Although Mary Morris was only in the studio for a single day, they certainly got their money’s worth out of her. She briefly appeared in episode two, but all of her key scenes are in this one.
There’s something delightful about the way that Panna crosses swords with the Doctor. Knowing that no man (save an idiot) can look into the Box of Jhana and retain their senses, she has no hesitation in tagging the Doctor as such. It’s a little hard to imagine some of the previous Doctors being so pliant (especially Pertwee – “Madam, I am no idiot” – or something like that) but it suits Davison’s Doctor well.
He’s no idiot, but rather like the Troughton Doctor it doesn’t bother him if other people think so. The Fifth Doctor doesn’t need to be centre-stage, commanding the action, he’s just as happy watching quietly from the fringes. After seven years of a Doctor who was always dominant, this was a refreshing change.
So after all the toing and froing with the Box (driving numerous men out of their wits) Panna and Karuna have finally managed to reach Todd – the woman who would be able to follow the vision. It seems a bit churlish (but I’m going to do so anyway) to wonder why the pair of them didn’t simply turn up at the Dome and explain in a more straightforward way. But whilst they may not be primitive, it’s possible they’re bound – like everybody else – to operate under certain parameters.
PANNA: It is all beginning again.
DOCTOR: What is?
PANNA: What is? What is? History is, you male fool. History is. Time is. The great wheel will begin to roll down the hill gathering speed through the centuries, crushing everything in its path. Unstoppable until once again
TODD: Until?
PANNA: I must show you. That is why you have been brought here. Then perhaps when you understand, you will go away and leave us in peace. If it is not already too late.
DOCTOR: You said once again.
PANNA: Of course. Wheel turns, civilisations arise, wheel turns, civilisations fall.
Whilst the Doctor’s seeking enlightenment, Adric is stuck with Sanders and Hindle. Matthew Waterhouse doesn’t do badly here, even though he’s sharing the screen with two actors who could run rings around him at any time. But the fact that both Sanders and Hindle are now childlike (Sanders docile, Hindle petulant) means that they fit rather well with Adric, who’s tended to act like a somewhat stroppy teen for most of his time aboard the TARDIS.
Those looking for faults could no doubt wonder why Panna’s projection features Earth-type clocks (although those of a more forgiving nature might decide that the images were drawn from the minds of the Doctor and Todd). Even given the limited budget this sequence is still suitably apocalyptic, although I’ve never quite understood why the episode didn’t close on the spooky close-up of Panna’s face.
Instead it trundles on for a few seconds more, leaving us with a cliffhanger where we discover that Panna’s dead. Which doesn’t seem nearly as dramatic.
Panna (Mary Morris) and Karuna (Sarah Prince) encounter Sanders in the forest. They give him a box which somewhat alters his wordview ….
This has always been a slightly odd part of the story for me. Panna and Karuna don’t wish the interlopers ill and clearly they intend that the box should be sufficient to explain why Sanders and the others should leave the Kinda in peace. The only problem is that the box can only be understood by a women, which is unfortunate since Todd appears to be the sole female in the survey team.
Presumably this is the reason why several members of the expedition have mysteriously disappeared (driven out of their minds by what they’ve seen within the box?). But if this is the case, why do Panna and Karuna insist that Sanders opens the box? If they know he won’t be able to handle what he sees, it seems a very strange way of going about things.
There’s possibly an irony at work here as the concept of female superiority is one that hadn’t really been explored in the series to date (apart from fairly unsubtle examples such as Galaxy 4 and – given what we know about it – the thankfully unmade Prison in Space). Apart from the later Mara-possessed Aris, Panna and Karuna are the only members of the Kinda tribe who can speak. This could also be taken as a statement of female empowerment, although Panna only says that voice is a sign of wisdom – not that it’s exclusively a female trait.
And anyway, non-speaking extras are cheaper than speaking ones ….
Hindle’s madness is explored in more detail. He now has a loathing of all life outside the dome (“Seeds. Spores. Particles of generation. Microscopic. Everywhere”) and proposes a fairly drastic solution. “I wish to announce the strategy for the defence of the dome, implementation immediate. We will raise to the ground and sterilise an area of forest some fifty miles radius. Objective, the creation of a cordon sanitaire around the dome. Method of implementation, fire and acid. Acid and fire”.
The return of Sanders should be the moment that normality returns, but his altered state – he now has the mind of a child – simply ensures that Hindle has one more person to dominate. In a way, Sanders and Hindle are now a perfectly matched pair as Hindle has also regressed to childhood, although he’s done so without any help from the Kinda. This point is hammered home when he spies Sanders returning to the dome. “Go away! Somebody make him go away! Mummy! Mummy, make him go away!”
Whilst the main action has been taking place in the dome, Tegan’s remains a prisoner of Dukkha. She’s offered a way out – he wants to borrow her body for a short while (“you would be suitably entertained by the experience”) – and eventually Tegan reluctantly agrees. Doctor Who is no stranger to possession, but although many companions have been taken over in the past, no examples have been as overtly sexual as the Tegan/Mara hybrid.
And given that the sexual nature of Tegan’s possession was heavily toned down from the rehearsals, it’s intriguing to speculate just what it originally looked like. Since the the story had space for two companions there was always the option that Nyssa (or god forbid, even Adric) could have been used by the Mara, although Tegan was the logical choice. Nyssa would have been interesting, but since she’s written as younger than Tegan (in Black Orchid, Nyssa and Adric are referred to as children, presumably meaning mid teens) this no doubt would have been somewhat problematic. Mind you, since both are aliens we don’t really know how old they are – just how they appear to human eyes.
So whilst the Mara in the form of Tegan is tempting its next victim (Aris) we leave the Doctor, Todd and Sanders with the Box of Jhana. Hindle wants it to be opened, but the Doctor and Todd, having seen what happened to Sanders, are less than keen. But open it they do, which leads to an ear-splitting scream from Todd. Hmm, so even in the future it’s the women who screams. Some things obviously never change …..
It does seem astonishing that Kinda ended up bottom of the 1982 DWM Season Survey poll. Although it’s easy to argue that Kinda’s theme and subtexts wouldn’t have necessary engaged the (I assume) largely teenage readership of the magazine (no surprises that the straight-ahead thrills of Earthshock were much more to their tastes) it does appear that contemporary Doctor Who fandom also regarded Christopher Bailey’s story with less than open arms.
Although Kinda did have its supporters, some fanzine reviews at the time were also fairly negative and you do get a sense that those who praised the story were well aware they were ploughing a rather lonely furrow. The puppet snake was then and will probably forever be a source of irritation and embarrassment for a section of the audience, although it’s never bothered me (and for those who still haven’t learnt to forgive, forget and love the snake, they can always use the nice CGI option on the DVD).
Initially Kinda seems to be operating on fairly normal lines. The concept of a planet where the seemingly primitive indigenous population face unwelcome and seemingly technologically superior visitors is a familiar Sci-Fi trope whilst the fact that Sanders (Richard Todd) and Hindle (Simon Rouse) are decked out in vague military uniforms (and in Sanders case, a pith helmet as well) means that the parallels to the British Empire are as obvious as they’re unsubtle.
In their early scenes, the characters of Sanders and Hindle operate as familiar archetypes. Sanders is bluff and gruff (albeit with a faint sense of humour) whilst Hindle comes across as a humourless by-the-book martinet. The third member of the team, Todd (Nerys Hughes) possesses a questioning nature, thereby providing her with an overview that the others (especially Hindle) lack. Given her scientific background this isn’t surprising though (especially since the hand of Christopher H. Bidmead was on the tiller – at least initially).
So it’s clear that when the Doctor enters their world he’s going to have one ally (Todd) and one adversary (Hindle) with Sanders possibly wavering in-between these two positions. Numerous Doctor Who stories feature an authority figure who complicates the Doctor’s progress, but whilst Hindle certainly fulfils this standard role it’s his highly unstable nature which is strikingly original.
The first discordant note is struck after he demolishes Todd’s laboratory in a fit of pique. It’s a very childish act which nobody in their right mind would have carried out (so serves as an early pointer that all is far from well with him). After Sanders heads out into the jungle, leaving the Doctor, Adric and Todd at his mercy, it’s not certain precisely what will happen next …
When Bailey was originally commissioned, Nyssa wasn’t part of the TARDIS crew, hence the reason why she’s written out (bar brief topping and tailing appearances). This is a shame, as with a spot of rewriting she could have taken on many of Todd’s responsibilities (both are questing scientists after all). But Nerys Hughes formed such a good rapport with Davison that it’s impossible to complain about the way things turned out.
Kinda is often referred to as Tegan’s story, although it’s striking how minimal her involvement is. If you added up all her scenes during the first two episodes it’s doubtful they’d reach five minutes, she spends episode three asleep and only comes to life again during the final instalment where she returns to fulfilling her more traditional companion duties (and is consequentially less interesting than previously).
In this first episode she’s trapped in a strange netherworld, menaced by the mysterious Dukkha (Jeff Stewart). And even though Tegan only features in a handful of scenes, they’re all deeply unsettling.
TEGAN: Am I dreaming you, is that it?
DUKKHA: Are you?
TEGAN: Or imagining you?
DUKKHA: Possibly.
TEGAN: Then I can abolish you, can’t I?
(Tegan closes her eyes then opens them again.)
DUKKHA: Puzzling, isn’t it? And by the way, one thing. You will agree to believe in me sooner or later. This side of madness or the other.
As I bid farewell to the Howard family for a while, here’s a rather nice videoclip of Simon May performing the theme to Howards’ Way from a few years back.
Although Tom’s been ever-present throughout series two, he’s not exactly been front and centre of too many storylines. The final episode of S2 somewhat makes up for this, as the fallout from the Lynnette’s break-up becomes the key theme.
Tom’s been haunting the yard every day, desperately searching for a reason “why” the catamaran broke up. Avril believes he’s simply torturing himself (“three days of prowling around in a hair shirt”) but Tom needs to understand. To this end he visits Mrs Travis, which is an understandably awkward encounter. When she tells Tom that she feels sorry for him, it’s a statement that can be taken several ways – but the meaning becomes clear after she serves a two million pound writ on the Mermaid yard.
It’s fascinating to see how Avril and Jack deal with this crisis. To begin with, Jack is convinced there was a design flaw in the catamaran – he maintains that you can’t simply become a skilled boat-designer overnight, it takes decades of hard work, not months or years. Avril is initially more supportive, but she’s the one who decides they have to serve a writ against Tom and suspend him as the Mermaid’s designer.
She believes that she’s acting in everybody’s best interests – if the worst comes to the worst then at least they have a chance of salvaging the yard. It’s telling at this point that she tells Tom that Jack shouldn’t have to lose his yard (he instantly picks up on the comment that it now appears to be Jack‘s yard). And at this point Jack does something of an about turn. Although previously he was dismissive of Tom’s design, he now supports it and is reluctant to side with Avril.
But side with her he does and the writ is served. It’s a throwaway moment but it goes to prove that for all his bluster, Jack Rolfe isn’t quite the buccaneering individualist he often claims to be. Although he made a half-hearted attempt to convince Avril that they needed to stand by Tom, not isolate him, in the end she got her way.
It’s easy to see the sense in Avril’s actions – at this point, with a question mark hanging over the Lynnette, it seems logical that Tom steps away from the design board, but he believes her true motives are quite different. Charles has invited Avril to take over as managing director of Relton Marine and she’s accepted. Oddly, we don’t see Avril tell Tom this (it’s only reported second-hand). It’s a little hard to understand why such a key scene like this wasn’t played out.
If Howards’ Way has an unconscious theme, then it appears to be that successful career women are required to sacrifice any hopes of a successful personal relationship. We’ve already seen this with Jan and now Avril seems to be heading the same way. Tom is convinced that Avril accepted this new job at Relton in order to rekindle her relationship with Charles, whilst she maintains that it was the only way to safeguard the Mermaid’s future. It’s hard to side with Tom at this point, meaning that his character flaws (jealousy as well as the previously seen desire not to heed other’s advice) are now quite pronounced.
As with the end of series one, the fate of the Mermaid hangs in the balance and we’ll have to wait until the S3 to see how things play out.
Abby’s story seems to have reached a natural conclusion. Her time with Curtis is terminated very swiftly (again this is something important which happens off-screen). He asks her if she’d like to go up to Birmingham with him, as he has to show the red-card to a man who kicked his dog to death. Abby clearly didn’t realise precisely what would happen (presumably she thought he’d just give him a severe ticking-off). Instead, Abby tells the ever-sympathetic Leo that Curtis viciously attacked the man, continuing to kick him even after he was unconscious. It proves that Leo was right all along to be suspicious about Curtis, although he’s mature enough not to crow about it.
The Abby/Curtis relationship is of special interest because it’s the reason why Abby discovers that Charles is her real father. This is done in a slightly contrived way though – Polly is concerned about Curtis and asks Charles to do some digging on her behalf. That’s reasonable enough, but then she asks Charles to visit Abby and tell her what he’s uncovered. If he does so then it seems obvious that Abby’s going to put two and two together (Charles Frere’s not the sort of person to pop around doing good turns like this for anybody).
Why didn’t Polly do it? It’s true that her relationship with Abby is strained, but they’re at least speaking at present (Abby didn’t leave home this time because of a spat with her mother – it was more about making a bid for independence).
But she doesn’t and Charles does, leading to the inevitable conclusion. Given that she despises Charles and all he stands for, it’s no doubt something of a shock, but that’s not the major plot-point here. Rather, it makes Abby finally understand that she shouldn’t have given William away, since it’s exactly the same mistake that her father made with her. So she sets off for America, to be reunited with William and a possible marriage to Orrin.
This could have served as a fairly tidy ending to Abby’s story, but as we’ll see that proved not to be the case. Although it’ll be a little while before we see her again.
The other major event in this episode concerns the death of Claude, mown down by a speedboat (a pity the man steering it wasn’t looking in the right direction). Although it doesn’t operate as a cliffhanger (in the way that Lynne falling into the water at the end of S1 did) it’s still highly dramatic. Lynne sheds more than a few tears (that’ll be the last we see of Tracy Childs until the sixth and final series) and even Jan is a bit teary-eyed.
It’s interesting how Claude’s fight for life is intercut with Jan bustling around, preparing to launch Claude’s collection. The undeniable impression given is that the fashion world seems even more trivial when matters of life and death are being decided elsewhere, but in Jan’s defence she was unaware of the accident. It seems a little strange that nobody decided to tell her how seriously ill he was (or even that Claude was in hospital) although this does give us a moody final scene as Jan, together with Leo (who’s travelled down to London to break the news of Claude’s death), both sit alone amongst the discarded clothes and rubbish from the fashion show.
The mood, as so often this year, is broken by leading into the end credits and the warbling of “always there” but no matter. Series two built nicely on the first, with a largely stable cast of returnees. The third series would see a little more fluidity amongst the regulars, with several notable absentees and some heavyweight new arrivals ….
Abby decides to leave home again. This concerns Polly, who – rather out of nowhere – has suddenly developed a strong interest in her daughter’s welfare. Compare and contrast this to her attitude from S1. Back then, after Abby snuck out to Southampton in the middle of the night Polly reacted with calm indifference (even pretending for a while that she was away with friends). But now she’s somewhat frantic after Abby stays out for a single night.
When Abby does return, it’s basically only to pack and to give her mother a brief (and rather sketchy) summary of her plans. She’s going to move to Southampton again – initially with Curtis (although that’s something tactfully not mentioned). For once Polly seems keen to talk, but Abby isn’t. So their relationship remains one of total non-communication.
Elsewhere, Jack is still being pursued by Mrs Davis-Seegram. Even though she doesn’t turn up in person, simply the mention of her name or a phone call from her is enough to give him the shakes. Glyn Owen was tailor-made for this sort of material. There’s something rather wonderful about seeing Jack (after receiving an expensive present from her) airily informing Bill that “she’s wasting her time. There’s no way any female is going to get on top of Jack Rolfe”!
The punchline, of course, is that as he’s speaking he’s on his way to answer the phone. No prizes for guessing who it is. Jack’s tone instantly moderates from aggressive to conciliatory (bringing to mind Captain Mainwairing’s telephone conversations to his wife Elizabeth). He later tries to pull a sickie (coughing down the phone) to try and wriggle out of a dinner engagement, but to no avail.
If Jack’s not running scared from Mrs Davis-Seegram then he’s clashing with Tom and Avril. Charles’ successful takeover of Relton Marine could have huge implications for the Mermaid (possibly the new Relton board will decide not to continue producing the Barracuda). Jack’s not bothered, he says they’ll simply go back to producing wooden boats. Even though Tom and Avril both tell him that the market for wooden boats isn’t there anymore (and he himself, given how few have been produced in recent years at the Mermaid, must know this to be true) he continues to maintain a relaxed air. He’s not under the influence of alcohol, so it’s probable that – Macawber like – he just expects something to turn up.
Jan’s being a little more understanding this episode. She rushes over to see Kate (although she can’t resist telling her mother that she’s had to put back her meeting with the PR men until the afternoon in order to do so). Kate explains that she needs to sell her house in order to pay off her debts and Jan asks her to move in with her. This is an ideal solution which Kate gladly accepts. But there’s also the vague sense that Jan still has her business head on – after Kate offers to pay her way, Jan doesn’t demur and later admits that it could work out financially in her favour. Some people might not want to charge their elderly parent for board and lodgings (especially when they’ve had to sell virtually everything they own) but Jan is clearly made of sterner stuff.
There’s a small hint of the way the series will develop next year, after Sir John refers to a business deal he previously organised with Charles’ father. Charles doesn’t react terribly well to this and we’re left with the very strong impression that his father is an equally successful businessman who’s exerted a strong influence over Charles’ life. So whatever Charles does now, he does so in his own way – comparisons to Frere Snr are clearly not welcome.
There are two major developments in the Leo/Abby relationship. For the first time we hear both of them express, in part, their feelings for each other (although frustratingly they don’t do so at the same time). Abby tells Leo that “you know, no matter how much I try to deny it, I realise now you mean a hell of a lot more to me than just a friend”. This isn’t something that Leo can respond to – verbally at least – so they part with a brief kiss on the lips and a hug.
We later see Leo clear the air with his mother and for the first time in a long while they have a quiet, considered conversation where both listen to the other. It’s here that we learn precisely what Leo feels for Abby (a shame he couldn’t say this to her face though). “It’s like she’s got a hold on me and I can’t let go. Can’t seem to walk away. When Orrin was over here, I tried but I couldn’t. If she ever needed me, I was always there. Now she’s seeing this other person and I’m still there. I don’t want to be, but I am”. I’m rather warming to young Leo.
Ken tries to win Jan back with a takeaway Chinese meal. This is presented as the height of sophistication – so either the mid eighties rated fairly low in the culinary stakes or it’s just another example of Ken’s lack of class. He throws in a cod Chinese accent as well, so I favour the latter over the former.
Jan’s not interested in a reconciliation and once again she doesn’t have a clear reason why. Ken’s convinced that she dropped him as soon as he started to have financial problems, which she denies. But the reason why she’s cooled – the divorce with Tom hasn’t yet come through and she’s not ready to settle down anyway – didn’t seem to bother her before. It’s hard to feel sorry for Ken, but if Jan wasn’t interested in a long-term relationship, why did she let their affair develop? Possibly it was simply because she was vulnerable after her marriage imploded.
The prototype of Tom’s catamaran, Lynnette, has been purchased by Mr and Mrs Travis (Ian Collier and Pamela Salem). Introduced in the previous episode, they seem like a perfectly nice couple (it doesn’t hurt that they’re played by familiar television faces) which makes the ending of this episode even more jarring. Tom receives the news that there’s been an accident – Lynnette is lying in pieces in the water and we then see a blanket placed over the dead body of Mr Travis with his shocked wife looking on ….
Episode eleven opens with Curtis Jaeger lurking in the shadows. It quickly becomes apparent that the men he’s tailing are part of an illegal dog-fighting ring. This affords us a rare glimpse into the seedier side of Tarrant life as we see Curtis keeping tabs on a crowd of baying men, all of whom are urging one of two dogs to rip the other’s throat out.
Previously Leo had cast the methods and motives of Curtis in a very unflattering light, but there’s no doubt that his actions here (breaking up the fight by himself and taking one of the dogs) was a brave – if foolhardy – move. He later explains that the police didn’t show up, which makes his one-man crusade a little more understandable, but had he been caught then it would have been him (rather than the dogs) on the receiving end of some considerable punishment.
He manages to escape with nothing more than a few cuts and bruises and is surprised to find Abby waiting for him at his flat. The sight of his bloodied (not his own) face obviously stirs some animalistic instinct deep within Abby as within moments they’re in each others arms. It’s an interesting touch that these two scenes are intercut with Leo on the phone, trying and failing to contact Abby.
Shortly after we’re witness to the delightfully awkward sight of Leo and Polly both waiting for Abby to return home. We later learn that Leo’s been there for an hour and given the fact that he and Polly have precisely nothing in common it must have been an excruciating period of time for them both. When Abby finally does arrive, Polly is at her acidly polite best – berating her daughter for being so late and then adding that “you really ought to be more considerate. You know how he likes to keep tabs on you”.
Leo and Abby’s relationship, whatever that might be, has hit a rocky patch. If he’s ever entertained the hope that it might develop into something deeper than friendship, then her comment that “you’ve been a good friend to me, I’ve appreciated it, you’re kind … ” implies this isn’t going to happen. He cuts her off short (telling her not to be patronising) and things roll downhill from there.
Curtis Jaeger is the problem, although Leo does seem to be concerned more about Curtis’ character and suitability for Abby, rather than viewing him as a potential love rival. So at present Leo and Abby seem to very much be cast in a brother/sister mode, although the next episode does suggest otherwise.
Gerald and Polly are also concerned about Curtis, although in Polly’s case it’s more a question of social standing ….
If Polly makes herself scarce, then Gerald does at least make an effort to diffuse the situation by offering Leo a drink (the classic HW solution to all of life’s ills). Leo doesn’t take up the offer, but it’s another nice moment which shows how Gerald cares for Abby (the way he embraces her after Leo leaves is another sign of this). It’s impossible to imagine Polly ever having such a tactile relationship with her.
Leo has another flashpoint later on, this time with Jan. She’s once again condescending and dismissive (wondering if Abby’s still got him “wrapped around her little finger”). When Leo opines that her mother has little or no interest in him, it’s notable that she doesn’t answer straight away – instead it’s Kate who protests.
Leo’s clearly carrying a fair amount of pent-up emotion, but it’s hard to disagree with the points he makes. We’d earlier seen how Jan had interrupted Lynne and Claude’s honeymoon (she’s fretting over her new collection) whilst her justification for not paying attention to her son is somewhat dubious. She tells him that her life recently has been a dismal failure, so the business is a chance for her to salvage some self-respect. Once again, it’s very hard to empathise with Jan.
Elsewhere, Charles’ attempted takeover of Relton continues. But Tom seems to have been paying very little attention as only now does he seem to understand there’s a very real possibility that he and Avril (but especially Avril) might shortly be working for Charles Frere. And that’s not something he’s too pleased about. Nor is he chuffed to learn that Jack’s using a twenty year old design for Mrs Davis-Seagram’s boat – as the Mermaid’s designer in chief, he considers it to be a breach of etiquette.
Kate decides to sell her cottage and for once she needs Jack (rather than the other way around) to act as a pillar of strength, luckily he’s more than up to the task. Ken continues to make googly eyes at Sarah, which she reciprocates. It’s made plain that her husband’s one and only love is power-boats, so crafty Ken spies an opening …
Welcome to the island of Jinsy (population 791). From their vantage point in the Great Tower, the vain and incompetent Arbiter Maven (Justin Chubb) and his long-suffering assistant Sporrall (Chris Bran) attempt to keep island life running as smoothly as possible. This is made easier by a handy gadget – the tessellator. It’s a multi-function device which not only monitors the residents at all times, but also has a handy nozzle to download products, a slot to pay fines and a screen which displays adverts, entertainment and propaganda.
Although the pilot was broadcast on BBC3 in 2010, when This Is Jinsy was picked up as a series (two runs were broadcast in 2011 and 2014) it went to Sky Atlantic. The fact it was hidden away on a pay television channel could explain why the show never became mainstream, although even if it had appeared on a terrestrial channel it might just as easily have remained a cult curiosity.
Given its surreal nature, there were inevitable comparisons made to Monty Python, although The Prisoner seems a much closer fit (an isolated community under observation at all times, with a mysterious never-seen overlord – here it’s the Great He). It also has a touch of The League of Gentlemen, although This Is Jinsy’s world is warmer and far less cruel.
Justin Chubb & Chris Bran
What impresses about the series is the list of top-drawer names who guest star across the run of episodes (continuing the trend set in series one). Particular highlights include Stephen Fry as Dr. Bevelspepp, who has to tangle with Maven’s wig when it develops a mind of its own, and Derek Jacobi as Robunce Barnatty, the oldest resident on the island. Elsewhere, Eileen Atkins, Rob Brydon, Olivia Coleman, Phil Davis and KT Tunstall are amongst the other familiar faces who pop up whilst Jennifer Saunders can be heard, but not seen, as the Voice of Miss Reason – dispensing words of wisdom from the depths of the tessellator.
Although each episode tells a self-contained story, the tessellator is a handy device which allows the narrative to be interrupted for public service messages or songs. And it’s the songs which are This Is Jinsy’s trump card – annoyingly catchy, once they’ve embedded themselves into your brain it’s almost impossible to remove them. Below is one such example, Vegetable Tricks.
The songs and other skits allow Chubb and Bran to dress up (often as women) but occasionally they’ll step aside to let someone else take centre-stage. Rob Brydon, crooning Female Badger, is a definite highlight, as is the appearance of KT Tunstall (who also appeared in series one). In series two she entertains with the song Mittens.
Let’s take a quick trot through the eight episodes which make up series two.
Intelligent Hair finds Stephen Fry on fine form as Dr. Bevelspepp. The central theme – a historic wig used in an arcane Arbiter’s ceremony takes on a life of its own and grows to enormous size – should give you a clue about precisely what sort of series this is.
Stephen Fry
Maven is anxious to get his accounts sorted in Acco! The problem is that all the island’s accountants have gone feral – little better than animals – and this tricky situation isn’t helped when he refers to them as Accos, a slang word which is also a terrible insult. Luckily Maven is able to strike a deal with the Chief Accountant (Ben Miller) but unluckily it involves the Chief Accountant’s daughter Berpetta (also played by Ben Miller).
Katy Brand guests in Double Duck as Madame Astrasline, a psychic who obtains her readings from a basketful of rats. When she foretells Maven’s assassination, he needs to find a dead-ringer to take his place (fortunately there’s one close at hand). Elsewhere, the tessellator keeps us up to date about a nasty outbreak of femininity in the lower parishes. But luckily for the male residents this can be rectified with a dose of Rob’s Burly Water (“now available in beefcake and butch”).
In Penny’s Pendant, Maven and Sporrall tangle with Miss Penny (Eileen Atkins), the island’s imposing etiquette teacher. Atkins is splendid as the sinister Miss Penny (her chat with Cecil, a giant mute rabbit, is another of those unique Jinsy moments).
Nightly Bye. The island celebrates the forbidden festival of Nacken – but Maven is kept in the dark about it. This episode is simply an excuse to have many more silly songs than usual, but that’s fine by me. Amongst the delights is Rob Brydon as Rex Camalbeeter, a man who likes nothing better than dressing up as a female badger and then singing about it.
In The Speckled Pom-Pom, Maven is convinced that a group of islanders are sending covert messages to each other, via ‘textile messaging’. He has a ready-made suspect, Mr Lovely (Stephen Mangan), and encourages a reluctant Sporrall to assist him in his crusade. There’s another edition of Sandy’s choice (“a talent competition judged by a dog”). KT Tunstall joins in with a touching song all about mittens, but what will Sandy think of it? Will it be a “Woof” or an “Enoof”?
The population on Jinsy is strictly controlled, so when – in Population 791 – it exceeds the required number, Maven is ordered by The Great He to dispose of the island’s oldest resident, Robunce Barnatty (Derek Jacobi).
In the final episode, The Golden Woggle, Maven, after taking tea with a former Arbiter, Jenkins (Phil Davis) and his wife Joan (Olivia Coleman), is dismayed to learn that Jenkins never handed back the official woggle after his reign came to an end, meaning that all this time Maven has been making do with a make-shift one. He vows to retrieve his rightful woggle from Jenkins, but he’ll have to brave Joan and an awkward parrot first.
Alice Lowe and Chris Bran
Although This Is Jinsy doesn’t lack for star quality, series creators and writers Justin Chubb and Chris Bran more than hold their own. The relationship between the pompous Maven and weary second-in-command Sporrall is a familiar sitcom one (think Mainwairing and Wilson in Dad’s Army) which works to good effect here.
Maven and Sporrall have two other regular characters – Trince (Geoffrey McGivern) and Soosan Noop (Alice Lowe) – to bounce off. Trince is a dry academic, played to perfection by McGivern (the original Ford Prefect) whilst Soosan is the third member of a curious love triangle (she’s besotted with Maven, he ignores her, whilst Sporrall pines for her). The likes of Greg Davies and Janine Duvitski in small but regular roles are further plusses, as is the strong cast of Jinsy Players who tackle different parts from show to show.
Originally released on DVD by Delta in 2014, This Is Jinsy – Series Two has been brought back into print by Simply Media. It’s essentially the same as the previous edition (four episodes of around 23 minutes duration per disc, no subtitles, two of the briefest special features you’re ever likely to see and a short photo gallery) so if you have the Delta DVD there’s no particular reason to upgrade. But if you don’t want to buy a second-hand copy of Delta’s OOP version, then this new pressing should be most welcome.
Possibly we’ve seen the last of the residents of Jinsy. I hope not though and maybe this re-release might spark a little more interest in this unforgettable, idiosyncratic and very, very silly comedy gem. Nightly Bye.
This Is Jinsy – Series 2 is released by Simply Media on the 15th of May 2017. RRP £19.99.
The character of Curtis Jaeger continues to drive a wedge between Abby and Leo. Like Orrin before him, he’s a character who somewhat shuts out Leo’s access to her. Leo’s dislike and distrust of him is again made plain within the first few minutes. Abby’s crusading spirit still burns – that she’s reading a book on animal experimentation and Jaeger is an activist who’s keen on action not words, suggests the course that this storyline will take over the next few episodes.
Jaeger is a mildly unsettling figure. Although dressed somewhat scruffily, he’s well spoken and articulate – although this clash still means that he seems out of place in the Urqhuart’s tastefully designed house. His brief meeting with Polly serves to discomfort her. He asks if her bag is crocodile, she says that it is and asks him if he likes it. He responds that he likes crocodiles.
Polly and Abby continue to live in completely separate worlds. This is highlighted when Abby attempts to find out again who her real father is, whilst Polly at the same time is wittering on about Lynne’s forthcoming marriage. That neither are listening to the other reinforces the reason why Abby is so keen to leave home again.
Jan’s hard-edged business nature is explored once more. Her relationship with Ken has cooled considerably of late – this might be because she’s still annoyed at the way he hired thugs to beat up Leo, but it seems more likely that she’s unhappy that he’s not been able to put money into her new venture. He spells this out to her and she doesn’t contradict him, which is telling. “I never made conditions Jan. I helped you when I could. And I can’t now. I’m sorry. Well, I thought what we had didn’t depend on business. You’d have slapped me down if I thought otherwise. And now I’m being punished because I can’t help, because I don’t see it as good business. How the hell is that supposed to make me feel? Was that all I was good for?”
But lest we feel too sorry for Ken, there’s a sense that new horizons are opening up. He meets Mark Foster and his wife Sarah (Sarah-Jane Varley) to continue discussions on a new business venture. Although we were introduced to Mark last episode, it’s abundantly clear now that Sarah is the one who makes all the decisions (she does most of the talking whilst he cradles his drink). Sarah’s a very attractive and confident businesswoman who knows her own mind and instantly catches Ken’s eye. The look on his face makes it clear that he might not be adverse to explore pleasure as well as business ventures with her ….
But he’s not totally given up on Jan and attempts to bring an unlikely ally (Kate) on his side. Given that she’s never hidden her contempt for him, he seems to be on a hiding to nothing with her. But Ken dangles the possibility of a full-time job at the boutique in front of her eyes and then asks her if she’ll talk to Jan on his behalf. This is maybe a more emotionally honest Ken than we’ve seen before, and Kate seems impressed.
But hard-edged Ken is never too far from the surface. Shortly afterwards he meets Dawn, who suggests they might resume their relationship. “Look Dawn, you did me a favour. I’m not mean. I’ll give you a finder’s fee. Five hundred quid. All right? But that’s it. Nothing else. There’s no going back. No more lovey-dovey stuff. That’s all washed up”. This would be Dawn’s final appearance. Sally Farmiloe, who died of cancer in 2014, would later hit the headlines when her affair with Jeffrey Archer become public knowledge. Obituary.
Charles’ stealthy acquisition of Relton Marine is gathering momentum. He currently owns about 13%, with Sir John suggesting that once he’s got 20% he should make a public offer. Where could the reminder come from? It’s suggested that since David Lloyd owns 3% he might be open to an approach.
Tom’s been absent for most of the episode, only popping up some fifteen minutes before the end. Maurice Colbourne makes up for it with a wistful speech to Lynne, as he remembers the way things were. “What a busy life we had in those days. Houses, boats, school, work. No chance to sit back and enjoy it all. Still, I suppose it’s the same for most people. Pity.”
There’s a couple of onlookers cooing as Lynne leaves the house for the wedding ceremony (“doesn’t she look lovely?”). A bit of a mystery as to who they might be (neighbours, friends?). No matter, as we’re soon at the church where all the women are decked out in some mightily impressive hats. Kate’s is very large and therefore eye-catching, whilst Abby’s is possibly not the most flattering – it seems to have been designed to obscure as much of her face as possible (if she chose it herself it’s possibly a subconscious statement that she didn’t want to be there). Leo’s the best man, although we never had a scene where Claude asked him, nor do we see him fretting about the responsibility.
It’s a nice touch that the car carrying Lynne and Tom to the church passes a bustop where Dawn, suitcase on the ground, is waiting for transport to take her away from Tarrant. Shame about the organist hitting a few bum notes as Lynne walks down the aisle – perhaps they should have gone for another take or at least dubbed over that part.
There’s not a dry eye in the church as Claude and Lynne repeat their vows. The happiness continues afterwards, although this is intercut with a wistful Avril, standing on the sidelines and unable to join in with the family celebrations. So Claude and Lynne look set for a long and happy life together. Hmm, I wonder how that will pan out?
Tom is downcast that the beam on his catamaran broke during its trial. Bill believes this vindicates his earlier concerns but Tom is convinced that Bill’s still wrong and he’s still right. It’s interesting that Tom doesn’t mention this problem to either Avril or Jack – instead it’s Bill who breaks the potentially bad news.
Charles agrees to take Gerald back, but Gerald is forced to do a little grovelling first. He later admits to Polly that it was somewhat humiliating and it certainly highlights the master/servant relationship that exists between Charles and Gerald. The lingering awkwardness is touched upon later in the episode, after Charles tells Gerald to fire George Johnson (Wensley Pithey), a managing director of one of Charles’ companies who has failed to deliver.
For a brief moment it looked as if Gerald would decline to be Charles’ hatchet man, but in the end he said nothing. Given that Charles has so often been totally ruthless in business, I wonder why he didn’t tell Johnson to his face that he was out? The fact that Charles instructs Gerald to get rid of Johnson seconds after talking affably to him suggests that he doesn’t relish personal conflict (or is it simply that he’s a master of delegation?)
Kate’s minding the boutique whilst Jan’s away. She proves to be an excellent saleswoman, although she’s not above telling potential customers that the dresses they’ve chosen really don’t suit. Which is a potentially dangerous course! Ken is surprised to see her manning the till, whilst Kate continues to view him with barely suppressed loathing. He attempts to mend fences by telling her he wasn’t involved with the people who beat up Leo. We know that’s not true, although I suppose he could claim that he didn’t know Leo would be singled out (although maybe he did instruct them to target Leo, with Ken you never can be sure).
Apart from crossing swords with Kate, he’s also attempting to restore his fortunes and – thanks to Dawn – has a meeting with Mark Foster (Graham Pountney). Mark services speedboats and also has a franchise to sell them – although given the fact that they’re luxury items, sales are slow. Ken has a suggestion – if Mark moves to a prime site that he owns then they’ll be much more visible, and if Mark starts racing again (and winning) then sales should go through the roof. Mark seems to be a man who knows his own mind, although next episode – when we meet his wife, Sarah – it becomes clear that she’s the dominant member of their partnership. And as we’ll see during the next few series, it’s Sarah who’ll stick around.
If it was thought that Orrin’s departure would enable Abby and Leo to spend more time together, then the arrival of Curtis Jaeger (Dean Harris) rather puts a stop to that. Jaeger is an activist who believes in action, not words. Abby is taken with him, whilst Leo stands in the background looking disapproving.
Jan is told that if she wants to use the house as collateral then she needs Tom’s permission. Remembering the way that she was so reluctant to allow him to do so when he wanted to buy into the Mermaid, she’s more than a little diffident about approaching him. But Tom is instantly agreeable. No doubt this is partly because (the catamaran excepted) things are going well for him at present, but it’s also evidence that he’s always been supportive of her. Whether Jan has been equally supportive of him is a moot point ….
Jack’s depressed, which leads to another heart-to-heart with Avril (she’s more than a little upset that he’s drinking heavily again). The reason’s the same as before – with Tom’s fancy non-wood designs taking over the yard he feels surplus to requirements. But luckily salvation’s on hand – in the shapely form of Mrs Davis-Segram (Christina Greaterex). However, Jack does all he can to avoid her to begin with (calling her “a fat old bag”!). What he doesn’t realise is that the late Mr Davis-Segram remarried, so the new Mrs Davis-Segram is a much more agreeable proposition than the old one was.
This has been the year when Jack Rolfe’s interest in the opposite sex has become abundantly apparent. Yes, you can make the case that he’s wining and dining her simply because he wants her business, but it’s also plainly no hardship for him.
His wooing seems to have paid off though, as she decides that the Mermaid is the yard for her. She orders a forty footer in solid wood which causes him to crow to Bill. “You can forget about Tom Howard’s fancy designs. The old firm is back in business, Bill. And this time … she’s here to stay.”
Episode eight opens with William’s departure. It’s obviously a sad moment, although the mournful incidental music rather hammers this point home. It’s characteristic that Gerald, instead of Polly, is the one who consoles Abby afterwards. Even at this point, with Abby at her lowest ebb, Polly obviously can’t summon up even a smidgen of maternal instinct.
The revelation that Abby is Charles’ daughter was enough to make him drop the marina project, but the fallout continues here. Gerald always knew he wasn’t the real father but was unaware that Charles was. This places Gerald in an untenable position – businesswise – and he resigns. Charles sees no reason why it should make any difference, but he makes no attempt to stop him either. This is a typical reaction from Charles Frere – he values Gerald as an associate, but is not prepared to beg him to stay – if he wants out, then he’s out.
It leaves Gerald looking like a man of principle, but also as someone who’s rather weak and foolish. He later tells Polly that he’ll be able to set up on his own, but even he doesn’t sound convinced by this. Polly, of course, is far from pleased. She can see her comfortable lifestyle evaporating, once Gerald starts again from scratch (which isn’t something that she’s prepared to accept – divorce would be better than that).
It’s been established in the previous series that Abby and Gerald have never really connected in a daughter/father way. They seem to be making up for this now, although his next conversation with her – he tells her about her parentage – is a difficult one. Abby’s reaction is interesting – she’s not particularly upset (or if she is, then she hides it well). Instead, she treats it as an explanation as to why she’s never fitted in (she later admits that she could easily believe that Polly wasn’t her real mother as well).
Abby and Polly have a heated discussion later, which ends with Polly giving her daughter a hard slap. Ouch!
Dawn is a fast mover. Having only just met Jack, she already seems to have moved in (we see the pair of them first thing in the morning, making it obvious that Dawn’s spent the night). If Jack’s sudden interest in all thing carnal seems to come out of nowhere, then the revelation that he owes nearly ten grand to a bookie is another bolt out of the blue.
True, we’d seen earlier on this series that he’d helped Kate to win a tidy sum at the races (plus it was mentioned in passing last episode that he was spending all his time at the racecourse rather than at the yard) but it would have been better had this plotline been developed a little more. Otherwise it all ends up feeling rather artificial. In order to settle his debts, Jack offers 25% of his stake in the Mermaid to Relton Marine, which Avril later buys back – at a price.
Once Dawn knows that Jack’s got financial problems she beats a hasty retreat. No-one can say that she’s not a transparent sort of person. She then runs into Ken, who after rubbishing Jack as a “sugar daddy”, make her an offer she can’t refuse. Ken might be down at present, but with Dawn’s contact (in the power boats business) he’s already planning to bounce back …..
Leo continues to keep Abby’s spirits up, although his choice of venue (as she says herself, “a ruined Abbey”) possibly wasn’t terribly tactful. The later conversation between Jan and Leo is a revealing one. She’s tagged Abby as manipulative and self-centred and tells Leo that when he’s no longer of any use, she’ll drop him. This is a terribly unflattering analysis which says more about Jan that it does about either Abby or Leo.
Is she subconsciously thinking about herself and Ken? Both Jan and Ken have declared their love for each other on numerous occasions – but Dawn accurately surmises that Ken is partly interested in Jan due to her breeding (he sees her as his entry ticket into a higher social circle) whilst Jan is undeniably interested in his money (without it, she can’t grow her business).
If Jack’s problems with the gee-gees comes out of nowhere, then the engagement between Lynne and Claude is something else which happens with unseemly haste. Partly this is due to the fact that there’s only thirteen episodes to play with across series two, but it’s all a bit sudden and whirlwind. Jan’s not happy (once again Jan Harvey gets to practice her disapproving face) but she later comes round a little.
The Mermaid Yard are moving into the future. They’re going to buy a computer! No prizes for guessing that Jack’s less than impressed (“that thing’s going back, right?”). And when he retreats into his office for a quick swig of booze, it’s further evidence that he’s gone off the rails again. The late arrival of Kate, with her mission to chivvy Jack into mending his ways, is a delight. Kate Harvey, as ever, delivers a good dollop of common sense and Dulcie Gray is once again immaculate.
Tom’s boat design continues to be called into question by both Bill and Avril, although Tom is still ignoring them. Last time you could explain this away (Lynne was adrift and uncontactable in the Barracuda, so Tom was preoccupied) but his continuing pig-headiness is harder to understand. At times he seems more inflexible and autocratic than Jack, but the events at the end of this episode suggest that he should have listened to them ….
Howards’ Way seemed to spend a great deal of time in one hospital or another. This episode opens with Leo propped up in a hospital bed (looking much the worse for wear) with Jan and Tom by his bedside. Leo looks to have been the only person to have been beaten up by Ken’s thugs, which seems to prove he was born under a bad sign.
Jan’s still in a state of denial over Ken’s involvement in the tussle. She tells Leo that it was obviously Charles who paid for the bullyboys, apparently not even considering that Ken might have been responsible. At first I wondered if her voracious capitalistic streak had taken hold (not willing to rock the boat with Ken, since she still needs finance for her and Claude’s business venture) but that doesn’t seem to be the case.
When Polly later off-handily confirms that Ken was the guilty party, there’s genuine shock on Jan’s face – so maybe she was simply a little gullible. Ken’s contrite (telling her that he’s never done anything like this before) but it’s somewhat difficult to believe him – is he just sorry he’s been found out?
Ken goes through the wringer in this episode. With Abby, Leo and (presumably) others receiving court summons, they have to decide whether to go to the Magistrates or Crown Court. Crown Court would generate a great deal of publicity, which is precisely what they want (and Ken is anxious to avoid). Charles is wonderfully laid back throughout – maintaining that since he’s done nothing wrong he’s not bothered either way.
But Ken – increasingly stuck in a vice-like grip – sees disaster ahead, so sells his marina shares to Charles for the knock down price of £250,000. This means he’s taken a considerable financial hit and now has to count the cost of his bruising encounter with Charles. It’s been obvious from the start, but this simply confirms that Ken is a complete novice in business terms compared to Charles.
Jan has another brief, but very telling, moment later on. She’s looking to use the house as collateral in order to finance her business. Remember that last year she was less than impressed when Tom did the same thing. Since the divorce hasn’t gone through yet, it’s strange that she hasn’t discussed what she’s doing with Tom (who presumably still owns half of the house, unless he’s signed it over to her).
It’s unconvincing stock footage ahoy again as we join Lynne and Claude on their cruise home. Claude is his usual annoyingly smooth self, telling Lynne that he’s had awful trouble in keeping the deck lounger next to him free (because, no doubt, hundreds of women were panting to get at him). Meanwhile Lynne cheerfully tells him that initially she thought he was a frog pursuing her mother, but now she’s of the opinion that he’s just a frog with some redeeming features. Lynne’s looking particularly attractive during the scenes when they trip the light fantastic on the ballroom floor.
Ken’s former girlfriend, Dawn, turns up behind the bar at the Jolly Sailor. Jack’s immediately taken with her. “If you need someone to show you around the place, I’m your man. So how about it? I could take you to the village duck pond. Morris dancing, marbles match, conker-bashing. We could really live it up”. This is a different side to Jack. Although we’ve seen him enjoying Kate’s company, they were – as the phrase goes – just good friends. Jack’s never shown an interest in the opposite sex before, certainly not one as young as Dawn.
This doesn’t go down well with everyone. Avril looks slightly askance at the fact her father’s been entertaining someone as young as she is, whilst there’s another pressure point later on – the launch of Tom’s catamaran. Jack’s invited Dawn to do the honours, whilst Avril has also asked someone – Kate, in fact. No-one could do well-bred disdain like Dulcie Gray. Her comment upon meeting Dawn is priceless. “Your niece, is it, Jack?”
One of my favourite scenes in this episode occurs when Abby visits Leo in hospital and explains the reason for her present of nuts “Grapes are bourgeois. Men don’t appreciate flowers and chocolates are bad for your teeth.”
It’s a brief moment of levity for Abby, as elsewhere there’s not many laughs for her. It’s the arrival of Orrin’s father, Robert (Bruce Boa), which is the problem. Canadian-born Boa had a lengthy career playing Americans, often of the very stroppy type (he doesn’t order a Waldolf Salad in this one, but it’s easy to imagine him doing so and being less than impressed).
The appearance of Robert Hudson helps to define Orrin’s character a little more. Up until now it’s been difficult to decide exactly what Orrin’s motivations were. Did he want to marry Abby because he loved her? Was he more interested in ensuring that the rich and powerful Hudson family didn’t have the scandal of an illegitimate child? Or was he simply designed as a character to come between Abby and Leo?
The influence of his father over him is plain to see (in sharp contrast to Abby, who rarely listens to her parents). Left to his own devices Orrin’s been somewhat relaxed, but Robert’s dominant (indeed overbearing) personality eventually seems to subsume his own, meaning that by the end they are both of one mind – if Abby doesn’t want to get married then baby William will return with them to America.
This then leads into one of the most intriguing moments in the whole series. Everything is set up for Abby to declare that she’d sooner die than see her son taken away from her, but instead she somewhat meekly accedes. It’s just so unexpected (it would have been easy to see this becoming a major storyline) but it’s good that the show doesn’t always do the obvious.
The episode ends with a revelation that wasn’t completely unexpected (hints were laid during the first series) but it’s nice to have it out in the open anyway. Charles is Abby’s father ….
The spectre of potential tragedy has brought the Howards together – with predictable results (Jan stares into the distance, misty eyed and with a drink in her hand, blaming Tom for everything).
Charles continues to play with Ken rather like a cat toys with a mouse. Construction on the marina is due to begin, but Charles tells Gerald to cancel it (and pretend that the furore from the protestors has made them pause). Charles is smoothness personified when he explains to Ken, but Ken smells a rat ….
The fact that the Baraccuda is missing begins to cast a little doubt on Tom’s design. This mainly comes from Jan of course, but when Bill queries the specifications of Tom’s catamaran there’s a definite sense of tension in the air. The sensible course, as suggested by Bill, Avril and Jack, would be for Tom to recheck his figures but he’s unwilling to do so. His concern for Lynne is clearly influencing his decision making (witness the way he erupts after Jack tactfully suggests they take a look at the design again).
Crusading local reporter Steve Windom (Bill Thomas) isn’t happy with the way that planning permission was pushed through without a protest and decides that Ken’s been indulging in corrupt practices. To be honest, Steve isn’t exactly a Woodward or a Bernstein, but there’s still an effort made to ramp up the tension – such as late night meetings in shady rendezvous as Steve begins to build his case.
It’s interesting that Leo is under no illusion that their protest will fail, but he tells his mother that it’s more important that Charles and Ken realise they “can’t just buy any piece of land and build on it.” Jan doesn’t come out of this conversation terribly well since she then asks Leo to call off the protest – that would ease Ken’s cashflow problem, meaning he might then be able to invest in Jan’s boutique. Jan’s being incredibly selfish here, but I guess it was the “me, me, me” eighties.
Lyne pops up about midway through the episode, looking somewhat green around the gills and desperately attempting to get someone to acknowledge her radio calls. Eventually she does (is it just me, or is there a whiff of Tony Hancock’s The Radio Ham here?). Lynne’s travails was one of those plotlines which you could sense would have a happy ending. Had they killed her off it would have created an even bigger fault-line between Tom and Jan (but since it probably would have meant that Jan would never be able to crack a smile ever again, it’s just as well they didn’t).
Down at the protest site, things are hotting up. Morgan Griffiths (Mark Crowdy), a member of Earthguard, pledges his support – which begins with hot meals and fresh placards. He zooms in on his motorbike and then out again almost immediately, like a leather-clad guardian angel.
Later, Ken sends in the heavy mob. Although they’re big and ugly, their language doesn’t quite match their appearance (“why don’t you naff off?”). Pre-watershed, of course. And it’s poor Leo who’s first to receive a knuckle sandwich.
Lynne arrives in America, which looks suspiciously like the English coast. Still, it’s amazing what a few American flags, a sprinkling of stock footage and some fake accents can do. Neither Jan or Tom can make it over, so Claude deputises for them. The beginning of a beautiful friendship maybe?
Lynne, making good headway in the Barracuda, refuses to heed Tom’s request to turn back. When he understands how resolute she is, Tom doesn’t seem too unhappy. Of course it’s plain that Jan’s not going to take it quite so calmly ….
And she doesn’t. When the news about Lynne comes over the car radio she does a screeching turn and heads back for Tarrant for a typically awkward conversation with Tom. He’s bursting with paternal pride (“she’s as good a sailor as I’ve ever met”) whilst she’s only seeing negatives (“you’d risk your daughter’s life for a publicity gimmick?”). But it does generate good publicity, with a brace of favourable newspaper headlines (my favourite being “storm tossed beauty”).
As the weeks pass by, we’re treated to a series of monologues from Lynne. “I’ve never seen my own weaknesses so clearly before. All the things I shouldn’t have done or said. I can’t change them know. But I suppose I’m learning my strengths too, now that I’m responsible for everything that happens to me.” She spent S1 as a fairly feckless and self-obsessed character, but it’s clear that she’s recently undergone a considerable change for the better.
Charles still wants the Mermaid Yard and decides his way in will be to buy Relton Marine. Once he has Relton, then he’ll have a stake in the Mermaid. Given that he transfers three million for Gerald to start to buy shares in Relton, it’s plain that money in no object.
There’s another entertaining encounter between Charles and Ken. Ken is starting to get a little anxious about the marina development (he’s pledged over a million, which is a considerable undertaking for him) whilst Charles is coolness personified (he’s obviously delighted to twist the knife a little). Ken later decides that a little bribery will help to oil the wheels.
We get our first sight of the protest lobby. They all seem rather worthy. On the other side is Steven Moffat (John Ronane), Ken’s tame councillor (and the recipient of a hefty bribe from him). Nice to see Ronane pop up in this one, although he doesn’t do a great deal except look a little twitchy.
Leo organises a protest meeting at home, with a couple of dozen people attending, which doesn’t please Jan. Poor Jan Harvey, her default expression always seems to be set to disapproving. Ken, who comes in with Jan, is condescendingly amused by their efforts (no doubt he believes they’re no threat at all). Delightfully, Kate then arrives and announces she’s going to attend the meeting, shooting Ken a filthy look en-route. As ever, Kate makes her feelings about Ken crystal clear.
I love Ken’s attempt to buy Claude off (“how much would you take not to come back at all?”). Our Mr Masters is not terribly subtle! Claude’s open-mouthed shock is somewhat amusing as is his stern response (“you can’t buy me off”). Quite why Ken should continue to obsess over Claude when it’s been made clear that he’s got no personal interest in Jan is a slight mystery – presumably it’s an attempt to highlight Ken’s general paranoia (one of his many character flaws).
Richard Shellet makes his final bow. A pity, but it would have stretched credibility for him to keep on popping up from time to time, vowing revenge and lobbing the odd bomb around. His face-off with Jack is short but sweet – with Jack playing an interesting psychological game (luckily he guessed right).
Tom loses radio contact with Barracuda. And with Lynne now entering stormy waters in the North Atlantic it’s the cue for a good deal of anxious acting from Maurice Colbourne and Jan Harvey.
Shellet continues to lurk about, this time he’s casting his disturbing shadow down at the Mermaid. The incidental music takes a sudden turn for the sinister as Shellet looks over the boat that Jack’s due to take out shortly, which gives us a clue as to what might happen ….
Polly, glass in hand, demands an apology from Gerald over his accusations of her extravagance. Patricia Shakesby and Ivor Danvers sparkle here – Polly declaims that she provides good value for money as a hostess whilst Gerald counters that it’s all she does do (once again highlighting their marriage of convenience). It’s slightly odd that Gerald raises the point about tightening their belts though, since this wasn’t really the reason for his outburst last time and – as a trusted lieutenant of Charles Frere – it’s doubtful Gerald will be on the breadline anytime soon.
Charles pays another visit to Avril, once again entering her house without her permission, in a scene which highlights their differences. Charles offers her a seat on his board, which she refuses outright. For Charles, it’s purely business (they may have been lovers in the past, but that’s over) whilst Avril can’t see past their failed relationship. And when Tom walks in, the tension level rises a little more. Tom and Charles have another brief, but entertaining, face-off.
Shellet may have no money but he’s obviously a man of resourcefulness, as he’s able to knock up a quick homemade bomb and pop it into Jack’s boat. As Jack (once again nattily attired with a bobble hat) takes the boat out, the incidental music helpfully provides the right mood (eerie and faintly disturbing, rather than the more usual blast of the Howards’ Way theme that normally accompanies sailing scenes).
When the explosion comes, it’s a nicely shot sequence – with Jack being flung overboard following the aftershock. If one were being picky, then a freeze-frame shows that he’s already got a bruise on his forehead before he’s struck by the sail, but not many viewers would have been watching this frame-by-frame back in 1986. Kudos to Glyn Owen for taking a dip in the cold and unfriendly-looking water – the scenes of an unconscious Jack slowly sinking deeper and deeper are striking. Luckily, Jack’s rescued by a passing boat but the fact that his rescuers can’t find a pulse is a worrying sign.
Jack obviously makes a recovery off-screen as he’s later ensconced in the hospital. He’s quizzed by a police officer called Gray (Albert Welling). Decades later, Welling would pop on a moustache to play Adolf Hitler in Doctor Who. Avril is a concerned visitor, but Kate’s a more entertaining one. “Are you all in one piece or are there some parts missing?”
Having made a speedy recovery of her own, Lynne’s now rediscovered her love for all things nautical. She offers to sleep aboard the Barracuda in order to safeguard the expensive equipment aboard. This naturally brings her closer to Tom at the expense of Jan, who’s not very pleased at all. Jan claims that she’s concerned about Lynne’s welfare so soon after coming out of hospital, but since Kate tells her that she’s fine now, it seems more likely that Jan’s dismayed to find Lynne taking Tom’s side once more. Jan then mutters that “it’s all so bloody unfair” which is a very telling moment.
But the arrival of Claude soon cheers her up. Claude (or “Clod” as Ken usually refers to him) still has the silly ponytail and the even sillier accent. Oh well, he won’t be around for ever. Claude’s later revelation that his marriage is now off is a strange bit of plotting – it seemed to have existed in the first place purely to provide a not terribly involving cliffhanger, meaning that it’s now reversed with alacrity. Ken’s continuing dislike of Claude means that he won’t support the business proposal forwarded by him and Jan – meaning that Jan’s prepared to strike out by herself.
Leo’s getting more involved in the campaign to save the nature reserve. Abby’s as keen as he is, whilst Orrin is much more reserved (no pun intended). Is fighting this cause Leo’s way of filling his time now that Abby and Orrin are a sort of item, or would he have done so anyway? A little of both maybe.
Charles is thinking big with the marina development. He doesn’t just want a hotel (part of an international chain preferably) but also an office block. Even Gerald looks slightly askance at his ever-developing plans – as if it all goes ahead then it would change the look of the local community for ever. With great zeal, Charles continues. “I’m thinking of small to medium-sized businesses who wouldn’t be able to afford or who wouldn’t have the requirement to run the whole range of communications and computer equipment. Secretarial pool, digital and off-peak transatlantic telephone connections. Boardrooms and conference rooms for hire. Word processing and computer rental. Post offices and banks. The possibilities are endless.” Oh, then he decides a Casino would be good too ….
With Jack out of action, discussion turns to who could take the Barracuda on its solo Atlantic crossing. In a not terribly surprising end of episode revelation, we see that Lynne has snuck out aboard the Barracuda and appears to be well on her way. I can just picture Jan’s face.
Ken’s attempting to interest Charles in a new business venture – the purchase of a large stretch of land, currently in use as a nature reserve, to be transformed into a marina. The difference between them is again thrown into sharp relief after Ken tells him that they could build some chalets as well. Charles, on the other hand, believes a five-star hotel would be better.
It would be a difficult sell to the locals, but Charles decides that the job creation angle (a very Thatcherite concept) would work well on that score whilst Ken declares that it would still be good for the wildlife (all those masts that the birds could perch on). This line is delivered straight (presumably Ken actually believes what he’s saying) although Charles’ expression speaks volumes.
When Leo finds out about Ken’s plan for the nature reserve he’s not at all happy …
Charles jaunts over to France for a meeting with Viscount Cunningham (Richard Wilson). Naturally enough, Cunningham arrives by helicopter (the only way to travel, clearly). Charles’ meeting with Cunningham is designed to try and head off any protests from the environmental lobby, re the proposed purchase of the nature reserve.
Charles pays lip service to the idea that the views of the nature lobby should be taken seriously, but he’s also concerned that whoever makes the final decision should be “objective, someone who has the best interests of the county at heart and who is totally, totally impartial.” Or in other words, someone who knows what the right decision is. And in this case, that means what’s right for Charles Frere.
David Lloyd (great, super) wants Avril to join Relton Marine full time. At present, the members of the Mermaid all take turns to attend Relton’s board meetings – and today it’s Jack’s turn. The prospect of Jack mingling with the suits obviously gives plenty of scope for both drama and comedy and although we don’t actually see what transpired, Jack returns to the yard to tell them what’s been decided.
A solo crossing of the Atlantic by the Barracuda will give them just the publicity push they need … and Jack’s offered to sail her. Avril looks appalled, Tom looks pleased, whilst Jack begins to have second thoughts.
Tom and Ken run into each other at the Jolly Sailor. As with the recent meeting between Avril and Jan there’s a distinct lack of warmth. Ken tells him that Tarrant’s a small place, so he can’t spend the rest of his life avoiding him. Tom counters that “I’d appreciate your trying.” Maurice Colbourne shines during this scene, his intensity plain to see.
Lynne’s back at home but she’s still yet to regain her memory. Tom offers to take her out in the Flying Fish – and thanks to a spot of psychology from Tom it does the trick. Before that we see Jack (nice bobble hat, sir) set out for a quick sail, but he comes back in a bad temper, unhappy with the rigging on the boat (and therefore the standards of the yard). Glyn Owen’s on his usual fine form as Jack annoys Avril (placing his boots in the filing cabinet was the final straw).
Shellet keeps on popping up – at Jack’s house and then round at the Urquharts. Gerald, whilst not as cutting as Charles in the previous episode, still sends him away with a flea in his ear. We do see a spark of anger from Gerald when he deals with him though, which continues when Polly wonders why her husband let such a repellent creature like Shellet through the door again. “It’s part of my job. This house, the clothes you wear, the trips you make, your expenses, extravagance. Where do you think it all come from, eh? Sometimes I have to get my hands dirty.” This brief outburst is all the more noteworthy as up until now Gerald has been a fairly neutral character. It’s the first sign that there’s more to him than his public façade would suggest.
With Orrin keen to marry Abby, Jan fretting that Ken won’t commit to her new business venture and Kate concerned that her racehorse trainer is overcharging her for oats (!), there’s certainly plenty going on in this one.
Lynne’s safe, but is far from well. Jan and Tom rush to the hospital to find her dazed and confused – she’s suffering from complete amnesia. We learn that she was fished out of the water after about ten minutes (although it’s not explained who rescued her). It’s also not clear why it took so long for Lynne’s next of kin to be contacted.
Jan Harvey is the one who’s given the lines when they encounter her for the first time (as well a nice two-shot of Jan and an oxygen-masked Lynne) but Maurice Colbourne almost manages to steal the scene with a cutaway shot of Tom wearily closing his eyes. Sometimes, less is more.
There’s another example of Tarrant’s bizarre eco-system, where it always seems to be sunny indoors (studio) and gloomy outside (film). We switch from the inside of the Urquhart’s house, with Polly and Gerald discussing the imminent arrival of Orrin (Michael Ryan), to outside Charles’ abode, where he’s surprised to be set upon by Shellet (who’s been lurking in the shrubbery).
This is a great little scene. Shellet’s now a desperate man (“I’m broke, I’ve got no money”) although Charles responds in exactly the way you’d expect him to. “You’re trespassing, get off my property or I’ll set the dogs on you.” The way that Charles looks him up and down with a sense of revulsion is another nice touch.
The party at Abby’s flat provides ample evidence that Leo and rhythm don’t really go together (however, Davy does cut some impressive moves). The scene’s more of interest due to the way it highlights the current status of the Abby/Leo relationship – they’re more at ease with each other than ever before (she kisses him briefly on the lips and then tells him that “I’ve never been as close to anyone as I am to you”) but with the spectre of Orrin on the horizon, things will change.
Tom sets out with Henderson (Andrew Hilton) for another testing run in the Barracuda. Henderson’s the possessor of a certain oily charm – when he learns that Avril isn’t joining them he decides that it’s “probably just as well. We don’t want too many distractions, do we?” Avril wisely makes no response.
Last time, we saw how Avril was upset at the way Tom bailed on the yard’s business in order to search for Lynne. Positions are reversed here, as Henderson forces him to stay out a lot longer than he’d expected – meaning that he’s unable to meet Jan as planned (the pair had arranged to travel up to the hospital together).
Tom could have told Henderson that his daughter was ill in hospital and there’s every possibility he would have been sympathetic, but instead he grimly carries on with the testing. But on the plus side, it gives us a charged encounter between Jan and Avril, after Jan rushes to the yard, looking for Tom.
From the moment Jan enters the office you can sense the chill. Avril is polite, but it doesn’t take too long before some home truths are spelled out. She tells Jan that “when there was doubt about Lynne’s safety, Tom abandoned this yard when its future hung in the balance, knowing he was jeopardising his business’s survival and ours. I criticised him, but I now realise his feelings for his family gave him no option. Today out there he’s trying to make up for it and knowing Tom, I bet he’s sweating blood he’s not here to meet you. Don’t you understand your husband at all?” If looks could kill, then Jan’s stare would have finished Avril off once and for all …
The initial meeting between Orrin and Polly is an exercise in awkwardness. Although given the fact that Abby and her parents are currently estranged, I’m not sure why Orrin came to Polly first – why didn’t he simply go direct to Abby’s lodgings? The upshot is that Abby agrees to return home, where Orrin will also be, whilst Leo (lurking in the background) looks a little discomforted.
There’s another lovely example of Polly’s monumental lack of tact, after she decides that it would be nice for her, Abby and Orrin to go out for tea. After all, Leo’s on hand to look after the baby. It doesn’t occur to her that it might be courteous to ask Leo if he’d mind (something which he rather pointedly mentions) although the fact that he then tells him it’s no trouble is a characteristic Leo moment.
Jack dispenses some more of his words of wisdom after he and Tom visit the production line where the Barracuda is now being mass produced. “Wood is a living material. A boat is a living thing. I’m not being sentimental. By that, I mean she’s the sum total of all the men who worked on her, sawed and steamed her planks and shaved her timbers. When she’s running before the wind, that’s what you feel beneath your feet.”
Later, Jack heads off to the races with Kate, where Aztec Boy (the horse she owns 25% of) is running. The production team clearly went on a real race day, as the hundreds of race-goers demonstrate, it’s just a pity that they couldn’t afford to shoot footage of an actual race This means we switch from footage of Jack and Kate (on film) to the horses (on videotape) and back to Jack and Kate (on film) which is a little distracting. But there’s a nice comic compensation – as the race goes into its final stages, Jack is closely following it through his binoculars, which Kate then snatches off him (nearly strangling him in the process!).
This week’s cliffhanger – Jan learns that Claude has married a key figure in the French fashion world – falls a little flat. Jan’s concerned that his marriage will impact the boutique, which isn’t something I confess to being too concerned about. Although Ken’s on hand to soften the blow. “Not jealous are you? Lucky for you, you’ve got good old reliable Ken. Here in every emergency.” God bless Ken, he never disappoints.
We open with a nice aerial view of the Tarrant marina. And of course it’s another gloomy day (Tarrant – a place where the sun rarely shines).
Initially it seems that this shot was simply an impressive visual flourish, but it then becomes clear that Charles, in a helicopter, is hovering above the Mermaid Yard.
This is typical Charles Frere. Most people would be content to lurk in the background in order to keep tabs on their rivals (the Mermaid are celebrating launching the Barracuda) but not Charles, he has to think bigger.
We then switch to the courtroom where the tug of love for ownership of the Mermaid Yard between Jack and Shellet is continuing. But within a matter of minutes it’s all over as Shellet doesn’t exactly cover himself with glory in the witness box. It’s a little odd to see this plotline wrapped up with such unseemly haste, although the aftershock rumbles on for a few more episodes.
The big unresolved question from the series one cliffhanger concerns Lynn. We saw her tumbling into the water after reeling from the shock of finding Charles in bed with his wife. It’s now the day after and there’s no sign of her, which concerns Jan. Frankly, given that Lynne was stunned unconcious when she entered the water (and there was no-one about to help her) it’s hard to see how she couldn’t have drowned. Let’s wait and see though …
Jan asks Leo to stop at home in case Lynne calls, but Leo says he can’t – he’s got something important to do.
Ken (nattilly attired in a suit) shows his caring side to Jan, telling her that if they lived together he could share all her problems. When she mentions that she hasn’t heard from Claude for a while he’s not surprised or concerned. “What else can you expect from a Frog?” I love Ken, he’s a source of endless entertainment.
The hunt for Lynne brings Tom and Jan back together, although it’s an uneasy alliance. He’s as concerned as she is, but Tom (with no evidence) believes that the Jan/Ken axis has driven their daughter away. Given Tom’s dalliance with Avril this seems rather unfair. Jan Harvey is called upon to do a good deal of anguished staring into the distance acting during this episode.
We later find out what Leo’s important job was (of course it concerns Abby). Abby and her baby are leaving the hospital and Leo is on hand to play the devoted father. It’s a role he seems perfectly suited for (although since Orrin, the baby’s real father, is due to arrive shortly, it doesn’t look like he’ll be playing it for much longer). Despite being preoccupied, Leo does manage to provide a lead on Lynne, which sends Tom off on a collision course with Charles.
He’s not at his boat, but Charles’ secretary Samantha (Maria Eldridge) is. Samantha probably gets more lines in this one scene than she does in the rest of her appearances put together. Eldridge’s other credits aren’t extensive (a couple of Goodies episodes and a few roles elsewhere, playing challenging parts such as “Girl in Car” and “Girl with Gun”) which is a little surprising as she’s very watchable here.
With Tom not available to take the Barracuda out, Jack steps into the breach. He’s delighted (cue shots of the boat slicing through the waves with the Howards’ Way theme blasting out) whilst Avril’s not at all pleased that Tom’s left them in the lurch. Cue more anguished staring into the distance acting, this time from Susan Gilmore.
The tension concerning Lynne continues to ratchet up, although any eagle-eyed viewer would have spotted that Tracey Childs wasn’t listed in the opening credits – meaning that (unless it was a double-bluff) she wouldn’t be making an appearance. The final lines of the episode (Tom: “The police have just telephoned. They think they’ve found Lynne”) offers up a number of possibilities, although the mood is rather sabotaged by the fact that they dive straight into the end-credits – which this year features the dreaded vocal version of the theme. I’m not a fan …..
Lucian Currie (Griffith Jones) wants his business partner Vickers (Patrick Troughton) dead and attempts to force Brady to carry out the deed ….
Strange Partners is one of the more satisfying Invisible Man episodes. It’s powered by Jones’ portrayal of Lucian Currie, a man who is clearly teetering on the edge of sanity but nonetheless is still able to generate an air of civility.
Currie’s scheme is straightforward – Vickers has a weak heart, so if Brady punches him hard then the shock should be enough to kill him. Because Vickers always travels with a devoted bodyguard, Ryan (Robert Cawdron), Currie can’t carry out the crime himself, hence his need for an invisible man.
And how can Currie guarantee Brady’s co-operation? Currie has a dog, Juno, trained to detect Brady, even when invisible, and he’s more than capable of stopping and killing him if he attempts to escape.
Currie makes great play of the fact that Juno’s a killer, although it’s plain that the dog chosen to play the part is rather more benign – some of the dubbed on barks are fairly obvious it has to be said.
Griffith Jones’ career started in the 1930’s and amongst his early notable appearances was the role of the Earl of Salisbury in Laurence Olivier’s 1944 film adaptation of Henry V. He’s easily the standout performer here – next to him Brady seems somewhat pallid (although since Currie holds the upper hand in the early part of the story that’s reasonable enough).
Patrick Troughton has less to do and his heavy make-up – no doubt intended to indicate Vickers’ illness – is a tad distracting. Jack Melford, another of those actors with an incredibly impressive list of credits, has the small, but key, role of Collins – Currie’s butler and partner in crime.
When Currie and Collins make a late break for freedom, we’re treated to another example of Currie’s instability. He’s driving in an increasingly reckless way, which concerns Collins, but Currie is past the point of rational thought – if they crash and die, so be it.
Restricting much of the action to Currie’s house is one of the reasons why the story works as well as it does. Some other episodes attempted to cover too much ground which could be a problem with only twenty five minutes to play with. Strange Partners, by being more restrictive, turns out to be a more rewarding experience.
Possibly the only major weakness revolves around Vickers’ amazing powers of recovery. Early on, Currie does admit that although Vickers is an ill man, he’s hung on for the last fifteen years (which is quite impressive). Even more impressive is the fact that after he’s attacked by Currie (who used the confusion caused by Brady’s escape attempt) he still manages to survive. Given all we’ve been told, Vickers should really have been dead – but possibly there was a slight squeamishness about this occurring in a programme which was pretty family friendly.
Aside from the solid story, there’s a couple of nice invisible moments at the start. We see Brady winding up his clock and preparing for a good night’s sleep (an indentation in the mattress). Overall, this is a good ‘un.
Brady is appalled to learn that one of his most trusted colleagues, Professor Owens (Walter Fitzgerald), is refusing to return from his holiday in Italy. Instead he’s taken to spending all his time at the roulette table. Brady rushes out to confront him, but everything’s not as it seems ….
It’s a little odd that the opening scene effectively blows the mystery. We see Owens and his teenage daughter Suzy (Julia Lockwood) being menaced by Curly Caletta (Alan Tilvern) which makes it pretty obvious that Owens is being forced to use his mathematical skills in order to win huge sums of money for Caletta.
Had this scene not been included, then the reason for Owens’ sudden change of character would have been less easy to understand. But no matter, bringing Tilvern in at the start means that he’s got a little more screentime (which is most welcome).
Alan Tilvern had the sort of face which ensured he spent a great deal of his time playing villains. He only has to pop up here in the background, glowering gently, and you just know that his character’s a bad type. And with a name like Curly Caletta it might not surprise you to hear that he’s an American gangster of Italian extraction.
Walter Fitzgerald, who earned a guest star credit, isn’t called on to do a great deal except look worried and bewildered whilst Julia Lockwood, playing Owens’ daughter, has the sort of cut-class accent which wouldn’t have sounded out of place in a 1930’s film. She’s very winsome and appealing as a damsel in distress though, even if she doesn’t have a great deal to do.
Once Brady learns of Owens’ dilemma he pledges to help, which means using his invisible skills to rig the roulette table. It’s rather strange that nobody questions the way that the ball seems to suddenly have developed a mind of its own – dashing from left to right until it settles precisely where Brady wants it to go! Dee, who unexpectedly turns out to be a devotee of the roulette table, is more than delighted at the way things turn out.
Familiar faces can be spotted at the casino. Olaf Pooley is the harassed casino manager whilst Oliver Reed is an uncredited player at the roulette table.
Like the ITC shows of the sixties, this episode mixes stock footage and studio sets to create an impression of foreign climes (pretty effectively it must be said). The climax allows the invisible Brady to confront Caletta with a string of obvious comments. “Your luck’s run out. The odds are against you. You spun the wheel just once too often.”
Another agreeable twenty five minutes, helped along by Alan Tilvern’s polished villainy.
Archive Television Musings 