HomePosts tagged 'john le mesurier'

Danger Man – An Affair of State

February 20, 2022February 20, 2022 archivetvmusings ITV Drama - 1960's dorothy white, john le mesurier, patrick mcgoohan, patrick wymark

The tiny nation of San Pablo has requested substantial financial aid from the United States of America, claiming that its substantial gold reserves will provide more than adequate security for the loan. American economist Arthur Winfield has spent some time investigating the state of the San Pablo economy, but his apparent suicide sets alarm bells ringing in Washington. Hence Drake’s arrival ….

The pre-credits sequence is short but very sweet. A car draws up by a cliff edge. The boot is sprung to reveal … a dead body! A man extracts the body and flings it over the edge of the cliff (let’s ignore the fact that it’s obviously a stuffed dummy who takes the dive). The man turns round and we see … it’s Patrick Wymark! Then a policeman turns up (let’s ignore the fact that given it’s a very deserted spot, the chances of anyone else suddenly arriving are quite remote). The policeman is shot dead by … John Le Mesurier! If all that hasn’t piqued your interest, then this probably isn’t the series for you.

San Pablo is an archetypical banana republic (or more accurately, a banana and pineapple republic). The Commissioner of Police. Ortiz, is completely corrupt. We, the audience, already know this as he’s played by Patrick Wymark. Wymark is one of a number of British actors forced to adopt “Arriba, arriba! Ándale, ándale!” accents during the episode. But he’s good enough to get away with it (just).

Plenty of false evidence is produced to prove that Winfield had been leading a hectic social life of drinking and gambling, which provides a compelling reason for his suicide (strengthened by a signed suicide note). Indeed, it seems that Drake has been pretty much convinced – although if so, the arrival of Raquel Vargas (Dorothy White) gives him pause for thought.

This is the point of the story where the ever mounting plot oddities can’t be ignored. I can just about accept that Ortiz likes to do his own dirty work (although surely he could have bribed one of his underlings to dispose of Winfield’s body). But an extra level of suspension of disbelief is required when you learn that Alvarado (John Le Mesurier) is the Minister of Finance. He likes to tag along for body disposal jaunts with a handy rifle? Hmm, okay.

Then we discover that Raquel and Winfield had secretly married, but not in San Pablo as her parents wouldn’t have approved (this is negated at the end of the episode after Raquel tells Drake that her parents have decided they didn’t mind after all). Given that Winfield doesn’t seem to have been in the country for long, theirs was obviously a whirlwind romance. Maybe I’m nitpicking, but this part of the story doesn’t feel right to me.

Dorothy White looked naggingly familiar – one quick trip to IMDb later and I think it’s her final screen credit (as Mrs Firman in Grange Hill) which I particularly remember her for.

Although the story is a little clumsy (surprising, since Oscar Brodney had quite a career, scripting films like The Glenn Miller Story) I did like the moment where Ortiz confronts Raquel. He tells her that she needs to spend a short time in the cells, say a year or so. Although the episode is painted with fairly broad brushstrokes, this short scene is very chilling (and well played by Wymark).

Having appeared in the pre-credits sequence, Le Mesurier doesn’t reappear until the last few minutes. Alvarado and Ortiz take Drake down to the vaults where he rapidly learns that some (if not all) of their gold supplies are nothing more than worthless lead.

This is obviously what Winfield learnt and the reason why he was killed (and since it’s been obvious right from the start, any tension or mystery has long since dissipated). Plus it’s another plot problem. Given that the US isn’t going to lend San Pablo any money without making the necessary checks, killing Winfield only means that someone else – Drake – would be sent in his place. And if they had disposed of Drake, would they go on killing each new replacement? That might add up to a lot of bodies ….

It’s a fairly low mark for the storyline then, but the guest cast (apart from those already named there’s the always reliable Warren Mitchell as a twitchy whistleblower and Fenella Fielding as a vampy hostess) help to paper over the obvious story cracks.

Adam Adamant Lives! – The Terribly Happy Embalmers

April 26, 2020April 26, 2020 archivetvmusings BBC Drama - 1960's adam adamant lives!, gerald harper, john le mesurier, juliet hamer

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

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

Now that’s how you write a teaser!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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George and the Dragon – Merry Christmas (24th December 1966)

December 23, 2019December 21, 2019 archivetvmusings Christmas Television george and the dragon, john le mesurier, keith marsh, peggy mount, sid james

Given that it stars Sid James, Peggy Mount and John Le Mesurier, it’s a little surprising that George and the Dragon isn’t better known (especially since, unusually for a mid sixties series, all twenty four episodes still exist). Maybe its relative anonymity is down to the fact that it’s in black and white – had it been made a few years later in colour it might have been one of those selected series granted eternal life on ITV3.

Based on the opening titles (which feature the names of Sid James and Peggy Mount battling for supremacy) and the name of the programme itself, you could be forgiven for assuming that George and the Dragon revolves around George Russell (Sid James) and battleaxe Gabrielle Dragon (Peggy Mount) constantly being at each other’s throats.

The series isn’t really like that though – Gabrielle does raise an eyebrow at George’s philandering ways, but there’s a lot more humour in her character than you might expect. George, on the other hand, is not terribly loveable – the fact that it’s Sid James helps to cushion the blow, but George is rather a selfish type ….

Both George and Gabrielle (as driver and housekeeper) are in the employ of the affable but rather vague Colonel Maynard (a perfectly cast John Le Mesurier). A gardener called Ralph (Keith Marsh) rounds off the household.

As this episode opens, George is attempting to seduce a with-it sixties dollybird called Irma (Yootha Joyce). Interesting to see that before Yootha made her name as a seventies battleaxe, she had her share of more glamourous roles. Lecherous old George is deprived from taking things with Irma as far as he hopes after suddenly realising that it’s eight in the morning (Eh? What have they been doing all night?). So the race is then on to get shot of her before everyone else wakes up.

Gabrielle is up and about though and highly amused at the sweet nothings George is whispering into Irma’s ear. “She’s going to get her death of cold, that’s more like a belt than a skirt” mutters Gabrielle through gritted but smiling teeth, as Irma wanders off into the morning.

There’s a good example of George’s selfish nature during the scene where they all exchange presents. Gabrielle has bought something nice for George, but his present to her is simply one of his unwanted gifts (and he’s so dim that he’s forgotten to take the original tag off). As I’ve said, thanks to Sid James’ playing he’s able to soften moments like these, but it’s far easier to be on Gabrielle’s side than George’s.

I adore the moment when Gabrielle stands longingly under the mistletoe and the other three – after preparing themselves – all troop over to give her a kiss!

They then depart for their separate Christmas destinations – George for a spot of one-on-one time with Irma, Gabrielle to stay with her sister, Ralph to spend time with his niece whilst the Colonel is off to his club to meet his brother.

But all their plans fall through, one way or another. George discovers he has a rival for Irma’s affections (her sailor friend returns from the high seas). There’s a brief spot of bedroom farce as Irma attempts to juggle both of her paramours, but this isn’t really developed as much as it could have been.

Gabrielle’s sister had forgotten that she invited her – so after realising that there’s no room at the inn, Gabrielle silently slips away. That feels slightly tragic, but not as tragic as Ralph’s admission that he doesn’t actually have a niece (he always spends Christmas alone in the big house after everyone else has left).

With the Colonel also returning, the mismatched quartet then resolve to spend Christmas together. This is a rather touching moment, nicely played by all four. Vince Powell and Harry Driver’s sitcom work may never have been particularly subtle, but George and the Dragon is one which I still enjoy revisiting today. If you haven’t seen it, then you could do worse than spending some of your Christmas money on the DVD set.

Pinter at the BBC – Tea Party (25th March 1966)

February 20, 2019February 20, 2019 archivetvmusings BBC Drama - 1960's charles gray, harold pinter, jennifer wright, john le mesurier, Leo McKern, pinter at the bbc, the tea party, vivien merchant

Disson (Leo McKern) seems to have a perfect life. A self-made millionaire, he has a beautiful new wife, Diana (Jennifer Wright), has welcomed his brother-in-law, Willy (Charles Gray), into the business and has engaged a bright and efficient new secretary, Wendy (Vivien Merchant). And yet ….

Broadcast in March 1965, Tea Party was a prestigious commission for Pinter. Part of a Eurovision project, entitled The Largest Theatre In The World, it saw the play performed in thirteen separate counties over the course of a single week (with each county either tackling their own translated version or broadcasting a subtitled copy of the UK transmission).

Disson is a ruthlessly efficient man, beginning the play by proudly informing Wendy about the various products his company produces. That they’re all bathroom related strikes a humorous tone (reinforcing this point, on the way to his office she passes several prominent displays of toilets and baths). As you might expect, this light tone simply softens us up for the darkness to follow.

Disson might react in shock to the revelation that Wendy was forced to leave her last job because her previous employer wouldn’t stop touching her, but the way that director Charles Jarrett has already begun to focus on Wendy as a sexual object (foregrounding her legs whilst relegating Disson to the background) provides us with a clear pointer about one of the play’s key themes.

Considering the period (this was a time when television cameras were bulky and difficult to handle) Jarrett’s direction has a surprising fluidity. Interesting shot compositions abound – from this first scene (with POV shots from Wendy’s perspective) to later in the play (several sweeping tracking shots catch the eye).

Pinter remarked on the way that Disson was a marked man right from his first appearance. This is very much the case, which means it doesn’t take long before he starts to unravel before our eyes. And as the play progresses there’s a definite blurring of reality – some of what we see is the truth, whilst the remainder is no more than Disson’s fevered imaginings. How to differentiate between the two? As so often with Pinter the individual viewer is left to draw their own conclusions.

This means that we’re left with some intriguing mysteries. Diana and Willy have a very close bond – is this simply a natural connection between brother and sister, the hint of something incestuous or are we being invited to consider the possibility that Willy is no relation at all? Also, Disson’s two children, Tom and John (Peter and Robert Barlett) possess an uncomfortable stillness at times. Again, the reason for this is opaque – a sign of malevolence or are they simply ordinary children viewed through a confusing prism by the increasingly befuddled Disson?

Pinter seemed quite confident that the audience wouldn’t have any problems following the play. Talking to the Daily Mirror (who dubbed him one of Britain’s most controversial playwrights) on the day of transmisson, he stated it was simply a story about the relationship between a man and his new secretary, albeit one “with a strong sex theme”. The same article offered up a few more nuggets of interest, chiefly that it took Pinter a month to write and that it was extensively edited by Jarrett (understandable, given the scope of the production).

Performances, as you’d expect, are very strong. McKern – always a favourite actor of mine – doesn’t disappoint as Disson. His final collapse (by the end of the play he’s reduced to a catatonic state) is deeply disturbing, but then so are numerous smaller moments along the way which suggests a crisis is looming.

McKern’s scenes with Vivien Merchant crackle with an uneasy sexual tension. Given Merchant’s familiarity both with Pinter and his work (she was his first wife) it’s possibly not surprising that she seems so connected to the material. Although they didn’t divorce until the late seventies, their marriage (due to Pinter’s extra-marital affairs) had already begun to flounder by the time of Tea Party, which only serves to give her scenes a little extra frisson.

Jennifer Wright has the less rewarding female role, although it’s not totally without merit. Like all the people closest to Disson, it’s possible to take Diana’s actions at face value (she appears to be a totally supportive wife) or conversely to consider the possibility that some of Disson’s suspicions may be grounded in reality.

Charles Gray offers a typically rich performance as Willy. Gray’s penchant for playing sinister types ensures that he invests Willy with a pleasing duality. He’s perfectly charming on the surface, but there’s also the sense of hidden manipulative depths (although this could simply be a reading based on his wider career).

Disson has been complaining of eye trouble for some time. Wendy has attempted to ease his discomfort on several occasions by blindfolding him with a piece of chiffon. However it’s notable that he seems most emboldened to grope her when his eyes are covered. Are we to assume that Disson’s “illness” has been induced by his feelings for Wendy and that his jealousy of the close relationship shared by Diana and Willy is simply his way of covering his own conflicted feelings?

The final scene is an extraordinary one. Disson, now with his eyes firmly bandaged by Disley (a somewhat underused John Le Mesurier), has his clearest hallucinations yet. Ending the play in a vegative state, Disson’s unhappy journey therefore seems complete.

Contemporary critical reaction was generally very positive. Clifford Davis, writing in the Daily Mirror on the 26th of March, said that the story was “skilfully told, in a succession of short, penetrating scenes” and “provided a masterly study of one man’s obsession and final disintegration” concluding that “it was a play which was just right for its players and just right for television too”.

But if Davis found everything was explained to his satisfaction, then W.D.A. from the Liverpool Echo began his review by stating that since Pinter “conventialy declines to explain his plays, it is up to the poor critics to do the interpreting”.

The Stage declared that Tea Party was a work which enables you to “go on thinking and surmising, discovering further depths and weights of thought”. That’s certainly true. More than fifty years after its original broadcast, the play has lost none of its power to intrigue and discomfort.

Dad’s Army – The Battle of Godfrey’s Cottage

September 6, 2016December 16, 2017 archivetvmusings BBC Comedy - 1960's arthur lowe, BBC, bbc sitcoms, clive dunn, dad's army, john le mesurier, perry and croft

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No doubt helped by endless re-runs, Dad’s Army remains one of the most familiar British archive sitcoms. For some, this familiarity has bred contempt, but whilst parts of it have worn thin over the years (Corporal Jones really needs a good slap) the sheer number of episodes means that you can still stumble over a less well-known instalment which will have a few surprises.

This is particularly true of the surviving episodes from the first two series, as their black and white nature has meant that they don’t get repeated as often as their colour counterparts. And two episodes from the second series (Operation Kilt and The Battle of Godfrey’s Cottage) were only rediscovered in 2001 (in film cans which had spent twenty five years rusting in a garden shed) which gave even hardened Dad’s Army watchers at the time the chance to experience something “new”.

As a child, it was the large-scale visual episodes which appealed, such as The Day the Balloon Went Up, which saw the platoon set off in hot pursuit after Captain Mainwaring, who’d been carried away by a barrage balloon! As I’ve got older, I find the character-based episodes to be more to my taste. Ones such as Branded (which saw Godfrey’s courage called into question) and A. Wilson, Manager? (Wilson’s promotion infuriates Mainwaring) now entertain me more.

Although the comedy in Dad’s Army is often broad, it’s also based on historical fact. The Home Guard was poorly equipped to begin with, which was a worry for many – especially as a German invasion was believed to be imminent. With guns and ammunition in short supply, other methods of defence and attack had to be found – this webpage has some interesting information, such as the fact that one Home Guard unit carried pepper with them, which they intended to throw into the enemy’s faces!

In The Battle of Godfrey’s Cottage, Mainwaring calls his men to the Novelty Rock Emporium, which will be their command post in the event of a German invasion. The viewer, armed with the knowledge that no invasion was ever attempted, is immediately placed at an advantage over the platoon. Therefore when the church bells ring and everybody jumps to the wrong conclusion (the Germans have arrived) we can be secure in the knowledge that everything will be all right.

This might been the cue for some slapstick comedy, but instead Perry & Croft go a little darker to begin with. Mainwaring, Jones and Frazer believe that they’re the only members of the platoon left in the town who can deal with the Germans, so they head off to Godfrey’s cottage (an ideal place to mount a defence, due to its strategic location) in order to make a last ditch attempt to repel the attackers. All three accept that they’re going to their deaths, but deal with this stoically. It’s only a brief moment, but it’s a lovely character touch that says so much.

There’s a certain amount of contrivance which has to employed in order to get the plot to work. Mainwaring, Jones and Frazer have now reached Godfrey’s cottage and Jones puts on an old German helmet (from Godfrey’s adventures in WW1) to defend himself with. The other members of the platoon, approaching the cottage, see a figure with a German helmet and naturally jump to the wrong conclusion.

Godfrey’s genteel home life – he lives with his two sisters, Dolly (Amy Dalby) and Cissy (Nan Braunton) – is rudely shattered by the arrival of Mainwaring and his machine gun. If Godfrey seems to be a little disconnected from the realties of life, then that’s even more the case with his sisters. Dolly’s reaction when she hears that the Germans are coming is just to fret that she’ll have to go and make a great deal more tea for all of their new visitors.

Possibly the most interesting part of the story is how the various members of the platoon deal with the pressure of apparently being under attack from the Germans. Pike is naturally terrified, Mainwaring is resolute and determined to fight on to the bitter end, whilst Wilson is somewhat hesitant and indecisive (no real change from his normal character then). But when Wilson believes that the “Germans” in the cottage have surrendered, he initially wants to send Walker out to negotiate with them, whilst he remains behind in safety. It’s small character moments like this which make The Battle of Godfrey’s Cottage a very rewarding episode to rewatch.

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A Christmas Carol (BBC 1977)

December 5, 2015December 24, 2020 archivetvmusings BBC Drama - 1970's, Christmas Television a christmas carol, BBC, charles dickens, john le mesurier, michael hordern

Broadcast on the 24th of December 1977, it’s fair to say that they don’t make them like this anymore. This production of A Christmas Carol is completely studio-bound and at times places characters, via the wonder of CSO, in front of illustrated backdrops. For some, this artificiality might be an issue but I feel that the non-naturalistic moments are strengths not weakness.

One of the main pluses of the production is the quality of Elaine Morgan’s adaptation. Since Dickens’ novella isn’t particularly long, Morgan was able to compress it down quite comfortably to just under an hour. Everything of note from the original story (including much of the dialogue) has been retained and it’s interesting that the likes of Ignorance and Want (often removed from other adaptations) are present and correct.

Michael Hordern, an actor who always seemed to play bemused and vague characters, makes for a very decent Scrooge – although since he lacks bite and arrogance, Hordern’s better as the story proceeds (especially when Scrooge is finally presented to us as a humble and chastised man).

John Le Mesurier only has a few minutes to make an impression as Jacob Marley, but he certainly does. His scenes with Hordern were complicated by the fact that both weren’t on set at the same time (Marley, as befits a ghost, is only ever seen as an insubstantial presence). This isn’t really a problem though, as both actors had such good timing they were able to make their scenes ‘together’ work.

The arrival of Patricia Quinn as the Ghost of Christmas Past sees Scrooge revisit his own past. The establishing shots of Scrooge’s schoolhouse are presented via a series of illustrated images, with Horden and Quinn overlaid. You can either view this as a necessity, due to the production’s low-budget, or as an inspired artistic choice. One nice moment occurs when we move into the schoolhouse and there’s another illustration – which then morphs into a real-life scene.

Almost unrecognisable, thanks to a heavy beard, is Bernard Lee as the Ghost of Christmas Present (although his voice is unmistakable). Paul Copley is slightly too jolly and irritating as Fred, but this a rare production mistep. Clive Merrison, with an impressive wig, is a fine Bob Cratchit whilst Zoe Wanamaker is equally good as Belle. There’s plenty of other familiar faces, including John Salthouse, John Ringham, June Brown and Christopher Biggins whilst the brief opening narration is provided by (an uncredited) Brian Blessed.

Although there are many versions of A Christmas Carol available, this one is certainly worth your time – partly because of the quality of the cast, but also due to its fidelity to Charles Dickens’ story. Plenty of other adaptations can’t help but make various ‘improvements’ but Elaine Morgan was content to let the strength of the original tale speak for itself.