Crown Court – Regina v Bryant (November 1972)

I’ve recently been dipping in and out of some selected Crown Court cases. To date Network have released eight volumes on DVD, although this only scratches the surface of a series which ran for over a decade and racked up close to 900 episodes. Luckily, good quality copies of many editions not yet commercially available are on YouTube.

This one, Regina v Bryant, is available on DVD (it can be found on volume one). As with most of the cases, it’s not only of considerable interest due to the quality of the cast (most episodes contain line ups which would surely gladden the heart of any archive television fan) but the story still stands up today as a satisfying piece of drama. Crown Court may have been a low budget daytime series, but there’s evidence to suggest that it was crafted with some care.

Tony Hoare (1938 – 2008) was someone very much at home in the worlds of crime and detection (not least because he spent a lengthy spell in prison prior to becoming a writer). He penned many of Minder‘s best remembered episodes as well as contributing to series such as Villains, New Scotland Yard, The Sweeney, Target, Hazell, The Gentle Touch and Bergerac. So knowing his writing background, especially his work on Minder, it’s not unreasonable to assume that he was fully on the side of the defendant.

Harry Bryant (Mark McManus) claims to be innocent of the charges of armed robbery and assaulting a police officer. Bryant doesn’t attempt to hide his criminal past, instead he contends that this is precisely why he’s been fitted up by several corrupt officers, led by Inspector Collins (Glynn Edwards).

McManus dominates the three episodes. Even though (for some reason) he was forced to adopt a cockney accent, McManus is excellent value throughout – especially since Bryant elected to dispense with the services of his counsel, Helen Tate (Dorothy Vernon), at the outset of the trial (he decides to defend himself). Ms Tate seems to have taken exception to this, as her last action was to angrily slam the courtroom door on her way out!

The obvious plus point for the viewer is that McManus therefore takes centre stage, with Bryant’s articulate but unorthodox approach certainly differing from the rank and file barristers we normally see.

In 1972 British society was still at the point where the average man or woman in the street would tend to believe in the general honesty of the police. Had a similar Crown Court story been undertaken a decade later, the mood might have been somewhat different. But this is where the series is often so fascinating – no matter where the writer’s sympathies might lie, the question of guilt or innocence would always be decided by eleven ordinary members of the public, plus one actor playing the foreman (since they had to speak at the end, an Equity member was required).

Rewatching Crown Court I often find myself shaking my head at the decisions of the Fulchester juries. Defendants I was convinced were innocent are found guilty whilst those I’ve decided were obvious wrong ‘uns are allowed to walk free. This can sometimes be infuriating, but it’s also instructive – the 21st century viewer is gifted a brief snapshot into the attitudes and morals of a different age.

Bryant was happy, despite being a career criminal, to have his numerous previous convictions read out in court. Indeed, it was his criminal experience which formed the crux of his defence. Would he really have been so naive as to keep hold of an incriminating balaclava, which Collins alleges he found in Bryant’s house? (Bryant maintains it was planted). And although a bottle of ammonia was also discovered (a similar substance was used in the attack) there was nothing to suggest it hadn’t been bought for normal household duties, as claimed by Mrs Bryant.

The eyewitness identification was also open to comment, with Collins (either by accident or design) allowing a witness to see a photograph of Bryant before he was picked out of the identification parade.

With such thin evidence my own personal decision would have been to aquit. Bryant may very well have been guilty, but for me the evidence simply wasn’t there. However, would Bryant’s decision to attack the integrity of the police at every opportunity have gone down well with the jury? I won’t spoil the verdict ….

As touched upon, McManus is very good and he’s matched by Glynn Edwards, who enjoys (if that’s the right word) a lengthy spell in the witness box. Another familar face, Diane Keen (as Mrs Bryant), has less screentime but still makes quite a telling contribution. Richard Warner, as the Hon. Mr Justice Waddington, stumbles over his lines during the early stages of the trial but eventually settles down. Like most editions, it’s directed solidly enough (at least there were no Mandrels in court to distract Alan Bromly) although the final few minutes of the third episode does feature some very audible talkback from the studio gallery.

Many editions of Crown Court still have considerable replay value today, but the central theme of Regina v Bryant (should the police automatically be trusted?) and the way that Bryant very effectively handles his own defence easily makes this one of the standouts from the earliest crop of cases.

Hunter’s Walk – Disturbance

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Hunter’s Walk was a police drama created by Ted Willis (Dixon of Dock Green, Sergeant Cork) which aired on ITV during 1973 – 1976.  It bears some similarities to Dixon in both tone and pacing – you certainly could never mistake it for The Sweeney – and although the location was different (Dixon was set in London, Hunter’s Walk in a fictional Midlands town) the type of cases we see – from the mundane to the serious – could easily have also turned up in Dixon.

The series’ archive status is rather patchy.  Out of thirty nine episodes made, only ten exist and half of those are black and white telerecordings.  Given this, and approaching the first episode on disc one – Disturbance – with no foreknowledge, you might have been forgiven for assuming it was a mid season installment.  But no, it was the series’ debut (tx 4th June 1973) so it’s interesting to observe how Richard Harris’ script drops us into the setting pretty cold, using the trauma between Dennis Kenwright (Doug Fisher) and his estranged wife Janet (Helen Fraser) to illuminate the personalities of the regulars.

The chain of command is established fairly rapidly.  From Det. Sgt. Smith (Ewan Hooper) at the top, Sgt. Ridgeway (Davyd Harries) in the middle and PC Pooley (Duncan Preston) at the bottom.  Smith is shown to be an old hand, unflappable and methodical.  Ridgeway is not without compassion, but also has clear views about what is and isn’t police business.  Pooley is initially presented as something of an aggressive hothead, but we see another side to him later on.

All three interact individually with Kenwright and it’s worth taking a moment to consider their differing approaches.  Smith was called to a robbery at Kenwright’s place of work.  He tells Kenwright’s employer that he knows him – but this doesn’t seem to be in the police sense, simply that he’s familiar with Kenwright’s family.  Smith briefly questions him and Kenwright replies in a slightly touchy way.

Next, Kenwright ventures to the station to speak to Ridgeway.  This is an intriguing part of the episode – Kenwright wants to return home to speak to his wife and retrieve some of his possessions, but because Janet is now seeing someone else Kenwright would like a police presence.  The inference is that Kenwright is afraid of physical violence from Janet’s lover, although when we meet him that’s neatly inverted as Kenwright is the abusive one.  Was this more to do with the fact that Kenwright was aware he might lose his temper and wanted the police to protect his wife?

Whilst this part of the story could be said to lack a little logic, it’s not too much of a problem since it highlights Kenwright’s off-key and mildly disturbed nature (which increases as the episode progresses).  Ridgeway is slightly condescending, telling Kenwright that the police can’t get involved in domestic disputes, although they can have a man in the area.

Luckily they did, as Kenwright’s decision to take the record player sparks a row between him and his wife.  This scene also highlights Kenwright’s confused state of mind as he earlier told Ridgeway that he needed to pick up certain items urgently, but a record player doesn’t really seem to fall into this category.  He disturbs Janet’s new man, Ted Peters (John Ringham), who’s sitting in the living room, having his tea.

Ringham has little to do here, but he instantly catches the eye as Peters springs up out of his chair, knife and fork still in hand.  The way he holds onto the cutlery and his instinctive steps backwards are both non-verbal signifiers that Peters is not someone who will offer violence (borne out during the remainder of the episode – he’s a married man who wants the minimum of scandal).  Pooley turns up on the scene and forcibly brings peace to the house, although since he offers Ridgeway a lift home it’s plain that his bark is worse than his bite.

As Disturbance progresses, Kenwright starts to devolve.  He obtains a rifle, takes a potshot at Peters and then later holes up at a lonely spot, pinning down Smith, Ridgeway and Pooley.

This may seem to indicate that Disturbance is something of an action piece, but that’s really not the case.  Character is key here, both with the regulars and the guest cast.  We may have seen numerous Dennis Kenwrights before – men and women pushed over the edge – but Doug Fisher gives him a pleasing vulnerability.  Janet Kenwright is less sharply drawn, remaining more of a catalyst for the unfolding events rather than an active participant, although Helen Fraser is a vivid presence throughout.  It’s more than a little tragic that Janet’s affair is with a married man (and especially one as cowardly as Peters – lovely turn by Ringham).  Both husband and wife are the victims here.

The regulars might take a little more time to bed in, as none of them are particularly striking here.  Hooper is affable as Smith, although rather characterless.  Harries is an actor I’ve always found to be somewhat affected and mannered (the way he pronounces “off” as “orf” here is a slight indication of this).  But this may have something to do with the performances of his that I’ve seen, so it’ll be interesting to see if Ridgeway develops into more of a “real” character in later episodes.  It’s hard to disassociate Preston from his later comic roles, but he does nothing wrong as the young, and presumably inexperienced, constable.

Robert Tronson’s direction, especially the film sequences, are notable.  The first few minutes see Kenwright pounding the streets, past – I assume – real members of the public rather than extras.  Some unusual camerawork, low angles and partially obscured shots, help to make these moments stand out, as does the lack of music.  Silence can be powerful, especially when used to illuminate an isolated character like Kenwright.  I do wonder how moody some of these scenes would be if they weren’t in black and white though.

Disturbance is pretty slowly paced, so maybe wasn’t the most obvious series opener.  But even given the rather poor survival rate (six from series one, one from series two, three from series three) by the time I’ve reached the end of the set it may be more clear exactly how indicative it is of the series as a whole.

Sapphire & Steel. Assignment One – Episode Six

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The slightly confusing nature of Rob’s fate remains unresolved at the start of the final episode.  He can hear Sapphire calling out to him, but it appears that he still remains hidden from view.  The entity pretending to be his father lures him down to the cellar, promising that he’ll be reunited with his mother.

Mrs Jardine (Felicity Harrison) appears to be there, but she’s facing the wall.  Her immobility and the time it takes her to turn around are both strong signifiers that something is very wrong.  And so it turns out to be – and the sight of her face (glowing eyes and waxy teeth) probably would have been responsible for causing nightmares amongst some of the younger viewers.

Rob is now stranded in the past – back in the 1700’s when the house was first being constructed.  He’s linked to the others in the present, and Lead attempts to keep his spirits up (as well as ensuring that he doesn’t fall foul of the dangers of time) with a rousing version of What Shall We Do With A Drunken Sailor?  There’s a lovely juxtaposition between the full-blooded singing of Lead and the cool, calm deliberations of Sapphire and Steel as they ponder their next move.

Back in the 1700’s, Rob observes two soldiers carrying an open coffin – inside it is Helen.  Since she’s alive and well with the others in the present day this is a slightly inexplicable moment, albeit a chilling one.

Steel has come up with a solution, but they need to lure time down to the cellar.  A nursery rhyme read by a child will do the trick, and since Rob isn’t here there’s only one choice.  Sapphire puts up rather half-hearted resistance, but Steel easily gets his way.  Using Helen will clearly put her into danger, but it’s the only way – and this is a moment which serves as an early indicator that Steel will use anyone or anything in order to achieve his aims.

Helen’s mother – viewed as a shadow on the wall – attempt to call her back upstairs (another simple, but nicely produced, effect).  Helen pays no attention to it and slowly time is led into Steel’s trap.  Although it’s a pity that the final act – Lead crushing a stone which is obviously polystyrene – isn’t terribly convincing, but that’s only a minor niggle.

This first story ends in complete success as Rob and Helen’s parents are returned safe and well.  But not all of Sapphire and Steel’s adventures end so happily …..

Sapphire & Steel. Assignment One – Episode Five

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The danger is over – for now – but this news doesn’t please Steel.  He’s brusque and abrupt with everyone, especially Sapphire and Helen.  It takes a few patient words from Sapphire before he realises that he needs to unbend a little, and as he exits the kitchen he has a smile on his face.

Given how tightly wound Steel normally is, it’s very rare to see him smile.  It hints that there is a more (for want of a better word) human presence lurking underneath his cold, business-like exterior.  It would appear that he rarely feels comfortable in showing his emotions, possibly because he feels they are a weakness.  Sapphire is the complete opposite and therefore finds it easy to connect with Rob and Helen.  It’s an old storytelling cliché, but they are the two sides of the same coin.

With a six-part serial like this, there’s always the danger that the middle episodes will sag a little.  This probably would have been a particular concern here, because of the single location and limited cast.  So the introduction of Lead in episode four helped to refresh the narrative and another character appears in episode five to serve a similar function.

Rob’s father, Mr Jardine (John Golightly), suddenly appears out of nowhere.  The observant viewer will quickly deduce that this is simply time playing more tricks (like the voice that appeared to be Rob’s mother earlier in the serial, but wasn’t).  This once again poses questions – we’ve seen that time was able to manifest itself after both Helen and Rob were forced to recite nursery rhymes against their will, but what was the trigger here?  Was it simply due to Rob having a subconscious desire to see his father again, which time was somehow able to use?

The ersatz Mr Jardine is able to convince Rob that Sapphire and Steel are his enemies and that he and his mother have been hiding from them in the house all this time.  After all he’s seen, it’s a little hard to accept that Rob would so quickly change sides, but it makes for a dramatic twist.  Golightly, an experienced film and television actor, is smooth and convincing as Mr Jardine.

Once Rob agrees to go with his father, he disappears from the view of Sapphire, Steel, Lead and Helen.  But Rob and Mr Jardine are still in the house, although they’re unable to see the others.  Like many parts of the serial, this isn’t immediately explained, leaving the viewer to make up their own minds about what has and what might happen.

Sapphire & Steel. Assignment One – Episode Four

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The previous episode concluded with Sapphire returning to the house pursued by the soldiers and ended on a close-up of Helen screaming.  A more effective, although possibly disturbing, cliff-hanger could have been created by allowing the action to run on just a little longer – this would have showed us a tense shot of Sapphire about to be beheaded.

Luckily Steel’s on hand to save her – by freezing the soldiers – although having to reduce his body temperature so dramatically means that his energy is temporarily spent.  That the soldiers were now full physical manifestations, whereas previously they had been insubstantial “ghosts”, poses more questions and seems to run counter to the events seen at the start of the serial, where time was depicted a subtle, non-corporeal manipulator.

A little more background is established after Rob asks Sapphire if there are any more like her and Steel.  She replies that there are 127, although Steel counters that there are only 115 (“you must never rely on the transuranics”).  This ties into the opening credits voice-over but it’s something that’s never developed – it serves as simply another tantalising hint about the nature and origins of the mysterious Sapphire and Steel.

It’s slightly coincidental that immediately after it’s revealed that Sapphire and Steel have colleagues, one turns up.  Lead (Val Pringle) is an imposing figure (at first sight Rob calls him a giant) but he’s a lot less frightening than he first appears.  He likes a laugh, that’s for sure, and his first question on seeing Sapphire is to wonder what food is in the house.  Like Silver, Lead is a good deal more frivolous than Steel, and the clash of their personalities is entertaining.  Lead provides insulation and chides Steel that he shouldn’t have attempted to lower his body temperature without him around.

Lead also brings news from home.  Jet sends her love to Steel, which amuses Sapphire no end whilst he tells them that Copper’s having problems with Silver again.  These throwaway lines hint at possibilities for future team-ups, but ultimately Silver is the only one we meet.

The ending of this episode is rather busy – Steel, Lead and Rob are upstairs attempting to prevent time from breaking through again, whilst Sapphire and Helen are in the kitchen.  They intend to burn all the nursery rhyme books in the house, although this plan goes a little awry when pages start to fly about.  Although it’s rather obvious they’re attached to wires, this isn’t too much of a problem since so much else is going on to ensure that a suitably apocalyptic atmosphere is created.

Sapphire & Steel. Assignment One – Episode Three

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Steven O’Shea, as Rob, has a rather unenviable job.  Up until now Sapphire and Steel have been cool and unemotional, leaving Rob as the character who has to express a wide range of emotions from bewilderment to fear.  It would be a tough task for any actor, not made easier by O’Shea’s relative inexperience (he only had a handful of screen credits prior to this).  But after a rather histrionic turn during the opening few minutes of this episode he settles down nicely and interacts well with the much more experienced McCallum and Lumley.

Something has escaped from the locked room.  Its manifestation is very basic – a pool of light – but why bother to create anything more visually impressive when such a simple effect works just as well?   As the light moves secretly around the house, Sapphire and Steel ponder their next move.  Steel’s never heard of Olivier Cromwell, a fact which shocks Rob.  When the boy asks Steel if he knows his history, Steel replies that yes, he does.  It’s easy to draw the implication from this that Steel is an alien, although this isn’t explicitly stated (he could just be implying that he’s not British).

As the Cromwellian soldiers make another appearance, Rob buries his face in Sapphire’s shoulder.  It’s a non-verbal moment which shows her caring side – watch how she silently smoothes his hair afterwards – and possibly it was something worked in rehearsal.  The next line of the script has Steel asking Rob if this latest manifestation was the same as the previous one – a rather redundant question since Rob wasn’t looking that way at the time.

If Sapphire and Steel have seemed rather cocky up until now, then the plot-twist mid way through the episode wipes the smiles from both their faces.  Sapphire has been transported by the mysterious pool of light into a picture of a cottage hanging on the wall.  This poses numerous questions, most notably about how time could do such a thing.

We’re told that Sapphire is still in the house – time is simply creating the illusion that she’s somewhere else.  This illusion is a powerful one though, meaning that Steel and the others have to attempt to keep her grounded in reality – once she really believes that she’s in the cottage then she’ll be lost to them.

This is another effective part of the serial.  The camera focusing on a close-up of McCallum with Lumley heard only as a voice-over and then switching to the vaguely dream-like cottage bedroom, with an increasingly frantic Sapphire just about hanging on.

The cottage was the scene of a terrible atrocity during the English Civil War (which raises another question – how could time discern this from a painting?) and Sapphire looks set to re-enact this event.  Steel manages to bring Sapphire back, but the danger isn’t over ….

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Sapphire & Steel. Assignment One – Episode Two

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A certain nursery rhyme – ring a ring of roses – was the trigger that allowed time to break through and steal Rob and Helen’s parents.  After Steel ripped the page out of the book he seemed to have assumed the danger was over, but hadn’t reckoned on Helen reciting the rhyme from memory.

This is a good indicator that Steel lacks any understanding of basic human behaviour.  As he later says to Sapphire, that’s why she’s here – he doesn’t see himself as a diplomat or as someone who needs to have any more interaction with people than is strictly necessary, it’s Sapphire’s job to reassure people like Rob.

She’s not doing very well though, as Rob now doesn’t entirely trust either of them.  He decides to tell the whole story to the police, who in the form of the local constable (played by Charles Pemberton) is due to arrive shortly.  As Rob unlocks the door to wait for his arrival, Sapphire and Steel appear at the top of the stairs.

They cast a sinister air, immobile and silent.  They make no direct attempt to stop him, but it’s plain that they hold the upper hand.  This feeling is strengthened when Sapphire innocently asks him if he speaks for both himself and Helen.  He says he does, but Sapphire is easily able to induce the girl to join her, which fractures their unity.  And when Sapphire puts the policeman into a time loop, Rob has to admit defeat.

Sapphire asks him to “please stop fighting us, and try to believe in us for once. We’re all you’ve got on your side! First a wall, then a room. What then? The house? A road… a village… a town. What next?” This seems to do the trick and even Steel – a flicker of a smile crosses his face when he enters the room – seems to be impressed by her powers of oratory.

We’ve already learnt that time can be destructive and capricious, but now we learn that it can also be intelligent and cunning.  It speaks to Rob, using the voice of his mother, pleading with him to open the barricaded door at the top of the house.  He’s persuaded by his “mother” to recite another nursery rhyme – goosey goosey gander.  This rhyme has long been linked to the English Civil War and the sight of Cromwellian-era soldiers, who suddenly appear on the stairs from nowhere, confirms that S&S is using this familiar interpretation.