Christmas Television

Christmas Night with the Stars 1958

archivetvmusings Christmas Television , , , , , ,

1958

Running every year from 1958 to 1972 (with the exception of 1961, 1965 and 1966) Christmas Night with the Stars brought together some of the BBC’s top light entertainment and sitcom performers for a specially recorded program of seasonal highjinks.  Only three complete editions – 1958, 1964 and 1972 – now exist and whilst the complete shows are not commercially available (although a cut-down version of the 1972 show was included on the Two Ronnies Christmas DVD) thanks to YouTube they are viewable at present.

Magician David Nixon is your host for the 1958 Stars, with Charlie Chester, the Beverley Sisters, Charlie Drake, Perry Como, Ted Ray, Tony Hancock, Vera Lynn, Jimmy Edwards, Billy Cotton & his Band and Jack Warner providing the entertainment.

If Charlie Chester’s remembered today it’s probably due to his later radio career (he had a Sunday R2 programme which ran until 1996).  Possibly it’s a little unfair that Chester was labelled a cut-price Max Miller, but there’s a certain similarity in style – although Miller was undoubtedly better.  Chester’s spot is amiable enough though, even if he was already looking like a relic from another age back then.

After a rather jolly song (if you don’t listen to the lyrics) from the Beverley Sisters, Charlie Drake makes his appearance.  Drake plays a tuneless carol singer who gets short-shrift from his potential customers.  Hmm, Charlie Drake.  The studio audience clearly love him, collapsing into hysterics at the drop of a hat, but I have to confess that his shtick has always left me cold and this sketch didn’t change my opinion.  Thanks, but no thanks.

Perry Como warbles away for a few minutes before Ted Ray and Kenneth Connor enjoy a nice two-handed sketch – Ray is a patient, convinced he’s swallowed something nasty and Connor is the doctor.  Connor had worked with Ray both on radio and television and they clearly had a good working relationship which shows in the way they interact with each other.  The material is a little thin (a view which seems to be shared by the studio audience – listen how the laughs tail off towards the end) but anything’s an improvement after Charlie Drake!

Next, David Nixon plucks the fairy off the top of the Christmas tree, which then proceeds to dance in front of his eyes.  Today, this may look a little crude but considering how limited the technology was at the time, you have to admit that it’s very nicely done (CSO/Chromakey from a decade or more later sometimes didn’t look as good as this).

Up next is a real Christmas treat, Tony Hancock.  Rather than the East Cheam skit we might have expected, Tony’s contribution is very different – he’s a budgie in a cage, less than impressed with the treatment he’s receiving from his owner.  Because it’s such an unlikely scenario, this is possibly why it works – or maybe it’s just that Hancock was so good he could deadpan his way through a scene no matter how ridiculous he looked.  With his familiar mixture of weary resignation, Hancock is on fine form.  “Not good enough, stuck here all day with nothing to eat. Haven’t had a decent piece of millet since last Thursday.”  Hancock, with just a shrug and a glance (even when dressed as a budgie) can express so much and is a delight.

David Nixon shows Vera Lynn a quick magic trick before she pops off to sing a few songs.  Then we have Jimmy Edwards in Whack-O!  It’s a series that’s been in the news as three previously missing episodes have recently been found, meaning that there’s now seven in existence.  The premise of the series is something of an eye-opener (Edwards plays a headmaster who delights in caning the boys in his charge).  A Muir/Norden vehicle that’s historically interesting rather than amusing, if it succeeds at all then it’s thanks to Edwards’ performance.

Billy Cotton and his Band are on hand for a good old singalong and knees-up, he certainly seems to get the studio audience animated.  C’mon Simply/Network, etc – let’s get the remaining Billy Cotton shows on DVD, you know it makes sense!

It might seem a little odd to end in Dock Green as George Dixon (Jack Warner) toasts his family and friends around the dinner table, but Warner’s background was very much in LE – so much so that Dixon of  Dock Green was for many years made by the Light Entertainment Department rather than the Drama Department.  Warner delivers a lovely monologue and given that so little of Dixon exists, every little scrap is precious.  Maybe one day someone will scoop up all the existing B&W Dixon material to compliment the (mostly) complete colour stories released by Acorn.  C’mon again Simply/Network, etc – this makes sense too!

Christmas Night with the Stars 1958 has peaks and troughs, but overall it’s not a bad way to spend seventy minutes.

The Children of Green Knowe – Simply Media DVD Review

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

knowe

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

HILDREN OF GREEN KNOWE, THE (1986)

Mike Yarwood’s Christmas Show (1982)

archivetvmusings Christmas Television, ITV Comedy - 1980's ,

mike

Although Mike Yarwood was one of the kings of 1970’s light entertainment television, his profile has remained fairly low during the last few decades – mainly because few of his shows are commercially available or receive television airings.  Selected Morecambe & Wise and Two Ronnies Christmas Specials pop up in the schedules each year, but Yarwood (whose 1977 Christmas Special achieved a record rating of twenty eight million – just narrowly beating that year’s Morecambe & Wise show) has tended to remain trapped in the archives.

Maybe this is due to concerns that some of his impersonations are too obscure for modern audiences or possibly his brand of humour just seems too bland and middle of the road.  I’d love to see a run of his work for the BBC in the 1970’s – as that’s generally held to be his strongest – but as it’s not available the next best thing is the DVD It’s Mike Yarwood.

Released by Fremantle in 2007, it contains four shows that he made for Thames between 1982 and 1984 as well as a documentary from 1984 – Mike Yarwood: This Is Him.  The documentary is by far the best thing on the DVD, as it offers a well-observed insight into both the man and the mechanics of how his television programmes were put together.

It’s possible to sense from the 1984 interview material that he knew his time was nearly up.  Like Morecambe & Wise, Yarwood’s move from the BBC to Thames wasn’t the happiest of periods in his professional life.  Thames had the practical resources to match the BBC, but for both M&W and Yarwood the spark seems to have gone.  In M&W’s case it was age – Eric Morecambe’s health became a major limiting factor – whilst Yarwood struggled with the brave new world of the 1980’s.

Many of Yarwood’s favourite subjects (especially Harold Wilson) were no longer central figures in British culture – although that didn’t prevent him from continuing to mimic them.  As he struggled to find new people to add to his act, there was also the question of material.  In the This Is Him documentary, Yarwood comments that he could never impersonate anybody he didn’t like – and his gentle mockery would seem increasingly out of place as the alternative comedy boom of the 1980’s wore on.  The next generation of impressionists, such as Rory Bremner, offered more caustic political commentary which was a world away from Yarwood’s style.  Struggles with stage-fright and alcohol were other reasons why Yarwood gradually faded from the public view.

Like Stanley Baxter, Yarwood was a king of makeup and sometimes this was necessary to sell the illusion of his impression.  Mike Yarwood’s Christmas Show, broadcast in 1982, opens with him dressed as Matthew Kelly on the set of Game for a Laugh.  Without this, it would be impossible to guess from the voice alone who he was impersonating.  Yarwood was quite happy to mock this, as later in the show he hands over to himself dressed as Bob Monkhouse, who offers this tribute to the star of the show.  “The man with a million voices – every one exactly the same.”

He seemed to have been a generous performer though – witness the sketch where he plays Prince Charles.  Suzanne Danielle is Princess Diana and the pair are interviewed by Selina Scott.  Danielle gets several of the best lines and the biggest laughs (it’s easy to imagine some of his contemporaries wouldn’t have been happy with this and would have insisted on some rewrites to redress the balance).

Christmas at the White House sees Yarwood play Ronald Reagan, Sammy Davies Jnr, George Burns and Frank Sinatra.  This sequence offers more proof that his style remained rooted in previous decades (he could have impersonated Davies Jnr, Burns and Sinatra in the 1960’s or 1970’s just as effectively).

During the last ten minutes he does some stand-up impersonations in front of the studio audience.  There’s few props (just the odd hat and chair) but it’s easily the best part of the show.  His subjects remain established figures – Bob Hope, Ken Dodd, Max Bygraves, Frankie Vaughan, Dave Allen – but there’s something about his direct connection with the audience that works really well.

Had there been more of that (and less of the elaborate make-up) then the show would undoubtedly have been better, but Mike Yarwood’s Christmas Show is still a diverting way to spend fifty minutes.

Yes Minister – Party Games

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

party

Broadcast on the 17th of December 1984, Party Games was the final episode of Yes Minster (it lead directly into the sequel series Yes Prime Minster).  It has a slight Chrismassy feel, but it’s not really a surprise that politics (rather than Christmas) dominates proceedings.

We open with Bernard (Derek Fowlds) telling Jim Hacker (Paul Eddington) that there’s something much more urgent than the defence papers he’s working on.  Jim pulls a face when he realises that Bernard’s talking about his Christmas cards, but obediently goes over to the desk where a mountain of cards awaits him.  As might be expected, the neat civil servant in Bernard has organised everything down to the finest detail. “These you sign Jim, these Jim Hacker, these Jim and Annie, these Annie and Jim Hacker, these love from Annie and Jim.”

Sir Humphrey (Nigel Hawthorne) has gone for a meeting with Sir Arnold (John Nettleton). Sir Arnold is the cabinet secretary, and Jim helpfully reminds Bernard (and the audience) exactly how important Sir Arnold is. “In some ways, Sir Arnold is the most powerful chap in the country. Permanent access to the PM, controls Cabinet agenda, controls access to everything.”

He’s due to retire early and is keen to appoint a successor. But the right man for the job has to be able to ask the key question – when Sir Humphrey asks how Sir Arnold plans to spend his retirement, it’s obvious he’s on the right track. “There might be jobs you could pick up, ways you could serve the country, which your successor, whoever he might be, could put your way – er, persuade you to undertake!”

One of the joys of Yes Minister and Yes Prime Minster was the way in which it felt horribly credible.  This wasn’t surprising, since the writers (Anthony Jay and Jonathan Lynn) had access to several different high level sources who would feed them valuable material.  But what is surprising about Party Games is how it seems to predict future events (a sheer fluke but it’s fascinating nonetheless).

When the Home Secretary, shortly after launching his Don’t Drink and Drive Campaign, is picked up for drunk driving, he’s forced to retire.  Shortly after, the Prime Minister also announces his retirement – which sparks an intense leadership contest.  It soon becomes clear that the Prime Minister hated the Home Secretary and only stayed in power long enough to ensure that he’d never get the chance to become PM.

Two clear candidates for the top job emerge.  Eric Jefferies (Peter Jeffrey) and Duncan Short (Philip Short).  Both are viewed with disfavour by the Chief Whip Jeffrey Pearson (James Grout).  “If Eric gets it we’ll have a party split in three months. If it’s Duncan, it’ll take three weeks.”

What they need is a comprise candidate – somebody with no firm opinions and lacking the personality to upset anybody.  Jim Hacker, of course, is the perfect man.  When Party Games was repeated in 1990, shortly after Margaret Thatcher’s fall from power, the parallels between Jim Hacker and John Major were simply irresistible.  Both seemed only to have got the job because they were seen as a safe (and bland) pair of hands – as well as preventing other, more divisive, figures from occupying the top job.

As ever with Yes Minister, the script sparkles with killer one-liners.  A favourite of mine comes from Sir Humphrey after Jim wonders what will happen to the Foreign Secretary following his enforced retirement.  “Well, I gather he was as drunk as a lord. So, after a discreet interval, they’ll probably make him one.”

Nigel Hawthorne also has the opportunity to recite a typical tongue-twisting monologue.  This is how Sir Humphrey breaks the news to Jim that he’s been promoted to Cabinet Secretary. “The relationship which I might tentatively venture to aver has been not without some degree of reciprocal utility and perhaps even occasional gratification, is emerging a point of irreversible bifurcation and, to be brief, is in the propinquity of its ultimate regrettable termination.”

Jim is able to persuade both Duncan and Eric to stand down from the leadership contest after he reads their MI5 files. As Sir Arnold says, “you should always send for Cabinet Ministers’ MI5 files, if you enjoy a good laugh.”

Party Games may feel a little bit stretched out at sixty minutes, but there’s still more than enough good material to make it an episode that repays multiple viewings.

Coronation Street – 24th December 1975

archivetvmusings Christmas Television, ITV Drama - 1970's

corrie 75

Broadcast on the 24th of December 1975, this episode sees the residents of Coronation Street putting on a pantomime to entertain the children.  The chief pleasure is in seeing familiar faces playing dress-up.  Bet Lynch (Julie Goodyear) is the Prince, Len Fairclough (Peter Adamson) is Buttons, Alf Roberts (Bryan Mosley) and Hilda are the Ugly Sisters whilst Deirdre Langton (Anne Kirkbride) is Dandini.  Tricia Hopkins (Kathy Jones) is Cinderella, although she’s fretting about the black eye which was given to her by Deirdre.

The panto takes up the bulk of the episode but it lacks much of an atmosphere, mainly because the child audience are very quiet – only coming to life on a few occasions.  It doesn’t seem to be because they’re bored (at the end they give the cast a rousing reception) so maybe they weren’t efficiently directed.  There was also plenty of comic potential to be gained from on-stage disasters, so it’s a little surprising they didn’t go down this route.

The closest we come to this is when Bet mimes to Rita’s (Barbara Knox) off-stage singing.  Rita, with a glass of wine and a cigarette in hand, is effortlessly able to belt the tune out and amuses herself by changing the tempo of the song mid way through, much to Bet’s obvious annoyance.   Afterwards, through gritted, smiling teeth, Bet tells Rita that “if you ever do anything like that to me again, darling, I will walk straight off and extract your vocal chords with a blunt knife, darling.”

A few random observations – Len’s wearing rather a lot of makeup as Buttons, Deidre has a fine pair of legs and why was Hilda playing one of the Ugly Sisters?  Couldn’t they find two men in the street prepared to drag up?

The inexorable passage of time is highlighted by Ena’s brief appearance.  She seems to be a shadow of her previous self – there’s no sharp retorts or acid observations, instead she’s restricted to looking after a child from the audience and wishing another of the characters well.  Although Violet Carson would remain with the series until 1980, a stroke in 1974 had kept her off the screen for a while and her later appearances would be fairly sporadic.

Away from the panto, the return of Trevor Ogden (Don Hawkins) is the main news.  It’s sometimes easy to forget that the Ogdens first came to the street with several children (mainly because they seemed to fade away quite quickly).  When the Ogdens moved to Coronation Street in 1964, Trevor was fifteen.  He spent the rest of the year getting into various scrapes before running away to London.  Trevor resurfaced for a couple of episode in 1973 before returning again in 1975 for two episodes (this one and the previous one).

Trevor is married, with a young son, and his wife is expecting again.  Although he’s rarely been in contact with Hilda over the last ten years, the news of another child pleases her, as does the fact he’s come all the way down to Weatherfield to see her.  He does have an ulterior motive though – his wife isn’t well and has to go into hospital for a while, so he wonders if Hilda could come down and look after her grandson.  This request is like a blow to the heart for Hilda, and despite the fact that she’s still dressed as an Ugly Sister you can see the pain on Jean Alexander’s face.

The realisation that Trevor wants her to act as a skivvy rankles, as does the fact that he’s never asked her to visit before – only now, when he needs something from her.  It’s a downbeat moment to end the episode on and the strains of the music from the hall (“happy days are here again”) strikes a a very ironic note.

Coronation Street – 24th December 1969

archivetvmusings Christmas Television, ITV Drama - 1970's

corrie 69

Broadcast on the 24th of December 1969, this edition of Coronation Street opens with Annie Walker (Doris Speed) dolefully eyeing two Christmas turkeys.  One of them was ordered by her from the butcher, so the other, bought by her long-suffering husband Jack (Arthur Leslie), is surplus to requirements and Mrs Walker minces no words when telling him that he needs to dispose of it.  The relationship between Annie and Jack was a continual source of comedy throughout the first decade of the series – only coming to an end after Leslie’s sudden death in 1970.

Doris Speed paid tribute to him by saying that “the qualities of sweetness and kindness in Jack Walker came in fact from Arthur Leslie himself.” That certainly seems to come across over the screen – Jack Walker is a thoroughly decent man who loves his wife (no matter how much of a trial she can be at times).  There’s a good example of his desire to act as peacemaker later in the episode.

Hilda (Jean Alexander) and Betty (Betty Turpin) are far from happy.  Both have been accused by Mrs Walker of pinching a necklace lent to her by her friend, Mrs Hepplewhite (Betty England).  Betty pops round to see Hilda and they discuss whether they should work to rule.  It’s interesting that there’s no ducks on Hilda’s wall yet – clearly they didn’t appear until the 1970’s.

The confrontation between Mrs Walker, Hilda and Betty is another classic moment.  Mrs Walker has a face like a granite statue as Betty declares they should have a moratorium until after Christmas (“yes” agrees Hilda, before realising she has no idea what a moratorium is!).  Mrs Walker tells them that she stands by what she said – she has reasonable suspicions.  “Reasonable suspicions, my bunion!” explodes Hilda.  Lovely stuff.

Ena Sharples (Violet Carson) casts a critical eye on the decorations in the Rovers Return.  “Now what have reindeers got to do with Christmas? There were no reindeer in the holy land. Nor Robin Redbreasts I wouldn’t wonder.”  As the decorations go up, they discuss the concert, organised by Emily Nugent (Eileen Derbyshire) and Ernest Bishop (Stephen Hancock), due to be held later on in the select.  The pressures of planning has made Emily even more nervous than usual, as she snaps at Ernest and tells him to shut up!

The concert is another of those moments which engenders a sense of community – one of Coronation Street‘s strengths during the 1960’s and 1970’s.  Highlights included Minnie Caldwell’s (Margot Bryant) recitation of The Owl and the Pussycat, Ken Barlow (William Roche) playing Edelweiss on the trumpet and Irma’s (Sandra Gough) impersonation of Hylda Baker – complete with Bernard (Gordon Kaye) dragged up as Hylda’s sidekick Cynthia.

There’s also the memorable sight of Albert Tatlock (Jack Howarth) dressed as Father Christmas and his reappearance later in the Rovers still wearing his beard (the glue he used was too strong and he can’t remove it).  Stan (Bernard Youens) solves the problem by ripping it off, much to his discomfort,

But sans beard he’s able to close the show, reciting The Girl I Kissed on the Stairs, and with the revelation that Mrs Hepplewhite had already taken her necklace back (without Mrs Walker’s knowledge) order is restored.  Jack attempts to pour oil on troubled waters by giving Hilda and Betty a present of a pair of nylons each.  He knows that Annie could never bring herself to apologise to them direct (“being the way she is, a spoken apology would go very hard.  So for my sake, as well as hers, accept them please.”).  This they do, although they can’t help but complain that they’re very poor quality!

This episode is just a joy from start to finish.

The Glories of Christmas

archivetvmusings Christmas Television, ITV Comedy - 1970's , , , , ,

glories

Broadcast on the 25th of December 1973, The Glories of Christmas boasts a host of familiar faces. John Bluthal, Dora Bryan, Patrick Cargill, Diana Coupland, Les Dawson, Arthur English, Gerald Harper, Kathleen Harrison, Melvyn Hayes, James Hayter, Gordon Honeycombe, John Laurie, Alfred Marks, Bob Monkhouse, Pat Phoenix and Patrick Troughton were amongst those making an appearance (although some were very brief).  But the undoubted star of the show was Princess Grace of Monaco and it was a considerable coup that Yorkshire Television were able to recruit her.

We open with the Beverley Sisters and the Batchelors taking it in turns to sing excerpts from Christmas favourites.  If you can keep a straight face as the Batchelors sway their way through Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer then you have more self control than I do.  This sets the tone for the show – a selection of middle-brow entertainment that in some ways seems a lot further back than 1973.

The music hall setting of part one reinforces this – in quick succession we see the Scottish tenor Kenneth McKellar, Francis Van Dyke and his violin, Janet Baker singing Cherubino’s Aria from Mozart’s The Marriage of Figaro and Rostal & Schaefer tickling the ivories.  Let’s stop for a moment and consider that ITV decided this was just the sort of thing audiences wanted to watch on Christmas Day afternoon.  You certainly wouldn’t see anything like it today (especially the young boy blacked up as a golliwog) which makes it a window into a vanished television age.

Much more worthwhile is part two – The Glories of Literature – in which the cream of the British acting and entertainment profession make fleeting appearances as some of Charles Dickens’ immortal characters.  John Laurie is a perfect Scrooge, Gerald Harper is a fine Mr Jingle whilst Les Dawson is an interesting Mr Micawber (for some reason he chose to play it as W.C. Fields).  Dora Bryan has an amusing few lines as Sarah Gamp and Patrick Troughton reprised his role as Mr Quilp (albeit for twenty seconds or so).  It’s a great pity that his original turn as Quilp (from the 1962 BBC adaptation) is wiped – maybe one day it’ll return from a dusty overseas archive.  We can but hope.

Part three sees Princess Grace read the story of the nativity, which serves a reminder that The Glories of Christmas was produced by ITV’s religious department.  The visual representation of the story is either charming or shoddy (depending on how forgiving you are).  Everything is studio-bound and very false-looking, but maybe they were aiming for the slightly unreal feeling of a school nativity play.  Or it could just be that they lacked the budget to shoot on location.

The Glories of Christmas is a real curio that’s certainly worth a look (if you want to track it down it’s on the Les Dawson at ITV – The Specials DVD).


 

Christmas with Eric and Ernie (1979)

archivetvmusings Christmas Television, ITV Comedy - 1970's

eric & ernie

In March 1979 Eric Morecambe suffered his second heart attack.  Told at one point that he only had three months to live, it was a slow road to recovery.  His illness meant that a traditional Christmas Special was out of the question, so instead Thames gave us Christmas With Eric and Ernie.  This was essentially an extended interview conducted by David Frost which also saw a few special guests (Des O’Connor, Glenda Jackson) popping by to indulge in some banter.

It’s always a pleasure to see a relaxed Morecambe and Wise just sitting around chatting.  Eric is quite notably “on” for the early part of the interview, constantly looking to crack gags, but there are a few moments when he’s in a slightly more reflective mood.

“All comedy is based on fear” he says at one point.  Ernie then comments about tough houses – playing the Glasgow Empire and going off to the sound of your own footsteps.  Both of them delight in reminding Des about his disastrous time at the same theatre (he was so intimated by the audience that he fainted).  Morecambe and Wise went on the next week and offered the audience their impression of Des.  “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen <thud>”.

It’s not a detailed career-spanning retrospective, although Frost does ask about the early days, enabling Ernie to give us a rendition of Let’s Have a Tiddly At the Milk Bar, which is a nice moment.  There’s a clip from the ATV years, which sparks some interesting comments from Eric about how his comedy persona had changed over the years.

Des O’Connor is on hand to receive some good-natured abuse from Eric and Glenda Jackson provides a link to the classic BBC years (not surprisingly there’s no clips).

They end with Bring Me Sunshine and the appearance of Janet Webb to take all the applause is a nod back to former glories.  The Parkinson interview from the 1970’s probably has the edge on this one (a pity it wasn’t included on the BBC Christmas Specials DVD) but this is still a joy.

Eric & Ernie’s Christmas Show (1978)

archivetvmusings Christmas Television, ITV Comedy - 1970's

m&amp;w 78

Having jumped ship from the BBC to Thames in early 1978, this was their second special for ITV (the first was broadcast in October 1978).  Somebody who didn’t travel with them, at least to begin with, was Eddie Braben – so the show was written by Barry Cryer and John Junkin with additional material by Morecambe and Wise themselves.

The lack of Braben, and possibly having to work with producer/director Keith Beckett (who had produced the October special but still must have been an unknown quantity), might explain why everything feels a little laboured.

There’s the occasional ironic nod back to their BBC shows – most notably when they introduce Anna Ford and proceed to indulge in a trademark top hat and tails dance.  The joke, such as it is, is that this isn’t Ford but a lookalike – as becomes obvious when every opportunity is taken to shield her face from the camera.  Given that they were never short of real celebs, it’s an odd sequence – possibly a topical gag that hasn’t travelled down the decades too well?

The biggest waste of talent revolves around Leonard Rossiter’s appearance.  Things start promisingly with some decent cross-talk in front of the curtain – Rossiter tells them he’s not working here, just passing through on his way to the BBC.  Eric then mutters they might not be far behind!  All three then drag up as the Andrews Sisters and mime to Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy.  And that’s it – the mere fact that they’re dressed as the Andrews Sisters is presumably supposed to be hilarious (but alas, no).

It’s not all bad though.  There’s a nice flat scene with Frank Finley and the sequence with Eric, Ernie and the Syd Lawrence Orchestra is good fun.  The big moment is reserved for the end, as Harold Wilson pops round to the flat.  Irrespective of whether he’s funny or not, the novelty of seeing an ex-prime minister interact with the boys is worth the price of admission alone.  The look on Eric and Ernie’s face as Wilson receives a tumultuous round of applause from the audience is lovely to see and Wilson’s a good sport – receiving Eric’s jibe that he’s actually Mike Yarwood (and doing an impression of Tommy Cooper!) with equanimity.

Overall it’s pretty patchy stuff.  M&W still obviously had the audience’s affection, but they weren’t always well served by Cryer and Junkin’s material.

Nightingales – Silent Night

archivetvmusings Channel Four Comedy - 1990's, Christmas Television , , ,

silent 01

Nightingales is an archetypal cult programme.  It ran for two series, in 1990 and 1992, which were broadcast on Channel 4 late at night and therefore attracted a very small audience.  Apart from a re-run a few years after their first transmission, I don’t think it’s been seen anywhere on British television for the last twenty years or so.  This is a little surprising, since it stars three very familiar faces – Robert Lindsey, David Threlfall and James Ellis.  But it’s available on DVD, so anybody who’s curious can investigate further.

What I love about the series is how it plays with typical sitcom conventions.  The premise seems quite straightforward – Carter (Lindsey), Bell (Threlfall) and Sarge (Ellis) are three night-watchmen in a big office block.  As you’d expect, they’re very different characters – Carter is a would-be intellectual, Bell seems to have a limited level of intelligence whilst the Sarge is a constantly cheery fellow who tries (and fails) to keep the other two in order.  The clash of their three personas would be enough to fuel many sitcoms and the opening minutes of each episode seem normal enough (meaning that if you’d ever tuned in for the first time, you’d be lulled into a false sense of security).

But after the initial scenes, writer Paul Makin spins each episode off into unexpected directions.  In Silent Night (broadcast on the 30th of December 1992) it’s Christmas Eve and the Sarge asks the others to join him in their annual carol service.  Carter moans that nobody ever comes – he’s invited the Pope and Harold Pinter for several years but they never show up.  When there’s a knock at the door, the Sarge wonders if it’s Harold.  Carter is dismissive.  “Harold wouldn’t knock like that. That wasn’t a playwright’s knock. That had the Vatican written all over it.”

It’s not the Pope or Harold though – it’s a young woman called Mary (Lia Williams) who’s going to have a baby.  Carter’s not happy.  “It’s Christmas Eve, right? We have a pregnant woman, right? Called Mary, right? Ring a bell? What we have here is an allegory.”  Mary insists it isn’t an allegory and offers them fifty gold sovereigns (!)

She gives birth – but not to a child.  She starts by giving birth to a goldfish, then produces an ever-growing collection of consumer products, including a toaster, a toy dog, a set of golf clubs, a collection of VHS tapes, a pool table and a washing machine to name just a few.  The Sarge is appalled by what Mary is going through and decides to pray.  Shortly after, the cry of a baby is heard.

But when they ask her what she’s going to call it, they’re taken aback when she names him Jesus.  So it was an allegory after all!  She explains that her allegory was “all about how we’ve lost sight of the real meaning of Christmas, how every year we drown under an ever-increasing pile of consumer goods.”  This leaves the three of them disheartened, but Harold Pinter and the Pope turn up for the carol service, so not all is lost.

Not your run-of-the-mill sitcom fare then, which may explain why it received something of a nonplussed reception when it was initially broadcast (although as I’ve said, the late-night slot didn’t help).  But it’s something that’s only improved with age and whilst I like to dig out Silent Night each December, the rest of the series is equally as good and something I enjoy revisiting on a regular basis.  If you’ve never seen it then I’d certainly recommend it.

silent 02

Whatever Happened to the Likely Lads? – 1974 Christmas Special

archivetvmusings BBC Comedy - 1970's, Christmas Television , , , , ,

likely

The Likely Lads, broadcast in the mid 1960’s, was the first sitcom success for Dick Clement and Ian La Frenais.  They then revived the series in the 1970’s as Whatever Happened to the Likely Lads?

The revival was even better than the original, thanks to the way the characters of Terry Collier (James Bolam) and Bob Ferris (Rodney Bewes) had developed.  In the original series they were unattached men in their twenties, but by the revival they were a decade older and, in Bob’s case at least, men with commitments (Bob had married his long-time fiance Thelma).

This was unusual for a sitcom, as normally they tend to remain static, unchanging affairs.  Think, for example, of Dad’s Army, Porridge or Fawlty Towers.  In those cases, characters are trapped together (because of the war, prison, the job they do).  The format of Whatever Happened to the Likely Lads? was much looser as it revolved around Bob’s eternal dilemma – he loves his wife, but he doesn’t want to lose contact with his best friend.

Over the years Bob and Terry had changed from the people we met in the sixties.  Then, they were equal – both working in the same factory and sharing a similar outlook on life.  But in WHTTLL?, Bob is married, holds down a responsible job, has a nice house on a new estate and is thoroughly middle-class.  Terry is quite different – after a spell in the army he’s content to drift along, with no particular direction in mind.  What keeps them together is their vague sense that things were better when they were younger (the theme song ponders “is the only thing to look forward to, the past?” which sums things up nicely).

This melancholic longing for a simpler time is one of the reasons why the series was so good.  And had Bolam and Bewes not fallen out dramatically (it’s reputed they’ve not spoken for nearly forty years) then it wouldn’t have been surprising if Clement and La Frenais had chosen to revisit the characters every decade or so (in a sort of 7 Up way it would have been fascinating to see how Bob and Terry fared through the eighties, nineties and into the twenty first century).

Broadcast on the 24th of December 1974, this Christmas Special was the final television episode – although Bolam and Bewes would re-record the series one shows for radio in 1975 and shoot a film version in 1976.

We open with Bob feeling trapped.  Thelma (Brigit Forsyth) is in Christmas planning mode – a sight which remains familiar today.  She’s fretting about the cards she needs to write, the presents she has to buy and their social engagements.  Bob isn’t thrilled to learn that he’ll be spending Christmas with his mother-in-law or that Thelma has committed them to a number of parties (when he’d much rather be relaxing at home, watching The Great Escape).  His lack of success at charades last year still rankles – as he reminds Thelma, she had an easy one – Great Expectations –  whilst he had to struggle with The AA Continental Handbook!  The pay-off to the scene is that it’s only late September, another nod to those people who need to get everything organised for Christmas months in advance.

Terry’s spent the duration of WHTTLL? content to be unemployed.  There’s a change here, as Bob and Thelma spy him taking his driving test (and of course they manage to put him off).  Despite this he still passes and he later tells Bob that he’s planning to become a long-distance lorry driver.  He has to settle for a job driving a fork-lift truck though, and it’s clear that he’s disappointed.  Terry had assumed that once he had his driving licence it would be his passport to better things – he really wanted a job where he could take his vehicle home during the evening and impress the girls.  But the only job he found like that involved an ice-cream van!  As Bob says, his chance of pulling birds in that would have been wafer-thin.

Another sign of the timeless nature of the episode is Terry’s complaint that Christmas is just too commercialised these days.  Bob doesn’t agree, he loves every aspect of Christmas (another way in which he hankers for earlier, simpler times?).  Over a pint in the pub, Terry reminds Bob that he was the last person in school to believe in Santa Claus.

I remember the day vividly. Christmas Eve afternoon it was, sitting in our back kitchen in front of the fire, reading Lord Snooty in that years Beano annual. I’d got it early, because the week before I’d been crying a lot with a boil on me neck. Anyhow, there I was, couldn’t have been happier, not a worry in the world except how Santa was gonna get a fire engine down our chimney. Then you show up with an evil, malicious grin on your face and said, ‘Santa Claus is dead.’

Bob goes on to remember that Terry had told him that Santa had been gored to death by his reindeer!

If the pub scene is the heart of the episode, there’s more traditional sitcom fare afterwards as Bob and Terry make their way home, very drunk.  Bob’s lost his car keys, so Terry elects to drive him home in his fork-lift truck.  And since he doesn’t have his front door key either, he uses the fork-lift to raise him up to the bedroom window.

On Christmas Eve, Bob and Thelma are on their way to a fancy dress party – Bob as Captain Hook and Thelma as Peter Pan (Terry’s got the job of driving their mincab).  Judging by the reaction of the studio audience they hadn’t seen Bewes’ costume before he entered the living room, since it draws an audible ripple of appreciation.  Once they get to the party, Thelma is appalled at the goings on – it seems that all their married friends have paired off with other people.  Bob’s not immune – he has his eye on Sylvia Braithwaite.

There’s more sitcom hi-jinks when a fuming Thelma asks Terry to drive her home, with neither realising that Bob and Sylvia are in the back of the cab.  Thelma invites Terry in for a drink and Sylvia insists that Bob drive her home in Terry’s cab.  This he does, but Terry sees the cab driving off and reports it stolen.

Running for just under forty-five minutes rather than the usual thirty, it’s tempting to wonder if it was originally planned as a half hour episode – if so, it would have ended with the fork-lift truck scene.  Was the fancy-dress party sequence bolted on later?  But however it was written, the final moment (when both Thelma and Terry realise that Bob stole the cab) is a great beat to end the series on.

Stanley Baxter’s Christmas Box

archivetvmusings Christmas Television, ITV Comedy - 1970's ,

stanley baxter

Although the BBC had the jewels in the light entertainment Christmas crown during the majority of the 1970’s – The Two Ronnies, Mike Yarwood and Morecambe & Wise – ITV weren’t totally bereft, as they had the considerable talents of Stanley Baxter.

Baxter had established himself on the BBC with a number of series between 1963 and 1971, but then jumped ship to LWT in 1972 where he remained for the next decade.  His programmes were quite expensive – big production numbers and his penchant for playing multiple characters were two of the reasons why.  And it was partially cost that saw him fade away from television (as executives decided they could no longer afford him).  But the change of the comedy landscape in the 1980’s, which had seen casualties like Benny Hill, could also have had something to do with it.

When pondering whether Baxter could have continued into the mid to late 1980’s, you have to say that Stanley Baxter’s Picture Box, broadcast on the 26th of December 1976, was of its time.  Stereotypes are certainly in evidence, such as the Jewish BBC newsreader.  “Here is the news at nine, but for you – eight forty five.”  He also blacks up towards the end in a sequence you could never imagine receiving an airing today.

An early highlight is the Philip Marlowe sketch which sees him approached by Cinderella.  Baxter plays all the characters – Marlowe, Cinderella, Prince Charming and the Ugly Sisters.  It’s notable that split-screen photography wasn’t used – instead we either focus on one person or if another’s in shot then they’re only seen from behind (played by a double).  One of the drawbacks with Baxter playing everybody is that he never had anyone else to react against, so he’s reliant on the editing.  But it’s pretty good here and although there’s some painfully obvious lines, there’s some good ones too.  “People from my past flashed before my eyes. Until they got booked for indecent exposure.”

There’s a fair amount of focus on the BBC. Apart from the newsreader we also see The Bruce Fosdyke Show (“tonight at 11:45 if you’ve absolutely nothing else to do”).  The Fosdyke sequence doesn’t outstay its welcome and contains several decent brief gags (such as Baxter dressed as Nana Mouskouri and Sharri Lewis and Lambchop as they’ve never been seen before).

An appeal on behalf of the inhibited from Faith Douche provides a good opportunity to exhume some old favourites.  “I was strongly against sex on television, because whenever I tried it I kept sliding off the top of the set”.  Elsewhere, Baxter’s amusing as Noel Coward and also impresses as Jacques Cousteau who’s decided to explore the murky depths of Margate.

Girl on the Cover tells the story of the obese Lois Latnick who’s turned into a cover beauty for the magazine Harpie’s Bizarre.  Lois’s fatsuit is rather crude compared to what could be achieved decades later, but the heart of the sequence is when she’s transformed into a beauty (or at least as beautiful as Baxter as could ever hope to be!) and we launch into a series of musical numbers which close the show.

Written by Ken Hoare with additional material from Baxter, Barry Cryer, Iain McIntyre and Neil Shand, Stanley Baxter’s Christmas Box is good, bawdy fun.

Two’s Company – A Loving Christmas

archivetvmusings Christmas Television, ITV Comedy - 1970's , ,

two's company

Two’s Company was a culture clash comedy – Dorothy McNab (Elaine Stritch) is a rich American and Robert Hiller (Donald Sinden) is her superior English butler.  Their differing natures are spelt out in the opening credits (which seem to go on forever).

Running for four series between 1975 and 1979, Two’s Company‘s strength is the banter between Stritch and Sinden.  Take that away and there’s not a great deal left – the writing is amusing enough but it’s hardly top-tier sitcom fare.  But the first series had clearly been successful enough for A Kind of Loving (the opening episode of series two) to receive a Christmas Day airing in 1976.

The relationship between Dorothy and Robert is made clear by their choice of presents to each other.  Dorothy is underwhelmed to receive an LP of Elgar’s Enigma Variations whilst Robert is equally unimpressed with an LP by Jelly Roll Morton.  Once they swop, then they’re much happier.  Although both presents were unsuitable, there’s no malice in their choices – possibly they genuinely wanted to widen the others musical horizons (although it was doomed to failure).  This sets the tone for their general interaction – both indulge in a subtle form of one-upmanship, with honours (in this episode) ending up even.

The plot of this one is quite simple.  Both say their goodbyes on Christmas Eve as they head off in different directions (Dorothy to Paris and Robert to the country).  But both were fibbing and had planned to spend a quiet Christmas at home (Robert in the comfortable downstairs portion of the house) with convivial company.  As both of them have now returned that creates something of a problem.  And when Robert’s friend Gillian (Geraldine Newman) takes an interest in Dorothy’s friend Nigel (Derek Waring) that just adds to the tension.   And then Dorothy’s cousin Clarence (John Bay) turns up …..

Clarence is your stereotypical, loud, crass American – constantly referring to Robert as “Jeeves” much to his disgust.  Dorothy’s no more pleased to see him and when Gillian and Nigel leave together that means Dorothy, Robert and Clarence are fated to spend Christmas together.

Bay was married to Elaine Stritch, but he was a decent actor so his appearance here wasn’t just nepotism (it’s not his fault that Clarence was written as such an irritating person). Geraldine Newman and Derek Waring were both very experienced performers and they help to give the episode a bit of impetus.

Donald Sinden’s spot-on comic timing, even with the fairly thin material, is worth watching and he has a decent foe in Elaine Stritch.  Not a classic series, but a passable way of spending twenty five minutes.

A Christmas Carol (BBC 1977)

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

christmas.jpg

Broadcast on the 24th of December 1977, it’s fair to say that they don’t make them like this anymore.  This production of A Christmas Carol is completely studio-bound and at times places characters, via the wonder of CSO, in front of illustrated backdrops.  For some, this artificiality might be an issue but I feel that the non-naturalistic moments are strengths not weakness.

One of the main pluses of the production is the quality of Elaine Morgan’s adaptation.  Since Dickens’ novella isn’t particularly long, Morgan was able to compress it down quite comfortably to just under an hour.  Everything of note from the original story (including much of the dialogue) has been retained and it’s interesting that the likes of Ignorance and Want (often removed from other adaptations) are present and correct.

Michael Hordern, an actor who always seemed to play bemused and vague characters, makes for a very decent Scrooge – although since he lacks bite and arrogance, Hordern’s better as the story proceeds (especially when Scrooge is finally presented to us as a humble and chastised man).

John Le Mesurier only has a few minutes to make an impression as Jacob Marley, but he certainly does.  His scenes with Hordern were complicated by the fact that both weren’t on set at the same time (Marley, as befits a ghost, is only ever seen as an insubstantial presence).  This isn’t really a problem though, as both actors had such good timing they were able to make their scenes ‘together’ work.

The arrival of Patricia Quinn as the Ghost of Christmas Past sees Scrooge revisit his own past.  The establishing shots of Scrooge’s schoolhouse are presented via a series of illustrated images, with Horden and Quinn overlaid.  You can either view this as a necessity, due to the production’s low-budget, or as an inspired artistic choice.  One nice moment occurs when we move into the schoolhouse and there’s another illustration – which then morphs into a real-life scene.

Almost unrecognisable, thanks to a heavy beard, is Bernard Lee as the Ghost of Christmas Present (although his voice is unmistakable).  Paul Copley is slightly too jolly and irritating as Fred, but this a rare production mistep.  Clive Merrison, with an impressive wig, is a fine Bob Cratchit whilst Zoe Wanamaker is equally good as Belle.  There’s plenty of other familiar faces, including John Salthouse, John Ringham, June Brown and Christopher Biggins whilst the brief opening narration is provided by (an uncredited) Brian Blessed.

Although there are many versions of A Christmas Carol available, this one is certainly worth your time – partly because of the quality of the cast, but also due to its fidelity to Charles Dickens’ story.  Plenty of other adaptations can’t help but make various ‘improvements’ but Elaine Morgan was content to let the strength of the original tale speak for itself.

Patricia Quinn
Zoe Wanamaker
Clive Merrison
John Le Mesurier
Scrooge’s Past
Bernard Lee & Michael Horden

The Two Ronnies Christmas Special 1987

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

ronnies 87

The 1987 Christmas Special was the Two Ronnies’ last hurrah.  This was primarily the decision of Ronnie Barker, who had decided to walk away from showbusiness at the age of 58.  Although the Two Ronnies was still popular, Barker was wise enough to realise that their time was coming to an end and presumably wanted to avoid the treatment meted out to the likes of Benny Hill (who had been unceremoniously dropped by Thames a few years earlier).  Barker would later confirm exactly why he retired.

“The reason I retired was that the material was getting less good. I’d run out of ideas. I was dry of sketches. Plus, I’d done everything I wanted to do. The situation sort of pushed me, goaded me into asking, ‘Well, haven’t you done enough?’ And I had.”

With one more series to come in 1988 (Clarence) and this final Christmas special from the Rons, Barker could ensure that he was leaving at a point where the audience still wanted more – which was much the best way to go.  He was tempted back for a few decent character roles, but in the main he stuck to his decision and enjoyed a long and happy retirement,

None of this would have been known at Christmas 1987, so it was just another special with none of the baggage that would have surrounded the show had it been known it was the last one.  As ever, there’s nothing radical here – no deviations from the tried and true formula.  But what they do, they do so well.

One of my favourite sketches (which reappeared several times down the years) gets one final outing here.  Ronnie C is a man who can never complete his sentences and Ronnie B is his friend who has several attempts at filling in the missing words.

RONNIE C: We had our Christmas party the other night. Funny old do, it was. It’s always the same every year.  Always takes the form of an egg and …
RONNIE B: Egg and … What, egg and spoon race?
RONNIE C: No, takes the form of an egg and …
RONNIE B: Egon Ronay banquet?
RONNIE C: No, no. No, an egg and chip supper

It’s just a pity that the final punch-line was so weak, but then the Rons never went down the Python route of abolishing punchlines, which was sometimes a problem.  The big musical number was set in the Klondyke Saloon, Alaska and goes from black and white to colour as well as featuring some gorgeous girls.

Ronnie Barker always enjoyed writing the Yokels sketches, since it gave him a chance to reuse old jokes and some of them (“‘Ere, the girl I was with last night wouldn’t kiss me under the mistletoe.  She didn’t like where I was wearing it”) would be familiar to anybody who’s been watching these Christmas specials in sequence.

After Ronnie C’s chair monologue, we’re into the big closing film – Pinocchio II – Killer Doll.  No expense was spared (the village set looks very impressive) and whilst it’s quite long (seventeen minutes) there’s more than enough going on to justify the length.

Ronnie C is wonderful as the evil Pinocchio II whilst Ronnie B has, as you might expect, spot-on comic timing as Geppetto.  They’re well supported by the likes of Lynda Baron and Sandra Dickinson and having Ed Bishop as the narrator was another joy.  Unlike Morecambe & Wise, the Two Ronnies didn’t make such a habit of featuring guest stars but there’s cameos here from Frank Finlay, Dennis Quilley and most unexpected of all, Charlton Heston.

It’s a more than decent way to bring their career to a close and whilst it’s interesting to ponder if they could have continued into the 1990’s, they probably made the best decision by deciding to bow out whilst they were still at the top.

Pinocchio II – Killer Doll
Geppetto’s spawned a monster
Elton John
The Good Old Days
Making beautiful music
Yokels

The Two Ronnies Christmas Special 1984

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

ronnies 84

As might be expected from the Two Ronnies, there’s several wordplay orientated sketches in the show.  The first (upper class city gents who can’t pronounce their words properly) is amusing enough, but does slightly outstay its welcome.

Ronnie B’s monologue is delivered by a milkman (H.M. Quinn) in the style of the Queen’s Christmas speech.  His delivery clearly appeals to at least one member of the audience (listen out for some very audible female squealing on the most innocuous of lines).  The majority of the monologue doesn’t actually contain any jokes (just some milk-based wordplay). The idea that Barker is talking like the Queen is presumably supposed to do most of the comic heavy lifting.

Next up are a couple of Northern road-workers who exhume some golden oldies from the Old Jokes Home, such as –

RONNIE C: Sithee, does tha believe in reincarnation?
RONNIE B: Well, it’s all right on fruit salad, but I don’t like it in me tea.

Following the very Chrissmassy musical number (the Rons dressed as a couple of Stereo Santas) and a quick Ronnie C solo sketch we move into the best part of the show.  First up is another wordplay sketch – with the Ronnies as two soldiers in a WW1 trench.  Ronnie C has the unfortunate knack of mishearing everything that Ronnie B says, such as –

RONNIE B: God, I wish I were back in Blightly.
RONNIE C: Do you, sir? What sort of nightie, sir? Black frilly one?

RONNIE B: Sounded like a Jerry rifle.
RONNIE C: Bit strange in the trenches, sir. A sherry trifle.

It’s a lovely, typical Two Ronnies sketch.  The courtroom sketch that follows is something a little different.  It opens quite normally, with Ronnie C prosecuting and Ronnie B in the dock, but it quickly becomes a parody of several popular quiz shows (What’s my Line?, Call My Bluff, Blankety Blank, Mastermind, The Price is Right) – it’s also a pleasure to see Patrick Troughton as the judge.

Ronnie B has a solo singing spot as Lightweight Louie Danvers (not too dissimilar to Fatbelly Jones it has to be said).

Following Ronnie C in the chair, it’s the big film –  The Ballad of Snivelling and Grudge.  Guest star Peter Wyngarde is a delight – mainly because he takes the whole thing totally seriously.  There’s no winks to camera and his dead-pan performance is spot on.  And if, like me, you can spot Pat Gorman in the background, then you’ve probably watched far, far too much old British television.  If you don’t know who Pat Gorman is, then you’ve clearly not watched enough!

No news items to end the show – instead it’s a old-fashioned style song about Christmas.  It’s somewhat comforting and sums up the Two Ronnies quite well.  By the mid eighties they were pretty much out of step with contemporary comedy (and Barker knew that their time was nearly up) but it doesn’t really matter – great comedy is timeless, and there’s several examples here that still work thirty years later and will surely endure for decades to come.

Peter Wyngarde
Stereo Santas
Happen as like and maybe as not
Patrick Troughton
H.M. Quinn
Trench Confusion

The Two Ronnies Christmas Special 1982

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

ronnies 82

Although the rigidity of The Two Ronnies’ format was sometimes mocked (especially by Not The Nine O’Clock News) it’s always a surprise when a show does depart from what we expect.  The 1982 Christmas Special doesn’t have the usual introductions and farewells (so no “In a packed programme tonight” or “And it’s goodnight from me and it’s goodnight from him”).

Instead we’re pitched straight into a musical number with the Rons dressed as Chas and Dave, entertaining a pub audience with a reasonable facsimile of a typical Chas and Dave song.  It’s entertaining stuff, not only for the cut-away shots of Christmas celebrations but also for the performances of the extras in the pub (some of whom seem to have more enthusiasm than others).

Next door are Sid and George.  Sid guessed that George was in the snug as he saw everybody moving away from there (escaping from the smell of George’s feet) something which George denies.  “There’s nothing wrong with my feet. I’m on the odour eaters now”.  Sid tells him “I had them once. They weren’t half hard to swallow”.

There’s a lovely performance by David Essex of A Winter’s Tale (live and with a full orchestra accompaniment).  Ronnie B doesn’t get his usual monologue, but Ronnie C’s chair ramblings are present and correct.

The film sketch features Ronnie B as a man who travels back in time (thanks to the mysterious Ronnie C) and alters his own personal time-line, so that he was never born.  Thankfully, since it’s Christmas, all is resolved and he ends up back with his wife (Brigit Forsyth) and family, together with a new appreciation of how good his life is.

At just 45 minutes, this is quite a compact special.  Nothing particularly outstanding, but it’s all good solid Christmas fare.

Sid & George
Ronnie B’s never been born
David Essex
Ronnie C’s forgotten something
Ronnie C in the chair
Chas & Dave

The Two Ronnies Old Fashioned Christmas Mystery (1973)

archivetvmusings BBC Comedy - 1970's, Christmas Television , , ,

ronnies 73

Apart from their links and sketches for the 1972 Christmas Night with the Stars, this was the Two Ronnies’ only Christmas special during the 1970’s.  With Morecambe and Wise reigning supreme, there was less need for a Two Ronnies Christmas show as well – but after M&W jumped ship to Thames, the Ronnies would gradually fill the void – with stand-alone specials in 1982, 1984 and 1987 (as well as Christmas shows from other years as part of their regular series).

The 1973 Old Fashioned Christmas Mystery was an attempt to do something a little different from the norm.  It takes place at the country house of Sir Giles (Ronnie Barker) and Lady Hampton.  The year is 1872 and the mystery of the title refers to the Christmas turkey – somebody’s stolen it, so what will Sir Giles’ guests have to eat for Christmas lunch?

He decides to engage the services of that ace detective Piggy Malone (and his trusty assistant Charley Farley).  Given that Malone and Farley appeared in four serials during the 1970’s and 1980’s, it’s a little surprising that none of them were set in Victorian times – maybe something of a missed opportunity.  As might be expected, they bumble about for a while, and the mystery is never really solved (although they do inadvertently provide an alternative for the Christmas dinner).

Although on the surface this looks different from the normal Two Ronnies shows, underneath there’s still plenty that’s familiar.  Ronnie B delivers a monologue, Ronnie C sits in a chair (more comfortable than his usual one) to spin a shaggy dog story and both of them end proceedings with some musical numbers (new words to the familiar tunes of Gilbert & Sullivan).

Along the way there’s some guest stars.  Tux (a man who balances plates on his head) was a throw-back to the specialty acts that were a regular feature during the first series.  Gabrielle Drake is gorgeous as Emma, who has her eye on Ronnie C – although he seems totally immune to her charms.

Cheryl Kennedy provides one of the stand-out moments by performing a monologue, Christmas Bells.  Given the opulent surroundings it’s something that certainly has an impact and serves as a timely reminder that we should always stop to remember (and help) those at Christmas who are less fortunate than ourselves.

Hear the bells are ringing, Bill? That’s cos it’s Christmas Eve. But it ain’t for you and me as there’s a ringing. When we is cold and hungry, Bill, it’s hard to make believe, as we can hear the happy angels singing. If we had a bed to sleep in, and could get a bite to eat, then bells of angel’s voices might remind us. But not when you’re to doss, Bill, in the cold and cruel street, where the Bobbies are nearly always sure to find us. Ah, it’s dreadful hard on you, Bill, cos you’re such a little kid, what didn’t oughta know a bit of sorrow, and wouldn’t if them Christian folks would do as they was bid. Why, him whose birthday’s gonna be tomorrow. But it was him what said, “Let little children come to me.” And meaning just such little coves as you, Bill. But I ain’t got no chance, cos I’m fourteen you see. And I’ll tell you, as I knows a thing or too, Bill, you can’t sell evening papers so as to get a bit to eat, like I done since the time as I was seven, without picking up enough of badness in the street to leave no earthly chance to get to heaven. Them coves what comes around with tracts summed me up a treat. I’m an outcast, little heathen, poor lost sinner.
Perhaps they’d be the same if they’d been brought up in the street and hardly ever had no proper dinner. But Bill, when you and me is dead, I’ll come along wi’ you, and you shall introduce me as your brother. And him who’s knows what sorrow is, he’s sure to let me through. Cos why? We’ve been such pals to one another. Ain’t we, Bill?

Cheryl Kennedy
Piggy Malone & Charley Farely
Ronnie C & Gabrielle Drake
Tux
Maid service
Ronnie C & Sally James

The Morecambe and Wise Christmas Show 1977

archivetvmusings BBC Comedy - 1970's, Christmas Television ,

m&w 77

The 1977 Morecambe and Wise Christmas show was the end of an era – their last before moving to Thames.  It’s well known that this show attracted the largest ever Christmas audience – 28 million viewers – except of course that it didn’t.  The 1977 Mike Yarwood Christmas Show (which preceded M&W) also attracted 28 million viewers – but had a slightly larger audience share. Therefore it’s Yarwood who can said to be King of Christmas.

It’s slightly splitting hairs though – 28 million (at that time roughly half the population of the UK) was an incredible figure.  Yes, it was the pre-digital, pre-internet, pre-VHS age, so the choice of alternative entertainment wasn’t large, but it’s still an impressive achievement that will never be matched.

What would this audience have seen?  The show opens with a Starsky and Hutch parody – Starskers and Krutch.  It’s virtually a shot-by-shot recreation of the Starsky and Hutch title sequence, which works so well due to the attention to detail.  The film work (shots of the car travelling down the street through a blizzard of paper, for example) gives it a glossy, expensive feel.

Elton John’s back – although he finds a great deal of difficulty in locating the studio.  Along the way he meets a variety of familiar faces, such as newsreader Kenneth Kendall as well as John Laurie, John Le Mesurier and Arthur Lowe.  Quite why the three Dad’s Army soldiers are sitting fully-dressed in a sauna is something of a mystery – and the segment seems to have been designed just so Arthur Lowe can call Elton a “stupid boy”.  It’s a nice moment though, and all of Elton’s encounters help to sell the idea that the BBC was one large entertainment factory, with stars lurking behind every corner.

Angharad Rees looks gorgeous and Eric is fulsome in his praise. “I’ll tell you something Hand Grenade. I was thrilled when I realised that you’d escaped from Colditz.”. Eventually, Ern manages to explain that Angharad was the star of Poldark and not Colditz.

Angela Rippon’s back – this time as a member of the chorus line.  They were obviously pleased with this moment – as it’s repeated (slightly faster each time) throughout the show.

The sense that this is the end-of-an-era is strengthened by the final BBC flat sketch.  Everything is packed up as they’re preparing to move.  But there’s still time for Eric to make some familiar digs at Ern’s expense.

ERIC: I remember the first time you ever stuck your head out this window.
ERN: When was that?
ERIC: It was blowing a gale. It blew your wig off. It landed in that garden down there. A little old lady came out and gave it a saucer of milk.

Nothing Like A Dame is one of the crown jewels from Morecambe and Wise’s BBC career.  Apart from the pleasure in seeing some familiar BBC faces, it’s mainly the excellent editing (making the guests appear to be responsible for incredible feats of acrobatic prowess) which is why it’s so memorable.  Eric was famously sure that it wouldn’t look convincing, but it really does work well.  It must have taken time and money to edit and assemble, but it’s another sign that M&W could call on all the available BBC resources.

Penelope Keith and Francis Matthews star in Cyrano de Bergerac.  Several of Keith’s Good Life co-stars make cameos (Richard Briers, Paul Eddington) and it’s an improvement over the 1976 play simply by being a little shorter.  Penelope Keith also wanted to take part in a big song and dance number – and she gets her wish, sort of.  It’s just a pity that somebody forgot to complete the staircase …..

That would appear to be the end of the show, as the then credits roll.  But afterwards we see Elton John reach the studio – but he’s too late.  The show’s over, the audience has gone home and there’s only two cleaners left (played by Morecambe and Wise).  This allows us to see how tatty the audience seating was (i.e. very tatty) and it provides a somewhat melancholy ending to the show as Elton performs his song to an audience of two.  Wisely, they didn’t dub any audience reaction onto this section later.  It’s also noteworthy that Elton’s complete performance was recorded on one camera and with one take – quite impressive.

It’s an interesting ending to Morecambe and Wise’s last hurrah at the BBC.  In retrospect, the 1971 Christmas Show was by far their best (and it seems clear that the pressures of repeating that success caused some problems in the years following) but the 1977 show does run it quite close.  Morecambe and Wise would carry on, but things would never be quite the same at Christmas again.

A small audience
Hand Grenade makes an impression on Ern
“Stupid boy”
Starskers & Krutch
Packing up
Where’s the stairs gone?

The Morecambe and Wise Christmas Show 1976

archivetvmusings BBC Comedy - 1970's, Christmas Television ,

m&w 76

The 1976 Christmas Show was the second that Eddie Braben didn’t write – although it’s certainly better than the previous non-Braben show (1972) and also an improvement on the 1975 show.  Mike Craig, Barry Cryer, Lawrie Kinsley and Ron McDonnell were on writing duties (with additional material from M&W).  Although Ern sometimes seems a little dim (not realising that Eric’s Christmas gift was incredibly duff, for example) overall it’s a good attempt at synthesising the Braben style.

There’s a dress-up sketch, similar to efforts from some of the previous Christmas shows (Turkeys/Reindeers).  Here, Morecambe and Wise are two members of a table-top football team.  Ern’s the new left back, whilst Eric has been there a while.  “42,338 consecutive games. And only had the trainer on once. And that was for a coat of varnish.”

The Nolans sing When You Are A King.  They’re very pink.

Elton John’s good value.  Initially he attempts to provide piano accompaniment for the boys.

ELTON: Do you want this blues, reggae or funky?
ERIC: (looks offstage) Can he say “funky”? No, “funky”. You were close. The studio manager is looking it up. It’s a gift he has.

Eventually Elton gets so frustrated he grabs Eric (although slightly too hard as they bump faces – watch out for Eric and Ernie’s expressions, priceless!).  He then appears a few more times, before getting the chance to sing Sorry Seems to be the Hardest Word.  He obviously made a good impression as he’s back the following year.

By this time, Ernest Maxin had taken over as producer.  He had choreographed some of the musical numbers on previous shows – so it’s maybe not surprising that song & dance numbers tended to feature quite strongly during his time as producer.  Since M&W (especially Ernie) both loved song & dance, it’s something that plays to their strengths and there’s two good examples in this show.

Ernie performs Singing in the Rain whilst staying bone-dry (it’s Eric who gets wet).  As Ernie was always something of a frustrated song-and-dance man, it’s a lovely segment for him.  The street set looked very impressive, especially for such a short sequence – which was a clear indication just how highly the BBC rated M&W (clearly money was no objective when crafting the Christmas show).

The play boasts appearances from John Thaw, Dennis Waterman and Kate O’Mara.  They help to liven things up – especially John Thaw – but like a number of the other plays it’s just far, far too long.  At twenty minutes, it feels very padded out.

Nowadays it’s a common sight for newsreaders to dress up and perform (Children in Need  or Strictly Come Dancing, amongst others).  Back in 1976, it just didn’t happen – which explains why Angela Rippon’s appearance caused such a sensation.  M&W get to dress up in top hat and tails and it provides a nice end to an entertaining show.

Elton makes his point
“I’m wet through”
Dennis Waterman & John Thaw
A new double act?
A new recruit
“There may be trouble ahead”