Zodiac – The Horns of the Moon

horns

Written by Peter Yeldham
Directed by Joe McGrath

General Weston (Peter Jones) is the autocratic chairman of a small merchant bank.  He wishes to initiate a merger (which effectively means selling the bank).  His fellow directors and his son Tony (Peter Egan) are against the plan, but the General always gets his way – and he does so again.

But shortly afterwards, he falls down the bank’s lift shaft.  As Tony later remarks, anybody else would have broken their neck, but he escaped with just a sprained arm.  However, it does seem to indicate that somebody at the bank wishes him harm.

There’s no shortage of suspects.  His son would inherit everything on his death, whilst the vampish Julie Prentiss (Michele Dotrice) seems to have the General wrapped around her little finger.  The other directors, Rodney Tyce (Graham Crowden), Ian Rentoul (Ronald MacLeod) and Agnes Courtney (Gillian Raine), could all have motives whilst the servant Dobbs (Norman Chappell) is another possibility.

Tony is a regular client of Esther’s and he calls on her to ask for advice.  He wants to leave the bank and break free from his father – but only if she confirms that the stars are correctly aligned.  She visits him at the bank to deliver the horoscope and he suggests they have a drink.  It comes as something of a surprise to find the General frozen solid in the fridge …..

The Horns of the Moon is by far the best mystery of the series since, as the above list indicates, there’s no shortage of suspects.  Once again, Esther is at the scene of the crime when the body is discovered, much to Gradley’s despair.  He’s also a little peeved at having to leave his dinner companion.  “You may not know it but I was at a charity dinner, escorting a debutante of the year.”  When Esther asks which year, he tells her it was quite a recent vintage.

Gradley quickly gets a feel for the list of suspects and it’s clear that Tony is his favourite.  Esther violently disagrees as she says it’s astrologically impossible for him to have committed the murder.  Gradley doesn’t arrest Tony straight away as he knows he’ll make his way to Esther’s flat in order to unburden himself.  This he does and what Tony says is pretty damming.  “What would you say if the files showed that I embezzled two hundred thousand pounds from the firm and the gun that killed the General was in my desk and that I wiped it clear of fingerprints and put it back in the boardroom and I took the files and put them in the cellar?”

Tony protests his innocence – he looks guilty, but that’s only because somebody has framed him.  Later on, even more evidence pointing to his guilt comes to light and Gradley arrests him.  Esther remains unconvinced and continues to nag at him to consider the other possibilities.

As with all the episodes, there’s a lovely group of actors here.  It’s a shame that Peter Jones doesn’t last longer as he’s got some nice comic business as the General.  Peter Egan is a bundle of nerves as the perpetually twitchy Tony whilst Graham Crowden is quite restrained as Tyce.  Tyce is a character that exists on the outskirts of the majority of the story, but he does have a part to play later on.

The banter between Gradley and Esther also helps to keep the interest chugging along.  Both of them, especially Anton Rodgers, have great comic timing and it’s their partnership which is one of the main strengths of the show.

The Horns of the Moon was the final story of this short series.  The real murderer is eventually found and Tony is set free, but that’s the end of the line for Gradley and Esther.  The premise of the series (detective and astrologer teamed up) was an intriguing one, although it’s fair to say that some of the plotting was a little loose in several of the episodes .

The partnership between Hempel and Rodgers as well as the guest casts more than made up for this though and there was certainly enough potential for a further run of episodes.  It wasn’t to be though, which is a shame since Zodiac is a nice little series and provided you don’t mind studio-bound drama (not a single location shot in the six episodes) it’s well worth tracking down.

Zodiac – Sting, Sting, Scorpio!

scorpio

Written by Roger Marshall
Directed by Piers Haggard

Madame Lavengro (Anne Dyson) is a fortune-teller who lives and works in Brighton. Two maids from a local hotel visit her for a reading. Brenda (Jeananne Crowley) waits in the other room whilst Peggy (Susie Blake) goes first.

Whilst she looks like the archetypal fake fortune-teller (complete with headscarf and crystal ball) it’s clear that she has genuine insight. She knows that Peggy has problems with her boyfriend and that he possesses money that doesn’t belong to him.  A moment later she realises that he’s the Brighton Hotel robber.

Like Peggy, her boyfriend Brian (Robert Powell) works at the same hotel. He knows that he has to silence the fortune-teller – which he does. The day after, Esther pays a visit to Madame Lavengro and discovers her body. Esther was a friend and admirer of Madame Lavengro, so she takes the lease on her shop and tells Gradley she’s determined to track down her murderer.

Esther’s in something of a huff with Gradley as he’s reluctant to get involved in the case (it’s well outside his patch). He does eventually travel down to join her, after taking some leave, but they still indulge in a good deal of bickering once they do team up. There’s also another sighting of Anton Rodgers in denim (not good) and later he sports an interesting cravat (also not good).

A curly-headed Robert Powell is the villain of the piece. He’s not really known for playing baddies, which is probably why the character doesn’t quite have the dangerous edge he should have. The rest of the cast also features some familiar faces. Wensley Pithey (a regular in the early series of Special Branch) is Inspector Duggan, Susie Blake is the sadly doomed Peggy and Frank Gatliff brightens up the screen briefly as the camp-as-anything Felix Pettigrew.

Another eyebrow raising performance is given by Bob Sherman as the hippy singer Bob Thomas. Sherman’s probably best known for playing an American spook in The Sandbaggers, so this role is something rather different. Although the 1960’s was long over by this point, Thomas is obviously a throwback (“Yeah baby, I’d really freak out man”). He doesn’t contribute anything to the plot, but he’s a nice bit of local colour.

Anouska Hempel obviously had a cold whilst the story was being recorded, as her voice is pretty strained at times. This is referred to right at the end, presumably via an adlib, as Gradley declines to kiss her because of her cold and she threatens to spit all over him!

Sting, Sting, Scorpion! is a nicely plotted tale. There’s one example of Esther’s special powers (she receives a vision that Peggy has drowned) but that doesn’t affect the solving of the crime too much, so it isn’t a particularly large cheat.

Another strongly-cast and well-acted story.

Zodiac – Saturn’s Rewards

saturn 1

Written by Pat Hoddinott
Directed by Don Leaver

Richard Meade (Peter Vaughan) is awoken by noises from the flat opposite.  He opens his bedroom window to investigate and is shocked to see a man attacking a woman.  He rushes to the phone, but then stops – the woman sharing his bed isn’t his wife and since he’s an MP he can’t afford any scandal.  Next day, Gradley visits him to ask if he saw anything the previous night.  Meade responds in the negative.

A few days later, Esther is entertaining Meade’s daughter Deborah (Joanna David), her mother Susan (Dinah Sheridan) and Deborah’s new boyfriend Martin Seacombe (Ian Ogilvy).  Martin is a smooth-talker, but he doesn’t believe in astrology – which causes Esther’s hackles to rise slightly.  One of her gifts is an ability to tell the star-sign of anybody, just by looking at them.  She declares that Martin is a Scorpio, but he tells her he was born in May – which would make him an Aries.

Esther simply doesn’t believe him or that she could be so wrong.  His insistence would already be enough to mark him out as a wrong ‘un, but he was also the man we saw at the start, committing the murder, so he’s clearly going to be the villain of the piece.  When Meade arrives to pick up his wife and daughter he’s shocked to see Martin with his daughter.  He knows the man’s a murderer, but if he tells anybody then the story of his infidelity will come to light, and this puts him in something of a quandary.

Anouska Hempel & Ian Ogilvy
Anouska Hempel & Ian Ogilvy

Saturn’s Rewards isn’t the first episode of Zodiac to use some outrageous coincidences, but the ones here are worth repeating.  Meade’s daughter’s fiance chooses to commit a murder in the flat opposite Meade (it’s never explained why he’s in that flat).  Gradley is the detective assigned to investigate the murder, whilst Esther is an old friend of Meade’s daughter, Deborah, which is how Esther becomes involved.  Too many coincidences!

The studio-bound nature of the production becomes rather apparent when we see the murder committed.  The gap between the two flats isn’t very wide and it’s impossible to believe that Martin didn’t see Meade looking at him.  Obviously he didn’t, otherwise the story simply wouldn’t work, but the camerawork seems to imply otherwise.

Whilst the plot has its problems, we can take solace with the cast.  Peter Vaughan is good fun as a rather shifty, untrustworthy politician and Ian Ogilvy (complete with a moustache that may be fake, I think it is) is the charming, but dangerous Martin.  Joanna David and Dinah Sheridan have less to do, but having two good actresses in those roles is some consolation for their slightly underwritten parts.

Esther and Gradley are kept apart for a while, which is a pity, since the series really sparkles when the two of them are together.  When they eventually meet up, Gradley tells her a little about the murder case but then says he doesn’t need her help on this one.  Esther is incredulous. “It must be straightforward. What happened, did you find the killer drunk on the floor, prints all over the murder weapon and a signed confession in his top pocket?”

Undeniably, this is clumsily plotted, but once again the performances of both the regulars and the guest cast manage to make something out of the fairly thin material.

Hi-De-Hi! – The Partridge Season

partridge

One of the advantages of a series like Hi-De-Hi! is that the large ensemble cast enables each character, especially those who usually operate on the periphery, to have a chance to shine.  And as might be expected by the title, The Partridge Season (Series One, Episode Four, Tx 12/04/81) puts the spotlight on the perpetually grumpy Punch and Judy man Mr Partridge (Leslie Dwyer).

Dwyer was a veteran actor (born 1906) who had enjoyed a long career in films and television (although usually in supporting roles).  Therefore, his regular performances in Hi-De-Hi! gave him a late taste of fame (very similar to the experiences enjoyed by the likes of John Laurie and Arnold Ridley in another Perry/Croft vehicle, Dad’s Army).  Mr Partridge was never going to be a character who would be central to the series (he worked better as someone who confined himself to the odd withering one-liner delivered from the comfort of his chair in the staff-room) but every so often he could be moved more up-front, as here.

Jeffrey has received orders to sack him.  Mr Partridge’s contempt for all children has already been well established, but this time he’s overstepped the mark.  When Jeffrey calls him into the office, Mr Partridge knows why he’s there and he gives him his side of the story.

Well, I was packing up the Punch and Judy and I couldn’t find the sausages. So I looked around and there was this snotty-nosed kid sucking an ice-cream cornet. ‘Have you got my sausages?’ I said. ‘Get lost, Grandad’ he said, and I could see ’em sticking out of his pocket. So I grabbed ’em off him, snatched his ice-cream cornet, stuck it in his face, give it a twist, then I clipped ‘im round the earhole and kicked ‘im up the arse.

I’ve already mentioned in my post on Hey Diddle Diddle how an air of melancholy is sometimes not far from the surface.  The forced jollity of the holiday-camp environment has something to do with it, but Mr Partridge (like some of the others) is an individual who’s found himself washed up at Maplins, past his prime and unable to get a job anywhere else.

He gives Jeffrey a brief outline of his career (as the camera slowly closes in on Dwyer, an obvious, but a good way of focusing the audience’s attention).  He started off on the halls as Whimsical Willie, the Juggling Joker.  After he came out of the Army in 1918 he gave up the juggling and became a comic – but talking pictures killed variety so he became a children’s entertainer.  After a stint entertaining the troops with ENSA during WW2 he eventually found himself working at Maplins.

All this is enough to convince Jeffrey that deserves another chance.  Mr Partridge is delighted and promises that he won’t let him down.  He also asks for an advance on his salary – to buy a new cover for the Punch and Judy booth, he says.  Jeffrey agrees and this is where the trouble really starts.

Jeffrey’s mistakenly under the impression that the affair of the ice-cream cornet was an isolated incident, but Ted puts him straight and lists some of Mr Partridge’s numerous run-ins with his audience.  “What about the time he put syrup of figs in the pot at the tiny-tots tea party?”  Worse than all this though is the benders.  “Once or twice every season, he gets a load of whisky and locks himself in his chalet and he’s legless for three days.”  And Jeffrey’s given him the money to do just that.

As ever, it’s the decent and honourable Jeffrey who has to suffer.  Always thinking the best of people, he finds himself left down by Mr Partridge and as a consequence has to share his chalet with Fred Quilley (who apologies for the horsey smell).  Best of all, he’s pressured into covering the Punch and Judy show.  The man-eating Sylvia offers to help, which seems like a good idea, but there’s very little room in the tent for two, much to Sylvia’s delight!

Spike wants to help Mr Partridge, but Ted is unsympathetic.  “I’ve been covering up for him for ten years. And I’ve had it up to here. He’s a rotten, bad tempered old tosspot!”  Ted has never thought of him as anything other than a third-rate Punch and Judy man, but Spike tells him he’s seen the cuttings that record his earlier successes – topping the bill at the Holborn Empire and performing in a Royal Command Performance at Windsor Castle.

Of course, in the end all is well and whilst it’s inevitable that it won’t be long before Mr Partridge causes more trouble, his dysfunctional surrogate family at Maplins will no doubt rally round.  The reveal that he actually was as a big a star as he claimed is a nice, sentimental touch.  It would have been just as easy for him to really have been nothing more than a third-rate musical hall turn, but it’s his genuine (if faded) stardom, as well as the injury he sustained during WW1 (which was the reason he had to give up the juggling), that persuades Ted to talk Jeffrey into giving him another chance.

Zodiac – The Strength of Gemini

gemini

Written by Philip Broadley
Directed by James Ferman

Paul Derring (Norman Eshley) is a smooth-talking conman who targets beautiful, young, upper-class women.  He spies his latest mark, Elizabeth Charmont (Jenny Hanley), and moves in.  Elizabeth has never met him before – but he seems to know everything about her.  “Although we’ve never met, I know you. There is an empathy between us.”  He goes on to tell her things about herself that no stranger could possibly know.  Initially it seems that he’s an astrologer like Esther, but it turns out he’s been abusing Esther’s gifts for his own ends – which proves to be his downfall.

Since Esther writes a successful horoscope column (under the name of “Sibyl”) she receives many requests for personal horoscopes.  One such letter strikes a chord and she suddenly realises that recently she’s been sent numerous pleas for horoscopes – apparently from different people – but now it dawns on her that they’ve all come from the same person.  The names are different each time, but a handwriting expert called Toby (Charles Lloyd Pack) confirms that the signatures are all from the same hand.  So Esther calls in Gradley – she wants to find out who’s been doing this and why.

Since the opening of the story is Esther-centric, Gradley doesn’t appear until thirteen minutes in – but it’s worth waiting for, as Anton Rodgers is a vision in denim.  Maybe he was dressed down in order to make Hempel (who’s wearing a rather nice black evening dress) look even more stunning?  Esther shows him the letters and they decide that the first one – sent by a Paul Derring – is probably genuine.  So can they locate Derring?

Jenny Hanley & Norman Eshley
Jenny Hanley & Norman Eshley

The system he’s worked out to provide himself with victims is quite neat – he has a confederate called Penny (Deborah Norton) who works at a flower shop which is frequented by the upper-classes.  Whenever somebody visits to buy flowers for a likely target’s birthday, Penny makes a note of their birth-date and address and passes the information onto Derring.  He then requests a horoscope from Esther and therefore is able to astound his latest conquest with a host of impressive facts about their life.

Philip Broadley’s script follows the template laid down by Roger Marshall’s first two stories.  There’s plenty of banter between the two leads and a general lightness of touch throughout.  Whilst Derring is a conman, he also has a sense of humour and the script and direction help to accentuate this by throwing in the odd, wrong-footing moment.  My favourite is the scene that opens with a close-up on Derring’s face.  He looks quite serious, but as the camera pans down it becomes clear that he’s merely standing in his underpants, ironing his trousers!

The obvious plan is for Esther to present herself to Derring as his latest victim, which causes Gradley a little pain as she artfully stokes up his jealousy by casually mentioning how charming Derring is.  Fashion-wise, Hempel sports a variety of costumes, from the aforementioned black dress to a towel (and looks good in all of them).  Thankfully, Rodgers’ denim interlude is quite brief and he spends the rest of the story more conventionally attired.

One unusual thing about the series to date is that it’s completely studio-bound.  It wasn’t unheard of for some 1960’s series (like Sergeant Cork) to be almost entirely recorded in the studio (although that, I assume, was probably due to the show’s Victorian setting – it would have been difficult to film outside without major redressing of most locations).  Since Zodiac was a contemporary series, that problem didn’t apply – and the lack of location work does make the programme feel a little claustrophobic at times.

The Lost Worlds of Gerry Anderson – Forthcoming from Network

gerry

Due for release at the end of March is The Lost Worlds of Gerry Anderson, a grab-bag containing several pilots which never went to a full series, plus Space Police (an early incarnation of Space Precinct).  Also included are some interesting-sounding special features, details in the blurb below.

An alien being chooses two children to assist him in improving the Earth…

A spaceship on a scientific mission is flung into the far reaches of outer space…

A police lieutenant fights organised crime on a distant planet…

…these are The Lost Worlds of Gerry Anderson!

Creator of the legendary Thunderbirds, Gerry Anderson scored incredible successes throughout the 1960s and ’70s with Captain Scarlet, UFO, Space: 1999 and other series which appealed to both children and adults alike. Not all his ideas, however, went to a full series and this set contains the 1970s pilots for both The Investigator and The Day After Tomorrow, as well as the 1986 pilot for Space Police, which was eventually reworked as Space Precinct nearly a decade later. Alongside these rare and much sought after programmes, this collector’s set also includes:

Here Comes Kandy and You’ve Never Seen This – Gerry’s earliest work, from 1955

Image galleries for all three pilots

New transfer of remaining film elements for Space Police, alongside the 1992 “Reloaded” edit and test footage

Dick Spanner, PI – an unscreened episode with accompanying image gallery

Blue Skies Ahead and an accompanying Blue Cars advert, made by Gerry in partnership with Nicholas Parsons

Whodunnit? – Series Five – Forthcoming from Network

who 5

After something of a gap (mainly due to Network negotiating a new ten year licencing deal with ITV Studios) it’s pleasing to see a number of archive television titles are listed as forthcoming on their website.

Whodunnit? – Series Five is particularly welcome – it’s a lovely slice of 1970’s nostalgia with many familiar faces (both on the panels and featured in the playlets).  After a somewhat shaky start (I love Edward Woodward but he was never best suited to the role of panel-game host – see series one for evidence of this) the programme was firmly in the groove by this time, helped no end by Jon Pertwee.  As ever with Network, there’s always the possibility that release dates will slip, but at present it’s scheduled for release at the end of April 2015.

Doctor Who star Jon Pertwee is your host in this highly popular, light-hearted panel game which invites viewers to play detective – pitting their wits against a panel of celebrity sleuths to solve a fictitious murder mystery.

Devised by comedians Jeremy Lloyd and Lance Percival, the show’s brilliantly original formula presents short dramas laden with clues – and a few red herrings – to be pieced together by the panellists who, having grilled the suspects, point the accusing finger at the likely felon…

A star-studded guest panel for this volume includes Prunella Scales, Connie Booth, Liza Goddard, Terry Wogan, Dinah Sheridan, Patrick Mower and Jimmy Jewel; Françoise Pascal, Kate O’Mara, Josephine Tewson and Denis Lill feature among the casts.

Zodiac – The Cool Aquarian

cool

Written by Roger Marshall
Directed by Don Leaver

Whilst Gradley was a confirmed astrological sceptic in Death of a Crab, at the start of this episode he seems to have revised his opinion somewhat when he calls on Esther to ask her advice. Of course, it just might be that he wants to spend more time in the delectable Ms Jones’ company – which is completely understandable.

Gradley has received a tip-off that something’s going to happen on Thursday evening.  He doesn’t know what and he doesn’t know where, but he hopes that Esther will be able to provide him with the answers.  Esther is incredulous.  “You mean, 4:45 Lloyds Bank, Lower Sloane Street, a ginger-headed man with a thirty denier nylon mask and a left-footed limp? Of course I can’t. You really do have some strange ideas about astrology.”

Whilst Gradley is left to ponder on this problem, the episode develops two seperate plot-lines.  The first concerns two businessmen – Reuben Keiser (Michael Gambon) and Mark Braun (George Baker).  They’re very different types – Keiser is somewhat sharp and unscrupulous (as he says himself he’s “more barrow boy than Harrow boy”) whilst Braun is more refined and keener to do the right thing.

The second sees Gradley pay a visit on George and Paula Sutton (Bill Maynard and Betty Alberge).  Their niece, Sheila, has disappeared and shortly afterwards they receive a note to say she’s been kidnapped.  The two plot-threads converge when Kesier receives a ransom note.  He’s never met Sheila, but unless he pays one hundred thousand pounds the girl will die.

As the kidnap happened on Thursday evening, Esther wonders if this is the job that Gradley received a tip-off about.  Although that does seem unlikely, since it transpires the kidnap was a one-person job – why would they inform on themselves?

Remarkable coincidence number one is that Esther already knows Keiser and Braun (she’s supplied both of them with astrological readings).  Remarkable coincidence number two is that when Braun persuades Keiser to call the police, it’s Gradley who’s assigned to the case.

Like Death of a Crab, the solution to the mystery isn’t particularly taxing, but producing a baffling puzzle doesn’t seem to be this series’ raison-d’etre.  Instead, Marshall’s script focuses more on the characters, especially Gradley and Esther.  Just two episodes in, there’s an obvious “will they, won’t they” vibe about their relationship.

The story boasts a cracking guest cast.  Gambon and Baker are two actors that enhance any production and whilst Bill Maynard’s role is a little more serious than many of his signature parts, it’s still a pleasure to see him.  He does have one good comic scene though, when he and his wife manage to give a description of Sheila to Gradley that takes an age – mainly because they can’t agree on the most basic questions (her height, whether she’s pale or not, etc).

Also well worth watching is the ever dependable Trevor Baxter as Esther’s temporary butler, Neville.  He proves to be an invaluable help to Gradley (picking out a few clues from the ransom note) and Gradley’s way of thanking him seems to involve putting on an apron and helping him clean the silver!

Esther saves the day by casting a horoscope which leads the police to the place where Sheila is being held.  This is a slight cop-out and is probably one of the series’ main flaws.  As previously mentioned, the temptation to use Esther to pull a rabbit out of the hat can be damaging to the integrity of the narrative.

But although this is a problem and the mystery isn’t that mysterious at all, The Cool Aquarian is still an enjoyable fifty minutes.

Zodiac – Death of a Crab

"Death of a Crab" TX 25/02/1974 Thames Television Production

Written by Roger Marshall
Directed by Raymond Menmuir

Although not as familiar a name as, say, Brian Clemens, Roger Marshall is something of a British television drama legend. He co-created Public Eye and wrote many of its best episodes (including all of the first Thames series).  During the 1980’s he created and wrote two well received series, Travelling Man and Floodtide.

He was also very adept as a writer-for-hire, crafting quality episodes for programmes like The Avengers, Van Der Valk and The Sweeney.  Another outstanding Marshall script was provided for series two of Survivors (Parasites, tx 2nd June 1976).

Having said all this, I can’t put my hand on my heart and claim that Zodiac (which he created and wrote three of its six episodes) is a highlight on his CV, but it does have its moments – mainly thanks to the lead performances of Anouska Hempel and Anton Rodgers, some witty dialogue and a number of quality guest stars.

Rodgers is David Gradley (a most unusual policeman) and Hempel is Esther Jones (an astrologer) and together they solve crimes that hinge, more or less, on the signs of the Zodiac.  Alas, it seemed that public and critical indifference ensured that they only managed to cover six of the twelve signs.

The opening five minutes of Death of a Crab could be seen as an exercise in testing the patience of the audience. Since it’s a new series, you might expect a good, swift hook to capture their attention – instead we see Parker (Peter Childs) making himself at home at the luxury penthouse apartment owned by Aikman (John Rhys-Davies).  Aikman isn’t there, but he’s left a recorded message inviting Parker to treat the place as his own.

So Parker wanders about, examines the fixtures and fittings, pours himself a drink, has a cigar, draws a bath and settles down to enjoy his scotch.  By now, five minutes have elapsed – but just before you wonder exactly when the story will start, Parker slumps in his chair, unconscious.  Next morning, the maid discovers his dead body in the bath and the police, in the form of Gradley, are called.

Whilst this has the hallmarks of a police series (with a mystical edge) one thing that’s missing are (with the exception of Gradley) the police.  Unusually, he’s the only representative of the force we see.  He doesn’t have a sidekick (something later mentioned by Esther) and there’s no sign of fingerprint or forensic officers at the scene of the crime either.

When he and Esther meet for the first time she expresses incredulity that he’s a policeman (presumably because of his, by 1974 standards, natty clothing).  He responds that “we no longer sport the blue serge and silver buttons.”

Gradley is intrigued by Esther’s trade, but is unconvinced (at least to begin with).  “An astrologer?  Shouldn’t you be in gypsy kit, polishing your crystal ball?  I hear your union is pressing for a universal ban on tea bags.  Any truth in it?”  When Esther asks him if he’s a bigot or sceptic, he replies “neither, I just think it’s a load of old … Taurus.”

The clash between the rational police procedure of Gradley and the mystical intuition of Esther is obviously one of the series’ selling points, although the elements do sit rather uneasily together.  If the series had run for longer then maybe Esther’s skills could have been integrated better into the stories – on the evidence of the first episode she tends to deliver uncannily accurate predictions based on people’s astrological signs with the occasional leap into the unknown. Having somebody with that level of insight does create problems in telling a straightforward story – if the writer’s in a hole, then it’s tempting for Esther to have a vision and provide Gradley with previously unknown information.

The revelation that Esther was married to Parker does (briefly) make her an object of suspicion – but to be honest, this is a murder mystery with only one suspect.  That does sap a little of the interest, but Hempel is gorgeous and Rodgers is amusing, and their witty byplay is good enough to keep this viewer interested.

Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy (BBC 1979). Episode Seven

tinker 07

So after six and a bit episodes, the identity of the mole is revealed.  It’s interesting that they didn’t pad it out until later in the episode, instead the reveal happens at the ten minute mark.  Peter Guillam displays understandable anger at the lives lost. “You butchered my agents… How many since? How many? Two hundred?… Three?… FOUR?”  Smiley remains calm, although in his own undemonstrative way he does display the odd spasm of anger later on.

So Gerald the mole was Bill Haydon.  Smiley contacts Lacon, Alleline, Bland and Esterhase and plays them the incriminating recording which proves Haydon’s guilt.

Esterhase: Well, that’s that. Congratulations, George.
Lacon: Next step, gentlemen?
Smiley: Would you agree with me, Percy, that our best course of action is to make some positive use of Bill Haydon? We need to salvage what’s left of the networks he’s betrayed.
Alleline: [weakly] Yes…
Smiley: We sell Haydon to Moscow Centre for as many of our men in the field as can be saved – for humanitarian reasons. Professionally, of course, they’re finished.
Alleline: Quite.
Smiley: Then the sooner you open negotiations with Karla, the better. Well, you’re much better placed to talk terms than I am. Polyakov remains your direct link with Karla.
Lacon: The only difference is, this time you know it! It’s definitely your job, Percy. You’re still Chief, officially… for the moment.
Percy Alleline: Very well, George.

It’s a moment of triumph for Smiley, but there’s no overt display of emotion or triumphalism.  Indeed, as we’ll see, it’ll turn out to be something of a pyrrhic victory although as the above dialogue extract indicates, he must have displayed some pleasure in Alleline’s discomfiture, who is clearly on borrowed time as Chief.

Before Haydon is sent back to Moscow, the interrogators are keen to extract every piece of information they can.  The next time we see him, his face is covered in bruises, there’s blood on his shirt and he’s walking unsteadily – a clear sign of how he’s been “encouraged”.

It’s felt that he may open up more to Smiley, and in a way he does.  This enables Guinness to take up his usual role as the largely unspeaking observer – but it’s nevertheless quite easy to understand exactly what he thinks and feels just by the expressions on his face.  Ian Richardson takes centre-stage in these scenes as he explains why he became a Russian agent.

Haydon: What do you want to know?
Smiley: Oh… why? How? When?
Haydon: Why? You ask that? Because it was NECESSARY, that’s why! Someone had to! We were bluffed, George. You, me, even Control. Those Circus talent spotters, all those years ago. They plucked us when we were golden with hope, told us we were on our way to the Holy Grail… freedom’s protectors! My God! What a question… “why?”

Smiley learns that when Haydon had the affair with Ann, it was on Karla’s orders. He also keen to know about whether Haydon expected Jim Prideaux to be sent on the abortive Czechoslovakia operation. As the friendship between Haydon and Prideaux has been stressed several times, there’s an undeniable sense of emotion as he replies to Smiley’s questioning.

Smiley: Did you expect Control to send Jim Prideaux?
Haydon: Well… obviously we needed to be certain Control would rise to the bait. We had to send in a big gun to make the story stick, and we knew he’d only settle for someone outside London Station, someone he trusted.
Smiley: And someone who spoke Czech, of course.
Haydon: Naturally. It had to be a man who was old Circus, to bring the temple down a bit.
Smiley: Yes, I see the logic of it. It was, perhaps, the most famous partnership the Circus ever had: you and him, back in the old days. The iron fist, and the iron glove. Who was it coined that?
Haydon: I got him home, didn’t I?
Smiley: Yes. That was good of you.

The clearest sign that Haydon has got under Smiley’s skin is demonstrated by the angry way Smiley opens the door after he’s finished his questioning.  A small moment, like many of Smiley’s brief displays of anger, but it’s quite telling.

Haydon never made it back to Moscow, he was murdered before the exchange could be made.  The novel implies (but doesn’t overly state) that Jim Prideaux killed him, the television adaptation is a little clearer on this point.

This leaves a final scene, which effectively acts as a coda, in which Smiley and Ann discuss her latest (completed) affair as well as Bill Haydon.  She tells Smiley that she never loved Bill, and her final words “Poor George. Life’s such a puzzle to you, isn’t it?” is a bittersweet ending to an exceptional drama serial.

Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy (BBC 1979). Episode Six

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Smiley’s hunt for the mole leads him to a rather dingy London drinking club.  There he meets Jerry Westerby (Joss Ackland).  Westerby is a newspaper reporter who’s done odd jobs for the Circus in the past – such as delivering packages to dead letter drops.  “Telephone kiosk, ledge at the top, dump a little package ready for collection.”

Westerby is clearly somebody who enjoys the cloak and dagger aspect of the job, as well as the glamour of operating on the fringes of the intelligence services, athough it seems that his usefulness has come to an end.  Possibly his fondness for alcohol is the reason.  “Firewater not good for braves. They think I’ll blab, crack up.”

Or it may be because of what he knows about the Jim Prideaux shooting.  Westerby was in Czechoslovakia at the time and he learnt that “the Russians moved in on Saturday, it was the day after they got Jim. Russians knew the lot, knew he was coming. They were lying in wait for him. Bad story, you see. Bad for big chief. Bad for tribe.”   When Westerby returned to England he told Toby Esterhase, but Toby professed not to believe it, dismissing it as nothing more than drunken ravings.

It’s a lovely cameo from Ackland and Guinness is his usual excellent self.  Whilst it’s clear from the outset that Westerby wouldn’t necessarily be Smiley’s first choice as a lunch companion, he’s easily able to tease the information out of the newspaper man.  As always, Smiley asks many more questions than he answers – witness the end of lunch, as Westerby wonders exactly what Smiley’s been after.  Guinness/Smiley remains inscrutable, offering very little.  At one point, rather than commit himself, he smiles – and the camera remains on him as the smile slowly fades away.  Tight close-ups (switching between Ackland and Guinness) are used in this scene, very effectively.  As they finish their lunch, Westerby muses about Toby Esterhase.

Westerby: Rum chap, Toby Esterhase.
Smiley: But good.
Westerby: God, brilliant! First-rate chap! But rum.

If Smiley has tended to be mostly passive so far, eliciting information rather than sharing it and not expressing too many of his own opinions, then that changes once he confronts Toby.  It’s the first time he’s spoken to one of the four suspects and it signals a major turning point in the story.

Toby meets Guillam at a safe house – apparently to see a potential agent – but instead he’s met by George Smiley.  Now it’s Smiley who does the majority of the talking, whilst the camera closes in on Toby’s increasingly pained face.  Guinness is, once again, excellent, as he’s able to fillet and humiliate Toby – but in the most gentlemanly way.

George Smiley: Ever bought a fake picture, Toby?
Esterhase: I sold a couple once.
Smiley: The more you pay for it, the less inclined you are to doubt its authenticity.

Eventually it becomes clear to Toby that source Merlin, and his London representative Polyakov, has deeply compromised the Circus.  He’s desperate to assure Smiley that he knew nothing about it, as well as downplaying his own involvement.

Esterhase: Why pick on the little guy? Why not pick on the big ones? Percy Allenine, Bill Haydon!
Guillam: I thought you were a big guy these days.
Smiley: You’re the perfect choice, Toby: resentful about slow promotion, sharp-witted, fond of money. With you as his agent, Polyakov has a cover story that really sits up and works. The big three give you the little sealed packets of chickenfeed, and Moscow Centre thinks you’re all theirs. The only problem arises when it turns out you’ve been handing Polyakov the crown jewels, and getting Russian chickenfeed in return. If that’s the case, Toby, you’re going to need some pretty good friends. Like us. Gerald’s a Russian mole, of course. And he’s pulled the Circus inside out.

Afterwards, Smiley commiserates with him.  “Poor Toby. Yes, I do see, what a dog’s life you must have had running between them all.”  It might be just another scene of people sat in a room talking, but in the context of the story it’s riveting stuff.  The result is that Smiley’s happy to discount Toby as a suspect, so that leaves the other three.

Now we’re into the endgame.  Toby has told Smiley about the location of the safe-house where Polyakov meets the representatives of the Circus.  In order to flush out the mole, a crisis needs to be created (so a crash meeting with Polyakov can be called).  He sends Ricki Tarr to Paris and instructs him to telex the following message back to London Station.  “Have information vital to the safeguarding of the service. Request immediate meeting. Personal.”

Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy (BBC 1979). Episode Five

tinker 05

LeCarre’s novel opens with Jim Prideaux taking up his new role as a schoolmaster.  Periodically through the book we return to Pridaeux and witness his growing friendship with one of the boys, Bill Roache, nicknamed “Jumbo” by Pridaeux.

Arthur Hopcraft’s adaptation chooses to hold back the school material until this episode, rather than scatter it throughout the story.  This was probably the right thing to do, although it does mean we lose a great deal of the interaction between Prideaux and Roach.  But a little does remain, such as the scene where Roach spies Prideaux digging up a package.  Roach can’t resist taking a peep through the caravan window (where Prideaux lives) and is shocked to see him holding a gun.

Prideaux: We’ve got a secret, haven’t we? I can trust you, I know that. We’re good at keeping secrets, loners like you and me.
Roach: Is it because of that man? Would you shoot him? Are you working undercover, like Bulldog Drummond in the book? Some of the boys wanted to call you Bulldog, but we thought Rhino was better. Bigger than a bulldog.
Prideaux: Well I, uh… I used to be a soldier, Jumbo. What you saw just now, that’s a souvenir, you know, it’s like this…
[he points to his back]
Prideaux: How I got it, they’re both secrets, I keep them to myself. Y’understand that, don’t you Jumbo?
Roach: Yes, sir.
Prideaux: Knew you would, knew you would.

Since getting shot, Jim’s turned into something of an eccentric, at least when the schoolboys are around.  He lets them drive his vintage car (an Alvis, his pride and joy) and has clearly made a deep impression on many of them (especially Roach).  But he still has wounds that haven’t healed (and not just physical ones) which will be examined later on, when Smiley visits him.

But before Smiley speaks to Prideaux, he makes a call on Sam Collins (John Standing) who was duty officer the night Jim Prideaux was shot.  When the crisis happened, Sam was unable to get much sense out of Control – so he recalls how relived he was when Bill Haydon turned up.  It’s been repeated several times already just how close Bill Haydon and Jim Prideaux were, and this is clear when Bill takes charge.

All right, Sam. Now, first thing you do, you call this number, it’s Toby Esterhase’s. Tell him you’re speaking for me, and he’s to pick up the two Czechos we’ve had our eyes on in London School of Economics, and lock them up. Now, right away, Sam. Jim’s worth a lot more than those two, but it’s a start. I’ll have a word with the chief hood of the Czech Embassy. If they hurt a hair on Jim Prideaux’s head, I’ll strip the entire Czech network in this country bare. You pass that on. I’ll make him a laughing-stock!

Later, Smiley finally speaks to Jim Pridaeux.  Given the number of flashbacks we’ve seen in the series so far, it was a little surprising that we don’t see Pridaeux’s interrogation by the Czechs – instead Pridaeux just tells us about it.  But in retrospect, that’s actually a plus – as it allows Ian Bannen full reign to describe exactly how bad it was.  And sometimes, words are more powerful than pictures – for example, when he describes the moment they finally broke him.  “I hoped I’d go mad. And no, they knew how to stop that. They left me alone for a couple of days; got me ready for the long one. That was when I ga… ga… gave… g… gave them what they wanted.”

Another interesting moment is when Smiley discusses the friendship between Haydon and Prideaux.  Haydon recommended Prideaux for the service and Smiley is able to quote verbatim from part of the letter that Haydon wrote to the Circus talent-scout, some thirty years earlier.  “He has that heavy quiet that commands. He’s my other half. Between us we’d make one marvelous man. He asks nothing better than to be in my company or that of my wicked, divine friends, and I’m vastly tickled by the compliment. He’s virgin, about eight foot tall, and built by the same firm that did Stonehenge.”

If Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy is a collection of great acting moments, then Ian Bannen’s in this episode must rate very highly.  And although his part of the story seems to be over, events might prove otherwise ….

Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy (BBC 1979). Episode Four

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In many ways Michael Jayston is the glue that holds Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy together.  With Smiley remaining in the shadows until the end, it’s Peter Guillam who has to act as Smiley’s leg-man (for example, venturing into the Circus to obtain the information that he needs).  Guillam isn’t a showy part, but Jayston is perfect casting.  When Smiley’s People was made a few years later, Jayston presumably wasn’t available – so the role of Guillam was played by Michael Byrne.  Byrne’s a decent actor, but Jayston’s loss was keenly felt.

In episode four, Guillam is able to successfully liberate the Testify file from the Circus file-room, but his hopes for a quick getaway are scuppered when Toby Esterhase collars him in the corridor.  “Peter, I am very sorry to disturb you, but we have a crisis. Percy Alleline would like a word with you.”

Guillam finds himself confronted by the Circus’ top-men, with Alleline very much on the warpath.  He tells him he’s been seen with Ricki Tarr.  Guillam denies this and it becomes obvious that Alleline doesn’t have any proof – it’s more of a fishing exercise.  Source Merlin has divulged that Tarr’s wife and child are en-route to England, so logically Tarr must be here as well. And it’s clear that Alleline doesn’t believe Guillam’s denials.

Alleline: What the hell are you shrugging at us like that for? I’m accusing you of playing hooky behind our back with a damn defector from your own damn section, of playing damn-fool parlour games when you don’t know the stakes! And all you do is shrug at me? There’s a law, Guillam, against consorting with enemy agents! You want me to throw the book at you?

Guillam: I haven’t seen him! If anybody’s playing parlour games it’s not me, it’s you! So get off my back!

It’s another scene that throws the main suspects into sharp relief, especially Alleline, who is shown to be both patronising and condescending.  And when Guillam wonders exactly what use Tarr would be as a double-agent, Alleline can only respond with bluster.  “Well never mind what sort.  Muddying pools, poisoning wells maybe.  That damn sort.  Pulling the rug out.”

Whilst waiting for Guillam to return, Smiley and Mendel discuss him.  Mendel’s slightly concerned, since he’s heard some details about Guillam’s past operations – but Smiley remains confident in him.  It’s a scene that helps to give Peter Guillam a little more depth.

Mendel: He does sound jumpy. He might have overdone it a bit there. He was very loud. I’ve seen it all before, tough ones who crack at forty. They lock it away, pretend it isn’t happening, all of a sudden you find ’em sat in front of their desks, the tears pouring on the blotter.

Smiley: I think Peter will manage. You heard something about his murderous assignment in French North Africa, I suppose?

Mendel: Something. Whispers.

Smiley: Peter was over-matched, and lost. His agents were hanged. No one recovers entirely from that sort of thing. That is, I wouldn’t trust a man who did.

Later, Smiley and Guillam discuss Karla (Patrick Stewart) the man who is undoubtedly running the mole.  Smiley reveals that he met him once – in the mid 1950’s, long before Karla became the legendary figure he now is.  In the flashback scene of their meeting it’s notable that Stewart doesn’t have to utter a single word – Guinness does all the talking.

Look, I am not offering you money or hot women or fast cars, you have no use for such things. And I am not going to make any claims about the moral superiority of the West. I’m sure you can see through our values, just as I can see through yours in the East. You and I have spent our lives looking for the weaknesses in each others systems. I’m sure each of us experienced innumerable technical satisfactions in our wretched Cold War. But now your own side is going to shoot you, for nothing. For misdemeanors you have not committed, because of a power struggle within your own kind, because of someone’s suspicions or sheer incompetence.

Karla (Patrick Stewart)
Karla (Patrick Stewart)

Karla remains unmoved by Smiley’s offer and eventually returns to Moscow, where he wasn’t shot  – instead during the next few decades he was gradually able to increase his power-base.  When Guillam reflects that Karla’s fireproof, Smiley angrily responds that he’s “NOT fireproof!  Because he’s a fanatic! I may have acted like a soft dolt, the very archetype of a flabby Western liberal but I’d rather be my kind of fool than his. One day that lack of moderation will be Karla’s downfall.”

As there’s still three episodes to go, there’s a certain sense on running on the spot – but there’s still some important matters to be discussed.  The news that Irina has been executed in Moscow causes Smiley some concern.

Smiley: Ricky Tarr mustn’t know. It’s vital that he gets no wind of this! God knows what he would or would not do if he found out, and we may need to make further use of him.

Guillam: Do you really believe all that guff about Tarr being in love with her? The little homestead in the Highlands? The avenging lover, the honourable Ricky Tarr?

Smiley: He may be compelled, Peter, everyone has a loyalty somewhere. He mustn’t know.

It’s a moment that once again raises the question whether Ricky had any feelings for Irina or if he was purely interested in her for the information about the mole.  And Jim Prideaux has been tracked down (he’s teaching at a minor prep school) and it’s clear he’s somebody that Smiley needs to talk to urgently.  It’s emphasied that Prideaux and Bill Haydon were great friends.  Since this has been mentioned several times before, it’s obviously a point of some importance.

Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy (BBC 1979). Episode Three

tinker 03

Beryl Reid had an interesting career.  She first came to prominence in the 1950’s via the radio series Educating Archie, where she played several roles (the mischievous schoolgirl Monica and the Brummie Marlene).  During the 1960’s she continued to ply her trade as a comedienne and comic actress in a variety of different series.  She would later reflect that “comedy is the longest apprenticeship in the world.”

But it was a non-comic role, The Killing of Sister George, firstly on stage (for which she won a Tony award) and later on film (where she received a Golden Globe nomination), that bought her to critical prominence.  During the 1970’s she appeared in a number of films such Rosie Dixon – Night Nurse and Carry on Emmannuelle, which are pretty grim viewing, although they’re apparently comedies.  But there were also decent roles in several BBC Plays of the Month, such as Mrs Malaprop in Sheridan’s The Rivals and Amanda in Bernard Shaw’s The Apple Cart.

Her somewhat unpredictable career path would later lead her to the role of Connie Sachs in episode three of Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy.  Critically, both this and her later appearance as Connie (in Smiley’s People) can be considered career highlights – she was BAFTA nominated as Best Actress for Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy and won the BAFTA Best Actress award for Smiley’s People.

In Tinker Tailor she gives an effortless performance opposite Alec Guinness.  Smiley is the patient observer, gently guiding the voluble Connie to the topic he wishes to discuss.  Connie cuts a somewhat sad figure – disfigured by arthritis and living in rather shabby surroundings.  Like Smiley, she has been cast out of the Circus – and she still feels the pain.  “I was the best Head of Research the Circus ever had!  Everyone knew that! And what did they say the day they gave me the chop?  That personnel cow!  ‘You’re losing your sense of proportion, Connie.  Time you got out into the real world.’  I hate the real world!  I like the Circus and my lovely boys!”

With official Circus records not available to him, Connie is an invaluable resource, since she has instant recall of every case that ever passed her desk.  Smiley is interested in an agent called Polyakov and Connie recalls that when she tried to get Esterhase and Alleline to investigate him further, they declined.  And shortly afterwards Connie was retired from the Circus.  Another example of someone too close to the truth about the mole having to be removed?

Although her screen-time is only a little over seven minutes, it’s still one of the most memorable parts of the serial.  “Poor loves. Trained to Empire, trained to rule the waves. Englishmen could be proud then, George. They could… All gone.”

Smiley has entrusted Peter Guillam with the task of obtaining the log recording Ricki Tarr’s reports to London concerning the Russian agent Irina.  Smiley reminds him to exercise extreme caution.  “You must assume, Peter, the Circus has dogs on you twenty four hours a day. Think of it as a foreign country.”

The Circus, as befits Britain in the late 1970’s is somewhat shabby and tired-looking.  This is exemplified by the squeaky lift door.  When Guillam says it’s about time that it was sorted, the receptionist gloomily tells him that he’s asked for it to be dealt with on more than one occasion.

Guillam’s visit is fruitless – the log has been tampered with and a vital page removed, but along the way he bumps into Haydon, Bland, Esterhase and Alleline who all react to him with varying levels of suspicion.  Haydon seems the most amused.  “What the hell are you doing here, you pariah?”.  But like all spies, he’s not always easy to read.

These scenes give us our first proper look at the four top men at the Circus – one of whom is “Gerald” the Soviet mole.  They didn’t appear in episode two and their only appearance in the first episode was in the pre-credits sequence, when the four of them silently entered a meeting-room.

The scene in the first episode is worth looking at in a little more detail, as even though only Alleline speaks, the it still manages to clearly define all their characters.  First to enter is Toby Esterhase – the fact he’s early and that he gets up later to close the door behind Haydon clearly demonstrates his fussy, precise nature. Next is Roy Bland, cigarette dangling casually from his mouth. Percy Alleline is the third one in, sitting down with a pompous, self important air. Bill Haydon is last – balancing his cup of tea with the saucer on top, he betrays a sardonic, amused attitude

The remainder of the episode is told in flashback, some six months before Control’s death.  Alleline has just proudly unveiled his Witchcraft material, much to Control’s disgust.

Alleline: Merlin is the fruit of a long cultivation by certain people in the Circus. People who are bound to me as I am to them. People who are not at all entertained by the failure rate about this place. There’s been too much blown, too much lost, too much wasted. Too many scandals. I’ve said so many times, but I might as well have talked to the wind for all the heed he paid me.
Control: “He” means me, George.
Alleline: The ordinary principles of tradecraft and security have gone to the wall in this service. It’s all “divide and rule”, stimulated from the top.
Control: Me again.
Alleline: We’re losing our livelihood. Our self-respect. We’ve had enough. We’ve had a bellyfull, in fact.

Does Control distrust the material or Alleline?  He charges Smiley to speak to Haydon, Bland and Esterhase.  “Sweat them, George.  Tempt them.  Bully them. Anything damn thing.  Give them whatever they eat.  I need time.”

Smiley draws a blank with all three.  First he speaks to Toby Esterhase.

Esterhase: My problem is promotion. I mean the absence of it. I have so many years’ seniority that I feel actually quite embarrassed when these young fellows ask me to take orders from them.
Smiley: Who, Toby? Which young fellows? Roy Bland? Percy? Would you call Percy young? Who?
Esterhase: When you’re overdue for promotion and working your fingers to the bone, anyone looks young who’s above you on the ladder.
Smiley: Perhaps Control could move you up a few rungs…
Esterhase: Actually, George, I am not too sure he is able to.

Roy Bland, despite being a protegee of Smiley’s, is equally disinterested.

If there’s no deal, you’ll have to tell Control to get stuffed! I’ve paid, you see, you know that! I don’t know what the hell I’ve bought with it, but I’ve paid a packet. Poznan, Budapest, Prague, back to Poznan – have you ever been to Poznan? – Sofia, Kiev, two bloody nervous breakdowns and still between the shafts! That’s big money at any age. Even yours.

The relationship between George Smiley and Bill Haydon is tense, since Haydon had previously had an affair with Ann, Smiley’s wife. He does, however, argue quite convincingly that Control’s problem is with Alleline – not the Witchcraft material.

Merlin would do if he were my source, wouldn’t he? If dazzling bloody Bill here pottered along and said he’d hooked a whacking big fish and wanted to play him alone and sod the expense, what would happen then? Control would say, “That’s very nifty of you, Bill boy. You do it just the way you want, Bill Boy. Have some filthy jasmine tea.”

With the personalities of the four top men now firmly established, Smiley begins his investigation in earnest.

Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy (BBC 1979). Episode Two

tinker 02

Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy was certainly a series that took its time.  With seven episodes to play with, it could afford to take the long road – and this was very evident in episode two.

Ricki Tarr’s story runs for the first thirty minutes and it’s fair to say that the amount of plot in this section could have easily been condensed down to, say, ten minutes.  But plot obviously wasn’t the overriding factor here – rather, it’s developing character and atmosphere.

So while Tarr’s romancing of the Russian spy Irina (Susan Kodicek) is told at a leisurely pace, it doesn’t feel drawn out and the location filming in Lisbon helps to bring a dash of colour to a series that otherwise exists in the (intentionally) drab world of British intelligence.

Ricki Tarr’s been dispached to Lisbon to liase with station head Tufty Thessinger (Thorley Walters).  Tufty is convinced that a Russian called Boris (Hilary Minster) is ripe for the picking.  Tarr keeps him under observation for a while and he reports back to Tufty that Boris is bad news.  “We’re definitely in the wrong ball game with this chummy.  That’s a professional, a Moscow Centre-trained hood.  The way he sets himself.  That alone!”

Tarr is about to report back that Boris is a no-go, when he decides to take a look around his apartment and see what happens.  It’s dangerous and possibly somewhat reckless, but that sums up Tarr’s character – he’s someone who’s supremely confident in his own abilities to extricate himself from any situation.

When he breaks into the flat, Boris isn’t there – but his wife Irina is.  Tarr puts on an Australian accent and spins her a line about how Boris has stolen his girlfriend.  He manages to use all of his considerable charm to arrange another meeting with her the following day, but he quickly learns that Irina is no fool.

There’s an English expression.  ‘It takes one to spot one’.  You wouldn’t have fooled me for long.  It’s the way we look for things, isn’t it?  We don’t stare.  We don’t seem to be looking.  We are not like tourists … or prostitutes … or pickpockets.  We just know how to see.

The relationship between Ricki and Irina is the heart of the episode – and it’s a fascinating one.  As they’re both spies, how much trust can we put in what they say?  Ricki seems to be the colder, more professional one.  He picks up Irina for no other reason than to understand what makes Boris tick.  As their brief relationship blossoms, does he ever feel any genuine love for her?  Or is the fact she has information about a mole in British Intelligence the reason for his growing interest in her?

Irina professes love for Ricki.  But again, can we believe her?  Or is she simply telling him this so that he’ll take her back to London as a defector?  But the fact she leaves him a series of notes in a dead-letter drop is one indication that her feelings were genuine.  By the time he visits the drop, she’s gone – forcibly taken back to Moscow where, presumably, a brutal interrogation awaits.  Was she betrayed and if so, was it the mole in London?  Her parting gift to him is the sheaf of documents which detail what she knows.  “I would prefer to give you my life, but I think that this wretched secret will be all I have to make you happy.  Use it well”.

Her notes confirm that the mole in London is known by the codename of Gerald and that he’s a high-ranking member of British Intelligence.  She doesn’t name names though, so Lacon needs somebody to investigate the Circus clandestinely and Smiley is the obvious man for the job.  Especially since six months previously he tried to convince Lacon that there was a mole – only for Lacon to dismiss him out of hand.

Since the bulk of the episode is taken up with Tarr’s flashback, there’s not a great deal of screen time for Alec Guinness, but he’s still so good when he does appear – especially when he and Anthony Bate are walking through Lacon’s garden, discussing how the enquiry will work.  As ever, it’s a masterclass in underplaying.

Smiley and Lacon discuss how well the Circus has been doing lately, especially with Alleline’s source of material, codenamed “Witchcraft”.  The mysterious source, Merlin, has provided the Circus with invaluable intelligence – but the uncomfortable, unspoken question is how much credence can be placed on this material if Moscow have an agent at the heart of the Circus?  Is Witchcraft information or disinformation?

That can wait for another time, for now Smiley is holed up in an anonymous hotel, where he can work undisturbed.  He plans a trip to Oxford to visit an invaluable source whilst he asks Peter Guillam to break into the Circus to steal some key files …..

Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy (BBC 1979). Episode One

tinker 01

Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy has a cast to die for.  It’s headed, of course, by Alec Guinness and features the likes of Michael Jayston, Anthony Bate, George Sewell, Bernard Hepton, Ian Richardson, Hywel Bennett, Terence Rigby, Ian Bannen, John Wells, Joss Ackland, Warren Clarke, Thorley Walters, Beryl Reid, Patrick Stewart, Nigel Stock and Sian Phillips.

Arthur Hopcraft’s adaptation took John LeCarre’s novel and turned it into seven episodes of absorbing television.  For some people, it’s too long and it’s too talky.  Certainly, if you like action, this probably isn’t the programme for you.  Tinker Tailor is concerned with men (and the occasional woman) who tend to sit in rooms and talk.  There’s the odd spot of action and guns are occasionally brandished – but it’s by no means a thriller.

Central to Tinker Tailor is Alec Guinness as George Smiley.  Smiley is less of a talker and more of a listener.  It’s a pared-down, minimalistic performance by Guinness – at times, Smiley is content to remain in the background as a nebulous figure (absorbing the information he’s told, but not feeling the need to vouchsafe his own opinions or feelings).

Moving onto episode one, Hopcraft elects to open with a meeting between Jim Prideaux (Ian Bannen) and Control (Alexander Knox). Control reveals that there’s a mole operating at the highest levels of British Intelligence (nicknamed “the Circus”).  Control sends Prideaux to Czechoslovakia to speak to a potential asset called Stevcek, who Control thinks can identify the traitor.

Control has narrowed it down to five possibilities and assigns each a codename –

Percy Alleline (Michael Aldridge), Director of Operations – Tinker
Bill Haydon (Ian Richardson), Head of Personnel – Tailor
Roy Bland (Terence Rigby), Head of Iron Curtain Networks – Soldier
Toby Esterhase (Bernard Hepton), Top Lamplighter – Poorman
George Smiley (Alec Guinness), Control’s deputy – Beggarman

Prideaux’s mission is a disaster, he was led into a trap, shot and captured (we later learn that he’s back in England, although his location isn’t divulged).

In LeCarre’s novel, all of this was only reported second-hand later in the book.  Instead, chapter one begins with Jim arriving at a minor public school as a temporary teacher.  He befriends one of the boys and it’s a good while before we discover his identity and the part he played in the abortive operation.

Hopcraft was probably wise to hold this part back, as opening with a list of suspects and the mission is a much stronger hook. And whilst the lengthy school scenes work well in print, it probably would have tried the patience of the television audience (although I do slightly regret that so much from this part of the novel was jettisoned by Hopcraft).

After Pridaeux’s abortive Czech adventure, we see that time has moved on.  Control is dead, Smiley’s been sacked and Alleline is now running the show.  When we see Smiley, he appears content to potter about doing little – before having the misfortune to run into Roddy Martingdale (Nigel Stock).

Martingdale appears to be somebody on the fringes of the intelligence community who wishes to imply that he’s a good deal closer to the centre.  He attempts to pump Smiley for information with no success, and then he moves on to discuss (in acid detail) the four main men at the Circus.  As one of these must be the mole (I think we can safely discount Smiley, although it would have been an excellent twist had LeCarre decided to make Smiley the mole after all) his observations are interesting – although like a great deal of what he has to say, possibly not terribly accurate.

Stock gives a fine performance as a pompous windbag and Guinness soaks up all of Martingdale’s inane ramblings with a long suffering air – only right at the end does Smiley show a flash of anger.  One interesting point which emerges is the reveal that Bill Haydon was a lover of Ann, Smiley’s wife.  Regularly, people will ask Smiley how Ann is, and he will always respond that she’s fine – even though her present location is a mystery to him.  Theirs is clearly a marriage with problems, but it’s no surprise that Smiley (a master of the secret) doesn’t share his thoughts with anyone else.

Before Smiley bumped into Martindale, he spied Peter Guillam (Michael Jayston) in the street outside and hastily beat a retreat in the opposite direction (unfortunately bumping into Martindale en-route).  When Smiley gets home, Guillam is already there (he’s an expert with locks).  He tells him that Lacon (Anthony Bate) wants to see him.  Lacon is the civil servant charged with overseeing the intelligence services and whilst Smiley wearily agrees, he agrees to the meeting nonetheless.

When Smiley and Guillam reach Lacon’s house, they find somebody else is also there – Ricki Tarr (Hywel Bennett).  Tarr used to be a Scalphunter (Circus slang for the people who do all the dirty work) but he’s been posted as officially missing.  Apart from Guillam, nobody else from the Circus knows that he’s back in England.  As Lacon, Smiley and Guillam sit down, Tarr (somewhat relishing his captive audience) begins his story.

I’ve got a story to tell you, it’s all about spies.  And if it’s true, which I think it is, you boys are gonna need a whole new organisation, right?

Part of William Hartnell’s Desert Island Discs interview found

hartnell

A section of William Hartnell’s 1965 Desert Island Discs interview (running for about 15 minutes) has just been returned to the BBC Archives, together with complete DID’s featuring the Reverend W Awdry, Diana Rigg and Louis Armstrong.  The Louis Armstrong DID was Armstrong’s own personal copy, whilst the others have been donated by listeners.

You can listen or download the Hartnell interview here or alternatively listen via the YouTube clip at the bottom of the post.

Although it’s a shame that the DID excerpt cuts off just before he talks about Doctor Who, it’s lovely to have this chance to hear the man talk.  Audio or film interviews with William Hartnell are incredibly scarce – and this, along with the short film interview included on The Tenth Planet DVD, offer a rare chance to hear the thoughts of Hartnell, the man.

Thanks to the wonders of the Internet, below is a transcript of the section of Hartnell’s DID that covers his conversation about Doctor Who.  The material in brackets was excised from the finished programme.

Hartnell: And playing this part, strangely enough, led to the part of Dr. Who.

Plomley: Yes.

Hartnell: Because it so ha.. turned out that after playing Dr. Who for several months Verity Lambert, my producer, [ a very charming and lovable person, ] tol… finally confessed to me that she’d seen the film and she decided that there was her Dr. Who.

Plomley: Yes. How long have you been playing Dr. Who?

Hartnell: Two years.

Plomley: Are they weekly instalments?

Hartnell: Yes, yes.

Plomley: This is pretty hard graft, isn’t it?

Hartnell: Yes. Rehearse all the week and tape them on a Friday.

Plomley: And children do you find the toughest critics?

Hartnell: I certainly do. [ This is where I love playing to children, because you can’t pull the wool over their eyes. And when they write to me, you know, it’s the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. ]

Plomley: And it doesn’t worry you that after this you may be typecast again as absent-minded professors?

Hartnell: No, my dear boy even if it’s in a bath-chair for the rest of my life.

Plomley: [ Yes. Now this… this of course ] Dr. Who leaves you no time to do anything else.

Hartnell: No, it doesn’t.

Plomley: So this is it for the foreseeable future.

Hartnell: Yes, yes.

Plomley: For many years.

Hartnell: Yes, I think so. They’ve.. they give me pretty well carte blanche and as a matter of fact Verity has said that when the time comes we will give you a bath-chair free.

Plomley: LAUGH

Hartnell: So I said I might take her up on that one day.

Plomley: Right well in the meantime while we’re still young and active let’s have record number five.

Hartnell: Yes. Before I grow another white wig. [ Well now let’s.. let’s change the subject and the theme of music, shall we? I’d like to hear one of Louis Armstrong’s early records. I don’t know when he made it quite. But it’s a trumpet solo, and this.. this man I find fascinating. I remember him when I was quite young. And I think he’s what I call the king-pin of Jazz. And I think the, well I don’t know who else there would be to.. to.. to place in the same category. Anyway let’s.. I’d love to hear this record.

Plomley: What’s the number?

Hartnell: The number is – er –

STUDIO CHAT

BAND 5 – PARTIAL RETAKE

Plomley: How long have you been playing Dr. Who?

Hartnell: 2 years

Plomley: Weekly instalments?

Hartnell: Oh yes.

Plomley: Well this is really hard graft, isn’t it, one.. an instalment of that every week.

Hartnell: Yes, but I enjoy it.

Plomley: Do you like playing to children?

Hartnell: I love them. I love children. Nothing gives me greater delight, because I.. I think they are the greatest critics in the world.

Plomley: Yes. Tough critics.

Hartnell: Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes. When they write to me they demand sometimes over and above what I can provide, but I send them a photograph and sign it and answer some of their letters. And one little child wrote to me not so long ago, which is rather charming, she said that how much.. she told me in her letter how much she liked the show, and she ended up saying when I grow up I will marry you – aged 4 and a half.

Plomley: LAUGH

Hartnell: Oh yes.

Plomley: Now does it worry you, Bill, that you may be type-cast again as an absent-minded professor?

Hartnell: No, I shall enjoy that tremendously. Even if a bath-chair goes with it. Which brings me to the point of where Verity Lambert, my own producer, said that when the time comes she said we will produce a bath-chair for you – free.

Plomley: Well this sounds as if you’re going to be doing Dr. Who for a good many years.

Hartnell: I’m afraid so.

Plomley: And of course…

Hartnell: Or am I afraid so? I don’t know.

Plomley: It leaves you no time to do anything else.

Hartnell: No, nothing at all – no. It’s once a week and we tape it every Friday.

The Day of the Triffids (BBC 1981). Episode Six

triffids 06

Six years have passed since the events seen in episode five.  Bill and Jo now have a young son and Susan, the girl Bill effectively adopted, is growing up.  They, together with a blind couple who live with them, have managed to keep their small community ticking over.

There are problems though and these are mostly Triffid related.  Although they regularly destroy them, the Triffids always come back.  Bill has built an electric fence – but powering it constantly isn’t possible.  There’s a very effective sequence early on, when Jo opens the curtains to find a group of Triffids right outside.  Just the small glimpse that we can see of them makes them even more disturbing.

The unexpected arrival of Coker offers a way out.  He’s established a community of several hundred people on the Isle of Wight and since it’s an island, it can be defended against Triffids.  Coker asks Bill and the others to join them and work on a way to eradicate the Triffids once and for all.  He then talks a little about how the community functions.

Those of us all over there have all agreed we’re not out to reconstruct the world as it was.  We want to build something new, better.  Some people don’t agree with that, they want to keep a lot of the bad, old features.  If anybody doesn’t like us, or we don’t like them, we ask them to move somewhere else.

Shortly after Coker leaves, they are visited by a number of people in military fatigues headed by a man called Torrance (Gary Olsen).  The book makes it explicit that he’s the same red-headed man who shot at Bill and the blind people earlier in the story,  This doesn’t happen here, so you could be forgiven for thinking they’re two separate people.  Torrance wants to move another eighteen blind people into Bill’s community and whilst he admits that it’ll be hard work for them all to survive on the land for the next few years, after that he tells them they’ll be able to relax a little.

Bill comes to realise that Torrance is effectively inviting him to become a feudal lord.  Torrance, like Coker, is given a chance to outline how their community operates.

Supreme authority is vested in the council.  It will rule.  It will also control the armed forces.  Then, of course, there’s the rest of the world to consider.  Everywhere must be in the same sort of chaos.  Clearly, it’s our national duty to get on our feet as soon as possible and assume a dominant role and discourage any aggressors from organising against us.

It is the diametric opposite of Coker’s community.  Coker wants to build something new and different, whilst Torrance is seeking to rebuild the new world very much along the lines of the old.  Given that there’s been a general feeling throughout the story that any rebuilding must be an improvement on the old ways, it’s no surprise that Bill and the others reject Torrance’s offer and they leave him and his men to deal with the Triffids whilst they head for the Isle of Wight.

Earlier in the episode, Bill and Jo discuss exactly how the catastrophe happened.  Jo, like many people, believes that the comet was a natural phenomenon, but Bill isn’t so sure.

Do you know how many satellites were going round up there?  How many weapons?  Or what was in the weapons?  They never told us.  They never asked us.  I suppose one of these weapons had been specially constructed to emit a radiation that our eyes couldn’t stand.  Something that would burn out the optic nerve.  Suppose there was an accident.  This weapon would operate at low levels, only blinding people they wanted to blind.  But after the accident, it went off so far up that anyone on earth could receive direct radiation from it.

Back in 1981 this would have seemed horribly possible, so when you realise that it was part of Wyndham’s novel (published in 1951, six years before the first satellite was launched) it’s an impressive feat of prediction for him to anticapte the weaponising of space.  Torrance’s aggressive militarism seems set to repeat these same mistakes, so it’s understandable that Bill and his friends reject him.

In conclusion, this is a creepily effective serial that has only improved with age.  It naturally had a limited budget, so in earlier episodes it couldn’t show the devastation of London in any particular detail – but it did manage to efficiently imply it via sound effects (gunshots, cries, etc).  If you want to watch a faithful adaptation of the novel, then this is the only one to go for – as both the film and the 2009 TV version veer wildly from Wyndham’s original.

Something of a classic, this deserves a place in anybody’s collection.

The Day of the Triffids (BBC 1981). Episode Five

triffids 05

Episode Five concerns itself with Bill’s quest to find Jo, which leads him out of London and into the country.  Coker joins him for the trip.  One of the major plus-points of this episode is Maurice Colbourne, who was always such a watchable actor with a very strong presence.  Although he appeared briefly in a few previous episodes, he’s much more central in this one.  After he and Bill rest in an abandoned pub, it’s Coker who can clearly see the way forward.

We must be part of a community to have any hope for the future at all.  At the moment we’ve got all we need.  Food, supplies, everything.  But the food will go bad, the metal will rust, the petrol to drive the machines will run out.  Before that happens, we have to learn to plough and learn to make ploughs, and learn to smelt the iron to make the ploughshares.  We must learn to make good all that we wear out.  If not …. we say goodbye to civilisation and we slide right back into savagery.

Bill and Coker find the community at Tynsham, but Jo isn’t there.  A number of the survivors have also moved on, due to a serious disagreement.  The remaining survivors at Tynsham are led by Miss Durrant (Perlita Nelson) and they’ve rejected the notion that pro-creation is key to survival – instead they plan to exist by strictly Christian principles and they put their faith in God to save them.

Coker decides to stay with them, as he believes that he can make something of the community, and Bill travels on.  Along the way he effectively adopts an orphaned young girl, Susan (Emily Dean).  It’s interesting to see how this, like so much of The Day of the Triffids, was directly paralleled in Terry Nation’s Survivors.  Essentially Survivors is The Day of the Triffids writ-large, but without any Triffids.

Wyndham gave Susan more of a back-story (about the death of her parents and her fears and feelings) which isn’t used here, that’s a bit of a pity as without it she’s something of an underdeveloped character.

Together they eventually manage to find Jo (along with a few others) and they all decide to return to the community at Tynsham.  But disease has struck – many are dead and the others have left.  Of Coker, there’s no sign.  So they face the prospect of having to establish their own small community, whilst all around the Triffids are looming …..

There’s certainly more Triffid action in this episode.  Bill gets to shoot a few of them – with both a rile and a Triffid gun.  When Coker asks Bill if the Triffids frighten him he says yes, “and they sicken me, too.  And what sickens me the most is that inside this mess they are the only things that are going to fatten and thrive”.

Whilst there weren’t that many Triffids in London, there seems to be more of them in the countryside – whether they’re breeding or whether there were tens of thousands in captivity who’ve escaped is never made clear.  But they seem to be an ever-growing menace (even more so in the final episode).

A word about Christopher Gunning’s score.  It wouldn’t have been a surprise (because of period when this was made) for the BBC Radiophonic Workshop to have provided the incidental music, but instead Gunning uses more traditional instruments (instead of the synthesizers favoured by the Radiophonic Workshop).

In episode five’s score, the piano dominates – and as Bill’s search for Jo reaches a happy conclusion, the music reaches an appealing crescendo.  Given how dark the majority of the story is, Gunning’s music helps to provide a sliver of light and hope.

The Day of the Triffids (BBC 1981). Episode Four

triffids 04

Bill and a number of other people (including Jo) have been captured by Coker – who staged the phony fire at the end of episode three.  He allocates one sighted person to a party of blind people and assigns them to a district.  They have to find a place to live and make regular trips to locate food – which will keep everybody alive until (Coker says) more organised help turns up.

Bill doesn’t believe that any help is coming but Coker’s a good enough judge of character to know that once he gets to know them, Bill won’t leave his party.  Whilst he was previously able to discuss (in abstract terms) that keeping the blind alive was ultimately fruitless, when he has to deal with actual people his humanity will ensure that he’ll do everything he can for them.

But even with his best efforts, there are numerous dangers.  Several are killed by a red-haired man (Gary Olsen) who’s leading a rival party.  His motivation for shooting them isn’t clear here, but he’s a character that will return later in the story.

The Triffids also claim some victims in another nicely directed scene.  As mentioned before, as they haven’t featured for a while their sudden reappearance in the middle of the episode comes as something of a jolt.

Disease thins Bill’s party even more and he’s powerless to prevent their deaths.  As London becomes even more of a health hazard, it’s clear that the longer he remains, the more danger he’s in.  Bill seems to be on the point of leaving when he’s visited by a young woman (Eva Griffith) who asks him to stay and offers herself to him.  It’s a heartbreaking scene and like so much of Douglas Livingstone’s adaptation, it’s taken directly from Wyndham’s novel.

Shortly afterwards, she dies and the few survivors flee in panic.  So Bill’s left alone once more. but this time he has an aim – he needs to find Jo.

Brian Aldiss once notoriously dubbed the works of John Wyndham in general and The Day of the Triffids in particular as “cosy catastrophes”.  Aldiss wrote that “the essence of the cosy catastrophe is that the hero should have a pretty good time (a girl, free suites at the Savoy, automobiles for the taking) while everyone else is dying off”.

I have to admit, I don’t find anything particularly “cosy” about either this adaptation or Wyndham’s original novel.  True, Wyndham’s novel did tend to feature mostly middle-class characters (another point which upset Aldiss) and this is changed here by making Bill (courtesy of John Duttine) more working class – but the concepts and themes developed thus far are pretty bleak.