Roobarb and Custard – The Complete Collection. Simply Media DVD Review.

archivetvmusings BBC Children's Programmes - 1970's, Simply Media , , ,

roobarb

Roobarb, which first aired in 1974, was one of a number of children’s series (The Magic Roundabout was another) which aired on BBC1 just before the six o’clock news, thus ensuring that it attracted a large adult viewership in addition to its intended target audience.  This is probably the one of the reasons why it’s maintained a certain cult status ever since, although there are several others.

Firstly, Grange Calveley’s scripts are funny.  Although they lack the layered humour that Eric Thompson brought to the Magic Roundabout, there’s still plenty of decent puns and weird flights of fancy to enjoy.  For example, in When Roobarb Found Sauce, Roobarb is concerned to find that the pond has dried up and sets out to find its source.  This leads him to the centre of the Earth where a strange creature provides him with the pond’s sauce, which turned out to be chocolate (his favourite!)

Richard Briers’ narration is a major plus point as well.  Briers was a master storyteller, and each five minute episode benefits enormously from his spot on comic timing.  As good as the scripts are, Briers makes them just that little bit better.

And lastly, Bob Godfrey’s unmistakable animation gave the series a look and feel unlike any other on television at that time.  Although Godfrey wasn’t the only animator to work on the original (he tended to lead a core group of around four or five animators) every episode has the same hand-drawn feel which makes it seem as if it was the work of an individual.  The animation style chosen, known as “boiling”, gave Roobarb a deliberately rough feel – as colour was crudely added with marker pens and varied from frame to frame.

The minimalist style (despite the fact that most of the action took place in the garden, there was little attempt made to colour in the backgrounds – instead they remained a plain white) also helped to create a certain atmosphere.  Of course this was no doubt borne out of necessity – the cruder the animation, the quicker it could be done – but thanks to the quality of Calveley’s scripting and Briers’ narration you can forgive the rough-and-ready nature of the visuals.

As for the main character, Roobarb is terribly appealing.  He’s an eternal optimist, always ready with an invention or a plan to make everyone’s life a little better.  Things don’t always work out quite the way he intends though, and when disaster strikes he finds Custard the cat and the birds forming up to mock his efforts.  But no matter, Roobarb always bounces back to hatch another scheme next time.

Roobarb ran for thirty episodes which were repeated on numerous occasions.  As with several other classic children’s shows it received a twenty-first century makeover and returned for another series, this time entitled Roobarb and Custard Too.

Roobarb and Custard Too ran for thirty nine episodes, which were broadcast on C5 during 2005.  As with the original, Grange Calveley provided the scripts and Richard Briers the narration, although this time the visuals were generated via computer animation (the “boiling” look of the original was kept).  The opening episode, When There Was a Surprise, provides us with a clear example that this is a 21st Century Roobarb as it concerns Roobarb’s efforts to build his own computer (out of wood and other scraps) and how he’s able to get it working, courtesy of Mouse.

Although the increased cast of characters in Roobarb and Custard Too slightly diluted the enclosed charm of the original, it was still a witty and entertaining series and whilst it’ll probably never surpass the original in many peoples affections it certainly has its moments.

Roobarb and Custard – The Complete Collection contains, as its title implies, all thirty episodes of Roobarb  (on the first DVD) and all thirty nine episodes of Roobarb and Custard Too (on DVDs two and three).  Given that Roobarb and Custard Too was made in 2005, it’s slightly surprising that the picture format for all these episodes is 4:3.  I don’t have a copy of the original broadcasts to hand, but I strongly suspect they would have been made in widescreen.  It’s also a little disappointing that none of the discs are subtitled.

Roobarb and Custard – The Complete Collection is released by Simply Media on the 16th of May 2016.  RRP £34.99.

Doomwatch – The Logicians

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Fay and Ridge are at Beresfords, a major pharmaceutical company.  Beresfords have been been developing a powerful new antibiotic, K27, which Doomwatch have been closely monitoring – due to concerns over possible side-effects.

But since all the potential problems now seem to have been ironed out there seems no reason why K27 shouldn’t go into production.  However the next day, Beresfords’ managing director, Priestland (Noel Johnson), discovers that the formula has been stolen.

Although Ridge briefly becomes a suspect, he’s intrigued that a party of boys from a nearby private school called Elsedene were at Beresfords on the day of the robbery.  He and Geoff visit the school and Ridge is perturbed to see how dominant both computers and logical teaching methods are.  Could this be a breeding ground for emotionless, logical criminals?

Based on a story outline by Kit Pedler, it explored themes that he’d already developed in several Doctor Who stories, notably The Tomb of the Cybermen and The Wheel in Space.  Tomb introduced us to Klieg and Kaftan, members of the Brotherhood of Logicians.  Pure logic was clearly something that perturbed Pedler – as it allowed Kleig to ally himself with the Cybermen with no thoughts given as to the consequences of his actions.  The Wheel in Space has even closer links to The Logicians, thanks to the appearance of Zoe.  Zoe, like the boys in this story, is a product of computer teaching and is shown to be emotionally deficient (“all brain and no heart”).

The scenes in the school, with the boys working at computer terminals, is clearly meant to be disturbing – although to a modern audience it probably seems perfectly normal.  Geoff isn’t happy with what he finds.  “It looked more like a space shell than a classroom to me. All the kids in headphones, wired up to a computer being fed questions and feeding back answers.”  This would have been a science fiction concept in 1971, but in 2016 it’s nothing out of the ordinary.

Quist approves of logical teaching for the young.  “Youth without an adult’s emotional stresses can absorb an enormous amount of this symbolic training. The ability to think straight, a cool appraisal of any situation, uncluttered by emotion or bias, that’s what the modern world needs today.”  But there are inherit dangers to this type of schooling.  Ridge tells Quist that the boys appeared to be display a type of mental arrogance (likening them to the Hitler Youth).

One slight flaw with the story is the notion that the boys are potentially dangerous because they’ve been computer taught – i.e. without the input of human teachers.  But when Ridge and Geoff observe them, the class is clearly being run by a teacher and the computers are only used as a aid to the lesson, they aren’t in control.  Elsedene is also the sort of public school where the only type of discipline is self-discipline, so even had the pupils not had access to these type of logical computer lessons they still might have developed along similar lines.

Although they’re criminals, it’s later revealed that the boys only stole the formula in order to extort a ransom (£25,000) from Beresfords so they could anonymously donate the money to Elsedene (which has been suffering from extreme financial difficulties).  But the unanswered question is what will happen when they leave school?  Will logic once again triumph over universally held notions of right and wrong?

Although the idea of a school dominated by computers may carry little resonance in the twenty first century (it’s a fact of life today) there’s plenty to enjoy in Dennis Spooner’s script.  Spooner was always the sort of writer who liked to inject humour whenever he could and this is reflected here.

Ridge is the recipient of many of Spooner’s funniest lines and Simon Oates delivers them perfectly.  Ridge and Geoff have some nice bantering scenes – Ridge turning his nose up at Geoff’s new coat and Geoff being theatrically disappointed at being forgotten when Ridge lists all the other members of the Doomwatch team.  Ridge is also on hand to pour cold water on Priestland’s gallant attempts to chat up Fay and he’s also entertaining when tangling with the police.  When Ridge later makes a clandestine call to the Doomwatch office from Elsedene and calls Fay “mother” you know that Spooner is enjoying himself!

Noel Johnson (Radio’s original Dick Barton) is suitably solid and dignified as Priestland, he’s a major plus point throughout the story.  Amongst the schoolboys is a young Peter Duncan, who’d turn up later in the Terence Dudley produced Survivors, as would Michael Gover (here playing Priesland’s number two, Kelsey).

If The Logicians is another Doomwatch story which feels a little underdeveloped (is there enough evidence to suggest that computer and logical teaching alone is responsible for turning the boys into criminals, or would that have happened anyway in the rarefied atmosphere of an unsupervised public school?) Dennis Spooner’s script clips along at a decent enough pace to cover any lapses in, well, logic.

Doomwatch – The Inquest

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Geoff heads down to the country as Doomwatch’s representative at an inquest due to be held into the death of Marion Duffy, a ten year old girl who died from rabies.  John McAlister (Robert Cawdron) from the Min. of Ag. and Fish believes that this rabies infection was due to contact with an infected dog, but Mary Lincoln (Judith Furse) has another theory.

Ms Lincoln is a local resident who is bitterly opposed to the laboratory run by Dr Henry Fane (Frederick Treves).  Dr Fane’s lab is licenced to carry out experiments on animals – something which Ms Lincoln is horrified about – but he also conducts research on insects.  Ms Lincoln is convinced that an infected tsetse fly escaped from the lab and bit Marion, thereby causing her death.

The smooth running of Geoff’s preparation for his appearance at the inquest is rather derailed after shots are fired at Dr Fane’s lab and Geoff finds himself laid up in hospital, with Bradley called on to deputise for him.

The Inquest is another Doomwatch episode with a strong hook in the pre-credits sequence.  After a couple of shots are fired, Dr Fane finds Geoff senseless on the floor – although since he was clutching his shoulder it’s clearly not a fatal wound.  The post-credits meeting between Quist and Bradley is also memorable, as Quist casually mentions that Geoff’s been shot and he therefore needs to hop on a train and take over his work.  Quist’s seemingly unfeeling and cold nature is again highlighted here – although it appears to be more that he knew that Geoff was fine (with only a superficial scratch) and had therefore had mentally moved onto more pressing matters.

With both Simon Oates and Jean Trend absent, this is that rarest of beasts – a Bradley-centric episode.  Joby Blanshard naturally seems to relish having more to do then simply react to the others.  Bradley’s a key participant at the inquest, although when he expresses the opinion that all dogs within a five mile radius should be shot he doesn’t find many supporters amongst the villagers!

It’s an interesting twist that for once there’s no twist.  Since we’ve become so used to seeing Doomwatch stories where a death that appears to have been caused by x was actually caused by y, it’s a neat trick when it’s revealed that a rabid dog was responsible after all.

This follows lengthy and passionate arguments from Ms Lincoln at the inquest, who remained insistent that Dr Fane’s tsetse flies were responsible – to the growing exasperation of the coroner (very well played by Edward Evans).  The revelation that it was just a dog does take the wind out of her sails, but Dr Fane is still culpable (the infected dog had been released from his lab) but he’s not the only one.

It was the landlord of the local pub who obtained the dogs for Fane – and with the money that Fane was offering he wasn’t too choosy about where they came from.  The long arm of coincidence comes into play when it’s established that the landlord’s son Harry was responsible for tending to the released animals (and also was the one who took a pot-shot at Geoff).  Like Marion, Harry’s been bitten, and the episode ends with the boy taken to hospital and it’s left open as to whether he’ll live or die.

The nature of the story means that this is a static, wordy episode.  The scientific content is pretty low – although Bradley goes into considerable detail about why he believes tsetse flies couldn’t be responsible for carrying the rabies virus, since that whole part of the plot was a red herring it doesn’t really matter either way.

Judith Furse is excellent as the animal loving Ms Lincoln and the ever-reliable Frederick Treves is equally as good as her implacable enemy Dr Fane.  Given that Fane has a licence for animal experiments, it’s never made clear why he should have gone to such extreme measures to obtain potentially dangerous dogs (unless he needed infected animals for his experiments?)  It’s also never explicitly stated, but it seems probable that Ms Lincoln released the dogs, if so then she must take part of the blame for the child’s death.

Quist keeps a fairly low profile, although he pops up at the end of the inquest (rather stealing Bradley’s thunder!)  And even though he gets shot, Geoff is still something of a third wheel, although the absence of both Ridge and Fay means that he does get a few more lines than usual.

Scripted by Robert Holmes, The Inquest is a well-written character piece.

Doomwatch – The Human Time Bomb

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Doomwatch have been asked to investigate the Amblethorpe project.  The brainchild of Sir Billy Langly (Kevin Brennan) it aims to solve the problem of population overcrowding.   Langly paints a nightmarish vision of the future to Quist.  “By the year 2000 there’ll be over eighty million people living in this country. They’ll want cars and places to park them. They’ll want clothing and feeding and educating and work to do, to say nothing of housing…”

Langly’s solution is to build more and more high rise flats.  With a booming population, he sees no other solution – but concerns have been raised about the dehumanising effect such places have on their occupants.  Fay has been assigned to do research at a typical block of flats – the Langly estate – living and working there for an extended period.  There certainly seems to be a malaise affecting some of the people and Fay herself also begins to crumble under the pressure …..

The Human Time Bomb has a social, rather than a scientific, problem to deal with.  Although tower blocks were still a fairly modern concept at the time, it’s plain from the tone of Louis Marks’ script that their inherent dangers were already clearly understood.  We open with the unfortunate Mr Hetherington (Talfryn Thomas).  As he joins his neighbours waiting for the lift, he gives them a cheery greeting – only to receive blank contempt from them.  As the lift descends, his anxiety at being jammed in like a sardine begins to tell.  Once he gets outside he rushes straight into the path of an oncoming car – still observed with dispassion by his neighbours.

When it’s later revealed that Hetherington worked for the planning office, it’s possible to wonder whether Langly is targeting people who might be a threat to him.  Fay has begun to receive crank calls and also has to deal with innuendo and abuse from some of her neighbours, whilst another member of the planning team, Scobie (Roddy McMillan) also has a breakdown.  This turns out not to be the case though as it simply all seems to be a coincidence, which is slightly hard to swallow.

The Human Time Bomb is an excellent vehicle for Jean Trend.  Fay, seemingly by the nature of the work she’s doing at the Langly estate, becomes isolated and paranoid.  This is demonstrated best when she asks the odd-job man Donovan (Ray Armstrong) to come to her flat to repair her lights.  He does so, but Fay interprets his attitude as hostile and attempts to attack him with a hammer.  Armstrong cleverly plays the scene in a fairly neutral way, so although his line about her promise to make his visit worth his while could be taken several ways, it does seem that Fay jumped to the wrong conclusion.

Quist is fairly dense throughout.  He seems to regard Fay’s concerns as the ravings of an unbalanced woman (surprising, since he’s supposed to consider her a first class scientist) and it’s only at the eleventh hour that he realises she could well be right and rushes back to her flat – just in time to save her from attacking Donovan.  Earlier, he failed to acknowledge that she saved him from being attacked by a young boy with a hammer – which confirms that by not living in the Langly estate like Fay he’s been unable to pick up on the atmosphere of fear and alienation.

If the vision of urban, inner-city life we see here isn’t terribly oppressive in a visual way (later productions would do it much better – in The Human Time Bomb everything still seems a little too neat and tidy) then Louis Marks’ script still manages to pile on the misery.  There’s few moments of light relief – even Ridge doesn’t really crack any decent gags – so the overall impression is quite relentless, which I presume was the tone Marks was aiming for.

The main flaw with the story is that it’s debatable just how much the tower block environment is responsible for the behaviour we see. Quist is convinced – but there’s little of the rigorous, methodical research he usually champions to back this up (instead, his conclusions seem to be derived more from hunches and guesswork). Fay’s bouts of hysteria do give Jean Trend something decent to work with, but it also has the unfortunate side effect of making her character seem rather neurotic.

So whilst this isn’t the strongest that series two has to offer, thanks to placing Fay front and centre it’s certainly of interest.

Doomwatch – In the Dark

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A swimmer dies off the Scottish coast.  Quist doesn’t consider this to be much of a mystery – after all, people have been known to drown before.  But he begins to show a little interest when Ridge reveals that the man died of mustard gas poisoning.  Some twenty five years earlier, a ship commanded by Lionel McArthur (Patrick Troughton) sank nearby.   Since it carried mustard gas it therefore seems likely that somehow this deadly cargo has started to pollute the area.

Although McArthur is an old friend of Quist, he elects instead to send Ridge along to investigate.  But Ridge finds McArthur to be a very elusive man and even when he tracks him down he finds his answers to be rather vague.  Eventually the truth is revealed – the man posing as the public face of Lionel McArthur is actually his cousin, Alan.  The real Lionel McArthur exists in a vegetative state – kept alive by machines.  But he doesn’t regard this in a negative way, for him it’s a positive triumph.  His body became diseased, so he replaced it with machines …..

Although In The Dark has a striking pre-credits sequence showing the hapless swimmer’s death (and following the credits there’s another memorable shot of the man’s dead face in the water, overlaid with the story title) this part of the story is little more than a MacGuffin – designed to get the Doomwatch team interacting with McArthur.  It’s not the first time this sort of plot device has been used, but it still feels a little clumsy.

But no matter.  Once we get past the first twenty minutes the story proper can begin.  Immobile in a hospital bad, with only his head visible, Patrick Troughton still manages to dominate the screen.  It’s interesting that given the subject matter of the story you might have expected it to be scripted by Kit Pedler and Gerry Davis, rather than John Gould.  McArthur is basically a Cyberman – his body fell ill, so he cheated death by replacing it.  The only part of him that remains human is his head, and he has plans to do something with that as well.  He tells a horrified Quist that he wishes to remove emotions – “anger, fear, love, hate” – in order to make him function more efficiently.  Anybody familiar with the first Cyberman story, The Tenth Planet, will instantly see the parallel.

The question of what existence actually means is at the heart of the story.  Both Ridge and Quist regard McArthur’s half life as no real life at all.  Quist asks McArthur some probing questions.  “We have no bodies, no needs, no desires. What’s the purpose of existing at all?”  McArthur responds he wishes “to become pure. To achieve that state that all the mystics have tried to achieve in their little futile, frustrated ways.  I may not look it to you Quist, but I am perfect. I am perfect man, because I am only brain.”

Alethea Charlton, as McArthur’s daughter Flora, has a small, but telling role.  She loves her father dearly, but implores Quist to try and persuade him to turn off the machines.  Unlike him, she’s realised that he’s now barely human and that although he’s gained a version of immortality it’s been achieved at a terrible cost.  Her husband, Andrew Seaton (Simon Lack) doesn’t share her concerns.  Somewhat coincidentally he’s in charge of McArthur’s treatment, telling Fay that “we virtually abolished death for him” and clearly regarding this to be a positive thing.

As for the Doomwatch team, Geoff and Bradley once more get the short end of the stick with just a few lines apiece.  It’s clear again that Quist, Ridge and Fay are the main characters and Gould’s script is tailored to all three of them.  Quist faces a moral dilemma – McArthur is a leading scientist and an old friend, so he feels an obligation to stay and do what he can to help.

Ridge has a wonderful monologue directed at Quist.  “You absorb all life into your own, did you know that? Everything that ever happens becomes a part of you. When you’re pre-occupied sometimes, I watch you walking. You don’t walk down ordinary, mundane streets, jostled by ordinary, mundane people. You pace the streets of a deserted village, or you tread the shattered planks of a seaside pier.”  Fay now occupies the same place in the narrative that Toby did during series one – acting as something of a buffer between Quist and Ridge.

The conclusion of the story doesn’t come as a surprise, but it’s still a powerful conclusion to a tale that poses difficult questions about how technology and medical care should co-exist.

The Three Musketeers. Part Ten – Walk to the Scaffold

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The war is over and Milady de Winter once more vows vengeance on her enemies, especially D’Artagnan.  She’s tracked down D’Artagnan’s mistress, Madame Bonacieux, who is sheltering in a convent and anxiously awaiting the arrival of her lover.

Although she’s been absent for a few episodes, Kathleen Breck picks up where she left off (alas) by still playing Madame Bonacieux as a wide-eyed giddy schoolgirl, which makes her fate something of a mercy killing for the audience. And given her broad performance during the serial it’s no surprise that she also milks her death scene for all its worth.  You can probably guess how Brett’s D’Artagnan takes it (not very well at all).  It’s just as well that the ever pragmatic Athos is on hand to tell him that “women weep for the dead, men avenge them.”

Even in this final episode, it’s clear that Peter Hammond was attempting to push the limitations of studio shooting as far as he could (the convent set features several high camera shots, not easy to do with the sort of cameras in use during the mid sixties).

Mary Peach’s bosoms once again heave impressively as D’Artagnan and the others track her down, list her crimes and find her guilty.  Naturally enough, the sentence is death.  Her executioner (Kevin Stoney) is already known to her and it’s poetic justice that he’s the one who’s tasked to carry out the act.  Shot on film, Milady’s final scene is extravagantly played by Peach, but unlike some of the other broad performances it works well.

Although some of the playing throughout the serial isn’t subtle and Peter Hammond’s direction is rather idiosyncratic, there’s still plenty to enjoy in The Three Musketeers.  The 25 minute format means that each episode zips along and there’s plenty of familiar faces – Kevin Stoney in this episode, Pauline Collins and Milton Johns, amongst others, earlier on – who pop up in small roles.

It’ll be interesting to shortly compare this to The Further Adventures of the Musketeers, especially how the recasting (Joss Ackland for Jeremy Brett, John Woodvine for Gary Watson) blends with the returning Brian Blessed and Jeremy Young.  The additional six episodes and shared directorial duties (Christopher Barry and Hugh David) should also give the sequel a different feel.  My review can be found here.

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The Three Musketeers. Part Nine – Assassin

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With a limited budget, the battle scenes we see throughout the serial have to be somewhat impressionistic.  This is demonstrated at the start of Assassin, as D’Artagnan and the Musketeers are seen defending a hill fort.  Although there’s a limited number of extras – representing both their allies and their enemies – sound effects, smoke and hand-held camera work all have to create the impression of many more.

The jumpy camera-cuts do effectively suggest the confusion of battle though, and it’s amusing that the Musketeers and D’Artagnan are cool enough to stop for a bite to eat and a discussion of their current troubles.  Milady de Winter’s mission to England spells trouble for all of them and although some of her plans (such as arranging the assassination of the Duke of Buckingham) don’t directly involve them, it’s still vital that they stop her.  A letter to Milady’s brother-in-law (who, we remember, had his life saved by D’Artagnan) should do the trick.

Presumably The Three Musketeers, like many series and serials of the time, had an allocated amount of film work per episode.  Since the previous episode had no filming at all, this may account for the more generous allocation in Assassin.  Some of it – for example, showing Milady’s arrival in England and her travels through the country –  aren’t strictly speaking vital to the plot, but they provide gloss and an expansive feeling (otherwise it would be too easy for the story to simply jump from one interior set to the next).

Milady de Winter’s reunited with her brother-in-law, but it’s not a happy meeting.  “Spy, bigamist, would-be-assassin, branded criminal. I’m sending you to our Southern colonies. In a few months the tropic sun would have burnt out that fatal beauty and sucked dry your evil mind.”  He leaves her a prisoner, guarded by young Felton (John Kelland) but Milady is easily able to manipulate this pious, worthy man.  Once again, it’s a pleasure to watch the delight on Mary Peach’s face as Milady manipulates yet another hapless victim.  She clearly has deep powers of persuasion, as not only is she able to obtain her release, she also convinces him to kill Buckingham.  A powerful lady indeed.

The scene where the Cardinal confronts D’Artagnan and the Musketeers is, like the earlier scene with Brett, Blessed, Young and Watson, shot on film.  This clever piece of scheduling meant that they weren’t required for the studio recording, therefore giving them a week off.

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The Three Musketeers. Part Eight – The Cardinal

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The revelation that Milady de Winter is Athos’ treacherous wife, whom he believed was put to death years ago, spins the story in a different direction.  Athos doesn’t fear for his own life – we’ve already seen that he doesn’t care if he lives or dies – but this revelation also places D’Artagnan’s life in immediate peril.

After the high drama of the opening scene, we quickly change gear as Porthos is brought face to face with the cuckolded husband of his latest mistress, Madame Coquenard. Porthos is humiliated by the elderly Monsieur Coquenard, who capers around in a bizarre fashion (complete with antlers on his head!) before collapsing.

D’Artagnan is summoned for a meeting with the Cardinal. Pasco’s Cardinal remains conversational and reasonable – as stated before, it makes a change from portraying Richelieu as a cackling villain and it only serves to make him all the more deadly. He doesn’t attempt to suborn people through fear, instead he uses the much subtler weapon of charm. And even when he gives D’Artagnan an ultimatum, Pasco still doesn’t raise his voice. “Up till now, whether you knew it or not, my hand has been behind you. The moment I withdraw my hand, why then my friend I would not give one farthing for your life. You will remember hereafter, if any misfortune befalls you.”

There’s more odd shot changes during this meeting. Every so often, the camera cuts away from the two actors to show the various suits of armour dotted around the room. If it happened once you might believe it was a miscue from the vision mixer, when it happens again it must be a deliberate choice.

Later, the Cardinal enlists the assistance of the three Musketeers to escort him to a meeting. This is a baffling move, since his meeting is with Athos’ hated wife Milady de Winter, whom he’s planning to send to England to meet with Buckingham.

The Cardinal wishes to prevent Buckingham from intervening in France’s civil war and has chosen the Englishman’s love, the Queen of France, as the lever. If Buckingham doesn’t withdraw his army, then the Queen’s honour will be tarnished beyond repair. With the three Musketeers ear-wigging in the next room, they now know all of the Cardinal’s plans ….

Once again an episode closes strongly, this time as Athos confronts his wife. Both Jeremy Young and Mary Peach are excellent in this short scene. Considering the wrongs he’s suffered, you might expect that vengeance would be uppermost on his mind, but, as highlighted before, he’s more concerned about D’Artagnan’s fate.

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The Three Musketeers. Part Seven – All Cats are Grey in the Dark

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Milady de Winter has succeeded in winning the love of D’Artagnan, but tells the Cardinal that she’ll only reciprocate in order to convert him to their side. Interestingly he reacts strongly against this, as he wants no suborned followers. If D’Artagnan is to serve him then it must be because he wishes to act for the glory of God. Appearing in just this single scene, Richard Pasco continues to impress as the wily Cardinal, offering a subtle performance that contrasts sharply with some of the more, shall we say, exuberant turns.

Speaking of exuberant, D’Artagnan turns up at the house of Milday de Winter, only to be told by her maid Kitty (Pauline Collins) that her mistress doesn’t love him at all. Considering that he spent the previous episode bemoaning the loss of his one true love, Madame Bonacieux, he clearly seemed to have quickly forgotten her once Milday fluttered her eyelashes at him (he’s clearly a fickle type). When Milady returns, Kitty hides him and this enables him to hear Milady utter the following words. “One day I will have D’Artagnan’s head on a platter.”

The Musketeers are tasked to escort the King in his upcoming campaign against the Huguenots. Porthos would sooner be fighting the English and given the current political climate it looks as if that will happen soon.

Aramis’ desire to leave the secular world has been a running thread throughout the serial and now it seems to be on the verge of happening. Porthos isn’t best pleased about this (and Brian Blessed shows this displeasure in his most typical way – he raises his voice). The cultured, religious Aramis contrasts well with the sensual, rumbustious Porthos and the pessimistic, nihilistic Athos – over the course of the seven episodes to date their various differing character traits have been skilfully drawn out.

The news that Aramis’ love still loves him changes everything though. All thoughts of taking holy orders are instantly forgotten, demonstrating that, just like D’Artagnan, he’s ruled by the women in his life.

More directorial flourishes are in evidence after Milday receives a letter which pleases her, but upsets Kitty. The picture rapidly cuts between Milday’s ecstatic face and Kitty’s distressed one. Elsewhere, a lack of location filming means that the friendly duel between Porthos and Aramis has to take place on a rather unconvincing studio set dressed as a forest clearing. Animal sound effects and a gentle breeze attempt to sell the illusion, but it’s no substitute for the real thing.

D’Artagnan’s climatic confrontation with Milady reveals that she bears the mark of the fleur-de-lys. Which means there’s a great deal of wailing and the return of the projected fleur-de-lys on the wall. It’s a strong way to conclude an episode that’s mostly chugged along in second gear (which is understandable in a ten-part serial – there’s bound to be a few episodes where the plot doesn’t advance a great deal).

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Doctor Who – Target Books. A personal appreciation

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With a new edition of David J. Howe’s history of the Doctor Who Target books just released, the rather nice feature on Target artwork in the current Doctor Who Magazine (DWM 499) as well as the latest wave of reprints, it seems like the ideal time to take a brief look at Target’s Doctor Who imprint.

In the pre-video age, the tv tie-in novelisation was one of the best ways (along with off-air audio recordings of course) to relive memories of your favourite series.  I’ve plenty of books of this type in my collection, but for sheer volume the Target Doctor Who range is well out in front.

From receiving my first (The Day of the Daleks) as a birthday present in 1979 to finally plugging those remaining gaps in my collection in 1987 (The Monster of Peladon and The Ribos Operation) following a visit to Forbidden Planet in London, part of the pleasure of the Target range was the time and effort it took to track every last book down.

Back in the olden days, you couldn’t simply buy a book online with a few clicks, you had to go out and locate them – one by one.  So every Saturday morning I’d head off to my local WH Smiths and peruse their Who titles.  They tended to have a selection of the more recent books as well as a handful of older reprints – but many remained tantalisingly out of reach.  For example, for some reason I found it very hard to track down The Android Invasion (I was told it was out of print) until suddenly a single copy appeared on the WH Smiths shelves.  Naturally enough I snapped it up!  But many weeks would end in disappointment as the books I required never seemed to make it to my neck of the woods.  This meant I had to venture further afield or try my luck with second-hand bookshops (also handy for tracking down first editions with the original covers).

But although the thrill of the chase was part of the fun, the books themselves were also quite important.  For me, there’s three clear ages of Target – the first is the Golden Age, with Terrance Dicks, Malcolm Hulke, Brian Hayles and Gerry Davis all crafting some of the best novelisations in the range.  The late 70’s and early 80’s is the Bronze Age alas, as Terrance ended up as pretty much the last man standing, churning out some fairly nondescript books month after month.  The Silver Age runs from the mid 80’s onwards and is particularly enjoyable thanks to the contribution of many Hartnell and Troughton era scriptwriters who, some two decades on, returned to pen novelisations of their original scripts.

The cover artwork was often another memorable part of the package. Chris Achelleos’ work remains iconic, but it’s nice to see in the DWM article that other artists, such as Jeff Cummins, are also highlighted.  It’s remarkable to me that Cummins only painted nine covers, as I’d assumed he’d done many more, but every one was a winner.  His personal favourite is The Horror of Fang Rock and it’s hard to disagree with him.

I’m going to finish off with my top ten favourite books (apologies if some of the choices are crushingly obvious).

10. Doctor Who and the War Games by Malcolm Hulke (1979)

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I think a little love for Malcolm Hulke’s novelisation of The War Games is in order.  Although Hulke is correctly lauded as one of Target’s key writers, his final book for the range is often rather unfairly dismissed.  This seems to be because he had to compress ten episodes down to a 120 page count, although I confess that I can find little of note omitted.  Whilst I love the tv version of The War Games dearly, it did have a fair amount of running on the spot, so Hulke’s leaner book version is fine by me.  There’s also a pleasingly darker tone at times, noticeably right at the start – when it’s made clear that the 1917 zone is one of the worst places in the universe you could ever hope to find yourself.

9. Doctor Who – The King’s Demons by Terence Dudley (1986)

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If the television original is rather insubstantial (although I still rather like it, see here) then Dudley’s book is able to flesh out the story very successfully.  Many loose ends are tied up and it’s very pleasing that the Doctor is given a proper leaving scene (much better than the tx version where he just nips off without a word to anyone).

8. Doctor Who and the Cybermen by Gerry Davis (1975)

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Gerry Davis’ novelisations were always worth reading (well apart from The Celestial Toymaker, but let’s give him the benefit of the doubt and assume his co-writer was chiefly responsible for that one) and it’s the Cyberman’s debut Troughton tale that’s made my top ten.  Although some of the logic of the story has always irked me (the business with the sugar seems rather risible) there’s an eerie claustrophobia to this classic base under siege tale which comes over very well in print.

7. Doctor Who and the Ark in Space by Ian Marter (1977)

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Ian Marter’s another of those writers who delivered some excellent books and his debut – The Ark in Space – has long been a favourite.  Although it sticks very closely to Robert Holmes’ original, it feels somewhat bleaker (probably because it lacks the bright visuals of the tx version).  The Doctor seems slightly off at times, but it’s no surprise that Marter has an excellent handle on what makes Harry tick.

6. Doctor Who and the Auton Invasion by Terrance Dicks (1974)

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Classic early Terrance, adding considerable extra value to Holmes’ original.  Particularly noteworthy is the way that Sam Seeley becomes a three-dimensional character with strong motivations (meaning that the “oo-arr” yokel in the tx version was later something of a disappointment to me).  The Auton attack on Unit HQ is another of those “missing scenes” that also disappointed me when it didn’t show up on the VHS.

5. Doctor Who and the Crusaders by David Whitaker (1966. Target Edition 1973)

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Whitaker’s novelisation makes few concessions to his young audience, as it’s wordy, dense and atmospheric.  As a young child this meant I found it somewhat difficult to get to grips with (much preferring Terrance Dicks’ efforts) but when I returned to it a few years later I was amply rewarded with a memorable tale.

4. Doctor Who and the Dinosaur Invasion by Malcolm Hulke (1976)

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All of Hulke’s Target books are a joy, but I’ve always had a soft spot for this one.  From the hapless Shughie McPherson to the camp-as-a-row-of-tents Whitaker, Hulke provides plenty of incidental moments not to be found in the original teleplay.  And, of course, on the printed page the dinosaurs are very impressive!

3. Doctor Who – The Myth Makers by Donald Cotton (1985)

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Cotton’s novelisation is another book which made few concessions to his target (no pun intended) audience – with plenty of jokes which would have no doubt sailed right over their heads (but this is the reason why The Myth Makers is an excellent book to revisit).  Wonderful stuff and the audiobook (read by Stephen Thorne) is also warmly recommended.

2. Doctor Who and the Daleks by David Whitaker (1964. Target Edition 1973)

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For a generation, Barnes Common was just as much a part of Doctor Who lore as Totters Lane was.  Writing it from Ian’s viewpoint was a masterstoke – it gives the book a very 1950’s John Wyndham-ish feel, which I find terribly appealing.  If you only want a handful of Doctor Who novelisations, then this should certainly be one of them.  And the audiobook, read by William Russell, should also be in your collection.

1. Doctor Who and the Day of the Daleks by Terrance Dicks (1974)

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Well, it was my first, so it obviously holds a special place in my heart – but it’s undeniably an excellent book.  It made such an impression that when I finally got to see the tv original (in 1986) I found it paled by comparison.  Time is a great healer though and I’m able to love the television version for what it is, but Terrance’s novel is always the way I prefer to picture the story.

The Three Musketeers. Part Six – Branded

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The King is upset that the Queen isn’t wearing her diamond studs and the Cardinal sees the chance to discredit her by giving the King the two studs he obtained from Milady de Winter.   But the Cardinal is foiled when she reappears shortly afterwards wearing it – and since Buckingham was able to get it repaired in England, the Cardinal’s two diamond studs are superfluous.

It’s intriguing that Milady is the one who’s out for vengence.  She wants to see D’Artagnan stretched on the rack, whilst the Cardinal would prefer to win him over to his side.  He professes admiration for D’Artagnan’s bravery, although this doesn’t prevent him from deciding to strike at him through his mistress, Madame Bonacieux.  The Musketeers warned him this might  happen, so it’s maybe another sign of D’Artagnan’s inexperience that he gave no thought to protecting her.

Kathleen Breck continues to demonstrate that she could scream for England as she’s carried off by Rochefort’s men.  D’Artagnan is characteristically hysterical at the news, allowing Brett to go soaring over the top once again.

He’s neatly contrasted by Young’s pragmatic Athos, who tells him that he’s only lost his mistress, not his soul.  When D’Artagnan snaps back that Athos seems to love nobody, he agrees and has little sympathy for his friend’s claim that he shares a deep love with Madame Bonacieux.  “You child! Every man believes his mistress loves him. He’s deceived.” Athos’ deep cynicism constrasts well with D’Artagnan’s boundless romantic yearnings.  Athos then tells D’Artagnan a tale about a friend of his (although it’s obviously about him).

It’s another chance for Peter Hammond to craft some striking images.  Athos’ friend married a beautiful woman, but was shocked to discover some time in to their marriage that she bore the sign of the fleur-de-lys seared into the flesh of her shoulder – the brand of a criminal.  As Athos reaches this point in his tale, a giant fleur-de-lys is projected on the wall and Athos goes over and stands in front of it.  He then tells D’Artagnan that he put the woman to death, which explains why he has a rather jaundiced view of the female of the species.  It’s a wonderfully delivered monologue by Jeremy Young.  “Killing her has cured me of women. Beautiful, fascinating, poetic women. May god grant it does as much to you.”

Milady de Winter persuades her brother-in-law to kill D’Artagnan and then confides to her maid Kitty (Pauline Collins) that she’s a winner either way. If D’Artagnan dies, all well and good, if not then she inherits the family fortune. Mary Peach hasn’t had a great deal to do up to this point, but she seems to enjoy being able to let rip in this scene.

As D’Artagnan does battle with Lord de Winter (Patrick Holt), a voice-over (an unusual storytelling device for television, although one very common in radio) pops up to move the action along to the house of Porthos’ latest mistress, Madame Coquenard (Delia Corrie). He’s quite shameless in telling her that he needs money for a new horse, clothes for his servant, etc. And since her elderly husband is a wealthy man it seems logical he should provide the cash. Her cuckolded husband, listening outside the door, doesn’t seem too keen though!

D’Artagnan spares Lord de Winter’s life. Since de Winter would have told him that the duel was because of (imaginary) slghts made by D’Artagnan against his sister-in-law’s honour, it’s a little odd that D’Artagnan doesn’t treat Milady with more caution when they meet for the first time.

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The Three Musketeers. Part Five – Scandal

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Peter Hammond’s by now familiar directorial tic is firmly in evidence at the start of this episode, as D’Artagnan and the Musketeers pull up at a country inn.  Rochefort has arrived ahead of them and he (as well as the audience) observe their arrival through a slightly obscured window.

That Rochefort is something of an underhand cad is clearly demonstrated when he shoots one of the Musketeers’ servants.  His men, also carrying guns, then approach our heroes which, since they’re only armed with swords, hardly seems like a fair fight.

But it’ll come as no surprise that even with such uncompromising odds D’Artagnan and the Musketeers still manage to gain the upper hand.  Plenty of swashes are buckled, but it’s still a struggle for the greatly outnumbered Musketeers to hold their attackers off – and in order to buy D’Artagnan some time to complete his mission they urge him to make his escape whilst they stay behind, still fighting furiously.

When D’Artagnan reaches the coast he indulges in more swordplay.  For anyone who’s been upset of the lack of fighting in the last few episodes, the first ten minutes of this one (all shot on film) more than make up for it.

D’Artagnan meets with Buckingham. The Duke gladly gives back the Queens gift in another scene that’s uniquely shot. Buckingham has created a shrine to the Queen, complete with flickering candles, and Hammond chose to overlay even more candles over the picture. This gives the scene a rather strange look, but it sort of works.

It’s ironic that although the Queen is the woman he professes to love, his earlier dalliance with Milady de Winter obviously indicates that he’s not the faithful type! And just as we can lay blame on the Queen for giving him the gift in the first place, if he hadn’t entertained Milady in his bedchamber then she wouldn’t have been able to snip off a few of the diamond studs.

Poor Buckingham goes to pieces when he learns of Milady’s treachery. Simon Oates is once again highly entertaining as Buckingham, now rather highly strung as he and D’Artagnan try to prevent Milady from reaching the Cardinal as well as attempting to repair the Queen’s damaged gift.

Given some of the strange camera shots we’ve seen so far, I’m not sure whether the one some fifteen minutes in was an accident or another piece of Hammond planning. Buckingham and D’Artagnan exit from different sides of the frame, but the camera doesn’t follow them. Instead, for a few seconds we focus on an empty room whilst Buckingham’s voice continues off-camera. An intentional shot or a miscue? Hmmm.

It’s interesting that the three Musketeers don’t make any attempt to follow D’Artagnan after they finally manage to battle off Rochefort’s men. Instead they spend a convivial evening at the inn, eating and drinking – although there’s a twist. Porthos is perturbed to find that Athos wagered his horse in a bet with the landlord (and lost). Aramis is equally upset to discover his silver crucifix has gone the same way. Although this is nothing compared to the revelation that the meat they enjoyed earlier was Porthos’ horse! Lovely comic playing by all three actors, with a final pay off that Athos was lying to them all along and both Porthos’ horse and Aramis’ crucifix are unharmed.

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The Three Musketeers. Part Four – Audacity

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Peter Hammond’s showy camera-work continues in the first scene, as the Cardinal subtly manipulates the King (John Carlin). Several of the shots take place through a window, thus giving the audience a restricted view of the meeting (and also ensuring that we’re placed in the role of observers, eavesdropping on their conversation). The Cardinal professes that the Queen is wholly innocent of any inappropriate liaison with Buckingham, but then smoothly changes tack and suggests the King host a Ball in her honour. And wouldn’t it be an ideal time for her to wear the diamond studs he recently gave to her …..

Carole Potter’s Queen is distraught (again). Lying on her bed, crying woe is me, she’s fretting about how to get the diamond studs back from Buckingham in order to prevent a hideous scandal. Although as I’ve previously said, it was silly of her to give them away in the first place. Never mind, if she hadn’t then there wouldn’t have been much of a story.

Madame Bonacieux is convinced that she can count on her husband to travel to England and save the day, but he’s now the Cardinal’s man. Not only because he’s been paid off, but also for more pressing reasons. “Intrigue frightens me. I’ve seen the Bastille. I’ve seen the torture room. Wedges of wood to drive between your knees to crush your joints.” Peter Hammond’s love of mirror shots continues, as do scenes shot with restricted views. Here it’s because D’Artagnan is upstairs, viewing the confrontation between husband and wife through a crack in the floorboards. As with the opening scene of the episode, it allows the audience a chance to eavesdrop on a private conversation.

Paul Whitsun-Jones departs the serial in this episode. Later to star as the rather ineffectual baddy in the Doctor Who story The Mutants, it therefore came as something of a surprise that he was amongst the subtler actors in these early episodes. Kathleen Breck continues to be a stranger to subtlety, as Madame Bonacieux responds to her husbands departure by flinging herself across a table in a highly theatrical manner. “Dear god, what am I to do?” If I was uncharitable, I’d say a second take, but I’m not so I won’t.

It’s clear that her prayers will be answered, as D’Artagnan – due to his overpowering love for her – will do anything that she asks. “Since I love you. Since I would go through fire for you. Since I am brave, loyal to the throne, I’m your man.” Brett continues to push his intensity level up to eleven, especially when Madame Bonacieux appears to reciprocate his love. The moment when they kiss is an interesting one – as D’Artagnan is rather clumsy, to say the least. A bungled take or was this Brett’s choice, attempting to show how young and inexperienced (in so many ways) D’Artagnan is?

The Musketeers are sidelined in this episode until the last five minutes. It’s fair to say that at first they’re not best pleased at having to go to London, but duty calls. Despite the fact that D’Artagnan isn’t even a Musketeer, they seem to have no problem in accepting that not only is he is charge but that he won’t divulge the reason for their mission. For Athos, if it means a chance to fight and die then he’s content, whilst Porthos and Aramis also relish the chance for a scrap, even if they lack Athos’ apparent death wish.

With four of them, the odds are that at least one will reach London to deliver the vital message. And one is all they need. “All for one and one for all.”

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The Three Musketeers. Part Three – Peril

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Madame Bonacieux’s bosom heaves in an impressive fashion as D’Artagnan attempts to divine the reason why she was targeted by the Cardinal’s men. A very blatant boom shadow is a little bit of a distraction, but there’s another example of Peter Hammond’s quest to find interesting camera angles – the conclusion of the scene is shot directly at a mirror, showing us the reflections of Madame Bonacieux and D’Artagnan.

Monseuir Bonacieux finds himself a prisoner in the Concierge, questioned by the relentless Commissary (Vernon Dobtcheff). Making his sole appearance in the serial, Dobtcheff’s another very dependable actor who’s always a joy to watch – his relentless bullying of Paul Whitson- Jones’ hapless Bonacieux is very nicely played. The Commissary is further irritated when he’s presented with someone whom he believes to be D’Artagnan, but turns out to be Athos. This shows us Athos’ chivalrous side – he doesn’t deny that he’s not D’Artagnan in order to enable his friend to remain at liberty – but Jeremy Young still remains the least developed of the Musketeers at this point.

Jeremy Brett continues to chew the scenery as his love for Madame Bonacieux deepens, as does his paranoia that she loves another (and he seems to have forgotten that she’s a married woman anyway!) “Madame, if you could see my heart, you would discover so much love.” At present she can’t reciprocate, telling him that she has gratitude for him, but little else. The arrival of a strange man provides more fuel for D’Artagnan’s jealousy. But the Duke of Buckingham (Simon Oates) hasn’t got his eyes on Madame Bonacieux, he’s aiming a little higher …..

Oates, later to star as the womanising, foppish scientist John Ridge in Doomwatch, plays a womanising foppish member of the English nobility here. So not too much of a stretch. He does seem to be enjoying himself though, as he clearly relishes the ripe dialogue. More restrained performances can be seen when the disheveled Monseuir Bonacieux is brought into the presence of the Cardinal. If Buckingham and the Queen are florid and histronic then the Cardinal and Rochefort continue to downplay. This is an interesting choice, as you’d normally expect the villains to offer broad and moustache twirling performances.

Brian Blessed and Gary Watson only pop up towards the end of the episode. Blessed remains as loud as you might expect, but he’s also as entertaining as you might expect too. He tells D’Artagnan and Aramis that he has an assignation with a noble lady and takes his leave of them.  But the truth is somewhat different – he finds his pleasures with women from a lower class of society (pride prevents him from admitting the truth). It’s a nice character beat and the brief following scene is played well by Blessed, as Porthos momentarily show irritation when he’s in the company of his latest date, before he puts on a brave face and makes the best of it.

More bosoms heave as Milady de Winter reappears. The Cardinal has learnt that the Queen gave Buckingham a casket containing twelve diamond studs gifted to her by the King. It seems rather strange that not only would she decide to give away a present presented to her by her husband but also one that would be so identifiable. The Cardinal sends Milady de Winter to England with the clear directive to obtain several of these studs. Once a link between the Queen and Buckingham can be proved, the Cardinal will have all the evidence he needs to bring the monarchy crashing down …..

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The Three Musketeers. Part Two – The Three Duels

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Although we open episode two with D’Artagnan facing the prospect of dueling with all three Musketeers, it doesn’t take too long before he’s accepted by them and Brett gets to utter the immortal line “one for all and all for one.” Cue another fight scene shot on film with more highly dramatic music. It’s interesting to note that Hammond seemed to have the use of a crane, as there’s a couple of very high shots which gives the scene a little lift.

The three Musketeers and D’Artagnan enjoy their tussle with the Cardinal’s men which then leads us into our first sight of Cardinal Richelieu (Richard Pascoe). Pascoe is another strong performer, exuding quiet menace in his meeting with Brayshaw’s Rochefort.

The Queen (Carole Potter) has a low opinion of the Cardinal. “That man of God who wears the face of Lucifer. A priest who in his lust for power once dreamt of making France’s Queen his mistress. His passion filled me with disgust and I so scorned him that his breast cannot contain the hatred he now bears me.”

Potter emotes freely as the Queen struggles to free herself from the trap she knows Richelieu has set for her (he hopes to make capital out of her relationship with the Duke of Buckingham, an English noble). This is an early example of the two main parts of the serial – there’s derring do and fights aplenty, but inbetween the action the pace slows down as lengthy dialogue scenes dominate. Carole Potter’s television cv isn’t particularly extensive. She returned as Queen Anne in The Further Adventures of the Musketeers the following year and the year after that appeared as Violet Smith in the Sherlock Holmes story The Solitary Cyclist (one of the episodes from the Peter Cushing series that’s sadly wiped). Like Brett’s early scenes as D’Artagnan, she seems a stranger to subtlety as she wails about her misfortunes to her trusted servant Madame Constance Bonacieux (Kathleen Breck).

The long arm of coincidence is in operation after D’Artagnan rents a comfortable room from Madame Bonacieux’s husband (played by the always reliable Paul Whitsun-Jones). With the Queen in trouble and Madame Bonacieux her only confidant, it seems plain that it won’t be long before she and D’Artagnan meet (within a matter of minutes as it happens). D’Artagnan observes her enter through a loose floorboard and Breck rather unsubtly demonstrates Madame Bonacieux’s distress by placing both hands over her face in a very exaggerated manner. After the Cardinal’s men catches up with her, Breck starts wailing very loudly, but luckily for those with sensitive ears D’Artagnan is on hand and makes quick work of them.

Afterwards, D’Artagnan and Madame Bonacieux regard each other for the first time and it’s clear that he likes what he sees ….

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The Three Musketeers. Part One – Enemies

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The Three Musketeers was a ten part serial, broadcast on BBC1 between November 1966 and January 1967. It was adapted by Anthony Steven, directed by Peter Hammond and starred Jeremy Brett (D’Artagnan), Brian Blessed (Porthos), Jeremy Young (Athos) and Gary Watson (Aramis).

With the sequel serial, The Further Adventures of the Musketeers, due to be released on DVD next month, it seems the ideal time to dig out The Three Musketeers for a rewatch. Although it’s never had an official UK release, the Koch DVD from 2006 seems to play perfectly well on R2 machines, even though the packaging states that it’s R1.   Whilst it looks like an unrestored telerecording, the picture quality is actually pretty decent (I’ve certainly sat through far worse).

As you’d expect from a BBC production of this era, the studio scenes were taped pretty much sequentially with any outdoor sequences pre-recorded on film and played into the studio via telecine. The “as live” nature of this type of recording meant that it was rare to stop recording for minor technical issues, so there will always be some wonky camera movements and line fluffs.

Some of the shots, right from the start, are slightly odd though – which makes me wonder whether they were actually chosen by Peter Hammond.  A good case in point is the opening scene, where D’Artagnan’s father hands him a sword, tells him he’s now a man and urges him to make his way in the world. The opening dialogue comes from D’Artagnan’s father, but the camera is positioned behind him, so we can’t see his face. The camera then closes in for an extreme close up of the sword’s hilt as D’Artagnan wields it for the first time – but why don’t we see Brett’s face? It’s slightly odd.

As is Brett’s performance. Later to become something of a national treasure for his portrayal of Sherlock Holmes, he’s a little hammy to begin with – although once he falls in with the Musketeers he does improve somewhat. Having been told by his father that a gentleman never refuses a fight, D’Artagnan, when arriving at a tavern, doesn’t back away from a tussle with Rochefort (Edward Brayshaw) who is amused by D’Artagnan’s mode of transport (a rather weedy looking pony). Brayshaw, even with his stick on beard, is wonderful in his opening scene – mocking and controlled, contrasting very well with Brett’s hysteria. Since D’Artagnan is supposed to be something of a callow youth it’s understandable that he’s easily riled, although this makes the casting of the thirty-three year old Brett a slightly strange decision.

Rochefort declines his offer of a fight, but D’Artagnan still doesn’t shy away from single-handidly taking on three others. As this was shot on film, the fight is nicely cut together and it’s something of a treat – complete with over-dramatic music. Once D’Artagnan has been dealt with, Rochefort keeps his rendezvous with the alluring Milady de Winter (Mary Peach).

After his diversion with Rochefort, D’Artagnan has a meeting with de Treville (Martin Miller), the leader of the Musketeers. Although Rochefort steals the letter of introduction provided by D’Artagnan’s father, he’s still readily accepted – which makes Rochefort’s actions seem a little pointless. We then meet the three Muskeeters. Brian Blessed is excellent throughout the serial, an ideal Porthos, Watson gives Aramis a cultured, amused air whilst we don’t really get to grips with Jeremy Young’s Athos until later on.

Although the humour isn’t overt, it’s still there (especially if you regard Brett’s overplaying as ironic) and this is clearly demonstrated at the episode’s close as D’Artagnan manages to upset Athos, Porthos and Aramis independently within the space of a few minutes. This means they all challenge him to a duel, so it appears he’s going to be killed three times over!

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The Ginger Tree – Simply Media DVD Review

archivetvmusings BBC Drama - 1980's, Simply Media , , , ,

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Apart from its inherent qualities, The Ginger Tree is of interest because it was the first drama anywhere in the world to be recorded in HD.  The BBC had been running HD trials since the mid 1980’s, but this four-part 1989 serial was the first production designed for broadcast.

Because of the prohibitive cost of working with the new technology, a co-production deal with other broadcasters had to be arranged.  The choice of NHK Japan as one of the production partners no doubt influenced the novel chosen for adaptation, but that turned out to be one the strengths of the serial.  Back in the 1960’s and 1970’s, if you needed a Japanese-looking actor then you’d get Burt Kwouk if you were lucky and if you were unlucky you’d have a British actor doing his best to look Oriental.  The Ginger Tree, despite being shot on (albeit HD) VT has a filmic sweep and the lavish period setting, location filming and authentic Japanese actors all help to give the serial a rich, immersive feel that the BBC by itself would never have been able to afford.

One irony is that back in 1989 there was no way for British viewers to enjoy the high definition picture.  Compatible televisions didn’t exist and the HDVS recorder used to make the program was essentially an NTSC system  – so the programme had to be converted back into the PAL format for screening on the BBC, meaning that it looked somewhat washed out.  This DVD release is therefore able to present the programme in better quality, although it’s a pity that a BD release isn’t available as that should have been better still (although to be honest, it doesn’t look any sharper or better in SD than a typical VT production of the era).

The Ginger Tree was a novel by Oswald Wynd, originally published in 1977.  Wynd was born in Japan in 1913 to Scottish parents who had come to the country to run a mission. Wynn spent his formative years immersed in what must have been a very alien culture (which obviously helped to inform the writing of The Ginger Tree).  After WW2, where he spent several years as a Japanese prisoner of war, he returned to his native Scotland and pursued a writing career, penning thrillers under the pseudonym of Gavin Black as well as several books under his own name.  The Ginger Tree, helped in part by this adaptation, remains his most popular work.

The book was written as a series of diary entries and letters penned by Mary Mackenzie.  This literary device naturally presents some problems for the adaptor, but Christopher Hampton (who had won an Oscar in 1989 for Dangerous Liaisons) was able to capture the essence of Wynd’s novel.

The year is 1903.  Mary MacKenzie (Samantha Bond) has travelled to Manchuria to marry her fiance, Captain Richard Collingsworth (Adrian Rawlings).  Because they barely know each other it’s clear that their marriage is doomed from the start.  But Mary’s affair with Count Kentaro Kurihama (Daisuke Ryû), a Japanese soldier, plunges her into a scandal from which there seems no escape.  After bearing his child, she finds herself facing an uphill battle as she attempts to find herself a place in the extremely rigid and formal Japanese society.

It’s possible to believe that Mary is something of an innocent. She’s never journeyed out of Britain before and now finds herself setting out on the long trek to Manchuria to marry Richard. Is she in love with him? He seems personable enough and she certainly seems keen to reach him as quickly as possible, so maybe. But they’ve only met a handful of times before their marriage was arranged, which casts obvious doubt that their union will endure.

Their wedding night is a key moment. He doesn’t turn instantly cruel, instead he becomes indifferent, which is possibly worse. He shows Mary her bedroom and then mentions he’ll be sleeping elsewhere. But he is prepared to do his duty as a dutiful husband and make love to her – although in the most perfunctory way. There’s no passion or tenderness and Bond’s silent, frozen face speaks volumes.

Samantha Bond had racked up some decent credits prior to this (Agatha Christie’s A Murder is Announced, Mansfield Park, Rumpole of the Bailey) but The Ginger Tree was her first major starring role and it required a subtle and nuanced performance, which she delivers.

Bond plays Mary in a very internalised way. This isn’t a surprise, given that ladies of her class and era weren’t encouraged to express their feelings. But given how inarticulate (emotionally) she is, it seems initially unlikely that she’ll ever form a relationship with the sensative Kentaro. Which makes the chain of events towards the end of the first episode – they take tea, they become lovers, she finds herself bearing his child – something of a whirlwind. Due to the languid pace of the episode up to this point it all seems to happen very suddenly.

Daisuke Ryû has tended to work mainly in Japanese language films, which could be the reason why Kurihama seems slightly stilted at times. But it could also be a performance choice and either way it helps to differentiate Kurihama from Collingsworth (Kurihama’s slight vulnerability constants sharply with the indifference of Collingsworth).

The sight of a heavily pregnant Mary quickly wipes the smile off the face of her returning husband. He immediately decides to pack her off back to Scotland, although he doesn’t intend to give her a divorce – for purely monetary reasons. It’s a remarkable revelation that Mary’s mother has pledged half her yearly income (some three hundred pounds) to Collingsworth for as long as the pair stay married.

Ar the station she’s faced with another option, a train ticket to Tokyo, provided by Kurihama. She accepts it and is accompanied by Baroness Aiko Onnodera (Fumi Dan). Dan gives a sparkling performance, which contrasts well with Bond’s more withdrawn persona. Aiko is an ardent campaigner for women’s rights, which has recently earned her a spell in prison, but she remains unrepentant. She’s able to explain exactly what Mary’s life in Tokyo will be like.

Kurihama has provided her with a house and servants, but as a women, a foreigner and essentially a concubine, her movements will be very restricted. Mary’s fleeting hopes that Kurihama will marry her are dashed when she learns he’s a married man with four children.

Although the general theme of The Ginger Tree is quite downbeat, there’s also a feeling of optimism. Mary might be portrayed initially as something of a naive, downtrodden figure but over time she gains strength and becomes less of a victim. Samantha Bond is very watchable, although her soft Scottish accent seems to come and go a little. Daisuke Ryû is equally impressive, as are the rest of the Japanese cast. The co-production budget allowed for a generous number of extras and set dressings, plus filming in Japan was obviously another major plus. The story unfolds over some forty years, ending during WW2, necessitating ageing makeup to be applied to the main cast, which is done very effectively.

Oswald Wynd’s tale of love and loss is effectively brought to life in Christopher Hampton’s adaptation and it’s sure to strike a chord with many.

The Ginger Tree is released by Simply Media on the 25th of April 2016. RRP £19.99.

Fred (Fred Dibnah) to be released by Simply Media on 23/5/16

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Simply Media will release Fred on the 23rd of May 2016.  Review here.

With his specs, cloth cap and infectious toothy grin, Bolton born steeplejack Fred Dibnah was instantly recognisable. He burst onto TV screens in 1978 blithely repairing Bolton’s town hall clock at the dizzying height of some 250 feet and quickly found a place in the nation’s heart, becoming a familiar face on TV for many years. Now some of Fred’s most famous programmes can be enjoyed again thanks to the forthcoming DVD release from Simply Media.

Following that first local news report, the BBC commissioned the BAFTA winning 1980 documentary ‘Fred Dibnah: Steeplejack’, which showed him demolishing giant factory chimneys with ease and casually hopping across the chimney tops with death-defying agility.

After that, seven 30-minute programmes were made, exploring Fred’s eccentric life as a steeplejack and steam tractor fanatic, and now for the first time together on DVD, the seven episode 1982 BBC television series ‘Fred’ arrives alongside ‘Fred Dibnah: Steeplejack’.

In Fred, director by Don Haworth (A Year with Fred) caught Dibnah at great heights doing what he does best – and filmed him far below. Driving his favourite steamroller Betsy, soon the man with two very Victorian tastes became a television star just for being himself, long before the days of reality TV.

With the world literally at his feet, Fred was much in demand as a television presenter and after-dinner speaker on industrial history and all things mechanical – and especially anything related to his overriding passion: steamrollers – he even arrived on one to collect his MBE from Buckingham Palace.

Step into the fascinating life of national treasure, Fred Dibnah in this fantastic collection of his first ever appearances on TV in Fred, available on DVD for the very first time on 23 May 2016.

The Further Adventures of the Musketeers to be released by Simply Media on 23/5/16

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Simply Media will release The Further Adventures of the Musketeers on the 23rd of May 2016.  Review here.

Simply Media is also pleased to announce the release of another BBC classic family favourite The Further Adventures of the Musketeers (1967) on DVD for the very first time on 23 May 2016. Starring Brian Blessed (Z Cars), Joss Ackland (The Hunt for Red October) and Michael Gothard (The Three Musketeers), this classic adventure series is set twenty years on from the original and is based on Alexander Dumas’ sequel of The Three Musketeers, Twenty Years After.

Roobarb & Custard – The Complete Collection to be released by Simply Media on 16/5/16

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Simply Media will be releasing Roobarb & Custard – The Complete Collection on the 16th of May 2016.  Review here.

More than 40 years after making their debut on British TV screens, and over a decade since their return, green dog and pink cat Roobarb and Custard are bounding back into view again, accompanied by their ubiquitous theme tune (acclaimed as one of finest children’s TV title songs ever).

The groundbreaking animated series and its sequel are being paired together for the first time ever on a DVD due to be released as Roobarb and Custard: The Complete Collection on 16 May 2016 courtesy of Simply Media.

Famed for both entertaining kids at the end of children’s TV programming, and, ahead of the teatime BBC news, wooing a cult audience of grown-ups, Roobarb and Custard is instantly recognisable, from its distinctive theme tune, penned by library legend Johnny Hawksworth (Man About the House), to its crazy lead characters. That theme tune was even sampled for a rave friendly chart version in the early 1990s.

Simply Media’s splendid new DVD release pairs the original 30 episodes from the 1974 series – the first fully animated television series to be made in the UK – as well as the 2005 Roobarb And Custard Too series, comprising of 39 episodes.

Both come from the mind of original creator Bob Godfrey (Henry’s Cat) and each feature the distinctive narration of British comedy legend Richard Briers (The Good Life). Each of the two series features the antics of the green dog Roobarb and his outlandish schemes and hapless plans, seemingly forever foiled by his next-door nemesis, pink cat Custard.