The Morecambe and Wise Christmas Show 1969

m&w 69

Compared to their later BBC Christmas shows, the 1969 Morecambe and Wise Christmas Show was a rather modest affair.  After reaching an early peak in 1971, they (together with writer Eddie Braben), obviously felt the need to try and make each successive Christmas show better than the last – with bigger production numbers, more impressive guests, etc.

But when the 1969 special was transmitted all this was in the future, so what we have here is basically an extended version of one of their normal shows.  There is a reason for this though – Eric was taken ill with flu during recording, so most of the programme was culled from material already taped for the upcoming series (this helps to explain why M&W don’t reference Christmas in their opening monologue).

But though it’s a patchwork effort, there’s still a decent roster of guests.  Fenella Fielding stars in the end play, whilst Frankie Vaughan, Nina, Sacha Distel, The Pattersons and Kenny Ball and his Jazzmen provide the music.  Five musical guests seems rather overgenerous (some are certainly better than others). For me, Nina and Kenny Ball are the pick of the musical acts.

Eddie Braben had started writing the Morecambe and Wise show in 1969, during the second series (following the departure of Sid Green and Dick Hills who had worked with M&W throughout the 1960’s up to this point).  As the second series was only four episodes long, the 1969 Christmas Show was still very early days for Braben, but many of the familiar traits were already in place.

Braben’s chief innovations were to turn Ern into a writer, giving a shape and form to the end of episode productions as well as softening the byplay between the two (the Green and Hills M&W tended to be rather more combative).

Chief pleasures in any Braben scripted M&W show always includes the opening banter and the flat sketch.  This opening sees Ern dressed in a hip and happening way.  Since by December 1969 the Swinging Sixties had run their course, he looks even more ridiculous than if he’d been dressed that way in 1967, which I presume is part of the joke (although from the modern perspective it’s possibly not as clear).

There’s plenty of great lines here as Ern tells Eric, “A couple of nights ago, I had a happening.  I freaked out in the King’s Road.  Pow!  I went to this discotheque.  I met this dolly bird and we really moved it!”.   Whilst Ern is chuntering away, Eric remains fascinated by his coat, “Does it tug when you go past a lampost?  Now, promise me one thing, Don’t ever go to the countryside wearing that coat.  If a big lusty farmer sees you, you’ve had it.  You’ll be dipped and sheared before you know where you are”. A be-wigged Diane Keen makes a brief appearance as a dollybird.

In the flat sketch, Ern is taking a bath and of course Eric has to interrupt.  Ern’s far from pleased (“You did this the last time I had a bath”) to which Eric replies, “You’ve got a good memory”.  Eric’s also impressed with Ern’s chest hair.  “By golly, aren’t you hairy?  That is hair, that, isn’t it?  Thick hair all over your body.  I wouldn’t have had a bath if I were you.  I would have got dry cleaned”.

Kenny Ball and his Jazzmen were a reguar feature on M&W’s shows dating back from their time at ATV earlier in the 1960’s and they’d continue to pop up during their BBC shows for a number of years.

The lovely Nina appears to sing Do You Know How Christmas Trees Are Grown? which had featured in that years James Bond film.  This begins a short-lived tradition (Shirley Bassey appeared on the 1971 M&W Christmas show to sing Diamonds are Forever).

Elsewhere, the ventriloquist dummy sketch is incredibly stupid, which probably explains why I like it so much.

Fenella Fielding is suitably alluring as Lady Hamilton playing opposite Ern (and Eric) as Lord Nelson.  The playlets did sometimes drag on a little (the John Thaw/Dennis Waterman one seemed to last forever) but this isn’t too bad and at least it allows Eric the opportunity to dress up as Long John Silver.

A modest start then, but the 1970 show would see the stakes raised as the Christmas shows began in earnest.

Out of the Unknown – This Body Is Mine

body

Written by John Tulley
Directed by Eric Hills

Allen Meredith (John Carson) invites his boss Jack Gregory (Jack Hedley) to his home in order to explain about his latest invention.  It’s a device that will allow minds to be swopped between bodies and Meredith and his wife Ann (Alethea Charlton) plan to put it to good use.

Ann drugs Gregory and then Meredith and Gregory swop bodies.  Once Meredith is in the body of Jack Gregory he plans to transfer a large sum of money from Gregory’s company (to recompense him for all the work he considers he’s been underpaid for).  But Meredith finds Gregory’s world is more complicated than he’d bargained for.

And Ann, who’s left at home with the personality of Jack Gregory in the body of her husband, finds that to be an intriguing combination ….

This Body Is Mine is a neat tale that boasts an impressive core cast.  It”s difficult to imagine three better players than John Carson, Jack Hedley and Alethea Charlton – and they certainly help to sell the story.  In the hands of lesser actors it possibly could have fallen a little flat, but not here.

Hedley manages to capture the indecision of someone trapped in a strange body and unsure quite how to proceed whilst Carson projects the bluff bravado of Jack Gregory perfectly.  He might be in someone else’s body, but he plans to enjoy himself, which includes availing himself of Ann Meredith.

I’ve always tended to picture Alethea Charlton with grimy characters (possibly due to her two Doctor Who appearances in An Unearthly Child and The Time Meddler) but here she’s much more upwardly mobile and Ann is the character who’s responsible for the outcome of the story.  She respects, rather than loves, her husband but she quickly comes to love Jack Gregory when he’s in the body of her husband.  And as might be expected, this isn’t going to end well for everyone.

Next up – Deathday

Out of the Unknown – To Lay A Ghost

lay

Written by Michael J. Bird
Directed by Ken Hannam

After Eric and Diana Carver move into their dream house in the country, Diana (Lesley-Anne Down) feels very happy, claiming a special connection to the place.  This pleases Eric (Iain Gregory) who is well aware of his young wife’s traumatic past.  Several years earlier, when Diana was still a schoolgirl, she was raped – and the effect of this experience is still felt very strongly by her (for example, she resists any sexual advances from Eric).

But their idyllic peace is shattered when they realise that they’re not alone.  The house is also inhabited by a ghost, which seems to have a special interest in Diana.  On several occasions Eric comes close to death at the hands of Diana (under the control of the ghost).  Paranormal specialist Dr Walter Phillimore (Peter Barkworth) is intrigued by the case, but warns Eric that both he and his wife are in danger if they remain in the house …..

The first surviving episode from the fourth and final series, To Lay A Ghost was written by Michael J. Bird, later to pen acclaimed series such as The Lotus Eaters, Who Pays The Ferryman? and The Aphrodite InheritanceTo Lay A Ghost has attracted a certain amount of notoriety over the years, and it’s not difficult to see why.

The story opens with scenes of the schoolgirl Diana being raped (although nothing graphic is seen, it’s obvious what’s happening).  Later in the story, Phillimore tells Eric that he’s been too considerate with his wife (implying that he should force himself on her).  Another implication is that the ghost (a 19th Century murderer and rapist called Thomas Hobbs) has been summoned due to Diana’s repressed desires.

This seems to be confirmed when Diana says to Eric that if he wants her to do something then he shouldn’t ask her – he should make her.  From this, Eric concludes that Diana enjoyed the rape and has subconsciously wanted it to happen again ever since.  Eric is unable to treat her roughly, so he leaves.  Diana is left alone, waiting on the bed for the ghost to appear.  Her last words are identical to those she spoke just before she was raped – which is a clear indication of what will happen to her after the credits have rolled (and explains the double-meaning of the title).

Apart from the controversial nature of the story, it’s a fairly static and underwhelming production.  The seventeen year old Lesley-Anne Down looks lovely (but is rather wooden) whilst Iain Gregory also gives a somewhat indifferent performance.  Things do pick up when Peter Barkworth appears, as he adds a touch of class to proceedings.

Whilst the ending is memorable (if somewhat questionable) the rest of the story is less engaging.  To Lay A Ghost isn’t totally without merit, but it’s certainly something that it’s difficult to imagine being broadcast on mainstream television today.

Next Up – This Body Is Mine

Doctor Who – The Feast of Steven

merry xmas

Originally transmitted – 25th December 1965

I can’t have been the only person to have the cockles of their heart warmed by the prominent sight and sound of William Hartnell in the new BBC Christmas trailer.  Of course, if they hadn’t wiped the tapes some forty years ago then we wouldn’t have had to have a shot of Hartnell from The War Machines matched up with audio from The Feast of Steven, but as it’s the season of goodwill we’ll let that pass.

That brief clip of Billy wishing everybody the compliments of the season made me think that The Feast of Steven would be an ideal addition to my Christmas television viewing.  I wouldn’t normally watch an individual episode of Doctor Who, but let’s be honest – The Feast of Steven has no connection to the rest of The Daleks’ Master Plan, so why not?

Indeed, as others have noted in the past, The Daleks’ Master Plan is a curiously constructed story.  The beginning and the end of the serial can be said to form one story, whilst the episodes in the middle are essentially The Chase Part Two.  And since it’s debatable whether The Chase was a good idea to begin with, the notion of a sequel is an interesting idea.  Within this second story, sits The Feast of Steven, an odd episode (yes, a very odd episode) all on its own – broadcast on Christmas Day 1965.

The fact it was broadcast on Christmas Day must explain the tone of the episode.  Presumably it was felt that 25 minutes of the Daleks exterminating all and sundry would be out of place – so instead we have something much lighter.  It’s difficult to believe that the original plan was to have the cast of Z Cars appear in the first section, but if they had it would have been a bizarre crossover, more in the nature of a Children in Need skit than a normal episode of Doctor Who.  But it does give us one of Hartnell’s best lines, when the Doctor describes himself as “A citizen of the Universe, and a gentleman to boot”.

After the Doctor, Steven and Sara extract themselves from the clutches of the police, the TARDIS drops them in the middle of Hollywood’s golden age, where they rub shoulders with the likes of Charlie Chaplin and Bing Crosby.  This section of the story is probably not best served by the lack of visuals (you can be sure Douglas Camfield would have had a few tricks up his sleeve).  There are a few memorable lines, though some (like Hartnell’s “Arabs”) are memorable for the wrong reasons.

And it ends with that line from the Doctor, wishing everybody at home a Happy Christmas.  A Hartnell ad-lib or something scripted? I’m not sure, but I do find it bizarre that some recons (although fortunately not the LC one below) have removed it.  This seems to be similar to snipping out the fast-talking Ogron (“no complications”) from the Day of the Daleks SE.  Don’t they know that you can’t re-write history, not one line?

Out of the Unknown – The Yellow Pill

yellow

Story by Rog Phillips, Adapted by Leon Griffiths
Directed by Michael Ferguson

Dr John Frame (Francis Matthews) is asked by Detective Inspector Slinn (Glynn Edwards) to examine Wilfred Connor (Stephen Bradley) who is accused of three murders.  Slinn isn’t sure whether the man is mad or simply the world’s best actor.

Initially it seems that Connor is in an advanced state of hallucination – he denies that he’s in Frame’s consulting room, instead he insists that both he and Frame are in a spaceship and that they’re colleagues.  Connor then states that he didn’t murder any people – instead he shot three space creatures.

Connor’s fantasy world should be easily dismissible, but Frame starts to doubt his own sanity as Connor knows things he really shouldn’t.  And when Connor tells him to take one of the yellow anti-hallucination pills (which Frame had never seen before) Frame does, with unexpected consequences.

The Yellow Pill was a short story by Rog Phillips, originally published in 1958.  It’s a fascinating tale, which asks us to consider what is fantasy and what is reality.  Leon Griffiths’ adaptation is more ambiguous than the original short story – as there’s more of a question about whether what we saw at the end was the “true” reality and if everything prior to that had been an illusion.  Phillips’ original story seemed to be clearer on that point.

The Yellow Pill is the third missing story from series three which now exists only as an off-air audio.  The audio has been matched to the available photographs from the production to produce a very decent reconstruction.  Because the majority of the story is set within one location (Dr Frame’s consulting room) and the cast is quite small, this benefits the reconstruction (a story with many locations, actors and effects would be more incomprehensible in this format).  The audio is very clear (although as with the others, there are the occasional off-microphone noises).

Whist Glynn Edwards (Slinn) and Angela Browne (Frame’s secretary and lover, Helen) both have some decent scenes, the bulk of the story is really a two-hander between Francis Matthews and Stephen Bradley.  Matthews was something of a national treasure and had a long and impressive acting career.  Bradley’s television career seems to have been much shorter (his first credit is in 1967 and his last in 1973) but they’re very much equals in this story.

Matthews gives a fine performance as someone who begins to doubt the reality of what he can see, hear and touch whilst Bradley plays his part with absolute conviction – even when handcuffed to a chair, he doesn’t deviate from the notion that he’s a man from the future.

Given the limited sets, small cast and lack of special effects, this might not be a typical OOTU, but it’s a gripping 50 minutes of drama, thanks to Francis Matthews and Stephen Bradley.

Next Up – To Lay A Ghost

K9 and Company: A Girl’s Best Friend

k9

Originally Transmitted – 28th December 1981

K9 and Company might be something of a guilty pleasure, but it’s a pleasure nonetheless.

When devising a spin-off series for K9, there were already two ready-made possibilities.  K9 Mk 1 was on Gallifrey with Leela, whilst K9 Mk 2 was journeying through E-Space with Romana 2.  Possibly neither Louise Jameson or Lalla Ward were interested in playing second fiddle to a tin dog, so this left the way clear for the return of Sarah-Jane Smith.

Elisabeth Sladen is, of course, the main selling point of K9 and Company.  And although we didn’t know it at the time, this was essentially the first of a two part story (the second, School Reunion, would follow a mere twenty five years later).

A Girl’s Best Friend is an odd story.  It’s full of red-herrings and innocent people acting in the most suspicious way (in order to con us into believing that they’re wrong-‘uns).  Colin Jeavons and Bill Fraser liven up proceedings with some interesting performances that teeter on the edge of credibility (and Jeavons later topples over completely).

Given that a running thread through the story is the mysterious disappeance of Aunt Lavinia, it’s a little anti-climatic to find out that nothing at all has happened to her.  And the reason why Brendan (Ian Sears) should be lined up for sacrifice is a bit vague – unless it was explained and I just drifted off for a moment.

Terence Dudley’s novelisation managed to put some more meat on the bones of the story (just likes his novelisations of Black Orchid and The Kings Demons) which proved that there was a decent tale buried here, but it just didn’t quite come over on television.

Out of the Unknown – The Little Black Bag

black bag

Story by Cyril M. Kornbluth, Adapted by Julian Bond
Directed by Eric Hills

Roger Full (Emrys Jones) used to be a doctor before he was struck off for killing a patient whilst under the influence of alcohol.  He’s still an alcoholic – but when a mysterious medical kit falls into his hands, he sees it as a way to make amends for his past misdeeds.

The black bag has accidentally travelled back in time from the far future.  It’s an amazing device, able to cure any known disease.  Roger comes to believe that it should be used for the benefit of all, although his business partner Angie (Geraldine Moffat) disagrees and their argument will have consequences for both of them …..

The Little Black Bag was written by Cyril M. Kornbluth and was originally published in 1950. Approximately twenty eight minutes of footage from this episode of OOTU exist – comprising scenes 9 – 23. There are 26 scenes in total, so both the beginning and the end of the play are sadly missing.

The material missing at the start is mainly concerned with revealing how the black bag was transported back in time. Mike (James Chase) is demonstrating a time machine that he’s built to Dr Gillis (Robert Dean) and Dr Hemingway (Dennis Bowen). After Mike leaves, the two Doctors decide to test it and place their medical kit inside. The bag duly vanishes, but then they realise they can’t get it back – and neither can Mike, since the time machine only works one way.

The missing material from the start of the story isn’t summarised on the DVD, which is a bit of a shame – although it’s fairly easy to pick up the thread of the story, as there are later scenes set in the future where they discuss the bag. Instead, the DVD version opens with a drunken Full being plied with drinks by Angie, who sees him as someone who can make her very rich.

Emrys Jones and Geraldine Moffat are centre-stage in this story and both give strong performances. Jones (who had played the Master in the Doctor Who story The Mind Robber the previous year) is convincing as a man who sees the bag as a chance to make amends for his past. Moffat contrasts nicely, as his partner who is only interested in profit (humanitarian gestures aren’t really her thing).

A brief audio clip from the closing moments of the story exists and this (together with reused video clips) have been used in order to create an ending. It’s a bit abrupt, but it does give a good idea of how the story concluded.

Next Up – The Yellow Pill

Porridge – The Desperate Hours

porridge 76

Originally Transmitted – 24th December 1976

The second and final Porridge Christmas special splits rather neatly into two sections.  The first fifteen minutes or so follow Fletch and Godber’s illegal booze making activities and their attempts to interest their fellow prisoners in purchasing the fruits of their labour.  Two selections were on offer – the two-star and the five-star.  Upon sampling the five-star, Fletcher had very specific instructions.

Now, I must warn you, this should be sipped delicately like a fine liqueur.  It should not be smashed down the throat by the mugful.

Judging by their expressions, Warren, McLaren and Tulip found it powerful stuff – although quite what was in it was something of a mystery.  Next up was the two-star and Fletcher warned them that this wasn’t quite so smooth.

So go carefully, otherwise not only will you lose the flavour and the bouquet but you’ll also lose your powers of speech.

Sadly, their activities were discovered by Mackay who promptly marched them off to the Governor’s office.  The second part of the episode runs for about thirty minutes and it’s possible to believe that this was a normal episode which was expanded with the home-brew opening to produce this Christmas special.

Things take an unexpected turn when the new trusty, Urwin (Dudley Sutton), takes Barrowclough, Fletcher, Godber and the Governor’s secretary (Mrs Jameson) hostage.   He has two demands for Barrowclough (“shut that blind and get me a helicopter”).  The first is easy enough, but the second is going to be more of a problem.

During the course of the siege we learn that Mr Barrowclough and Mrs Jameson are more than friends (something which Fletcher will no doubt make use of in the future) and we also discover a great deal about Urwin.  It’s a lovely performance from Sutton who really is the focus of the episode.

Urwin is a somewhat pathetic character.  Passed over for psychiatric treatment, it looks as if the system has driven him to this desperate course of action.  Eventually, Fletch is able to take his home-made gun off him (a tense and well-acted seen between Barker and Sutton).  Just prior to this, Fletch spells out to him exactly why he’s never going to make it.

There ‘aint no way.  The worst thing that could happen to you is if they say OK.  ‘Cos you know as well as I do that you’d never make it to that helicopter.  They got marksmen out there that can shoot a fly’s eyebrows off at 400 yards.  And if flies had other things they could shoot them off ‘an all.

Fletch shrugs off the admiration of Godber.  It was nothing, he says, since he knew that Unwin’s gun was a fake (it wasn’t, of course, which Fletch inadvertently demonstrates by shooting a hole in the ceiling!).

Less Christmas orientated than No Way Out, The Desperate Hours is a cracking episode, full of the usual witty banter and a fine guest turn by Dudley Sutton.

Out of the Unknown – The Naked Sun

naked

Story by Isaac Asimov, Adapted by Robert Muller
Directed by Rudolph Cartier

Earth detective Elijah Baley (Paul Maxwell) and his robot colleague R. Daneel Olivaw (David Collings) are sent to Solaria to investigate a murder.  Nothing unusual there, you may think, but Solaria is a closed community, with a deep distrust of Earth.  They also despise personal contact, preferring to communicate only by holographic projections.  And as Baley is unable to speak to anybody in person, this makes the case much harder …..

The Naked Sun by Isaac Asimov was originally published in 1957.  It was the second of Asimov’s robot novels, following the publication of The Caves of Steel in 1954.  Like the first book, The Naked Sun is a detective novel with a SF setting, so Robert Muller’s adaptation had to balance the dual themes of science fiction and detective fiction.

The taboos of the Solarian society are quite interesting, but they feel a little underdeveloped (probably due to the problems in reducing the novel down to a 50 minute television play).  The whodunnit part of the story works better, although again, given the limited time there’s not really the space to examine in detail the motives of all the possible suspects.

Paul Maxwell sounds pretty good as Bailey and the ever-reliable David Collings (last seen in Level Seven) does a decent job as Daneel, even though his part feels a little underwritten – there’s only a few occasions when the fact he’s a robot comes into play, for example.

The Naked Sun has a very strong supporting cast (Frederick Jaeger, Ronald Leigh-Hunt, Neil Hallett, Erik Chitty, amongst others) but the paucity of available photographs means that they tend to be somewhat anonymous.  Because of the lack of photos, composite images have been created (where the image of a character is overlaid onto a newly created background).  And since no pictures of certain actors (like Neil Hallett) exist from this story, headshots of them (from other productions) have been inserted into the new backgrounds.  This does mean that Hallett’s head is rather obviously perched on top of someone else’s body, which is a little distracting.

The audio isn’t too bad, although a little indistinct in places.  There are a few sections where no audio exists – so subtitles help to explain what’s happening during those parts.

Due to the lack of photographic material and the compromised audio, this is a slightly harder viewing experience than Beach Head and it’s undeniable that some of the complexity of Asimov’s original novel has had to be sacrificed in order to cut it down to a 50 minute teleplay.

Next Up – The Little Black Bag

Porridge – No Way Out

porridge 75

Originally Transmitted – 24th December 1975

Christmas is approaching in Slade Prison and Godber, for one, is getting into the spirit.  He’s encouraged by the number of cons who have congregated around the Christmas tree to sing carols, but Fletcher has to break the bad news to him.

They’re singing in order to drown out the noise of a tunnel that’s being dug in order to allow Tommy Slocombe to escape (“Yeah, that’s the big occasion around here.  It’s not the coming of our Lord, it’s the going of Tommy Slocombe”).  Genial Harry Grout (Peter Vaughan) is behind the escape, so everybody will have to play their part, as Fletcher so memorably puts it “If we are asked to assist, we are in no position to refuse are we?  Otherwise, we’ll wake up one morning and find two more things hanging on the Christmas tree.  Us”.

Fletcher plans to go away for Christmas by wangling a stay in the comfort of the prison infirmary.  But the doctor (Graham Crowden) is having none of it and packs Fletch off to the local hospital for some tests instead.  This allows somebody to slip Fletcher a package containing a blank passport, which is another piece of Grouty’s puzzle, but he still needs something else – a bicycle.  “Certainly” says Fletch.  “What colour?”.

Fletcher, Godber and Warren are able to relive the unfortunate Mr Barrowclough of his bike and Fletcher then professes ignorance when Mr Barrowclough asks him if he knows where it is (“Let’s get this straight.  You are saying that you came to work this morning as a cyclist and will be leaving as a pedestrian?”).

But all of Grouty’s plans seem to have come to naught after some petty pilfering means that the screws declare that Christmas will be cancelled.  This seems to scupper the escape plan but Fletcher has an idea.  Why don’t they let the screws discover the tunnel and whilst they’re busy congratulating themselves, Grouty can quietly spirit Slocombe away by another route?

Grouty agrees and Fletch is delegated to reveal the tunnel to Mr Mackay.  He wants to arrange that Mackay will literally drop right into it.  Unfortunately, it’s Fletcher who drops into the tunnel, right before the astonished eyes of Mackay, but this does mean that Fletch will be able to spend Christmas in the infirmary after all.

Mackay has one unanswered question and promises Fletcher a bottle of scotch if he’ll answer it.  What did they do with all the earth from the tunnel?  Fletch’s answer (“They dug another tunnel and put the earth down there”) is a killer final line.

The first of two Porridge Christmas specials, No Way Out adds another ten minutes to the normal running time, which allows for a few more gags but isn’t so long that it begins to feel drawn out.  That’s one of the problems with Christmas editions of sitcoms when they started to be produced in a 90 minute format – what works in 30 minutes doesn’t always work when extended to 90.  Thankfully, Porridge didn’t go down that route.

Harry Grout is probably the role that Peter Vaughan is most associated with, which is a little surprising when you consider that Grouty only appeared in a handful of episodes.  He is mentioned in a number of others though, so that his presence is always felt (even when he’s not actually seen).  Vaughan’s ability to play everything deadpan and calm is one of the reasons why Grouty works so well – he doesn’t have to raise his voice, just a word or a snap of his fingers will do the trick.

No Way Out is a hardy Christmas perennial, usually to be found each year on BBC2 and certainly receiving several airings on Gold.  Its familiarity might have dimmed a little of its power (and it’s difficult to rewatch it now without hearing the man with the irritating laugh in the audience) but it’s still a Christmas treat.

Out of the Unknown – Beach Head

beach

Story by Clifford D Simak, Adapted by Robert Muller
Directed by James Cellan Jones

Tom Decker (Ed Bishop) is a veteran of space exploration and at first, planet 0243/B seems to be just another regular mission.  0243/B is the 37th such planet that Decker has landed on, and on all the previous planetfalls he says that there has been “no discovery, no phenomenon, that has not had a logical or a technological cause or explanation”.

The job of Decker and his crew is to land, establish a Beach Head (a protective ring of steel) and then collect data about the planet which is then transmitted back to Earth.  But things begin to go awry after Decker starts to act oddly, which concerns Dr Jackson (Helen Downing).  Then the crew encounter a native life-form, who tells them that “You cannot leave. You will never leave. You will die here”.

Beach Head by Clifford D. Simak was originally published in 1951 as You’ll Never Go Home Again.  In many ways it works as a dark precursor of Star Trek.  Unlike Star Trek, the crew here are unable to deal with the “strange new world” which helps to highlight that the universe is a dangerous place and human intelligence won’t always win through.

Thanks to his starring role in UFO I’ve always loved Ed Bishop and one of the chief pleasures of Beach Head is Bishop’s portrayal of Decker’s gradual disintegration.  I can’t put my hand on my heart and claim that Bishop was always the most subtle or nuanced of actors, but his performance works here, where probably a more naturalistic interpretation would have been less effective.

When the BFI announced they were releasing Out of the Unknown, it was a six disc set with no special features and no remastering.  Very quickly, they received a number of emails from people (like myself) who were pleased to hear that this classic series was finally getting an official release, but also asking if the various clips and audios which existed could be included.

The BFI were also contacted by professionals, such as members of the Restoration Team who had worked on the Classic Doctor Who DVDs (they were able to do a very decent clean-up job on the episodes).  Toby Hadoke contacted them on spec to see if they were interested in commentaries – the BFI were, and within a very short space of time Hadoke (and producer John Kelly) had pulled together an incredibly impressive list of commentators on a number of episodes.

If all this wasn’t enough (as well as a new documentary) the set includes four reconstructions of missing episodes, of which Beach Head is the first.  All four were created by Derek Handley and like all the other special features they had to be produced within a remarkably short time.

Given the time-frame, it’s a very impressive effort.  The number of publicity photographs that exist of Beach Head isn’t particularly large, so the same shots do have to be repeated again and again, but after a while the quality of the story carries you along – so this isn’t a problem.  The story also benefits from CGI work by Stuart Palmer, which helps to fill in some of the more visual sections of the soundtrack.

As for the soundtrack itself, it’s of pretty good quality.  It appears to be a microphone recording rather than direct input (so there are background noises on occasion) but given that until fairly recently it was believed that only a thirty second audio clip existed, the inclusion of a full audio is one of the many highlights of the DVD.

Whilst no recon can ever hope to totally recreate the original broadcast, Derek Handley’s reconstruction of Beach Head does give a very good impression of what it was like and whilst some people may find the reuse of stills to be a problem, it’s worth persevering with as it’s a chilling story, enlivened by Ed Bishop’s performance.

Next Up – The Naked Sun

The Good Life – Plough Your Own Furrow

plough

By 1975 John Esmonde and Bob Larby were a well-established writing team (responsible for hit series such as Please Sir!).  When creating The Good Life they started with pretty much a blank slate – they knew that Richard Briers would star (since the BBC were keen to have Briers appear in another sitcom) but everything else was up for grabs.

The first moment of inspiration came when Esmonde and Larby realised that both Briers and Larby were coming up to the age of forty – as Larby said, it was one of those “Oh God!” ages.  So it was decided that Briers’ character would be facing some mid-life crisis, but what form would this take?

Thoughts such as his character deciding to resign his job and sail around the world or live on a desert island were kicked around (though not terribly seriously) before they hit upon the idea of a man totally fed up with his job and the whole rat-race existence.  So he decides to “drop out” and become self sufficient.  This was a decent idea and the logical move would have been for him to sell his house and buy a place in the country.

But in a stroke of genius, Esmonde and Larby decided that Briers’ character (Tom Good) would do no such thing – instead his house and garden (in the middle of Surbiton) would be turned into a mini-farm, complete with animals, vegetables and all the other paraphernalia required.

With this initial concept decided, the rest of the small cast fell into place.  Felicity Kendall played Barbara, Tom’s long-suffering wife whilst Penelope Keith and Paul Eddington would be the Good’s long suffering next-door neighbours, Margo and Jerry.

Larby conceded that had Margo and Jerry simply been relentlessly negative then the series wouldn’t have worked very well.  Margo and Jerry might disapprove but they remain Tom and Barbara’s best friends and it’s the conflict between their friendship and their disapproval of the Good’s new lifestyle which drives some of the comedy along.

The first episode, Plough Your Own Furrow, is an interesting one.  It’s not wall-to-wall laughs, as there’s space when the characters (especially Tom) pause to reflect upon the course of their life so far.  Partly this may be because it was the first episode of a new series – as time went on, the audiences would become more attuned to the characters, the writing and the style of the programme and be more inclined to show their approval.

As the episode opens, we see Tom celebrating his 40th birthday.  He’s clearly a man searching for something which is, at that time, undefinable.

It’s quality of life.  That’s what I’m after.  If I could just get it right.  I’ll tackle it and get it right, as soon as I know what it is.

It’s plain that he isn’t getting any job satisfaction.   A whole host of small irritations are highlighted – such as the office car-park attendant knowing Jerry’s name, but not Tom’s (“I’ve really made an impact with you over the years, haven’t I?  Cor blimey, I’ve only been here eight years.”) and the fact there was an office cricket team but nobody thought to ask him (“We didn’t need to.  We got my dad to umpire”).

This is another indication that Tom is standing still at best or even moving backwards.  Everybody else in his department is in their twenties, so what does the future hold for Tom?  Jerry joined the company at the same time as Tom, but he’s ascended to the executive level whilst Tom remains stuck on the fourth floor, engaged in vital work such as designing a toy hippo to be included as a free gift in a popular brand of breakfast cereal.

Jerry spells it out to Tom.

We joined this company – what, eight years ago, wasn’t it it?  And do you know something?  I was frightened of you then.  You were a better draughtsman than I was and you had better qualifications than mine.  I was going to have to rely on pure cunning just to keep up with you.  Still, I needn’t have bothered, need I?  Cos look at us.  I’m up here and you’re down there, not getting picked for cricket teams.  And why?  Because you use about one tenth of your ability.  I have to use all mine and what I lack I make up with sheer, bloody crawling.

Then Sir (Reginald Marsh) joins Tom and Jerry (every time I type their names I assume that Esmonde and Larby picked those names as a tribute to a popular cat and mouse partnership) for a chat about his latest top-secret project.

The bubble has just come off the top of the think-tank and I don’t mind telling you that this is an absolute blockbuster of an idea.  It’s going to put our wildlife preservation series in the vanguard of world mouldings.  Our mould is going to be a giraffe! And Tom, I’m thinking of putting this giraffe on your plate.

Tom has the chance to advance his career with some “bloody crawling” but his hysterical laughter at the giraffe news scuppers this.  This is point when Tom finally realises the futility of his job (“You should have heard Sir.  You’d think he’d invented penicillin.  I couldn’t help laughing”).  There has to be more to life, but what?  Then Tom has a lightbulb moment, which he explains to Barbara.

I quit work and we become as damned near self-sufficient as possible.  We’ve got bags of garden, we grown our own food.  We keep some animals, chickens, a pig.  We produce our own energy, recycle rubbish.  We design the things we need.  I’ll show you what being a draughtsman is really all about.  Now , some things we can’t make, right.  Some things we can’t grow, right.  So we flog our surplus and buy stuff, and that’s without good old Medieval barter.  It’ll be damned hard work.  We won’t have much in the way of mod cons, but we might enjoy discovering what we can do without.  And we won’t need the world and his wife to give us the yea or nay.  It’ll be just us, doing it for us.  What do you think, eh?

This monologue is the essence of the series.  And Barbara’s reaction is interesting.  The camera cuts back to her on several occasions and her expression is, at best, neutral.  As it would have been incredibly unrealistic for her to instantly agree, even though it’s the middle of the night she puts on her wellies and walks up and down the garden until she finally decides that yes, they’ll do it.

This naturally results in a celebration – and as they dance in the fishpond the noise wakes up the Ledbetters next door.  We see Jerry, but only hear Margo (in this episode we don’t see Penelope Keith).  And the next morning Tom has been up good and early.  He’s sold his car and bought a plough, so he can start on the back garden and take the first step on the road to self-sufficiency.

Out of the Unknown – The Last Lonely Man

last

Story by John Brunner, Adapted by Jeremy Paul
Directed by Douglas Camfield

In the future, death no longer holds the same fear that it used to.  Now when people die, their personality and life experience are automatically transferred into the mind of a nominated host.  James Hale (George Cole) is a devoted family man with a wife and two children who’s already become the host of his late father’s personality (which he sometimes has to battle against) and he’s a staunch advocate of the process – known as Contact.

So when he meets Patrick Wilson (Peter Halliday) in a bar and learns that Patrick doesn’t have Contact with anyone he agrees to “take him on until he can can get fixed up with a friend”.  But soon it transpires that Patrick has had Contact with many people – all of whom terminated their link once they became aware of exactly what sort of person he was.  James attempts to do the same, but he’s too late – Patrick shoots himself and all of his thoughts are instantly transferred to James, who starts to act in a very uncharacteristic manner …..

The Last Lonely Man by John Brunner was originally published in 1964.  It was the second story by Brunner to be adapted for OOTU (following Some Lapse of Time from series one).  The Last Lonely Man is certainly the lesser of the two tales, as whilst it has an interesting premise the logical flaws are very apparent.

It is addressed in the story, but the notion of people inheriting multiple personalities is a bizarre one.  It must surely lead to schizophrenia or as in James’ case, we see his warm and friendly personality submerged by the less attractive characteristics of Patrick.  That’s the crux of the story, but his experience can hardly be an isolated case, can it?

There’s another odd scene where James and his wife Rowena (June Barry) go the cinema to see a film which was made in pre-Contact days.  Everybody (including James and Rowena) roar with laughter at the scenes of people dying – presumably because their thoughts wouldn’t be transferred to somebody else.  This just rings false – it’s difficult to accept that people’s personalities would change so much that they’d find death to be amusing.  There seems to be a satirical point that’s being made, but it doesn’t come over that well.

The Last Lonely Man was directed by Douglas Camfield, one of British television’s finest television directors between the mid 1960’s and the mid 1980’s.  But apart from a very striking opening sequence shot on film where we see a couple killed in a car accident (which we later learn was a government information film) there’s not a great deal of opportunity for Camfield to produce anything that noteworthy.

The rest of the story is studio-bound and fairly low-budget (the Contact machine looks uncomfortably like a hairdryer, for example) so it’s pretty much rescued by the cast.  George Cole (already a familiar face from films and television but still a decade away from his career-defining role in Minder) gives a fine performance as a decent, family man whose only mistake is to try and help someone.

Peter Halliday (cast a year earlier by Camfield in the Doctor Who story The Invasion) does play broader, but given that there had to be a clear divide between James and Patrick that’s reasonable enough.

Although the story doesn’t make much sense, it’s still worth a look for Cole’s performance.  However, given the range of stories that were made during the third series, it’s a bit of a shame that this is the only one to exist in its entirety.

Next Up – Beach Head

Dixon of Dock Green – Collection Three – to be released by Acorn in 2015

.evenin' all

I’m delighted to hear that Acorn will be releasing a third DVD of Dixon of Dock Green episodes.  More details can be found on their website here.

Collections one and two contained all the existing colour episodes broadcast between 1970 and 1975 (with the exception of Molenzicht which was omitted for unspecified rights reasons).

Collection three will have all eight episodes from the 22nd and final series (broadcast in 1976).  This is the only series of Dixon of Dock Green to exist in its entirety, which sadly indicates just how depleted the Dixon archive is.

The eight episodes are as follows –

1. Domino (13th March 1976)

2. The Job (20th March 1976)

3. Vagrant (27th March 1976)

4. Everybody’s Business (3rd April 1976)

5. Alice (10th April 1976)

6. Jackpot (17th April 1976)

7. Legacy (24th April 1976)

8. Reunion (1st May 1976)

This final series sees George Dixon (Jack Warner) working as a civilian collator at Dock Green police station, following his retirement from the force.  Given that Jack Warner was eighty years old at the time, this was a reasonable move (indeed, his obvious age and immobility had been a problem for a few years prior to this).

Missing from the final series was Andy Crawford (played by Peter Byrne).  As Byrne had been a regular since 1955, his decision not to take part in this series was puzzling – as it was pretty obvious that the series (due to Warner’s age) wouldn’t be continuing for much longer.

I’ve written here about my appreciation of the first collection of episodes, released in 2012, and hopefully these final eight will be of a similar standard.

This just leaves the black and white episodes which could (maybe if sales of this DVD are good) make up collection four some time in the future.

Out of the Unknown – Tunnel Under The World

tunnel

Story by Frederik Pohl, Adapted by David Campton
Directed by Alan Cooke

When Guy Birkett (Ronald Hines) and his wife Mary (Petra Davies) wake up they are perturbed to find that they’ve had the same nightmare about being caught up in a huge explosion.  They dismiss it as a strange coincidence and attempt to enjoy their breakfast.  But it’s difficult for them to find any peace and quiet since they’re constantly interrupted by annoying advertising jingles from a variety of sources (on the radio, via the post and from loudspeakers attached to cars).

The odd thing is that whilst today is June the 15th, the next day is June the 15th again. So we see the Birketts repeat everything they did the previous day (although they’re unaware of this).  And the next day is June the 15th once more.  Eventually, thanks to the intervention of Swanson (Timothy Bateson), Guy learns the horrifying truth.

The Tunnel under the World was a short story by Frederik Pohl which was originally published in 1954. Like many of the story themes adapted for OOTU, the concept of this story (annoying advertising) is just as valid today as it was in 1954 or back in 1966, when this episode was transmitted.

The various products – Chocobites, Marlin cigarettes, Frosty Flip, Feckle Freezers, Crunchipops – all have catchy slogans, catchy jingles or unique selling points (for example, Marlin cigarettes contain a special anti-cough ingredient!).

Ronald Hines (a familiar television face from the sixties) is perfect casting as the cog in the wheel who rebels. And Timothy Bateson (always such a dependable performer during numerous decades of television and film appearances) gives another good turn here, as the man who helps Birkett to understand exactly what’s happening to all of them.

The twist ending (indeed the double twist ending) is one which I doubt many would have predicted on their first viewing. There’s also a robot which pops up at the end and is, interesting, shall we say – but it doesn’t really derail the story (by this point the viewer might expect almost anything to happen).

A biting satire about advertising and big-business, Tunnel Under The World is a more outlandish and fantastic story than the hard-SF stories which make up most of the extant episodes from the first two series.  Given the depleted nature of series two, it’s a story that I’m happy escaped the archive purges.

Next Up – The Last Lonely Man

Out of the Unknown – Level Seven

level

Story by Mordecai Roshwald, Adapted by J.B. Priestley
Directed by Rudolph Cartier

Level Seven is 4,500 feet beneath the Earth’s surface and it’s designed to be the last line of attack in the event of a nuclear war.  Above them are six other levels – the first four are for civilians, the fifth is for the Government, scientists and the military whilst the sixth houses Defence Command.

X127 (Keith Buckley) is one of a select number of operatives charged with pushing the buttons that will release the missiles of death and destruction on the enemy.  X117 (David Collings) works alongside him, but questions the reason for Level Seven’s existence.  Whilst X117 runs foul of the authorities, X127 has met and married R747 (Michele Dotrice).

Eventually the order to attack is given and X127 and the new X117 (Sean Arnold) fire every last missile.  The General (Anthony Bate) tells them that the war is over and they’ve won – but what price victory?  Slowly it becomes apparent that everybody in the world is dead or dying and whilst it was predicted that Level Seven would be immune, that isn’t the case.  There is no hope at all, so all they can do is to wait for the inevitable end.

Level 7 was a novel by Mordecai Roshwald which was published in 1959. Shortly after its publication it attracted the attention of J.B. Priestley who called it “‘the most powerful attack on the whole nuclear madness that any creative writer has made so far”. Priestley began work on a script for a proposed film, but for various reasons the film wasn’t made, so his screenplay was adapted for this episode of OOTU.

It goes without saying that it’s fascinating to have a writer of Priestley’s stature contributing to OOTU. Priestley’s abhorrence of nuclear weapons was well known (he was an active CND member) and in the play this is best given voice by a man and woman who venture up to the surface after the attack and report back to Level Seven what they’ve seen.

So listen to us, you people down there in the caves.  There’s nothing to see here, but twisted metal and radio-active dust.  Nothing, no birds are singing.  No flowers growing, no trees, no fields.  No men, no women, no children.  Bare burnt earth, tortured metal, murderous dust.  Nothing to see, nothing to hope for, nothing to love.  The world is like a scorched ship, abandoned by the crew.  It still revolves.  There’s day and night, sun, moon and stars, but that’s all.

Keith Buckley and Michele Dotrice are both very good as the lovers who end up as the last people alive in Level Seven.  Even better though, is David Collings as X117.  Collings would make a habit of playing characters who have some flaw in their character which proves to be their undoing – and so it was here.  X117 is eventually removed from his position due to insubordination and when we see him later he’s been reduced to working as a member of the cleaning staff and unable to remember X127 and the events that led to his “treatment”.

Anthony Bate gives a typically solid performance as the base commander, the General.  The General has an unswerving belief in the right of his side in any war and the cracks only start to appear when he realises that everybody in Levels One – Six are dead and that maybe victory over a dead planet was no victory at all.

Level Seven was directed by the legendary Rudolph Cartier.  Cartier had produced and directed Nigel Kneale’s Quatermass trilogy during the 1950’s and the two had also collaborated on the acclaimed adaptation of Nineteen Eighty Four in 1954.  As with Quatermass, Cartier favoured music from The Planets Suite by Holst (the inclusion of excerpts from Mars, Bringer of War were particularly apt).

There are lengthy film sequences throughout the episode, probably to show the large number of people working in Level Seven (we tend to only see the full compliment of crew on film).  The substantial amount of filming helps to give the story an extra sheen and given the involvement of Priestley/Cartier it’s possibly not surprising that the production team pulled out all the stops to make this as good as they possibly could.

Level Seven was a missing episode for decades and was only returned to the BBC relatively recently.  We can be thankful that it was recovered – as it’s a powerful anti-war story dramatised by one of the greatest British playwrights of the 20th century.

Next Up – Tunnel Under The World

Out of the Unknown – Lambda 1

lambda

Story by Colin Kapp, Adapted by Bruce Stewart
Directed by George Spenton-Foster

In the future, conventional travel has been rendered obsolete by the TAU craft.  It doesn’t travel on or above the Earth’s surface – instead it travels through it.  The TAU craft operates under four atomic modes – Gamma, Delta, Epsilon & Omega – with Gamma being the safest and Omega the most dangerous.

A routine passenger craft (the Elektron) slips into Omega mode and becomes trapped in solid rock with seemingly no means of escape.  UK TAU controller Paul Porter (Sebastian Breaks) has a personal stake in ensuring the craft is recovered – his wife Julie (Kate Story) is aboard.  So Porter is persuaded by Eric Benedict (Ronald Lewis) to pilot the Lambda 1 craft on a hazardous rescue mission.

Lambda 1 is something of a shambles.  There’s the germ of a good idea but the production is so flawed that it only works intermittently.  At the start of the story we’re given a great deal of information about the TAU system, the various atomic modes it uses and are introduced to numerous characters.  The problem is that there’s too much information and too many characters – so there’s not a great deal that makes a lasting impression.

As time goes on it becomes clear that Paul Porter will become an important character, but it’s not initially obvious that he’s based in the UK and isn’t on the stricken ship.  Although the action cuts back between the ship and the UK command base, it takes a while to differentiate between the two.

Charles Tingwell is good as the boozy Captain Dantor and Michael Lees is quite effective as a twitchy passenger, Ferris, but the rest of the cast don’t make much of an impression.  George Spenton-Foster’s direction is somewhat loose – cues are late, the camera positions are sometimes a little off and there are occasions when a retake would have really helped the production.

The sequences when Porter enters Omega mode and is beset by strange hallucinations work very well and they’re easily the best part of the story.  But the problems with the script, direction and performances do tend to dissipate the audience’s goodwill, so that by the end it’s difficult to imagine many people will really care about the fate of the ship and its passengers.

Certainly one of the least engaging of the surviving episodes, Lambda 1 was probably a victim of its own ambition.  By over-reaching, it ends up as a rather unsatisfying experience.

Next up – Level Seven

Out of the Unknown – The Machine Stops

machine

Story by E.M. Forster, Adapted by Kenneth Cavander & Clive Donner
Directed by Philip Saville

The Machine Stops is set in a future world where the majority of the population live underground and in isolation – with all their needs catered for by the omnipresent Machine.  Vashti (Yvonne Mitchell) is content with this existence, but her son Kuno (Michael Gothard) isn’t.

As long as the Machine works, then everything is fine – but Kuno tells Vashti that the Machine is slowly dying and nobody knows how to repair it.  As their civilisation has become totally dependent on the Machine, how will they be able to survive if it’s not there anymore?

The oldest story adapted for OOTU, The Machine Stops by E.M. Forster was published in 1909.  Given the period it was written in, there’s a considerable amount that has become true (effectively Forster predicted the internet and instant messaging).  It’s certainly a story that has even more resonance today than it did a century ago – with our ever increasing reliance on technology, how would we be able to cope if all of our machines stopped?

The message in Forster’s story (technology is bad) isn’t particularly subtle – but it’s a thought-provoking idea that is dealt with effectively in this adaptation.  The Machine Stops is a rather different OOTU.  The first series tended to have stories that were driven very much by dialogue and character.  This one has a much smaller cast (only two main speaking parts) and much of the power of the piece comes from the visuals.  Given that OOTU’s budget wasn’t huge, this was potentially a problem – but overall it works pretty well as the sets look solid and are well-designed.  It’s also handled impressively by director Philip Saville (especially the scenes where Kuno ventures outside for the first time) and he was able to cast two quality actors as Vashti and Kuno

Yvonne Mitchell (Vashti) had appeared a decade earlier in the Cartier/Kneale production of Nineteen Eighty Four alongside Peter Cushing whilst Michael Gothard (Kuno) would enjoy success in films such as The Devils and For Your Eyes Only before his untimely death in 1992.  Although neither has the most naturalistic sounding dialogue to deliver, they do manage to make their characters come alive (their final scene, for example, is very touching).

For the visuals and the story concept, The Machine Stops has long been regarded as one of the best episodes of OOTU.  It’s played at a more heightened pace than the majority of the first series, so some may find it less rewarding – but it’s a very worthwhile adaptation of a classic piece of literary science fiction.

Next Up – Lambda 1

Out of the Unknown – The Midas Plague

midas

Story by Frederik Pohl, Adapted by Troy Kennedy-Martin
Directed by Peter Sasdy

The Midas Plague depicts a society where robots are responsible for producing all the goods that the human population could ever need.  The problem is that the robots are producing them at a faster rate than they can be used, so people are trapped in an ever-increasing cycle of consumerism.

The poorer you are, the more goods you have to consume – so the larger your house is, the more cars you own, etc.  But as you move up the social scale, you are allowed to consume less – until you reach the very top where you can live a live of simplicity, unfettered by the useless trappings of society.

Morrey Anderson (Graham Stark) is a typical example of a lower-class worker.  He lives in a large house, staffed with a huge number of robots and along with his wife Edwina (Anne Lawson) they are surrounded by more furniture, food, drink and other products than they could ever hope to consume.  But he has a plan.  In his spare time he’s been working on a way to adjust his robots so that they can help consume some of the Anderson’s quota of products.  This he does – leading to the incongruous sight of drunken robots! But what will the authorities do when they find out?

The Midas Plague was written by Frederik Pohl and was originally published in 1954.  The satirical point it makes is pretty broad and this is broadened even further in Troy Kennedy-Martin’s adaptation.  Kennedy-Martin was a writer of some repute (he had already created Z Cars and would later be responsible for The Italian Job and Edge of Darkness) which does make him something of a left-field choice to adapt this type of story.

There’s plenty of humour in Kennedy-Martin’s screenplay and it’s pushed even further by director Peter Sasdy.  The opening scene has jaunty music by Max Harris which instantly tells us that this isn’t going to be the most serious of stories.  Casting Graham Stark in the lead role (already a familiar face from tv and film comedies) was another sign that this would be an episode of OOTU in a light-hearted vein.

Whilst not everything works (Harris’ music remains relentlessly jaunty, which begins to pall after a while) there’s some lovely moments of comedy which do hit the mark.  Most of these are concerned with Morrey’s robots once he’s turned them into avid consumers.  Whilst the robot costumes are pretty low-rent (intentional or budget related I wonder?) after a while that isn’t a problem and good actors like Anthony Dawes (as the most prominent robot, Henry) are able, even behind inflexible masks, to give performances of character.  I love the scene where he ambles into a bar and asks for a drink.  The robot behind the bar refuses to serve him and a fight breaks out, so Henry ends up in the dock!

Sam Kydd (as Fred) is good value as a house-breaker who doesn’t steal things, instead he’s paid by people to take their stuff and put it into other people’s homes.  John Barron (as the prime-minster, Sir John) has a small, but telling, role.

The Midas Plague is a fairly broad comedy and probably won’t be to everyone’s tastes, but there’s a lot to enjoy and it’s certainly different from the majority of the stories from the first series.

Next up – The Machine Stops

Out of the Unknown – Thirteen to Centaurus

thirteen

Story by J.G. Ballard, Adapted by Stanley Miller
Directed by Peter Potter

Thirteen to Centaurus opens on a space-station which is run by a crew of thirteen.  It becomes clear quite quickly that all of them, apart from Dr Francis (Donald Houston), have had their minds conditioned.  But Abel (James Hunter) is beginning to rebel and questions why they are here and what they are doing.

Dr Francis takes Abel into his confidence and tells him that they are actually on a “multi-generation space vehicle” which is traveling from Earth to Alpha Centauri.  Given that the ship can only travel at sub-light speed, it will take hundreds of years before the ship makes planetfall and Dr Francis explains that none of them will ever set foot on the new planet – this is a privilege reserved for future generations.  The truth is rather more complicated though and once Dr Francis has encouraged Abel to think for himself, the young man is dogged in his determination to discover all of the answers.

Thirteen to Centaurus was a short story by J.G. Ballard originally published in 1962.  The story, and of course this episode of OOTU, has a major twist – which for those coming to it for the first time I won’t reveal.  It certainly pushes the tale in a different direction and poses some interesting questions.

The conditioning (or effectively brainwashing) that the ship’s crew are subjected to is an intriguing part of the story.  Early on we see some of them working out in the gym and chanting “There is no other world than this. There are no other creatures but the chosen and their children shall inherit the Universe”.  This is an unsettling moment (absent from Ballard’s story) which is creepily effective.

As Abel’s reasoning grows, he begins to question more and more and effectively reverses the pupil/master relationship between himself and Dr Francis.  Like the majority of the crew, James Hunter is somewhat wooden as Abel (we could assume this is intentional – due to the conditioning he’s been subjected to).  Donald Houston as Dr Francis is pretty solid, although his performance isn’t, at times, particuarly subtle (see Moonbase 3 for more examples of Houston’s unsubtle acting choices in a sci-fi setting).

Back on Earth, there’s some quality actors (John Abineri, Noel Johnson, Robert James) who debate the future of the ship and the fate of the thirteen people onboard.  The decision is out of their hands though – it rests with Abel who has taken control of the ship.  The last few minutes are riveting and it’s certainly an ending that lives long in the memory.

Possibly the strongest of the surviving episodes from the first series, Thirteen to Centaurus is a quality production adapted from a strong story which still packs a punch today.  For anybody who wants an introduction to OOTU this is an ideal episode to start with.

Next Up – The Midas Plague