Dick Turpin – The Champion (20th January 1979)

Turpin is looking for a place to lie low for a while, and the small village of Mudbury seems ideal. After arriving, he learns that the bible bashing preacher, Nightingale (John Grillo), is using his feared enforcer – Hogg (Robert Russell) – to extract regular payments from the villagers.

But the trouble really begins when the ever impulsive Swiftnick, after learning that Hogg has his heart set on becoming a prizefighter, rashly suggests that Turpin could easily defeat Hogg in a fight. Problem is, he hasn’t mentioned this to Dick yet ….

There’s no Glutton or Spiker in this episode, which is a plus. However good their characters are, if they keep reappearing week after week then the series would quickly become monotonous (for example, see the later series of Blakes 7 which suffered from a Servalan overkill).

In Glutton’s place, we’ve got the hell and damnation figure of Nightingale. John Grillo has an extensive list of television credits, so I really feel that I should know his work better than I do. After this though, I’ll be keeping an eye out for him as he’s very watchable as Nightingale.

A much more recognisable actor for me is Don Henderson, who plays Bracewell (a noted prizefighter). By one of the those remarkable coincidences which occur in these sort of series, Turpin rescues Bracewell from a highway attack just before reaching Mudbury. So after Turpin receives an early dose of punishment from Hogg, he rushes off to get Bracewell (who’s more than happy to challenge Hogg).

Once again, it’s no surprise that Swiftnick is to blame for Dick’s travails. Even before Turpin finds himself facing down Hogg, he bitterly tells his highway partner that “you’ll fall down your own mouth one of these days”.

If Grillo receives many of the best lines. leaving Henderson with the scraps, that means there’s not much left for the villagers. Still, Gerry Cowper briefly lights up the screen as Lucy, this week’s serving wench. And the always dependable Roy Evans (Fellowes) and Nicholas McArdle (Pollard) are plusses as well.

The comedy element is ramped up in this episode, which makes it an ideal vehicle for Richard O’Sullivan. He’s really in his element throughout – especially when (after Bracewell disappears) he finds he has to fight Hogg after all.

Hogg might be on the side of the baddies, but he seems to be an honest fighter. Not so Turpin, who uses every dirty trick in the book (or at least those permissible at Saturday tea-time) to gain an advantage. As the fight continues and Turpin barely manages to stay on his feet, Switnick frantically rushes about, looking for Bracewell.

Today’s plot niggles. Given that Bracewell is such an intimidating character, how did Nightingale and Hogg manage to spirit him away? No explanation is given, so you’ll have to make your own up. Oh, and out of all the places to hide Bracewell, the one chosen (the barn where the fight is taking place) has to be the worst.

Swiftnick and Lucy find Bracwell at the eleventh hour and he rushes over to take Turpin’s place – but (hurrah!) there’s no need as somehow Dick Turpin, in true David and Goliath style, has triumphed. Given this, you might wonder why Bracewell features in the story at all ….

Niggles apart, this is a fun romp – nothing more, nothing less.

Dick Turpin – The Capture (13th January 1979)

The Capture. Hmm, I wonder what this episode’s about then?

Turpin and Swiftnick aren’t getting on terribly well as Swiftnick’s rash and impulsive actions have almost led to disaster several times. As they ride up to the White Lion inn, the long suffering Turpin gives Swiftnick one last chance.

But he proves to be a less than effective lookout, instead spending most of his time chatting up a serving wench called Kate Doyle (Lesley Dunlop). Dunlop, who’d later co-star in a similar adventure series (Smuggler, with Oliver Tobias) is good value as Kate – all wide eyes and heaving bosoms.

When she makes conversation, Swiftnick (a pushover for a pretty face) just can’t help himself and he rashly reveals the identity of his friend. When, seconds later, Spiker and his goons crash through the door it seems to Turpin that Kate must have informed on them. She didn’t of course, and it seems bizarre that he could have thought so.

Turpin and Swiftnick escape by the skin of their teeth after another highly energetic fight sequence that slips into parody (after bamboozling Spiker again, Turpin makes time to stop and kiss a pretty girl before exiting) but is still entertaining.

Turpin decides that enough is enough and dumps the unwilling Swiftnick with a gunsmith called John Tanner (Harold Goodwin). Tanner’s reluctant to take on the boy as his apprentice, but changes his mind after Turpin gives him a handsome dowry! Goodwin sketches a nice cameo with limited screentime as does Annabelle Lee (as Jane Kelsey), the episode’s other notable guest actor.

Jane is a down on her luck actress, sentenced to three years imprisonment by Glutton for stealing two apples (a good example of Glutton’s draconian application of the law). She’s promised her freedom if she agrees to ensnare Turpin by posing as a wealthy aristocrat.

This part of the story doesn’t quite hold water. How does Turpin know the precise time and road that this faux lady will be travelling down? Still ignoring that plot niggle, there’s amusement to be gained from Jane’s over-enthusiastic acting as she plays the wilting heroine (quailing against the rough, tough Turpin). Given that some performances in the series can be just as florid (and they weren’t acting, if you see what I mean) this is possibly a little in-joke from Carpenter.

Jane wasn’t riding alone, as Spiker was hiding in her carriage. Easily overpowering Turpin, it looks like curtains for the highwayman ….

In a neat reversal of the first episode, in this one Swiftnick (with a little help from Kate) rescues Turpin. As expected, that redeems the boy in Turpin’s eyes and the pair ride off together in unity as the credits roll.

A good enough episode, but fairly predictable (had Kate actually turned out to be an informer that would have been a decent twist). On the plus side, the swordplay’s once again well staged and the Glutton/Spiker double act raises several laughs (the running gag of Spiker’s failure to knock before entering Glutton’s room, for example).

Dick Turpin – Swiftnick (6th January 1979)

Richard Carpenter, co-creator and writer of the majority of Dick Turpin, made no bones about the fact that the Turpin of this series bore no resemblance to his real-life counterpart. That’s understandable of course – the genuine Dick Turpin was a squalid thief and murderer with no redeeming features (hardly the ideal person to star in a Saturday evening tea-time series).

Carpenter’s Dick Turpin drew on the already established folklore which surrounded the character in order to create an idealistic outlaw, always ready with a wry quip to dispense justice in an England where the authorities were either lax or corrupt.

Given that Richard Carpenter would later tackle the legend of Robin Hood in Robin of Sherwood, it’s easy to imagine that he was having something a dry run in this series (thankfully though, RoS was allowed time to breathe with 50 minute episodes rather than Turpin‘s 25).

Like the Robin Hood of popular myth, the fictionalised Turpin (Richard O’Sullivan) returns home after fighting for king and country to discover his property has been seized. He then finds himself opposing Sir John Glutton (Christopher Benjamin) and Captain Nathan Spiker (David Daker) who are very close analogues to the Sheriff of Nottingham and Guy of Gisbourne.

Turpin doesn’t assemble a band of merry men, but he does (reluctantly) recruit one helper – the boyishly ingenuous Nick Smith (Michael Deeks) who is rechristened Switnick by Turpin.

Dick Turpin was the latest in a line of ITV series which stretched right back to the founding of the network in 1955 (The Adventures of Robin Hood, with Richard Greene, debuted just a few days after ITV’s launch). It’s easy to see why these sort of shows kept coming back and indeed why they remain so watchable today.

With only 25 minutes to play with, there’s no time for intricate plots or deep characterisation – you just need a few good guest actors, a simple storyline and a bit of action. This repeating formula does mean they can feel a little insubstantial at times, but they’re also great fun to dip into every so often.

Swiftnick is intriguingly set just after Turpin’s apparent hanging in York with a dogged Spiker insistant that the man who swung wasn’t in fact Turpin ….

That might explain why the episode opens with Turpin in disguise, as a doddery clerk, although it’s harder to understand why Turpin so gratuitously splashes his cash in The Black Swan (an inn run by Mrs Smith and her young son Nick).

Possibly he’s looking to unmask pretenders to his throne as Nick, posing as Turpin, later attempts a highway robbery on the apparently harmless clerk (the real Dick Turpin seems to be somewhat peeved that so many imposters are trading on his name).

Some of the redubbing on this episode is a little clumsy but the worst bit occurs when Nick faces down the ‘clerk’. Before Turpin reveals himself, the cringing clerk begs for mercy (but O’Sullivan doesn’t voice him). By now, most viewers would have twigged that the clerk was Turpin in disguise, so why O’Sullivan couldn’t have put on an accent is beyond me.

I’m also slightly confused by this part of the story. Nick is desperate for twenty guineas – unless this sun is paid immediately, Glutton will throw him and his mother out of the inn. Turpin seems sympathetic but sends the boy away with nothing. And yet in the next scene, Mrs Smith hands over this sum to Spiker (has Turpin somehow given the money to her?)

It seems likely, as Turpin and Mrs Smith (Jo Rowbottom) do have a history. Indeed, some of the dialogue seems to hint that she and Turpin fathered Nick (which would explain why Turpin agrees to look after the now outlawed Nick).

Dick Turpin: I’m going to ruin Glutton and everyone round him. I shall wear them down like water dripping on a stone and I’ll make my own justice.

Mrs Smith: Then make some for Nick. For you, and me and what we once … you know, the past.

If this part of the plot seems somewhat opaque, then the conclusion (Turpin masquerades as a Scottish doctor to bamboozle Glutton and rescue Nick) is great fun. Under the expert eye of stunt arranger Peter Diamond, both O’Sullivan and Daker demonstrate some quality swordplay moves. Their duel includes one of my favourite exchanges in the episode –

Captain Nathan Spiker: The sword is a gentleman’s weapon, Turpin.

Dick Turpin: Then why are you using it?

An effective opener then, but even this early on it’s possible to wonder how the triangle of conflict between Turpin/Spiker/Glutton can develop. Because all three seem to be such archetypes, it’s easy to imagine they’ll simply repeat today’s form of conflict (with Glutton apoplectic, Spiker defeated and Turpin riding off into the sunset) again and again. Or will Carpenter be able to throw a few surprises into the mix? Time will tell.

Great Expectations (BBC, 1967) – Simply Media DVD Review


When young Phillip Pirrip, nicknamed Pip, meets a strange, reclusive lady called Miss Haversham (Maxine Audley) it opens up a new world of possibilities. Miss Haversham’s ward, the beautiful Estella (Francesca Annis), bewitches him from the first time they meet, although she is unable to return his love.

As the years pass by and the boy grows into a man, Pip learns that he has “great expectations” and will shortly come into the possession of a handsome property. Since his most heartfelt desire is to become a gentleman (only then, he believes, will he be able to win Estella’s heart) it seems like a dream come true.

So he moves to London and at first all seems well. But later he receives a shock – his anonymous benefactor turns out not to be Miss Haversham after all, but a convict named Magwitch (John Tate) ….

Originally published across 1860/61, Great Expectations was Charles Dickens’ penultimate completed novel (Our Mutual Friend and the incomplete The Mystery of Edwin Drood would follow).  A popular success at the time of its original publication (unlike Our Mutual Friend, which received a much more muted reception) Great Expectations has proved to be one of Dickens’ most enduring works.

Its popularity can be judged by the number of film and television adaptations it has inspired.   Great Expectations made its debut in the cinema all the way back in 1917, whilst on television the 1959 BBC adaptation, with Dinsdale Landen as Pip, was the earliest.  Sadly, the 1959 Expectations is missing one of its thirteen episodes (episode eight) so it looks unlikely to be released on DVD.  Some eight years after the BBC first tackled the novel they did so again – with this 1967 ten-part adaption by Hugh Leonard.

Since so much of the impact of Great Expectations comes from the travails of Pip, strong casting of the character is essential.  Luckily this production managed the feat twice – Christopher Guard played the young Pip, whilst Gary Bond took over when he reached adulthood.  Guard had already appeared as David Copperfield the previous year, so was clearly well versed in the world of Dickens.  Bond had racked up a varied list of credits since his screen debut in 1962 (including a notable film appearance in Zulu as Private Cole).

The first episode opens with Pip’s graveyard encounter with Magwitch. It’s a sequence that required a certain amount of skill on the part of the vision mixer, due to the way it frequently cuts from film (establishing shots of Pip) to videotape (the studio dialogue between Pip and Magwitch) and then back to film again. It’s a pity that the entire scene wasn’t shot on film, but presumably this was a matter of cost. There’s more filmwork across the serial than there was in Our Mutual Friend, but the studio scenes still dominate.

John Tate & Christopher Guard

John Tate makes for a menacing Magwitch, although even in this intial scene there’s a feeling of conflict in his character. He might issue bloodcurdling threats against Pip, but he also holds him close in a way that almost seems to be tender. And when he’s later recaptured (Tate excellent again here, mudcaked and weary) he chooses not to mention that he forced Pip to fetch food for him.

Young Pip’s homelife is pretty grim. He’s abused by his sister (played by Shirley Cain) although her husband, Joe Gargery (Neil McCarthy), is a much more genial – if simple-minded – chap. McCarthy, like so many of the cast, impresses with a deftly sketched performance.

Sound effects and music are prominent right from the start. The music is dramatic (possibly over-dramatic at times) although the sound effects are more successful in creating mood and atmosphere. The constant wailing of the wind throughout the early episodes helps to create the impression that Pip lives in a cold, desolate and foreboding area. Visual signifiers – a rotting corpse hanging on a roadside gallows – reinforces this.

If Pip’s first meeting with Magwitch is a signature moment, then so too is his initial encounter with Miss Haversham. As Pip approaches her intimidating house the music swells and then abruptly cuts off as Pumblechook (Norman Scase) lays a hand on him. This could be intentional, although it seems more likely that it was a grams error.

Whilst Maxine Audley’s Miss Haversham is muted to begin with, the meeting between her and Pip still has a uncomfortable, off-kilter feeling. Not least because of Francesca Annis’ cold and abusive Estella who treats Pip with the utmost contempt.

Francesca Annis, Maxine Audley & Christopher Guard

Christopher Guard gives a very internal performance as Pip. Since he’s only a young boy (and one you can imagine has beaten into obedience from a very early age) Pip is unable to talk back to his elders and betters. So Guard has to either suffer in silence or express his true feelings somewhat obliquely.

The third episode – Apprenticeship – sees the mantle of Pip pass from Christopher Guard to Gary Bond. It’s done in a visually striking way as we see Pip, apprenticed as a blacksmith to Joe, toiling in the forge. Overlaid smoke effects and mournful music create a weary mood as the camera moves down to focus on the metal he’s hammering. And when it moves back up, the boy has become a man (thereby not only solving the problem of how to move from one actor to another, but also neatly suggesting that Pip has spent years in a form of stasis – doing the same thing, day-in and day-out).

Great Expectations boasts many fine performances across its ten episodes. Ronald Lacey casts a menacing shadow as the drunken and violent Orlick (who, like Pip, starts off as an apprentice to Joe) whilst Hannah Gordon radiates honest goodness as Biddy, a maid who helps to keep Joe’s household together after Mrs Gargery is left insensible after a violent attack from an unknown assailant.

The always dependable Peter Vaughan has a nine line in icy disdain as Mr Jaggers, the solicitor who informs Pip of his great expectations. Bernard Hepton, another fine actor, plays Jaggers’ clerk, Wemmick, a much more approachable and amusing fellow. After they’ve become better acquainted, Wemmick takes Pip on a tour of his house – a wonderfully eccentric creation which features a drawbridge, waterwheel and a gun on the roof (which he fires every day at 9.00 pm). And all this in the heart of London!

Richard O’Sullivan is a pleasingly jaunty Herbert Pocket and sharply contrasts with a brooding Jon Laurimore as Bentley Dummle

Pip remains a curiously unlikable character for most of the serial. His desire to better himself and become a gentleman is generated purely by the hope it will win Estella’s approval (although given her utter indifference for him, he seems doomed to failure). Her mocking laughter at the end of the fifth episode – The Betrayal – shows that while Pip may have changed, she hasn’t.  Unlike some of Dickens’ other novels, where you sensed that the author approved of and supported his hero, there’s a much icier feeling here as well as a deep sense of melancholy.

Great Expectations 6
Maxine Audley, Francesca Annis & Gary Bond

The seventh episode – Pip’s Benefactor – helps to pivot the story into new and unexpected directions. The return of Magwitch is heralded by a brief burst of icy wind on the soundtrack (a nice, understated nod back to their initial graveyard meeting).

Pip’s horror that Magwitch is his benefactor is plain to see. Is it because Magwitch, although wealthy thanks to his efforts as a convict in Australia, is still somewhat uncouth? Or does it have more to do with the fact that transportation is a life sentence and so by returning to England, Magwitch faces certain death if he’s caught?  Initially there’s no doubt that he’s somewhat repulsed by Magwitch but eventually he acknowledges the sacrifices the older man had made for him, which is a key moment (from this point on Pip becomes much less self-centered).

Alan Bridges peppers the ten episodes with some interesting directorial flourishes. Miss Haversham’s mausoleum of a house offers plenty of unusual camera angles whilst elsewhere (Mr Jaggers’ office, for example) the use of projected light helps to create striking shadows on the wall. Miss Haversham’s death in episode eight is another standout moment, although like Pip and Magwitch’s first meeting it’s puzzling that the scene (mostly shot on film) still has a few brief videotape inserts.

This adaptation of Great Expectations has no weak links on the performance front – Peter Vaughan, John Tate, Bernard Hepton, Richard O’Sullivan, Neil McCarthy, Francesca Annis and Maxine Audley are especially noteworthy – whilst both Pips, Christopher Guard and Gary Bond, acquit themselves well. Bond is especially impressive in the closing episodes as Pip faces one reversal of fortune after another, although they do help to deepen and strengthen his character.

The prints are of a pretty consistent quality throughout – there’s the occasional sign of dirt and damage, but given that the materials are some fifty years old that’s not too surprising. In general the picture is clear and watchable although there’s always a slight drop in quality during the film sequences (not surprising, due to the way that the film inserts would have been telecined in during the recording session).

Even with so many different adaptations of Great Expectations jostling for position, this 1967 serial – although it may lack the budget and scale of some of the others – is still worthy of attention.  Tightly scripted and well acted, it’s a very solid production which still stands up well today.  Warmly recommended.

Great Expectations is released by Simply Media on the 3rd of July 2017.  RRP £19.99. It can be ordered directly from Simply here.

Bernard Hepton & Gary Bond

Robin’s Nest – Christmas at Robin’s Nest


Airing on ITV between 1977 and 1981, Robin’s Nest (one of two sitcoms spun off from Man About The House) is centred around the restaurant of the title, run by Robin Tripp (Richard O’Sullivan) and his wife Victoria (Tessa Wyatt).  She provides him with moral support and able assistance whilst less able assistance comes from the enthusiastic but incompetent one-armed washer-upper, Albert Riddle (David Kelly).  Also on hand is Victoria’s father, James Nicholls (Tony Britton), a sleeping partner in the business who’s always keen to make the maximum amount of money from his investment.

Although the series was created by Brian Cooke and Johnnie Mortimer, by this time they’d stepped away from scripting duties, so Robin’s Nest at Christmas was penned by George Layton, the second of his thirteen contributions to the show.  Enjoying an equally successful career as both an actor and writer (with his writer’s hat on he’d be reunited with Britton on the middle-of-the-road but nonetheless popular sitcom Don’t Wait Up a few years later) Layton seemed to easily pick up the rhythms of the series.

Although guest actors drop by occasionally, Robin’s Nest concentrates on the four regulars – with Robin and Victoria usually playing the straight-men to the more comic characters of Albert (inept at whatever he attempts) and James (a mean skinflint, content to work Robin into the ground to generate a healthy profit).

Easily the most memorable character of the four is Albert Riddle.  Kelly effortlessly steals every scene he’s in and is an endless delight to watch – without him it would be a much more routine show.  Albert’s complete ineptness is clearly on display in the opening few minutes as he attempts to help Robin to put up the Christmas decorations in the restaurant.  Of course he’s no help at all, and his endless off-key singing of Christmas songs (“Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way. We are doing up Robin’s Nest, just for Christmas day”) doesn’t help to reduce Robin’s stress levels.

Albert then pops by at one o’clock in the morning on Christmas Day to deliver a bombshell – after coming into a small windfall he’s been able to buy a business of his own so will be resigning from Robin’s Nest forthwith …..

There then follows a rather tense Christmas Day meal at James’ house, with a glum Robin and Victoria and a rather merry Albert, whilst Peggy Aitchison has a nice scene as James’ domestic servant, Gertrude.  Many sitcoms tended to have an extended running time for their Christmas Specials, but this Robin’s Nest remains at its normal twenty-five minute format.  This means that it all feels quite compact (with more time, the Christmas meal could have been extended and made to feel even more awkward) but the one interesting wrinkle is that the reset button with Albert isn’t hit at the end.  His arrival back at the restaurant in the last few minutes seems to indicate that he’s had a change of heart, but the reason for his reappearance is quite different and a good comic moment to end on.

Coasting by for 48 episodes thanks in no small part to the regulars, Robin’s Nest is undemanding but always watchable entertainment.  As for this one, I’ve always been a little puzzled why Robin is so upset at Albert’s decision to leave – since he spends all his time complaining about him you’d have thought he’d have welcomed it!