terence rigby

Softly Softly: Task Force – Conversion (6th December 1972)

archivetvmusings BBC Drama - 1970's , , ,

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An ingenious bank raid – carried out at the same time that the street is undergoing a gas conversion – is today’s crime. But as so often, character dynamics are pushed to the fore whilst the crime sits in the background.

Adler’s continuing mission to refer to all the regulars as “son” continues (today it’s Snow who receives that honour). Having not featured too heavily for a while, it’s nice that Terence Rigby is given more to do (although the reason becomes clear at the end of the episode).

Pete Ryan (Billy Hamon) is befriended by Snow. Something of an innocent, the early part of Conversion leaves us in no doubt that he’s very slow on the uptake (two experienced villains plan to use him when they rob the bank).

Pete, one the army of gas fitters, agrees to block the road at the appointed time (thereby allowing the getaway car to escape). This he does, but it means that he becomes a person of interest to the police – although not as you might expect.  He isn’t lifted for a grilling, instead Snow buys him drinks and listens to his story.

This all the more remarkable since Pete is aware that Snow’s a copper.  Although Snow could never be called soft, something about Pete (who’s barely more than a lad) clearly engages his sympathy.  So when Pete is killed in a road accident, Snow (who was observing him at the time) blames himself.

Spike Harran (Frank Barrie) and Tom Bishop (Graham Weston) are the two members of the gang granted speaking roles.  Many more are seen when the bank raid is carried out, but they were clearly stuntmen and non-speaking extras.  Indeed, the robbery is something of a jolting moment – up until this point the episode has proceeded in a typical fashion for SS:TF (high on character detail, low on visual excitement) so the sight of a gaggle of stuntmen throwing themselves about with wild abandon certainly catches the eye.

The early scenes between Pete, Spike and Tom have something of a comic air. Partly this is down to Tom’s tie, but the dialogue (the way that Spike and Tom have to repeat things again and again to Pete) also reinforces the feeling that the whole escapade is a bit of a lark.  But the brief violence seen during the raid, Pete’s death and Snow’s cold fury at Pete’s wasted life all help to darken the mood.

Adler once again is placed at the centre of the story. His interactions with both Snow and Evans are fascinating.  Snow is happy to give the new Task Force boss a little time to settle in (his attitude reflects his phlegmatic nature). The voluble Evans is a totally different type of person, he’s never slow to reveal his feelings ….

Adler and Snow later bring Spike back to the area.  Their train journey allows Snow to vent his feelings towards Spike, whom he feels had a part to play in Pete’s death. “If this was an old-fashioned compartment with a door there, I’d open it and shove you out”.  Snow’s impassioned tirade, which runs for several minutes, is easily the highlight of the episode.

Terence Rigby once again is excellent value, which makes it a pity that he then took something of a break from the series (sitting out the second half of series four and not returning until the fifth series).  Presumably Rigby had commitments elsewhere.

Grahame Mallard is drafted in as PC Nesbitt (he’d previously appeared in two previous episodes as two different PCs).  His introduction is typical of the series as it couldn’t really be any lower-key (he just appears out of nowhere).

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Softly Softly: Task Force – Dog Eat Dog (4th October 1972)

archivetvmusings BBC Drama - 1970's , , ,

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Dog Eat Dog is that rarest of SS:TF beasts – a Snow-centric episode. PC Snow stumbles across Colin Talbot (Greg Smith) a troubled teenager who – like Snow – has recently lost his dog.  This would seem to be the cue for the two to bond, but it’s not quite as straightforward as that.

Snow later returns with a present for him (a puppy) but Colin angrily refuses it.  Given that Rigby and Smith share several strong scenes at the start of the episode, we seem to be heading towards a story in which Colin will feature heavily. It’s therefore slightly surprising that he then disappears from view until the final ten minutes or so.

But even though he’s offscreen, the problem of Colin still dominates. His father, Harry Talbot (Windsor Davies), is a right piece of work – a workshy layabout, he despises the boy (demonstrated by the fact he strangled his dog).  Needless to say Snow doesn’t react to this news terribly well – the scene where Snow and Talbot face off is an episode highlight.  The way that Snow casually calls Talbot a “bastard” before threatening violence is all the more chilling due to Rigby’s typically measured delivery.

Another highlight is Watt’s confrontation with Snow. With Barlow absent, Watt is the episode’s authority figure – although he’s largely used here for comic effect.  After sustaining a nasty injury to his nose (Evans was forced to break heavily when Snow’s puppy ran out in front of their car) Watt’s patience with the do-gooder Snow is stretched to breaking point ….

PC Knowles (Martin C. Thurley) also gets a spot of character development. The latest of the desk-bound coordinators, he has a few mild clashes with the practical Snow (Knowles – somewhat physically underdeveloped – also admires Snow’s impressive shoulders!). This is another nice comic touch which helps to balance out the drama of Colin’s storyline.

If we trust IMDb, then this was Ewart Alexander’s sole SS:TF script, which might explain why the tone feels slightly different.  No complaints though, as it’s good to have some episodes which push the series in an unusual direction.

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Public Eye – Divide and Conquer

archivetvmusings ITV Drama - 1960's , ,

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Divide and Conquer opens with two bikers, Harry (Terence Rigby) and Frank (Richard O’Callaghan), enjoying their breakfast at a Brighton cafe.  They manage to con the cafe owner (Ken Jones) out of five pounds before making a stealthy escape.

At the same time, Marker is enjoying his breakfast at Mrs Mortimers, prior to starting his new job.  As with his accommodation, it’s been provided by the probation service.  It might not be exactly what he wants to do (he starts off by repairing the sea-wall at a lonely stretch of beach) but as an ex-prisoner he can’t afford to be too choosy.

A visit to the local pub with Enright (Peter Cellier) sparks trouble.  Enright, like Marker, is an ex-con who’s also lodging with Mrs Mortimer.  Unlike Marker, he’s something of a gregarious chap, and he eventually manages to persuade the insular Marker to share a drink with him.  At the pub, Marker sees Harry try to con the publican (played by Norman Mitchell) with the same trick he pulled on the cafe owner.

There’s no reason for Marker to get involved, but he does and it forces Harry and Frank to beat a hasty retreat.  Professionals wouldn’t have attempted to use the same trick more than once in the same area and by the same token, professionals wouldn’t hang about.  But Harry and Frank aren’t professionals and Harry vows to get even with Frank Marker.

Divide and Conquer is another excellent character-driven story from Roger Marshall.  Harry and Frank, whilst occasionally faintly ridiculous, also manage to exude an air of menace.  Terence Rigby was always an idiosyncratic actor.  He could be excellent (for example, as Big Al in Alan Plater’s Beiderbecke stories) but he could also turn in fairly indifferent performances (such as a rather wooden Dr Watson opposite Tom Baker’s Sherlock Holmes in the BBC Classic Serial adaptation of The Hound of the Baskervilles).

This story showcases both his strengths and weaknesses.  At times, Harry is an intimidating figure (when he pulls a knife on Marker after the unsuccessful attempt to con the publican) but it’s fair to say that at times Rigby’s delivery and performance borders on the pantomimic.  O’Callaghan doesn’t speak too much, and therefore is more of a looming presence, but he’s key to the resolution of the story.

The last fifteen minutes are the heart of the episode.  It’s a single sequence, shot on film, which sees Harry and Frank confront Marker whilst he’s at work.  As I’ve said, it’s a lonely spot, so Marker wouldn’t be able to count on anybody coming to his aid.  We’ve previously seen that he can take a beating as well as give one out (for example, Nobody Kills Santa Claus) but the odds here are stacked against him.  If he’s going to walk away unscathed, then it’s words not actions that will save him.

That’s what the title of the story means, as Marker has to play Harry and Frank off against each other.  Harry is keen to attack Marker, Frank isn’t so sure – and Marker is able to slowly plant seeds of doubt in both of their minds.  He tells them what would happen if they carry out the attack.  “That would put you right in the big league.  Send you up for two years, soon as look at you.  If someone says to me, ‘two years inside’ I’d go like that.”  And Marker shakes his hand to indicate how frightened he is.  The more susceptible Frank agrees.

It’s a great three-handed scene and is yet another example of quality acting from Alfred Burke.  At the start there’s an imminent sense of violence, but Marker is able to chip away at their confidence bit by bit, targeting first one and then the other.  Once he’s managed to convince Frank, it makes Harry less of a threat – and eventually both of them decide to cut their losses and drive off.

Jim Goddard’s direction during this lengthy film sequence either favours very low angles, shooting up at the three actors, or tight close-ups.  Both help to keep the focus firmly on the characters and the dialogue, whereas wider shots would have dissipated some of the tension.  It’s a very well-shot section and it’s just a pity that the original film inserts no longer exist (this means that all the film sequences are a little blurry, they certainly aren’t as good as the remastered VT interiors).

Another very solid episode.