You could always mention the war …

archivetvmusings I Have Been Watching

The only thing that surprised me about the recent Fawlty Towers storm in a tea cup is that UK Play hadn’t already been using the edited version of The Germans (snipped – apparently with John Cleese’s approval in 2013 – for BBC repeat showings).

Now this “banned” episode will be back, albeit with a disclaimer at the beginning, which seems fair enougb. And despite what some people think, the issue was never anything to do with insulting the Germans. That’s still perfectly okay …

My preference would always be to have things complete, but in the world of UK daytime cable and satellite re-runs that’s rarely so (although the pitchfork-wielding mob on Twitter yesterday didn’t seem to realise this. Which is probably just as well).

It’s no surprise that programmes originally made for a post watershed slot, like The Sweeney and The Professionals, will be cut for a 9.00 am repeat showing. But it seems that the cheapskates at ITV4 don’t bother to run the unedited version in their late night schedules – it’s far easier just to stick on the edited master again.

Mind you, given the rotten picture quality of both series on ITV4 (they’re also cropped into widescreen as the final indignity) I remain slightly amazed that anyone actually bothers with them.

Other tweaks are more amusing (to me at least). Fletcher might have enjoyed ogling the Page Three girls of The Sun during the seventies, but Porridge watchers today on UK Play are denied this treat – the offending breasts have been pixelated.

Television edits are nothing new. Galton and Simpson approved trims to a number of Hancock’s Half Hour episodes back in the 1980’s for VHS and repeat broadcasting (trimming frames here and there to tighten up the epjsodes). David Croft also oversaw the editing of selected Are You Being Served? episodes for a daytime repeat slot. Alas, these ended up being released in error on the R2 DVDs.

Rewinding back even further, 1976 episodes of Doctor Who (The Deadly Assassin) and I, Claudius (Zeus, By Jove!) were both trimmed for repeat showings. The Doctor Who episode was subsequently recovered and restored, but I, Claudius remains only in its edited state.

That’s incredibly annoying, but it does highlight the fact that content edits are nothing new.

For me, if the originals are available (on DVD, say) then I can’t get too worked up about what the umpteenth re-run on television looks like. Not too many DVDs have been edited for content (The Goodies for example – packed with contentious moments – sailed through unedited when Network released the complete series a while back).

Most edited DVDs fall into the AYBS? camp, cut television masters used because the bods at 2 Entertain (it was almost always 2 Entertain) couldn’t be bothered to find the original versions.

And we haven’t even got into the terrority of actors blacking/yellowing up yet (either for drama or comedy). John Bennett’s turn in The Talons of Weng Chiang continues to infuriate a vocal minority of Doctor Who fans. And a minority of that minority believe that because they dislike it, nobody should ever watch the story again – which is where the fun really begins.

Personally I take each archive programme as it comes. There’s plenty of moments which make me wince or tut, but there’s so many more which still enthral and entertain. And the more you watch from a certain era, the better an understanding of that time you’ll get. Taking the odd moment out of context is where the trouble tends to begin.

Doctor Who – The Handbook: The First Doctor by David J. Howe, Mark Stammers and Stephen James Walker

archivetvmusings Book Reviews, Doctor Who

It was good fun being a Doctor Who fan in the 1990’s. Maybe this was because there were no new television stories to be ripped to shreds (apart from the quickly forgotten American TV movie). So DW fandom stopped complaining about the present and began to really dig into the past. 

A hefty and lavishly illustrated hardback (The Early Years by Jeremy Betham, 1986)  had already stoked my interest in the series’ first faltering steps, but it was this modestly priced, modestly sized paperback published in 1994 which really took my breath away.

To be a DW fan back then meant that studying the sacred texts (The Making of Doctor Who and DWM especially) was a solemn duty. Slowly the nascent fan would begin to drink in all the lore and history – which stories were classics, which were turkeys, how jabolite was used, the companion who lost their knickers the most, etc, etc.

One of the most important lessons concerned the first few months of the show. We all knew that things looked dicey in the early weeks until the Daleks arrived in the second story – after that, the long term future of the show was assured.

Um, not quite.

The heart of The First Doctor Handbook was the Production Diary. This laid bare just how hand-to-mouth those early years were and how often the series teetered on the edge of cancellation. I seem to recall some info had already appeared in The Frame, but most of it was new to me.

Frankly, it’s an astonishing and eye-opening read (one day, when all the files are available, I’d love to see the production history of the first 26 years of the series tackled in a single volume, or indeed a number of volumes).

The Production Diary might account for a large chunk of the book, but the interview material (both from and about Hartnell) is also of interest. More information about Hartnell has become available since, but this deftly edited selection of quotes still stands up well.

The Handbook also includes an obligatory episode guide which is somewhat of its time (The Gunfighters receives a firm thumbs down for example).

I have far too many DW books (including a fair few I’ve rarely touched in decades) but The First Doctor Handbook is one I do find myself coming back to every so often. For anyone interested in the painful birth of the series it’s a must read. 

The Guinness Book of Classic TV by Paul Cornell, Martin Day and Keith Topping

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Imagine, if you can, a time before the Internet. Back in those far off days, obtaining information about your favourite television programme (especially if it was slightly obscure) was both difficult and time-consuming.

So The Guinness Book of Classic TV (2nd edition, 1996) was a real godsend. To be able to have episode guides close at hand for series such as Doctor Finlay’s Casebook was very welcome, even if there was no way to actually watch the programmes.  Still, we could dream about a time when all this material would be available at the touch of a button ….

Over 100 programmes were covered, including the likes of The Troubleshooters, The Forsyth Saga, The Army Game, Up Pompeii!!, Citizen Smith, Hancock’s Half Hour, The Young Ones, Absolutely Fabulous, Watch with Mother, Dixon of Dock Green, Callan, Edge of Darkness, Doctor Who, The Avengers, Sapphire & Steel, Upstairs Downstairs, Colditz, Secret Army and I Claudius.

The opening analysis – an absorbing ten-page trot through the history of Coronation Street – begins the book with a bang and this high standard is maintained throughout. Mind you, given this is a Cornell/Day/Topping tome it’s unlikely that you’re going to agree with all their opinions (poor Crossroads is given a bit of a kicking).

It’s also interesting to find the later years of Dixon of Dock Green labelled as a dangerous and embarrassing anacronym. That was certainly a widely held view back in the nineties although the DVD release of most of the existing colour episodes has helped to rehabilitate the show in recent years.

There are a few omissions – Public Eye and Sergeant Cork for example – although in the pre-DVD age that’s not really surprising (Cork especially languished in obscurity prior to its emergence on DVD, so if it wasn’t available twenty five years ago you can’t really blame them for ignoring it).

The Guinness Book of Classic TV has aged well. As I’ve said, a few entries are slightly eyebrow raising but most of the book is packed with pithy and well-constructed capsule reviews. It’s been a well-thumbed favourite on my bookshelf for over twenty years and I’m sure I’ll keep coming back to it for many years to come.

Blue Peter – The Inside Story by Biddy Baxter and Edward Barnes

archivetvmusings Book Reviews

I’ve been digging through my collection of television books during the past few months (unearthing some which haven’t seen the light of day for a while) and I thought it might be a good idea to highlight a few which I’ve enjoyed revisiting.

Blue Peter – The Inside Story was published by Ringpress Books in 1989, running to 236 pages. Although very much the authorised story, it’s still packed with interesting detail. That 1989 was a very different time is confirmed by the revelation that when the original Petra died after just a few days, they calmly went out and bought a ringer (and no-one was any the wiser).

Later scandals which befell BP (Socks-gate, the phone -in) don’t seem any worse than this but I don’t recall the Petra revelation causing any sort of ripple in the press back in 1989.

Down the years some presenters were more of a handful then others. It’s easy to see that Biddy had her favourites and it’s also noticeable that some long-runners (like Peter Purves) were appreciated rather than loved.

The sticky relationship with John Noakes can’t be avoided and his exit from the programme (which was rather uncomfortable due to concerns he would use Shep for advertising purposes) isn’t swept under the carpet. The travails of Janet Ellis and Michael Sundin are also touched upon (it’s quite obvious there was little love for Sundin in the BP production office).

Second hand copies are plentiful and quite inexpensive, so there shouldn’t be too much trouble in picking up a copy. Blue Peter – The Inside Story is well worth a place on your bookshelf.

Doctor Who – Mission to the Unknown

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Mission to the Unknown is a bit of an oddity.  After Verity Lambert decided that Planet of Giants was a tad dull and could do with losing an episode, the production team were told they had to add this “spare” episode onto another story.

Considering that the BBC has always been rather cash conscious, this has always struck me as a strange move.  Four episodes were budgeted and paid for on Planet of Giants, even if only three made it onto the screen, so effectively Lambert and co were given a “free” episode.  Surely the scheduling bods could have slipped a few Tom and Jerry cartoons on one week and no-one would have been that bothered?

Anyway, it seems that the original idea was to bolt an extra episode onto a Terry Nation Dalek script.  If that means The Chase then I think we dodged a bullet there.  I was already losing the will to live with six episodes, so seven might just have pushed me over the edge.

Or maybe they were referring to The Dalek Invasion of Earth which was the final story in the first production block (it begin in late November 1964).

And for no other reason than the fact that I love original Doctor Who paperwork, here’s Donald Wilson’s memo from 1964 to prove that I’m not talking complete nonsense.

So if the circumstances surrounding the creation of Mission to the Unknown were a little unusual, it’s also strange that it’s not sitting directly before The Daleks’ Master Plan.  It works as a prologue for that story very well, but the fact you have four weeks of The Myth Makers between the two would have presumably puzzled many of those watching at home.

I’ve a strong suspicion that Terry Nation leapt at the chance to write a Dalek script which didn’t include the Doctor.  He was already working on his proposal for a big-budget American series featuring the Daleks (but not that strange old man in the police box) so it’s easy to see Mission to the Unknown (and large parts of The Daleks’ Master Plan) as a dry run for this.

The American series would have featured plucky members of the space corps (similar to Marc Cory, Sara Kingdom and Bret Vyon) facing off against the Daleks week after week.The television series came to nothing, but the seventies Dalek annuals give you a flavour of what it might have been like.

Anyway, back to today’s episode. We open in a jungle on Kembel, which has plenty of lush, aggressive vegetation.  You’d better get used to it as there’s going to be lots of jungle action once we hit The Daleks’ Master Plan proper.  We see someone who we later learn is Jeff Garvey (Barry Jackson).  His first words (“I must kill… must kill… must kill”) have a slightly ominous ring about them. He doesn’t seem at all well.

Elsewhere, space captain Gordon Lowery (Jeremy Young) is complaining to space agent Marc Cory (Edward de Souza) about this inhospitable planet.  It’s clear that Cory’s the man in charge though, which is confirmed when he shoots Garvey dead.  Lowery’s a tad upset about this, but Cory explains that Garvey had been infected by a Varga plant and it was him or them.

Cory then reveals his true identity to Lowery.  “Space Security Service. Licensed to kill.” Yep, this was very much the time when Sean Connery’s portrayal of James Bond was dominating cinema screens and Cory is a blatant attempt to steal a little of 007’s thunder.  It’s an unusual move for Doctor Who though, which until now hasn’t tended to be influenced that much by contemporary popular culture.

Cory explains that he’s on the trail of the Daleks.  They haven’t bothered the Earth for a thousand years, but all that seems to have changed as a Dalek ship has been spotted in the vicinity.  This shattering revelation is followed by the most melodramatic music cue possible.

Wait! Garvey’s not dead.  Instead he’s suffered a far worse fate – he’s turned into a Varga plant!

The Daleks are also on Kembel and they’re here to chair a meeting between the leaders of the seven galaxies.  Some of the representatives we see here also pop up in The Daleks’ Master Plan, although by then some were played by different actors.

And some of the representatives in The Daleks’ Master Plan are totally different from how they look in this episode, which is another puzzle.  Luckily there are those who have pondered these issues long and hard.  For the curious, I can recommend this post by Jac Rayner on her blog Delegate Detective.

Whatever names they have or whichever actor is playing them, the delegates are a rum lot who certainly don’t have a lot of love for our precious planet Earth.  As Malpha (Robert Cartland) succinctly puts it.  “This is indeed an historic moment in the history of the universe!  We six from the outer galaxies, joining with the power from the solar system – the Daleks!  The seven of us represent the greatest war force ever assembled!  Conquest is assured!”

That spells trouble.  I hope the Doctor is somewhere around …..

Angels

archivetvmusings BBC Drama - 1970's

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I’ve just dug out series one of Angels for another watch. Whilst it’s a shame that only the first two series made it to DVD, that shouldn’t dissuade you from picking them up as these early episodes are first rate.

Along with the colour Dixon of Dock Greens, Angels is probably the series I’ve found myself reassessing the most.  Based on hazy memories of the later, twice-weekly soap format, I’d long held the opinion that it was a rather cosy, pedestrian show. Maybe it did later lose its spark, but to begin with Angels is rich in interest in all areas – acting, writing and directing.

That a core group of female writers were assembled (and each assigned one of the main characters to write for) is noteworthy. Others also made valuable contributions, such as P.J, Hammond (who provides a typically disorientating offering later in the first series). I’d previously written about the first two series episode by episode here.

Given that Simply now seem to be out of the DVD game, it might be that their various BBC licensed titles will slowly begin to drift out of print. If so, you may want to pick up their Angels releases (and indeed anything else of interest) sooner rather than later.

The 1970’s Angels fan was well served with merchandise. There were the obligatory tie-in novels as well as annuals and (most eye-opening of all) a range of dolls. That most of the merchandising was aimed at the child market – even though the series wasn’t always child-friendly – is slightly odd, but it was common at the time (various post watershed programmmes like The Professionals and The Sweeney did something similar).

Crown Court – Lieberman v Savage (Part Three – 20th October 1972)

archivetvmusings ITV Drama - 1970's

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Mrs Savage’s maid – Florence Ferguson (jean Faulds) – is next in the witness box. Giving off a very Scottish air of respectability, she initially provides strong support for Mrs Savage but is then somewhat picked apart by Helen Tate. Possibly just enough of a seed of doubt has been sown in the mind of the jury by this point – was Mark really sleeping on the sofa all night or could he have been canoodling with Mrs Savage and her radiogram?

We’ve waited long enough and now finally Mark Lieberman gets a grilling. Jonathan Fry has made it back into court and takes charge of the cross examination. I get the feeling they don’t have a great deal in common (Fry begins by pondering about “the lifestyle of the younger generation” with a faint air of distaste and things career downhill from there).

I can’t play the Doctor Who game with Trevor Adams but he racked up a fair number of interesting credits during the seventies. There’s a role in Fawlty Towers but he’ll no doubt be best known for playing Tony Webster in The Fall and Rise of Reginald Perrin.

Although still very early days, the Crown Court formula is now very firmly in place. This one was a decent enough story, although even with the tinges of sex and scandal (cue reporters in the gallery frantically scribbling in their notebooks) it’s still not terribly memorable.

The Verdict

Once again I find myself disagreeing with the verdict. Maybe next time I’ll be in sync with the Fulchester jury.

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Crown Court – Lieberman v Savage (Part Two – 19th October 1972)

archivetvmusings ITV Drama - 1970's

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Lieberman’s private detective, Sidney Abbott, is called to the witness stand. He’s played by David Webb, although with a character name like that surely Sidney James should have been given the role.

When watching Crown Court or indeed any archive series of a similar vintage, I like to play a little game of ‘Which Doctor Who story has this actor appeared in?’. Wolfe Morris and Barbara Shelley were pretty easy but David Webb (possibly because his name’s rather nondescript) gave me a little more trouble. But I got there in the end – he was Leeson in Colony in Space. Well, it’s the sort of game that keeps me out of mischief …

Mr Fry has popped out (to powder his nose maybe) so Helen Tate stepped in to ask Abbott a few questions. Although since Barry Deeley handled the cross examination maybe that’s an indication that Abbott wasn’t a prime witness.

That the case isn’t being taken totally seriously can be inferred from the fact that Abbott used to work for P.E.E. (Piccadilly Enquiry Agency).

The focus now turns to the defendant. Delia Savage catches the attention of those watching in the public gallery (especially one old dear with a pair of opera glasses!).

Another time honoured courtroom chestnut occurs when Mrs Savage mentions a popular best combo, The Kitchen Sink. Cue the Judge looking confused and a swift helpful explanation (“a rock group, M’Lord. A musical ensemble, M’Lord”).

Crown Court  rarely went in for camera tricks or flourishes, but there is a split screen used here (Mrs Savage on the left, Leiberman on the right) which works rather well.

She’s a convincing witness, cool under pressure, although whether she’s telling the truth is another matter. Jonathan Fry does his best to paint her as an unscrupulous gold digger though.

Mmm, both parties are exchanging lingering looks. I’ve a feeling that a reconciliation might be on the cards (depending on the verdict of course).

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Crown Court – Lieberman v Savage (Part One – 18th October 1972)

archivetvmusings ITV Drama - 1970's

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Crown Court had plenty of humdrum cases (which nevertheless were often fascinating) but they also liked to chuck in a bit of spice from time to time. Lieberman v Savage certainly falls into the latter category …

Emmanuel Lieberman (Wolfe Morris) is attempting to evict his former fiance Delia Savage (Barbara Shelley) from his luxury London penthouse apartment. His ardour for Mrs Savage was somewhat dampened when he returned home to find his son, Mark (Trevor Adams), naked in the flat with her. Crumbs.

Given how good David Neal was as Jonathan Fry in the unscreened pilot, it’s very surprising that he never came back to the series. Instead, Bernard Gallagher took over the role of Fry (remaining with the series until 1984).

Charles Keating and John Alkin return as James Elliot and Barry Deeley whilst Helen Vernon debuts as Dorothy Tate. Richard Warner sits in judgement as Mr Justice Waddington.

Distant Hills is present and correct for the first time and we also see the debut of the jury – twelve bewildered souls plucked off the streets of Fulchester. Or in reality, eleven members of the public and one actor (since the foreman was a speaking part, an Equity member was required).

That each case would actually be judged helps to give the series an extra level. Although as time goes on, I’m sure I’ll be scratching my head at some of the bizarre verdicts handed out …

£200,000 for a luxury penthouse flat in London? Cheap at the price.

Jonathan Fry begins the case by waving a great many documents around. This is a little low on excitement but things soon pick up as he outlines the relationship between his client (Lieberman) and Delia Savage. Whilst Fry is opening the case, the camera lingers on Mrs Savage. She has a very nice hat.

And into the witness box goes Emmanuel Lieberman (Wolfe Morris). As he begins to give his evidence, his son saunters into the court. With his dark glasses and general slouching air, Mark is so hip and happening it hurts.

We quickly get to the nitty gritty – Lieberman returning home unexpectedly to find his son (stark naked!) emerging from his fiance’s bedroom. There’s a definite ‘oooooo’ reverberating around the courtroom at this point.

The flaw in Lieberman’s case is pretty obvious. As soon as he clapped eyes on his naked son he stormed out without demanding an explanation. If Mark had been innocently spending the night there (sleeping on the couch say) and then wanted to use the bathroom, he’d need to pass through the bedroom first to get to it. Mind you, having only one bedroom and one bathroom in a luxury penthouse seems like something of a design flaw.

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Crown Court – Doctor’s Neglect? (Part Three)

archivetvmusings ITV Drama - 1970's

Dr Warner’s still in the witness box and still wilting under a barrage of volleys from Jonathan Fry QC. James Elliot attempts to repair the damage – Mr Simpson’s own impatience to leave the hospital (in order to keep an appointment) is something which helps to strengthen the defence’s case.

We then pop outside for a brief heart to heart with Dr Warner and Nurse Dowling in a scene which helps to humanise them both. I can see why moments like these were swiftly dropped (although they returned much later) as it’s better that the viewers at home receive no more information than those in the courtroom.

The last witness is Mr Frost (George Waring), representing the hospital’s management. An interesting subtext running throughout this story is the suggestion that Mr Simpson was failed by systematic shortcomings (both medical and financial) at the hospital.

These days it’s difficult to imagine a hospital drama not tackling the topic of funding but I’d assume it wasn’t so dominant back in the seventies (certainly not in the episodes of, say, Angels I’ve seen anyway).

With Fry having nipped out of court for twenty minutrs, Frost’s cross-examination is left in the hands of Derek Jones (David Ashford). As Charles Lotterby, Ashford would become one of Crown Court‘s most familiar barristers but poor old Derek Jones is somewhat more hapless. Frost is able to angrily rebuff Jones’ allegations, leaving Jones looking rather small and humbled.

The Verdict

I won’t reveal the verdicts on each case, instead I’ll simply comment whether I agree or disagree with the finding. Today I disagree, although there were well balanced arguments on both sides so it was a tricky one.

Crown Court – Doctor’s Neglect? (Part Two)

archivetvmusings ITV Drama - 1970's

We saw his long face in the first episode, but now Dr Warner (Jeremy Bulloch) takes to the witness stand. He comes across as reasonably convincing but there’s also an air of unease about him. This feeling is exacerbated when Nurse Dowling (Jacqueline Stanbury) is then cross-examined.

Jacqueline Stanbury would later be a short-lived regular on Dixon of Dock Green (only one of her episodes – Sounds – now exists). Bulloch’s credits are too numerous to list but they include Doctor Who, James Bond, Star Wars and Robin of Sherwood.

Interesting that Jonathan Fry gave Dr Warner a fairly easy ride before opening both barrels on Nurse Dowling. It was the right course of action though as she quickly folds like a pack of cards and admits that Warner could be rather hot-headed and impulsive at times.

The defence is now rocking, but did Simpson overhear Warner’s angry comment that he should discharge himself and go to another hospital if he wanted better treatment? That becomes a key question.

So Warner goes back into the witness box. There’s something deeply ominous about the way Fry slowly circles around Warner before unleashing his assault. Fair to say that the defence aren’t doing very well for witnesses so far.

Crown Court – Doctor’s Neglect? (Part One)

archivetvmusings ITV Drama - 1970's

This first Crown Court serial feels somewhat different to what would come later. For one thing, the familiar theme music (Distant Hills) is noticeably absent.

There’s also a fair amount of whispered chat in the courtroom as Mr Frost (George Waring) has a good old natter to Barry Deeley (John Atkin). He helpfully explains to Frost (and the viewers) various bits of procedure. This was dropped from the series as presumably it was felt the audience would be able to understand how the court functions without these prompts.

Mr Simpson, one of Fulchester’s leading chartered accountants, died after walking out of hospital (he had previously been involved in a car accident). His widow (played by Petra Davies) is suing the hospital for damages.

Mrs Simpson is the very model of middle class respectability and it’s easy to see that Mr Justice Waddingham (Ernest Hare) is rather taken with her. After James Elliot QC (Charles Keating) asks her a somewhat awkward question she appeals to Waddingham and the question isn’t pressed. This seems a little off.

Mrs Simpson comes across as a perfect witness. A little too perfect for me ….

The hawk-like Jonathan Fry QC (David Neal) is representing Mrs Simpson in her quest for damages and next calls an expert witness – Dr Sissons (Basil Dignam). Dignam would return to Crown Court – albeit as the top dog (he’d later play Mr Justice Poynter).

Another unusual aspect of this first serial is the way the action moves outside the courtroom every so often. This wouldn’t happen again in the early stories as they were firmly (and claustrophobically) courtroom bound.

Wogan’s Guide to the BBC (1982)

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Wogan’s Guide to the BBC is an entertainingly eclectic and idiosyncratic snapshot of the BBC circa 1982. Although Tel doorsteps some of the great and good – including James Burke, Frank Muir and Russell Harty – at the start of the programme (in order to winkle out some quick soundbites about what the BBC means to them) overall it’s a pleasingly unstarry sort of programme.

The two television drama productions covered – The Cleopatras and Beau Geste  – tend to concentrate on the production staff and extras rather than the stars (hard to imagine that sort of focus occurring today). It’s also noticeable that pretty much the same amount of time is devoted to both the BBC’s radio and television output.

For anyone who loves a dollop of Wogan whimsy, this is well worth your time.

Adam Adamant Lives! – To Set A Deadly Fashion

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Adam pops along to an Embassy ball and falls into conversation with Oretta (Nancy Nevinson), the wife of the Italian Vice Consul. And after she falls dead into his arms, he instantly turns detective ….

There’s no mystery about Oretta’s death as her conversation with Adam is intercut with shots of two eavesdroppers (Howarth and Watkins) who are able to hear every word that’s spoken. She’s wearing a bugged dress then, that’s different. And not only is it bugged, when it’s decided that Oretta has said too much they’re able to kill her by remote control.

The dress has been designed by Roger Clair (Colin Jeavons), a fashion designer who has plenty of connections in high society. Where do you start with Jeavons’ performance? Calling it camp just doesn’t do it justice – Jeavons is clearly enjoying himself tremendously, periodically winding himself up into explosive paroxysms of petulance.

Howarth (Alister Williamson) is his stolid number two. A much less showy turn, but then there’s only room in the story for one Jeavons-sized character.  Given how prima-donnish Clair is, it’s difficult to credit that he’s responsible for creating such an intricate espionage network – but it seem to be so.

Tony Williamson’s script also seems a little unclear in other places too. We’re told that a number of other society matrons have died in a similar way to Oretta (all apparently from heart attacks) but Clair was deeply upset when Howarth decided to terminate Oretta (Howarth was worried that Adam was getting too close to discovering their operation). So why did the others die? Oh well, possibly you’re not supposed to dig too deeply into the specifics of the story.

Adam toddles along to Clair’s latest fashion show, but is appalled when the models – dressed in bathing costumes – begin to parade themselves. Poor Adam, given a front-row seat, can’t bring himself to look whilst Georgina (it won’t shock you to discover) has signed on as Clair’s latest model.

This turns out to be a godsend for Clair as he’s able to pop the unsuspecting Georgina into a bugged dress. There’s a lovely spot of dialogue from Clair as he first recoils at the notion of Adam living in a car park, before approving of the notion of his flat (“what a ducky idea”).

Another episode highlight occurs when Adam, safely back with Georgina at his flat, suddenly twigs that her dress might be dangerous. He writes her a note (“take off your dress”) only for her to counter with a note of her own (“get lost”). Given she’s been panting over him since the start of the series, I’d have thought she’d have been quite keen to get undressed for him ….

Towards the end of the episode Adam has the chance to indulge in his usual spot of fisticuffs before facing the possibility of a grisly death at the hands of Clair’s wicked invention. Fear not though, the ever resourceful Adam can take just about anything that’s thrown at him and then throw it back with maximum vengeance.

Another solid episode, this one benefits enormously from the performance of Colin Jeavons.

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Adam Adamant Lives! – The Terribly Happy Embalmers

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The opening of this episode is AAL! at its most Avengerish (not really surprising of course since Brian Clemens wrote the script). Sir John Marston (John Scott) bids his friends and colleagues a cheerful goodbye before stepping into a comfortable coffin – immediately afterwards he is pronounced dead by Wilson (Jeremy Young).

The coffin is delivered to an undertakers run by Mr Percy (Arthur Brough – glass of water for Mr Grainger please) and is opened to reveal a happy Marston, declaring that it’s good to be alive again. Unfortunately Mr Percy then shoots him dead ….

Now that’s how you write a teaser!

Clemens’ script sparkles throughout. Mind you, it doesn’t hurt that it boasts fine performances from some experienced players. Such as Deryck Guyler as Grantham, the snuff-taking Man from the Ministry who calls in Adamant to solve the mystery of why a number of financiers (including Marston) died immediately before they were due to face charges of tax evasion.

The common link is a psychiatrist called Velmer (John Le Mesurier). His profession serves as a cue for Adam and Georgina to discuss the merits of psychiatry in another comic scene. Georgina’s abuse of Adam’s priceless tea service also raises a smile.

The presence of John Le Mesurier is another major plus point in the episode’s favour. Although for a bright man, Velmer seems to be a little dense (even after learning about Adam’s past life, he doesn’t twig that his subject is actually the celebrated Adam Adamant). This is even odder when it’s later revealed that Velmer knows all about Adam.

Hamilton Dyce, as Mr Percy’s second in command, and Ilona Rogers (Susan) help to fill out the cast.  I have to admit that she looks rather fine in her nurses uniform (which seems to have been designed to maximise her cleavage).

Velmer has sent Adam to a very strange nursing home where Susan is on hand to attend to his every need – although the buttoned up Adam draws the line at being undressed by her! The early dialogue exchanges between Harper and Rogers are a gift for both for them.

It’s nice to see Harper given some good material to get his teeth into – unlike some of the previous episodes Adam isn’t just portrayed as an uptight innocent, he seems to be a more rounded character today (quick witted and easy able to feign madness – Velmer is convinced that Adam’s Edwardian remembrances are simply delusions and Adam is happy to string him along).

Georgina has been sidelined for most of this episode – stuck in the flat with Simms who’s been entertaining her by reciting several of his hair-raising limericks – but eventually she pushes herself into the story by skulking around the offices of the health club. She encounters a strange-looking man rising from a coffin in a shock moment that seems designed to lead into an ad break (before you remember this was a BBC show).

Georgina and Susan later have a brief catfight which is the cue for Georgina to steal her clothes and for Susan to emerge a moment later in a state of undress. The conclusion – with the undertakers perishing in a barrage of friendly fire and Adam and Wilson fencing to the death – is a bit of a cracker.

The Very Happy Embalmers has a rather thin story but since it’s assembled and performed so well I’m not complaining. After a few false starts, this episode pointed a possible way ahead for the series, albeit as an Avengers clone.  If AAL! was going to have a long term future then it would need to find its own voice, but for now this episode is simply content to be nothing less than first rate entertainment.

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Adam Adamant Lives! – Allah Is Not Always With You

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Allah Is Not Always With You opens in eyebrow raising fashion –  an attractive young woman called Linda (Miranda Hampton) is tied to a bed and offered the prospect of torture unless she does as she’s instructed. Golly. The attentive viewer will probably notice that she’s dressed in fishnets and a fluffy upper costume, which raises the kink factor an extra notch.

You have to say though that maybe the baddies’ hearts weren’t in it, as once Linda is left alone she unties herself with embarrassing ease and manages to dodge past the tough guarding the door.  If this is slightly hard to swallow, then more swallowing is required when (fleeing down a long corridor) she’s knifed in the back.  Had the distance between Linda and the knife thrower not been so great then possibly this wouldn’t have come across as such a superhuman feat.

Mortally wounded though she is, Linda still manages to pop on a coat (sorry, I’ll try and stop nitpicking soon) and takes a cab (driven by George Tovey, who always did a very nice line in cabbies) to Adam’s flat.  Her arrival in Adam’s sitting room (her barely conscious form carried over the threshold by Simms) is an amusing moment. It’s also significant, as this caused the original Simms (played by John Dawson) a great deal of trouble – sent off to hospital with a bad back, Dawson was quickly replaced by Jack May.

Everything seems to centre on The Fluffy Club which is a joint where the hostesses are dressed in a fluffy fashion (nothing to do with the Playboy Club, honest). It’s the sort of decadent gambling den you know Adam will find totally abhorrent, even if by today’s standards it looks amusingly tame.  And if it’s somewhat predictable that Adam’s ended up in such a place, then it’s even more predictable that Georgina – having ignored Adam’s order not to get involved – has enrolled at the club as a Fluffy Girl in order to be his inside woman.

She has all the attributes to be a Fluffy Girl, her legs seem to go on forever ….

Kevin Brennan oozes melodramatic menace as Vargos, the club owner who intends to ensnare Ahmed (David Spenser), a wealthy Middle Eastern playboy. Whilst Ahmed heads off to be fleeced in the big card game, Adam is lurking about the corridors. At this point it’s hard to see how he’ll fit into the narrative (he can hardly gatecrash the game) but luckily there’s another damsel in distress close at hand and a few toughs for Adam to duff up.

Adam’s new damsel, Helen (Jennifer Jayne), is – of course – an associate of Vargos (poor Adam always seems to hone straight in on the bad women). So clever, but oh so vulnerable. She manages to snatch a quick kiss with him and he doesn’t pull away. Perhaps Adam is slowly moving into the sixties …..

Fictitious Middle Eastern states were an ever-present staple of sixties adventure series and today’s example is a fairly common one. Ahmed is the headstrong young heir to the Sheikdom who’s been assimilated into – or corrupted by – Western culture whereas his father is much more of a traditionalist.  The Sheik is played by a browned-up John Woodnutt, which is the sort of casting that may look a little odd today but was perfectly common back then.

It’s interesting that whilst Adam finds himself sidetracked by Helen, Georgina is the one who’s doing all the hard graft – taking Ahmed out for a bun in order to find out what Vargos is up to. And once she’s got the info, Georgina scooters off to Adam’s pad to share the news – almost running into Helen who’s just been enjoying an intimate tête-à-tête with Mr Adamant. Frosty stares are exchanged between the two females.

Eventually Georgina is able to persuade Adam that the Sheik’s life may be in danger (in London for a routine operation, if he dies then Vargos will be able to pull Ahmed’s strings and rule by proxy).

Allah Is Not Always With You chugs along quite nicely with all the familiar story beats of the series – easily duped Adam, plucky Georgina, fisticuffs ahoy – firmly in place. It never quite kicks into top gear though since Vargos is too nebulous a villain whilst Ahmed is also quite sketchily portrayed (given this, it’s hard to feel any particular sympathy for him).

The identical pleasures – a horrified Adam meeting the sedate fleshpots of the Fluffy Club, say – are the moments which really stand out. Not bad then, but hopefully more substantial fare will be just round the corner.

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Armchair Theatre – Office Party (17th August 1971)

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Fay Weldon’s Office Party might not be the sharpest ever AT, but it’s still of interest – partly since it’s a good example of the studio-bound ITV play (something which would gradually disappear from the schedules) but also because Weldon’s script offers up plenty of food for thought regarding gender politics (even if the problems she creates are resolved rather neatly by the end).

The setting is a bank, after hours, where the staff have convened to wish their manager (played by George A. Cooper) a fond-ish farewell.  Cooper plays to type as a plain-speaking man who is well aware that he’s not particularly loved (or even well liked) but still condones the party. Perhaps he likes receiving presents.

Also slotting into a familiar role is Peter Barkworth as his number two, Dickie. Barkworth seemed to spend most of his career playing buttoned-down types who had a distinct code of old fashioned honour.  At first, Dickie seems to regard his secretary, Julia (Angharad Rees), with nothing but contempt, but by the end of the play he’s mellowed considerably.

Rees exudes an undeniable sexiness – especially when she arrives at the party wearing a somewhat revealing dress. This inflames the passions of some of her colleagues (Giles Block and Peter Denyer both give good turns in this respect).  Roy (Block) seems somewhat put out when he tells Julia that he’s placed her top of his list of most desirable office females (she fails to respond in the manner he expects).

If Rees is vulnerable at times then Ray Brooks is rather boorish as Dave (Julia’s boyfriend). He exhibits little loyalty towards her, even after learning that she’s pregnant, and seems much more interested in squiring another young lady round the party and telling Roy all about his liaisons with Julia in the stationery cupboard. Dave is an alpha male – friendship with his male buddies comes first, a relationship with his girlfriend is a distant second.

The clash between Julia and Dave midway through is clearly one of the play’s key points. At this stage it looks as if any sort of relationship between them will be impossible (marriage is certainly out of the question). There’s a happy ending though as the pair reconcile in the last minutes which means that everything seems to be settled. Although given that both have rather volatile natures, possibly we’re invited to not expect them to live happily ever after ….

Elsewhere, I did enjoy the confrontation between Barkworth and Cooper late on. Julia is, once again, the topic of conversation, with the outgoing manager insistent that she be sacked whilst Dickie shows a more compassionate side to his nature by standing by her.

That Dickie, when learning of Julia’s pregnancy, offers her a chair feels exactly like the sort of thing you’d expect a character played by Barkworth to do. Julia remains passive as the men debate her fate (at one point turning her bare back on them) but she does eventually speak up.

Office Party has some good comic moments, along with a first rate cast to play them, and overall it still stands up well. As I’ve said, it maybe doesn’t entirely satisfy, but there are far worse ways to spend fifty minutes.

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Doctor Who – Galaxy 4. Part Four – The Exploding Planet

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After the Doctor and Vicki rescue Steven from the airlock, they leave him to have a chat with the Rill (still voiced in a deep and booming fashion by Robert Cartland).  This is one of the more interesting scenes in this final episode.  Earlier, both Vicki and the Doctor were happy to accept the Rill’s bona fides at face value, but Steven’s a much more cynical sort.

STEVEN: So the Doctor trusts you?
RILL: Why shouldn’t he?
STEVEN: No reason. I suppose you gave right ethical reasons for him, so naturally he does trust you.
RILL: We rescued you from the Drahvins, but you still don’t trust us?
STEVEN: Oh, you could be the same as them – using us for your own salvation.

Steven eventually accepts that the Rills are operating in good faith, but this scene demonstrates Steven’s independence.   Peter Purves’ dislike for the story is well known (he believed his part had originally been written for Barbara and then was hastily rewritten) but little moments like this are good ones for the character.

In the end, the moral of the story is helpfully spelled out after the Doctor, Steven and Vicki have a face-to-face meeting with the Rill.  Even the Doctor is slightly taken aback by his appearance, but after his initial surprise he treats him with equanimity.

Vicki and Steven are equally accepting.  Vicki says that “I mean, after all, we must look just as strange to you” whilst Steven tells the Rill that “what difference does it make what your form is?”  The Doctor is able to cap these noble sentiments off when he grandly proclaims that “importance lies in the character and to what use you put this intelligence. We respect you as we respect all life.”

It’s Maaga’s inability to see past the Rills’ startling experience which seals her fate and that of her soldiers.  The Rills would have been happy to take the Drahvins with them once the Doctor had repaired their ship, but this was never a possibility for Maaga.  For her there was only one answer – kill the Rills and take their ship by force.

But her attempt to launch an attack comes to nothing and she’s forced to watch as the Rills’ spaceship takes off without them.   That we’re denied a pitched Drahvin/Chumbly battle for control of the Rills spaceship feels like a missed opportunity, as is the fact that the Doctor and his friends are able to reach the TARDIS without being stopped by Maaga.

I wonder if some of the other Doctors would have decided to rescue Maaga and the others?  Not Billy though, he’s more than happy to nip off and leave them to their fate.  In the world of the first Doctor it’s plain that the Drahvins had their chance to demonstrate that – like the Rills – they could show compassion for others.  They didn’t, so the Doctor leaves them to face certain death.

With only one extant episode it’s hard to really know how effective the story was.  The Loose Cannon recon certainly makes an heroic effort to provide some visual moments for the other three episodes, but even if the whole story existed I doubt it would be regarded as anything more than a fairly middling story.

The rather simplistic message at the heart of the story (ugly doesn’t have to mean evil) had been covered more fruitfully before – even in the sedate form of The Sensorites.

Doctor Who – Galaxy 4. Part Three – Airlock

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Galaxy 4 has never been regarded as one of Doctor Who‘s great tales, something which was made plain when Air Lock was recovered.  The news was met with polite interest, but there was an undeniable feeling that many were wishing something from a “classic” story (like Power of the Daleks) had been found instead.

Hopefully some minds were changed after the episode was released on DVD, as the return of any missing DW episode (even from an obscure and unloved story like this one) should be celebrated.  It’s wonderful to have the audios and recons, but they can only tell half the story – the previously unknown visual moments from Air Lock were a real revelation for me.

For example, we finally got to see a Rill in all its glory.  One of the series’ more mysterious monsters (for a long time even photographic evidence was sparse) it’s fair to say that the visuals didn’t do it many favours.

It does rather look like a piece of cardboard slowly moving behind a screen (so this was one of those occasions where the static image was preferable).  The voice acting from Robert Carland was powerful though – he certainly put everything he could into the role.

But if the visual representation of the Rill was a little disappointing, then the joy of watching Hartnell in full flow more than made up for it.  I love Hartnell’s Doctor (I may have mentioned this a few times before) and he’s in cracking form in this episode.

One of my favourite moments (another of those visual touches that we hadn’t previously known about) occurs when the Doctor orders the Chumblies about.  Lovely stuff!  The scene when he tangles with a Drahvin, using his stick as a weapon (and calling her madam!) is another little gem.

This was Derek Martinus’ directorial debut on the series.  He wasn’t the first, and certainly wouldn’t be the last, to find Hartnell rather difficult, but whilst Martinus may have been inexperienced he was still able to produce some interesting moments.

Most notable is Maaga’s monologue which Stephanie Bidmead delivers direct to camera. The flashback scene showing the moment when the Drahvins and Rills both crashed on the planet was another impressive visual touch – shot from the Rill’s POV.

The Doctor’s in a very reckless mood. He decides to sabotage the Rill’s machine which produces ammonia for them. Let’s give him the benefit of the doubt and say that he didn’t realise it was vital to their survival. At least he has the good grace to look a little bashful afterwards!

Peter Purves doesn’t have a great deal to do today.  Trapped in the air lock for most of the episode, he might as well have sat this one out.  This passive role no doubt helps to reinforce his belief that Galaxy 4 was a story that did Steven few favours, but had one of the earlier episodes been recovered then it’s possible that he may have looked a little more kindly on the story (as Steven certainly has a more active role in the first two episodes).

Doctor Who – Galaxy Four. Part Two – Trap of Steel

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Maaga has allowed the Doctor and Steven to leave the Drahvin ship in order to establish whether the planet really will be destroyed in fourteen dawns.  The audience is several steps ahead though – we know that this estimate is wildly optimistic (the planet will actually expire in another two dawns).

Vicki’s been left behind as a hostage, but luckily she doesn’t have to bear Maaga’s company for too long as the others return with news.  The Doctor decides to be economical with the truth to begin with and tells Maaga that the Rill’s estimate of fourteen dawns was correct.  The only problem is that Maaga then reveals that the repairs to the Rill’s spaceship will also take fourteen dawns.

Maaga once again repeats what almost seems to be a mantra – the Rills are evil and must be destroyed.  The possibility of working together to leave the planet never seems to enter her head.

But it’s interesting that despite the fact she seems to loathe the Rills, she’s also picked up a certain amount of information from them – the notion that the planet’s lifespan is limited to fourteen dawns and the time needed to repair their ship, for example.  If they’re such implacable enemies it’s a little odd that they’ve been so free with vital information like this.

Maaga is able to winkle out from the Doctor the fact that two dawns is all the time the planet has left to enjoy.  So the Doctor and Vicki (with Steven this time left behind as the Drahvin’s hostage) set out to meet the Rills to see if they can speed up the repairs 

This is not before time – after all, we learnt early in episode one about them and there’s a strong sense that the story can’t advance until we hear their side of things.  But the Doctor, and the story, isn’t inclined to rush so we’ll have to wait until the next episode before the Doctor and Vicki come (sort of) face to face with a Rill.

Whilst the Doctor and Vicki are slowly making their way to the Rill’s spaceship, Steven is attempting to sow discord aboard the Drahvin’s ship.  He’s able to easily manipulate one of Maaga’s footsoldiers, but it doesn’t gain him much of an advantage.

Galaxy 4 has long been one of Peter Purves’ least favourite stories, mainly because he believed it was written for Ian and Barbara (and Barbara’s role was then hastily rewritten for him).  There’s not a great deal of evidence for that in this episode though.  Steven has several very decent scenes – especially when he confronts Maaga – and whilst it’s possible that Barbara could have been as strong, everything we see here is totally consistent with Steven’s already established character.

Little of note happens in Trap of Steel.  Events are moving, but we’ll have to wait until the next episode to see how they pay off.  Since episode three now exists that’s not entirely a bad thing, but it does mean that Trap of Steel is rather forgettable in its own right.