act of mercy. Truly. You know the man now. You can see he has nowhere to go. He’s begging to be set free. He’s had enough. And when he’s finally at rest, then we’ll be free to remember the real Roger. The burning boy in the green jersey. With that legendary, fabulous sidestep and the brave, terrified smile.”

But even this isn’t enough to stop Mattie’s investigations. Thanks to a replay of her various audio tapes (and it’s remarkable how each tape she puts into her recorder plays at exactly the right point!) she begins to piece everything together and starts to believe the unbelievable.

She finds Urquhart at the House of Commons roof-garden and their final meeting (a complete reversal from Dobbs’ novel) is a justly memorable one. And with an unseen hand picking up Mattie’s tape-recorder (which contains Urquhart’s confession) it’s clear that the story is far from over.

As I’ve previously said, this is a thoroughly modern drama that really doesn’t seem to be twenty-five years old (only the slightly clunky computers date it). Ian Richardson and Susannah Harker, either together or apart, are incredibly watchable. Richardson imbues Francis Urquhart with a mocking, attractive persona (except on the odd occasion when real anger shows through). Harker’s Mattie Storin is, at different times, both manipulated and a manipulator.

It’s a memorable production and easily the strongest of the House of Cards trilogy.

House of Cards (BBC 1990) – Episode Three

May 26, 2015May 26, 2015 archivetvmusings BBC Drama - 1990's andrew davies, BBC, house of cards, ian richardson, susannah harker

Henry Collingridge calls an emergency cabinet meeting and announces his immediate resignation. He thanks all of his colleagues for their friendship and loyalty – at least those who feel that the words apply to them. Later, he visits his brother in the private nursing home where he’s drying out and emotionally tells him that he’s glad it’s all over and he won’t have to fight the “bastards” anymore. This is another scenario that has an eerie ring of truth (John Major, after shortly surviving a vote of confidence in 1993, was equally scathing about some of his cabinet colleagues).

Afterwards, Urquhart once again addresses the watching audience. “Not feeling guilty, I hope. If you have pangs of pity, crush them now. Grind them under your heel like old cigar butts. I’ve done the country a favour. He didn’t have the brain or the heart or the stomach to rule a country like Great Britain. A nice enough man, but there was no bottom to him. His deepest need was that people should like him. An admirable trait, that. In a spaniel or a whore. Not, I think in a Prime Minster.” It’s even more impressive that he delivers this speech whilst standing at a urinal!

Urquhart is content to let others announce their desire to stand first, he’ll enter the race later in the day. He can count on powerful friends when he does though, as he has the support of Ben Landless and his media empire. Landless tells him that he’ll do everything he can to get him elected – and he’ll expect Urquhart to be grateful for evermore. It’s another moment that feels horrifyingly like real life.

But there’s a subtle shift in this episode. It’s less about Urquhart’s scheming and more about Mattie’s dogged investigations. As the title suggests, a House of Cards may be a substantial structure, but it only takes one small movement to bring the whole edifice crashing down. And the first stirrings happen when Mattie refuses to drop the investigation into the share scandal (even though she’s been moved off the political section of the Chronicle and onto Women’s Features).

It seems clear that Henry Collingridge couldn’t have bought the shares, since he convinces her that he’s not got a great deal in the old brain box. So did somebody set him and his brother up? Urquhart tries to warn Mattie off by sending Roger O’Neill round to her house (to throw a brick through the window and daub her car in paint). This backfires when Penny confesses to Mattie that Roger was responsible, although she pleads with her not to go the police – in Roger’s current state he could easily commit suicide.

O’Neill is another link to Urquhart, but he convinces Mattie that he’s the best person to speak to O’Neill and find out exactly what he knows. Poor, easily manipulated Roger O’Neill isn’t long for this world you’d fear ….

At present, there’s no doubt that Mattie believes everything that Francis Urquhart says. But the problem is that she won’t stop digging. He takes her to bed, which may be a way of earning her loyalty, but even here there’s the sense that Mattie is subtly (if unconsciously) maneuvering herself into a position of power.

Their meeting in the study is another spellbinding scene, played so well by both Richardson and Harker. The scene alternates between tight one shots of both actors until Urquhart agrees to her request and they move into the frame together. But what can she call him? She doesn’t want to call him Francis and he says that calling him Chief Whip hardly seems appropriate. After a few beats she says “I want to call you daddy.” She has to repeat this to the (shocked?) Urquhart, but although he says nothing, the kiss seems to seal the agreement.

So can Francis Urquhart count on Mattie’s loyalty? At present it seems so, but he isn’t aware that she’s been secretly tape-recording all of their meetings …..

House of Cards (BBC 1990) – Episode Two

May 25, 2015May 25, 2015 archivetvmusings BBC Drama - 1990's andrew davies, BBC, house of cards, ian richardson, susannah harker

The beleaguered prime minster and his colleagues have decamped to Brighton for the party conference. Urquhart acidly rates the performances of his colleagues, all of whom are subtly auditioning for the PM’s job.

Michel Samuels (“Intelligent, sensitive, caring – all in the same sentence, I bet you”). Peter McKenzie (“God, what an idiot that man is”). Harold Earle is dismissed with a shake of the head, which leaves Patrick Woolton (“The man’s a lout, of course. A lout. A lecher. An anti-Semite. A racist. And a bully. He is however more intelligent than he seems.”)

Woolton is a clear and present danger, so Urquhart once again seeks the help of Roger O’Neill or more specifically, O’Neill’s assistant Penny Guy (Alphonsia Emmanuel). Ian Richardson displays the steel that lies just below Urquhart’s surface when he requests her services, although not for himself. “Shut up. Did you really think I wanted her?” Instead, Urquhart requests she resume her relationship with Woolton (for reasons which will become clearer later om).

Alphonsia Emmanuel seems to have dropped off the radar in recent years (only one film/television credit post 1998) which is a pity, as she was always a very watchable presence. And every time I see her, it reminds me that Rockliffe’s Babies still remains unavailable on DVD. Maybe one day ….

When Roger suggests that she might like to join Woolton for dinner, there’s a real spark of anger. “Pimping now, is it? Don’t you care about me at all? Don’t you care what I do?” The anger quickly fades though and she agrees – which means her energetic love-making with Woolton is recorded by Urquhart (in a lovely scene, where he’s sitting upright in his bed, wearing a pair of headphones). It’s another piece of insurance, to be used at the appropriate time.

Urquhart’s schemes continue apace. He convinces Woolton that should Henry Collingridge stand down, he’d be the best man for the job. Later, he also convinces the boorish newspaper magnate Ben Landless (Kenny Ireland) that Collingridge is yesterday’s man – and the power of the press is a powerful weapon. Like so much of the story, it’s possible to find real-life parallels (how often has the press been gulity of creating, rather than shaping, public opinion?) Landless is a rather unsubtle amalgam of the two most famous newspaper and media magnates of the time, Rupert Murdoch and Robert Maxwell. I’m not quite sure exactly what accent Ireland was attempting, but he impresses nonetheless.

Mattie has an encounter in the bar with the PM’s frequently drunken brother Charles Collingridge. It’s only a short scene, but James Villiers makes it a memorable one. “Lord, you are a pretty girl. Oh, no offence. I’ve got a daughter your age. Lovely girl. Lovely face. Never, never see her. Own fault. Water under the thingy.”

The full revelations of the fake financial scandal engineered by Urquhart seem to spell the end of Henry Collingridge’s career and the episode closes on the developing relationship between Urquhart and Mattie. Elizabeth Urquhart suggested that there was one way to ensure Mattie’s total loyalty and we see the first steps taken here.

Once again, we see Urquhart standing over the seated Mattie, reinforcing his dominance over her. He pretends to be surprised at the way the conversation has gone and tells her he’s old enough to be her father. When she responds that maybe that has something to do with it, after a beat he sits down and tells her that “oddly enough, I always wanted a daughter.”

House of Cards (BBC 1990) – Episode One

May 24, 2015April 11, 2016 archivetvmusings BBC Drama - 1990's andrew davies, BBC, house of cards, ian richardson, susannah harker

When the first episode of House of Cards was transmitted, on the 18th of November 1990, it was perfect timing since Margaret Thatcher had announced her resignation as Prime Minister earlier the same week.

Michael Dobbs’ novel House of Cards, published in 1989, tells the story of a completely unscrupulous politician, Francis Urquhart, who manages to lie, cheat and murder his way to the position of Prime Minister following Mrs Thatcher’s departure.

Dobbs had held a senior position in the Conservative Party, so there’s very much a ring of truth to his writing. And although it was highly topical twenty-five years ago, it’s hardly dated at all – indeed, its theme of power-hungry and amoral politicians is probably just as relevant in 2015 as it was back then.

Andrew Davies adapted Dobbs novel and made several key changes. One difference was the twisted relationship between Urquhart and Mattie (in the novel they only meet a few times and are never intimate). Davies decided that “Mattie can have an affair with Urquhart, and let’s make it kinky, she can call him Daddy when they’re doing it.”

By far the greatest change was the ending. In Dobbs’ novel, Urquhart commits suicide after being confronted with evidence of his crimes. It’s a neat, moral ending but Davies decided to do something arguably more realistic, which led the way open for an intriguing sequel.

Dominating the four episodes was Ian Richardson as Francis Urquhart. Richardson had already many notable credits to his name (such as Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy and Porterhouse Blue) but the House of Cards trilogy would prove to be his signature role. In another change from Dobbs’ novel, Davies chose to have Urquhart make numerous asides to the audience. This breaking of the fourth wall (an unusual dramatic device in modern drama) was a masterstroke as it gave Richardson an incredible amount of scope to directly share his innermost thoughts and feelings.

Episode one opens with Urquhart mourning the departure of Mrs Thatcher (albeit with a faint ironical smile). “Nothing lasts forever. Even the longest, most glittering reign must come to an end some day.”

But who could replace her? As Urquhart says, there’s plenty of contenders and he gives us a brief summation of each of them. Lord Bilsborough (“Too old and too familiar. Tainted by a thousand shabby deals”). Michael Samuels (“Too young. And too clever). Patrick Woolton (“Bit of a lout. Bit of a bully-boy”). Henry Collingridge (“The people’s favourite. A well-meaning fool. No background and no bottom”).

What’s absolutely clear is that, at this time, Urquhart has no thoughts about the job himself. He’s content to serve and after Collingridge wins both the election as party leader and the General Election (although with a greatly reduced majority) he looks forward to the senior cabinet position he was promised.

But Collingridge (David Lyon) tells him that he’s much more valuable to the party if he remains as Chief Whip. This snub is the motivating factor in convincing Urquhart that Collingridge should go and that he would make a much better PM. But he still requires a push from his wife, Elizabeth (Diane Fletcher), before he starts to scheme in earnest.

This is another change from the novel, as Mrs Urquhart is a much more central figure in Andrew Davies’ adaptation. And just as Davies drew on Jacobean Theatre to craft Urquhart’s asides to the audience, it’s clear to see how Elizabeth acts as a Lady Macbeth figure, urging her initially unsure husband on the path to absolute power.

That same night, he’s visited by Mattie Storin (Susannah Harker), a young journalist working for the Chronicle. She’s desperate to know the thinking behind Collingridge’s lack of cabinet reappointments following the election and hopes that Urquhart will explain the reason why. Harker is perfect as the ingenuous Mattie who Urquhart instantly realises can be manipulated to serve his own ends.

The pupil/master feeling is enhanced thanks to the way Paul Seed shot their initial meeting in Urquhart’s study. For part of the scene, Richardson is standing whilst Harker remains seated. This means that Mattie has to constantly look up to Urquhart, placing her in a subservient position (this simple staging helps to instantly establish his dominance over her).

After he’s fed Mattie some misinformation, Urquhart begins to manipulate all those around him who may be useful. They include the charming, but unstable cocaine addict Roger O’Neill (a lovely, twitchy performance by Miles Anderson) as well as the Prime Minister’s drunken brother Charles (a typically fine turn from James Villiers).

Other key characters who will figure in the story later on are also introduced, such as Urquhart’s number two, Tim Stamper (Colin Jeavons). He’s got little to do in this one, but Jeavons is always so watchable (observe the slight hurt on his face when Urquhart asks him to step out of the office when Roger O’Neill enters. It’s the smallest of moments, but it helps, even this early on, to sell the idea that his loyalty may be called into question one day).

Before this, they both enjoy dressing down a rather pathetic MP called Stoat (Raymond Mason). After Urquhart tells Stoat that he’s been able to persuade the police not to proceed, he goes on to say that “if you must use whores, for God’s sake go to a decent knocking-shop where they understand the meaning of discretion. Stamper will give you a list if you don’t know any yourself.” After the unfortunate Stoat has left, Stamper says that “if I had a dog like that, I’d shoot it.”

Thanks to a system of embarrassing leaks engineered by Urquhart, Collingridge begins to feel the pressure. And all the time Urquhart continues to pretend to be his most loyal supporter. He reckons that one more scandal should finish him off – maybe a nice, juicy financial one which involves his brother?

Susannah Harker & Ian Richardson

Susannah Harker

Colin Jeavons

Diane Fletcher & Ian Richardson

Alphonsia Emmanuel

Miles Anderson

The Legend of Robin Hood (BBC 1975) – Part Six

May 23, 2015November 25, 2016 archivetvmusings BBC Drama - 1970's BBC, diane keen, martin potter, paul darrow, the legend of robin hood

Robin has sent Sir Guy an invitation to meet in single combat. Initially Gisborne refuses, but when Marion artfully remarks that this is because he’s a coward, he naturally changes his mind. Given that the Robin/Gisborne feud has formed an integral part of the serial, it might be expected that it would be the climax of the story. Instead, it’s essentially a prelude to the main action.

Robin and Sir Guy meet in Sherwood Forest. It’s a brutal fight (shot on film) which obviously took some time to record. It was worth it though, as director Eric Davidson (and the highly experienced film cameraman Elmer Cossey) made full use of the impressive location. Gisborne elects to start the fight with a shield and a wicked-looking mace whilst Robin only has a sword (clearly chivalry doesn’t demand that they have equal weapons!) Indeed, there’s not a great deal of chivalry in the fight as Robin is content to aim some well timed kicks and punches to disorientate his opponent.

Eventually Robin emerges triumphant which means that Marion is finally free from Sir Guy’s advances. But if he believes that the death of Gisborne has removed the obstacle to their union, he’s to be sadly disappointed as she returns to her own lands.

At the same time, John continues to push for power. He’s keen to depose Longchamps and install himself as regent, but the Bishop of Durham (Malcolm Rogers) is a major obstacle. The power-hungry Sheriff sees a chance to kill two birds with one stone – dispose of the Bishop and blacken Robin’s name – so he pays a convicted criminal to kill the Bishop whilst claiming to be one of Robin Hood’s men.

With a survivor left alive to spread the news that Robin and his friends are nothing but common criminals and murderers this marks the beginning of the end for Robin’s band of men. Ralph Gammon and Much are hanged by soldiers in the forest and elsewhere Tuck is mortally wounded (our last sight of him is his lifeless body slumped in a forest clearing). It’s a brutal turn of events and one which most adaptations of the Robin Hood legends wouldn’t attempt, but it’s an accurate indication of just how short life could be during this period.

Richard returns to put paid to John’s scheming and he promises Robin a full pardon and the restoration of his lands and titles, but there’s one final twist to the tale. Robin, ill with fever, returns to Huntingdon. He’s tended by a woman who he later discovers is Gisborne’s sister, but only after he’s drunk a goblet of poison she gave him. It’s a logical and circular, conclusion to the story – Robin kills Gisborne so Gisborne’s sister revenges her brother’s death by killing Robin.

It has some similarity to the early ballad Robin Hood’s Death, which survives only as a fragment of a larger, now missing, work. A later variant adds the familiar scene of Robin shooting an arrow into Sherwood and asking to be buried wherever it lands. Here, we see Little John do it, and Marion is at his side as they both watch the arrow fall. It’s the final scene in a quietly outstanding serial that manages to take many very familiar story elements and weave them into something cohesive.

With Little John the only merry man standing at the end, it’s possible to see the whole story as an exercise in futility. What did Robin achieve and will things really be better now that Richard is back? If you enjoy Robin Hood for swashbuckling derring-do and witty one-liners then this darker interpretation may not be to your liking.

When Richard captures the Sheriff and tells him that his treason will cost him his life, the Sheriff wonders if Prince John will also suffer the same fate. Of course not, as though Prince John was an equal and willing partner, his royal blood will protect him from any punishment. Paul Darrow is one of the serial’s many strengths and he continues this right up to his final scene. Richard tells him that he’ll hang, but the Sheriff replies that his rank entitles him to the axe. So he’s told that he’ll have it, with his head to be displayed on a pike on the castle gate.

Although some rate this as one of the best versions of the Robin Hood legend, there are a few dissenting voices – mainly highlighting the staginess of the studio scenes. It’s a fair comment, but the positives of the extensive filming and the performances manage to outweigh any little niggles about a few of the studio sequences.

Martin Potter is an energetic Robin Hood (although maybe just a little too well spoken for somebody brought up as a commoner). There are very few weak links in the cast and Potter, along with William Marlowe, Paul Darrow, Diane Keen, David Dixon and Tony Caunter are especially good. It’s certainly a production that still holds up today and is worth seeking out (the 2 Entertain DVD is deleted, but can be found for a reasonable price).

The Legend of Robin Hood (BBC 1975) – Part Five

May 22, 2015November 25, 2016 archivetvmusings BBC Drama - 1970's BBC, diane keen, martin potter, paul darrow, the legend of robin hood

Richard is a prisoner of Leopold in Austria, who demands a ransom of 150,000 marks for his release. It’s a substantial amount, but Richard’s mother Queen Eleanor (Yvonne Mitchell) is determined to raise it. John on the other hand would probably be quite happy if Richard remained a prisoner for the rest of his life ….

This is a familiar thread in the Robin Hood tales and Richard’s imprisonment is historical fact (as is John’s later offer of a substantial amount of money to his captors if they kept Richard a prisoner).

There’s enough money to pay the ransom – safely held in Nottingham Castle – since John has been illegally diverting taxes that should have gone to London. Queen Eleanor meets with Robin and he informs her of this. Evidence of John’s treachery clearly pains her, but she is powerless to interfere as she has no authority in Nottingham. But maybe Robin and his men could sneak into the castle and steal the money?

It’s clearly a risky venture, since the castle is heavily fortified. And Tuck asks Robin why should they “throw away our lives for King Richard? A King who’s never in England and now beggars his people with his holy wars, his crusades?” It’s a fair point, since the historical Richard spent very little time in England during the time he was King (and he didn’t even speak English). Robin’s response is a traditional one. “In King Richard lies England’s only hope. It’s either his rule or the evil of a man like Nottingham.” In fact, John turned out to be a decent king, although he certainly had his flaws. But the Robin Hood tales require a hero and a villain and usually we see Richard on the side of the good and John on the side of the bad (irrespective of the actual historical truth).

Elsewhere, Robin and Marion’s relationship seems to be doomed. She refuses a trinket he offers her (because it’s stolen). Marion grieves for the way that the life of an outlaw has changed him and she considers that their love is a doomed one. Meanwhile, Sir Guy grows impatient to marry her and tells Sir Kenneth that he’ll take her whether she’s willing or not. He also tells him that he’ll drown him in a barrel of his own ale if he complains! This is finally enough to convince Sir Kenneth that Marion’s marriage to Sir Guy is a very bad idea.

Highlight of the episode is the slightly incestuous relationship between Eleanor and John. Considering his age it’s disturbing to see – at one point she cradles him like a baby as well as kissing him on the lips several times. William Marlowe and Paul Darrow continue their excellent double act and Conrad Asquith’s Little John is allowed a nice character beat at the start of the episode (when he wonders exactly how he’s fallen into the life of an outlaw). Little John has probably been the most underdeveloped of Robin’s men, so it’s a welcome moment.

As a former worker at Nottingham Castle he does have his uses though – he knows a secret way in (which makes the infiltration by Robin and his men a little more plausible). Delightfully, they come across both the Sheriff and Sir Guy and take great pleasure in tying them up. Robin tells Sir Guy that he wouldn’t attack a bound man, but the next time they meet both of them will have swords in their hands and there will be a final reckoning. Sir Guy’s response is rather muffled by the gag!

The raid isn’t a total success though as John is captured. Later, Sir Guy demands to know from Sir Kenneth where Robin and his friends have taken the money. If Sir Kenneth knows then he’s not telling and it’s inevitable that the two men will fight to the death. It’s just as inevitable that the much younger Sir Guy will emerge as the victor (and Sir Kenneth’s bloody demise is viewed by a horrified Marion). Had the sword-fight been shot on film it might have been easier to cut it in a tighter way, alas videotape doesn’t allow such luxuries. So it does look rather stagey and unconvincing – but it still has a certain impact, especially when Sir Guy finishes him off with a dagger to the neck.

Little John is due to hang in the grounds of Nottingham Castle, so tradition decrees that Robin will attempt a daring rescue. This he does, but the celebration is short-lived when he learns that Sir Kenneth is dead and Marion is a prisoner of Sir Guy. So everything is now in place for the final chapter of the story.

The Legend of Robin Hood (BBC 1975) – Part Four

May 21, 2015July 18, 2016 archivetvmusings BBC Drama - 1970's BBC, diane keen, kevin stoney, martin potter, paul darrow, the legend of robin hood

Part Four is where Robin Hood becomes the outlaw of legend. At the start of the episode though, things are quite different. Robin and his small band of followers are virtual prisoners in Sherwood Forest – under constant siege from the Sheriff’s men and forced to eat whatever they can find (which isn’t much).

Hunger drives them to Ralph’s village but what they discover there puts there own hardships into stark context. The villagers are dying from malnutrition, with the children suffering the worst. A third of their food was taken in taxes for Richard’s Crusade and another third was taken by the Sheriff. What they’re left with is simply not enough.

Starving villagers are a familiar sight in many versions of the Robin Hood tales, but there’s often a lack of logic as to why (and there’s no particularly good reason given here). Robin says that it’s the evil preying on the weak, but as the villagers exist to provide the food that ends up on the tables of the Sheriff and Sir Guy (amongst many others) there’s no reason to either work them to death or starve them. If Sir Guy is so cavalier with his workforce how will he replace them?

Logical flaws aside, it’s the sight of the downtrodden masses that fires Robin’s crusading zeal. From now on, he and his men will control Sherwood and levy a tax against all travellers through the forest. This they will distribute back to the poor and needy. One such recipient is the headman of Ralph’s village, Thurkill (William Simons). It’s not a particularly large part for Simons (although he’s an actor I’ve always enjoyed watching – he’s very good, for example, opposite Alan Dobie in Cribb). He does sport a impressive false beard though – unconvincing facial hair is always a feature of series such as these (other examples are easy to find).

Tony Caunter’s Friar Tuck continues to impress. Tuck is a free spirit, roaming Sherwood by himself, but often coming into contact with Robin and his friends. In part four he attacks and kills two soldiers who are pursuing a man who they intend to brand for non-payment of taxes. Tuck’s anger is evident, just as his remorse is afterwards. Life and death is often casually dispensed in Robin Hood’s world, but it’s clear that in Tuck’s case there’s always a debt that has to be paid.

Sir Richard of the Lea is a figure who appeared in several early Robin Hood ballads (such as A Gest of Robyn Hode). He appears here (played by Bernard Archard) and his story is very similar to the one in A Gest. Sir Richard owes an Abbot a debt of four hundred marks and if he doesn’t repay the money today then his lands are forfeit. Robin and his men feed him whilst they listen to his tale. Afterwards Robin asks for payment and Sir Richard says they are welcome to what little money he has (he claims to only have a handful of coins). When they confirm that he was telling the truth, Richard is touched by the man’s honesty and integrity and loans him the money he needs to reclaim his lands.

The one major difference is that here Sir Richard needed the money to equip and send his son to fight with Richard in the Holy Land, whilst in A Gest his son had been arrested for murder and the four hundred marks were used to bribe the local Sheriff.

It’s always nice to see Archard and it’s even better news that the Abbot is played by Kevin Stoney. Stoney oozes with his trademark languid villainy and is a delight, as always, to watch. Apart from his connection with Sir Richard, he’s also scheming with the Sheriff and Sir Guy. All three are plotting to put John on the throne (although the absence of both Michael J. Jackson and David Dixon from this episode means that the political intrigue takes a backseat).

Instead, part four is much more concerned with the emergence of Robin as a leader of men. We also see him start to influence the oppressed Saxons to fight back. Sir Richard offers Robin a hundred longbows – an offer Robin gladly accepts, as he instantly sees how they can be used by the villagers. “They proved their bravery by fighting with their bare hands. No longer peasants whipped by their masters. These will make them into an army.”

But as in any battle, there’s a price to pay. At the end of the episode Robin loses a key member of his band and it’s an early indication that no-one (not even the familiar names) can be guaranteed to still be alive at the end of part six ….

The Legend of Robin Hood (BBC 1975) – Part Three

May 19, 2015July 18, 2016 archivetvmusings BBC Drama - 1970's BBC, diane keen, martin potter, paul darrow, the legend of robin hood

Robin and his small band of friends take shelter in Sherwood Forest, but they’re not alone. It would be reasonable to suppose that Sherwood would be home to many different groups of outlaws (although we’ve not often seen this developed in most of the film or television adaptations).

Robin quickly becomes aware of a formidable rival gang (dressed in green) who are led by a giant of a man, John Little (Conrad Asquith). Although some of his men aren’t trustworthy (and one later betrays Robin) Little John is presented as a dependable and honest man, although he’s somebody who’s not unused to violence. He used to work at Nottingham Castle, but he got into an argument with his superior and threw him into the moat (after hitting his head with a hammer first, just for good measure!)

Robin and John meet for the first time and settle their differences in the traditional way – via a quarterstaff duel in the middle of a streaming lake. It’s a nicely shot film sequence, with some effective quick intercuts (although it’s true that the scene is a little short). After they both end up in the water, any enmity they previously felt has been forgotten and they pool resources and information. John mentions that Sir Guy (who’s now taken charge of Robin’s estates at Huntingdon) is due to be married there.

Robin, naturally, makes haste to see Marion one more time – but thanks to one of Little John’s untrustworthy men, Sir Guy and his soldiers are waiting for him. If only Sir Guy had dealt with him here then the story would have been over some three episodes early. But, as usually happens, he leaves Robin locked up, although he doesn’t stay locked up for long (thanks to a little help from Marion)

There’s a lack of Paul Darrow in this episode, which is a shame, but on the plus side William Marlowe does get a very decent share of the action. Whether he’s playfully taunting Marion or ordering his inept soldiers about, Marlowe’s always a joy to watch. If Darrow’s Sherriff is more of an intellectual and a schemer, then Marlowe’s Sir Guy is an instinctive fighter and everything’s bubbling up nicely for the climatic confrontation between him and Robin.

So far, Robin and his men have only been concerned with their own self interest. But towards the end of part three we see them help others less fortunate than themselves for the first time. Prince John has burnt several villages to the ground and taken all the unfortunate inhabitants to work as slaves in a nearby silver mine. Robin is able to free them (rather easily, it must be said) and afterwards he confronts John.

David Dixon continues to give a layered performance as John. On the one hand, it’s possible to suggest that he’s nothing more than a stooge (manipulated easily by the likes of the Sheriff) but on the other he does seem to have a mind and a will of his own. Robin tells him that the villagers are now free and that he’ll take enough silver to rebuild the burnt villages whilst the rest will go to fund Richard’s Crusade.

Naturally, John doesn’t take this at all well and we end with him promising that Robin will hang. This now means that there’s three highly motivated men – the Sheriff, Sir Guy and Prince John – who all want Robin’s head, which helps to raise the stakes just a little more.

The Legend of Robin Hood (BBC 1975) – Part Two

May 18, 2015July 18, 2016 archivetvmusings BBC Drama - 1970's BBC, diane keen, martin potter, paul darrow, the legend of robin hood

Making his way through Sherwood Forest, Robin is attacked and robbed. But the sight of Robin’s ring is enough to make one of the robbers stop and think. After bathing Robin’s wounds, he tells him his name – Will Scarlett (Miles Anderson). It’s interesting that Scarlett and his friends aren’t actually outlaws. Although they’re happy to waylay and rob any likely traveller, at this time they’re still free men.

They’ve suffered under the rule of the Abbot of Grantham (David Ryall) though. The Abbot has controlled the Huntingdon estates for the last twenty years, bleeding them dry, as well as extracting bitter revenge on any malefactors. Once such is Ralph Gammon (Stephen Whitaker) who had one of his hands cut off for stealing.

The character of the Abbot is a familiar one from many versions of the Robin Hood tales – he’s far from a holy, pious man of god – instead, he takes pleasure in the finest clothes, food and wine (whilst many around him starve). Before he left the Huntingdon estates he stripped them bare, but Robin, together with Will and Ralph, are able to restore what the Abbot stole.

They’re helped by Friar Tuck (Tony Caunter), formally in the Abbot’s employ, but now a free agent. Caunter isn’t the rotund Tuck we usually see, but some of his other traits are present and correct (such as a love of wine). He’s also deeply argumentative and is clearly someone who won’t be pushed around. When Will tells him to kneel before Robin, his lord and master, Tuck indignantly replies that “I only ever bow to Christ, which annoys my so-called betters on earth profoundly.” After helping Robin to locate his pilfered possessions, Tuck disappears, but it’s certain we haven’t seen the last of him.

Palace intrigue is a key part of this episode (and indeed the whole serial). The Queen Mother (Yvonne Mitchell) has returned and urges Richard to make John regent in his absence. Richard refuses (his choice is Longchamps) but he does grant John a portion of the kingdom to administrate (including Nottingham). Amongst Yvonne Mitchell’s key credits are the 1954 adaptation of Nineteen Eighty Four and the Out of the Unknown episode The Machine Stops. This isn’t a particularly taxing part, but she manages to portray the Queen’s icy detachment very effectively.

The revelation that the Abbot, the Sheriff and Sir Guy are all involved in a plot to murder the King is another indication that this version of Robin Hood is, at present, more concerned with courtly intrigue than it is with the down-trodden and repressed Saxons. Robin learns of the plot and is eventually able to warn the King, but by then his unexplained absence has brought disfavour upon him.

Richard has disinherited him as well as branding him an outlaw. But in their final meeting, before Richard departs for the Crusades, he strongly implies that as an outlaw he’ll be able to stay in England and do some good. It’s slightly odd that on the one hand Richard makes him an outlaw and on the other seems to tacitly approve of him, but it means that all the pieces are now in place.

Robin Hood, and his band of men, are outlaws and they face two implacable enemies – the Sheriff of Nottingham and Sir Guy of Gisborne. And since Richard has agreed to the marriage between Sir Guy and the Lady Marion, that provides yet another reason for conflict …..

The Legend of Robin Hood (BBC 1975) – Part One

May 17, 2015August 15, 2018 archivetvmusings BBC Drama - 1970's BBC, diane keen, martin potter, paul darrow, the legend of robin hood

The stories of Robin Hood have proven to be evergreen and have featured in numerous film and television adaptations over the years. On British television, probably the two best-remembered takes on the character are Richard Greene’s The Adventures of Robin Hood (1955-1960) and Richard Carpenter’s much later, somewhat radical reworking of the legend, as seen in Robin of Sherwood (1984-1986).

The Legend of Robin Hood, broadcast in 1975, was a six-part serial which drew some of its inspiration from the earliest surviving written material (namely the ballads, such as A Lytell Geste of Robyn Hode). Naturally, some elements (such as Robin’s beheading of the Sherrif) are omitted and The Legend of Robin Hood is also content to cherry-pick material from later interpretations of the stories (neither Maid Marion or King Richard appear in the ballads, for example).

One of the strengths of The Legend of Robin Hood is that it’s a serial, rather than a series, so the tale it tells is finite – with a beginning, a middle and an end. As enjoyable as the Richard Greene series was, it did have a seemingly endless number of episodes, which ensured that character development could never be anything other than minimal. Although Robin of Sherwood was also a series, the decision by Michael Praed to jump ship (for the dubious pleasures of Dynasty) after series two did mean that his character (Robin of Locksley) could have a clearly defined fate, something also shared by Martin Potter’s Robin.

After serving a decent apprenticeship in numerous films and television series, The Legend of Robin Hood seemed to be Potter’s first step towards a more substantial career. But for whatever reason this never happened and his credits eventually spluttered to a halt – after an episode of All Creatures Great and Small in 1988 there’s nothing until the rather undistinguished television movie The Outsiders in 2006. But although his later career never developed in the way I’m sure he would have wanted, he still makes a first-class Robin Hood.

He’s supported by an impressive roster of acting talent – Diane Keen as Maid Marion, Paul Darrow as the Sheriff of Nottingham, William Marlowe as Sir Guy of Gisborne, John Abineri (later to take a key role in Robin of Sherwood) as Sir Kenneth Neston, David Dixon as Prince John, Tony Caunter as Friar Tuck, Conrad Asquith as Little John, Michael J. Jackson as King Richard and Yvonne Mitchell as Queen Eleanor.

Part one opens with the Earl of Huntingdon (Anthony Garner) preparing to leave for France. Before he goes, he places his infant son, Robin, in the charge of Father Ambrose (David King). Ambrose is charged to find the young Robin a safe place to live and when he’s of age he’ll be told that he’s the rightful heir to the Huntingdon estates. In some versions of the Robin Hood legend he’s a lowly-born Saxon and in others he’s the noble Earl of Huntington, so it’s a nice twist that this adaptation is able to incorporate both.

Robin is brought up by the forrester John Hood (Trevor Griffiths) and remains ignorant of his true identity. This isn’t the most effective part of the story as it’s hard to understand why the young Robin would have been removed from the manor at Huntingdon – surely his father could have found somebody he trusted to act as guardian in his absence? It also has to be said that Robin takes the news that he’s the Earl of Huntingdon very calmly (Martin Potter registering no more emotion than if he’d just been told it was raining outside). But now the truth is known he sets off to London to seek an audience with King Richard and claim his inheritance.

He’s somewhat delayed, as on the way he meets Lady Marion and her uncle, Sir Kenneth Neston. Neston, like Robin, is a proud Saxon, so Robin is perturbed to discover that he plans to marry his niece to Sir Guy of Gisborne. Earlier, Robin saw an example of Sir Guy’s brutal justice (a man arrested for stealing berries from one of Sir Guy’s bushes) so he queries why. Neston believes that marriages between Saxons and Normans will dilute the Norman influence – Robin is polite, but noncommittal.

William Marlowe always offered a nice line in dangerous villains and his Sir Guy is no different. Although Sir Guy is polite and courteous in this episode (and also seems sincere in his love for Marion) Marlowe manages to give the impression that he could erupt into violence at any moment. He dominates the first scene with the Sheriff of Nottingham and the Abbot of Grantham (David Ryall) although a later scene between the Sherriff and the Abbot gives a chance for Paul Darrow to show that he can be equally as dangerous.

There’s no doubt that the DVD picked up some sales due to Darrow’s appearance. Thanks to his always watchable performance as Avon in Blakes 7, he’s maintained a healthy fan following. Whilst he resists the temptation (unlike some of the later Sheriffs) to go way over the top, his Sheriff does have flashes of cold violence, which are rather Avon-like.

Diane Keen is a winsome and appealing Maid Marion. It’s a more traditional performance than some of the later, more warrior-like, versions. This Marion, whilst she has a mind of her own, is presented as a heroine to be saved (screaming and almost insensible when attacked by a gang of outlaws, for example).

Michael J. Jackson may lack the imposing presence of some other notable Richards, such as Julian Glover or John Rhys-Davies, but despite his rather slight frame he’s still commanding. He easily manages to best his brother John, who pleads with him to be made regent before Richard departs for the Holy Land. David Dixon (later to be the unearthly Ford Prefect in the BBC1 adaptation of The Hitch-Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy) offers a similarly off-kilter performance here. Although he has only a few moments screen time in part one, Dixon still makes an impact as John comes over as a spoilt, weak and unstable man who is easily manipulated.

Many adaptations of the Robin Hood stories open with Richard already in the Holy Land. This one is a little different, as we see Richard preparing to leave (with Robin due to join him). Richard has recognised Robin as the rightful heir to the Huntingdon estates and he bestows further honour on him by making him his squire. The outspoken Robin isn’t pleased though as he believes that strife will befall the kingdom if the King leaves to fight the Saracens.

Although Robin’s not yet an outlaw (and we’ve yet to meet the Merry Men) quite a lot of ground has been captured in this first episode. Production wise, it’s typical of the era (interiors shot on VT and exteriors on film). For anybody used to programmes from this era, the production values are pretty typical (although it must be said that some of the interior sets do look uncomfortably stagey). Possibly the worst production flaw comes at 45:54, when the edge of the backcloth (which has been hung to simulate evening outside the windows of the Throne Room) is clearly visible.

Martin Potter is an earnest and likeable Robin Hood, although it’s true that he does sound rather well spoken for somebody brought up in humble surroundings. But whilst he lacks the impish humour of some of the other Robins, he still comes over as a likeable leading man and the first fifty minutes have laid the ground nicely for the remainder of the serial.

Paul Darrow & David Ryall

Diane Keen

Michael J. Jackson

John Abineri

Martin Potter

William Marlowe, David Ryall and Paul Darrow

David Dixon

William Marlowe

Paul Darrow

Doctor Who – The Enemy of the World – Episode Six

May 16, 2015July 15, 2016 archivetvmusings Doctor Who BBC, bill kerr, deborah watling, doctor who, frazer hines, patrick troughton, the enemy of the world

The Doctor’s impersonation of Salamander places him in a rather precarious position as Benik doesn’t seem to be totally convinced. But he’s able to authorise the release of Jamie and Victoria and he asks Bruce to take them to the gates to ensure they get away safely. There’s a lovely moment when Bruce asks them to call his deputy Forrester, once they get outside, and tell him that Bruce is at the research station (using the word “redhead”). Jamie wonders if that’s a reference to his wife, but Bruce tells him no, it’s just a code-word. Typical Jamie, always thinking of women!

Once Jamie and Victoria leave they don’t reappear until the the final scene, so this, together with their fairly light appearance in episode five and their absence from episode four, means they’ve hardly featured in the second half of the story. Maybe this is because whilst The Enemy of the World is a good story, it’s not necessarily a good Doctor Who story, so Jamie and Victoria end up rather surplus to requirements. Indeed, you could remove the Doctor as well and it would have been made a very decent one-off serial with Kent and Astrid facing off against Salamander and Benik.

Astrid is able to do little for Swann, but he’s able to tell her the whole story and Astrid ventures underground to tell the workers that Salamander has duped them. She’s only able to take them up two at a time, so she naturally elects to take Colin and Mary (there’s no point taking any of the others, as they’re non-speaking extras!).

For a large part of the story, Kent has insisted that the Doctor should impersonate Salamander in order to find incriminating evidence that will expose him. In the end, this doesn’t happen (and is rather neatly reversed) when Kent meets Salamander (or so he believes) and betrays himself. Kent and the faux-Salamander seem to be trapped in the records room, but Kent knows about the secret exit.

DOCTOR: Well, that’s very interesting, Mr Kent. Why didn’t you tell me that before?
KENT: Oh no, it can’t be.
DOCTOR: Oh, I’m afraid it is. Oh, look. Here’s another surprise for you. Look behind you.
KENT: Astrid, you’ve come just in time.
ASTRID: It’s too late, Giles. I know everything.
COLIN: That’s him. That’s the man who took us down there in the first place.
MARY: Giles Kent. We thought you were dead.
KENT: Now look, I’ve never seen these people before in my life.
ASTRID: They’ve told me everything. You and Salamander were in it together.

The emergence of Astrid at just the right moment (and with two people who can confirm that Kent was Salamander’s partner) is more than a touch contrived, but it works in story terms as it finally strips away the lingering pretence that Giles Kent was on the side of the angels. The Doctor tells him that he was never convinced by him anyway, as “any man who resorts to murder as eagerly and as rapidly as you must be suspect. You didn’t just want to expose Salamander, you wanted to kill him and take his place.” Although Kent may have been more convincing had Bill Kerr played him as a more reasonable and sympathetic character, it’s still a very watchable turn. Best known as Tony Hancock’s idiot friend in the radio version of Hancock’s Half Hour, he also enjoyed a long and successful acting career (some of it spent in the UK) and once of the joys of the recovery of this serial was that we were able once more to enjoy his complete performance.

As previously touched upon, Doctor Who was still a long way away from out-of-order recording, so each episode has to mostly feature Troughton as either the Doctor or Salamander. Since it was the concluding episode, it’s not a surprise that he’s mainly the Doctor, although this means that after building Salamander up throughout the serial, he rather fades away. But he does get to confront his old associate Kent, before his first (and last) encounter with the Doctor.

Had there not been at least one meeting between the Doctor and Salamander, the audience would probably have felt a little cheated (although the Doctor and the Abbot never met in The Massacre). Before that happens though, loose ends are tied up as Bruce and Astrid take charge. Kent has apparently killed both himself and Salamander (via a huge explosion) and the Doctor leaves Astrid as she attempts to rescue the people trapped in the underground shelter.

The final scene is a bit of a cracker. Salamander impersonates the Doctor and he asks Jamie to operate the TARDIS controls. This naturally confuses the Scot, but when the real Doctor makes an appearance, all becomes clear. The Doctor tells Salamander that “we’re going to put you outside, Salamander. No friends, no safety, nothing. You’ll run, but they’ll catch up with you.” After a tussle, Salamander is flung out in the Space/Time vortex and (unusually for the Troughton era) the story closes on a cliff-hanger.

Although The Enemy of the World does have a few logistical issues, there’s plenty to enjoy (especially as it’s such a break from the norm). It was a daring move to tackle a James Bond-type plot with the series’ usual budget (and especially since 95% of the story was shot in the studio) but, apart from the odd wobbly set, it all holds together. Troughton’s great (no matter who he’s playing) and he’s surrounded by some familiar faces (Colin Douglas, George Pravda, Milton Johns) all of whom would appear in later Doctor Whos. Hines and Watling have little involvement in the later part of the story, but Whitaker keeps the story bubbling away so nicely that this never becomes an issue.