HomePosts tagged 'william squire'

The Champions – Nutcracker

February 20, 2020February 29, 2020 archivetvmusings ITV Drama - 1960's alexandra bastedo, david langton, stuart damon, the champions, william gaunt, william squire

After a visit to the dentist, Lord Mauncey (David Langton) almost steals a file containing vital defence secrets from a secure Goverment facility. Although unsuccessful, the attempt raises several immediate concerns – such as why the previously upright Mauncey did something so out of character as well as the need for added security.

Major Duncan (William Squire), head of M7, enlists the Champions – asking them to steal the file, thereby proving that the current defence procedures are inadequate. Richard doesn’t take it out of the building, instead he memorises its contents. This then makes him a target ….

As so often, the ultra secret defence establishment we see today is hidden inside an apparently innocuous building – in this case a clothing store (Mauncey gains admittance by purchasing the correct tie!). Luckily, security is more watertight after that – he has to input a complex code on a keypad and then plays a nifty little tune on a keyboard before finally gaining access to the vault.

All of this, plus the fact that after he’s got the file in his hands the shutters come down and he’s gassed, do suggest that security’s fine as it is. But had that been so then we wouldn’t have had much of a story.

Post credits, Craig is a togged up as a cowboy and demonstrates his sharp-shooting skills. He of course comes out on top and can’t help but display a certain air of smugness.

William Squire would later have a lengthy stint in security (as the fourth ‘Hunter’ in Callan). Duncan is therefore good training for him (the offhand way he says that Mauncey is undergoing interrogation and eventually will tell them the truth hints at the ruthless way the Section also operates).

Given that Mauncey was one of a select group of people to have the correct security clearance to enable him to access the file, asking the Champions – who don’t have this knowledge – to break in does seem slightly pointless. While Richard and Craig glumly discuss how they’re going to break the bank (neither are keen on the job) Sharron nips off to speak to Mauncey. He seems rather taken with her (no doubt the fact that she possesses a very pretty face is the reason why she was chosen for this mission).

Security at M7 doesn’t seem to be that good – considering that Mauncey is later murdered in his cell. Perhaps Duncan needs to stop worrying about the security of his top files and instead concentrate on a root and branch review of the entire department ….

The boys toss a coin to decide who will break into the vault (Richard loses and has to do the job). Sharron is excluded from this, much to her disgust, but you can sort of understand why – given that the ‘password’ involves purchasing a tie. The break-in scene is a fairly tense one, although it can’t help but feel slightly like padding – now it’s been established that someone is keen to get their hands on these secrets, the story won’t advance until we meet them.

Richard is lifted immediately after leaving the vault. How did the black hats know where he was and what he was doing? Given that we’ve only met one member of M7, this particular mystery doesn’t seem that taxing (Nutcracker is a spy story told in a very linear way).

Right from the pre-credits, it looks obvious that the dentist – Warre (John Franklyn Robbins) – is decidedly dodgy, and although this isn’t confirmed until the close of the story, the reveal therefore won’t come as a surprise. Warre’s brain-washing techniques are a story element that wouldn’t have seemed out of place in The Avengers.

It’s always nice to see David Langton and William Squire, but both are slightly underused. Nutcracker has all the elements for a top episode but something doesn’t quite click for me – a touch more mystery and a few red herrings might have helped. The climatic fight is also something of a damp squib as it’s over almost as soon as it begins. And the fact we don’t have a tag scene means that the episode ends rather abruptly after this brief punch-up.

Having said all that though, Nutcracker moves at a decent pace throughout so I’m happy to give it a score of three and a half out of five.

H.G. Wells’ Invisible Man – The Big Plot

June 25, 2017June 17, 2017 archivetvmusings ITV Drama - 1950's barbara shelley, h.g. wells' invisible man, john arnatt, william squire

plot 01

When a crashed foreign airliner is found to contain parts which could form an atomic bomb, the authorities fear that further attempts might be made to smuggle parts into the UK. So Peter Brady is put on the case ….

This is a rum old story and no mistake. Thanks to a very unconvincing piece of stock footage we see Helen Peversham (Barbara Shelley) triumph in a big golf tournament in France. Helen’s heading back to Britain, but by the shifty way her chauffeur – Hanstra (Terence Cooper) – is behaving, it’s obvious that he’s stashed something inside her golf bag.

The authorities have clearly moved at lightning speed since the custom points have now been fitted with Geiger counters, thereby allowing all luggage to be scanned. Hmm, okay then. When MacBane (Edward Hardwicke) checks Helens golf bag the counter goes crazy. He doesn’t say anything to her, but quickly gets on the phone to Sir Charles (Ewan McDuff) at the Ministry. Sir Charles then tells Peter that Helen was carrying a canister of Uranium 235. Sorry? How exactly did he work that one out?

Helen’s husband, Lord Larry Peversham (John Arnatt), is an ardent peace campaigner, but he’s been duped into helping the baddies. They’ve told him that atomic bombs will be placed in the capital cities of all the major powers (in order to create an atmosphere of stalemate) but they’re obviously lying and he was remarkably trusting to believe them ….

Rather wonderfully, the bomb is installed in the basement of the Peversham’s house, which allows a shocked Helen to discover it. By now I have to confess that nothing in this loopy story could possibly surprise me.

Barbara Shelly and John Arnatt help to paper over the cracks as does William Squire. He plays Waring, the Peversham’s valet, who – like Hanstra – is also involved in the plot. Is every person on Peversham’s payroll a baddy? It would be a remarkable coincidence if so, but this story has something of an “end of term” feel, so maybe logical thought had taken a slight holiday. Squire’s good fun as the glowering Waring anyway – he was always an actor you could depend upon to provide a spot of top-class villainy.

Brady is, ahem, rather invisible in this one and does little which the authorities couldn’t have done themselves. Which in a way rather sums the series up. By not concentrating on Brady’s invisible plight, the show instead tended to shoehorn him into generic crime/thriller plots where he didn’t always fit.

Few of the stories are valueless – the guest casts are always worth watching at least – although it’s fair comment that the show does sometimes settle into a rut. But whilst it can be a little samey and predictable, it’s also well-made and entertaining. It’s certainly one that I’ve enjoyed revisiting and no doubt I’ll come back to it again in the future.

plot 02

Callan – The Richmond File: A Man Like Me

November 21, 2015November 15, 2015 archivetvmusings ITV Drama - 1970's anthony valentine, callan, edward woodward, russell hunter, t.p. mckenna, william squire

Written by James Mitchell. Directed by Reginald Collin

A Man Like Me opens with Hunter under extreme pressure to locate Richmond. He tells Meres that he’s offered fifty thousand pounds to any freelancer who can find him, but as yet there’s nothing. Quite why Hunter should be so keen to run him to ground isn’t clear. Richmond did kill Flo in the previous episode, but since she was a fellow Russian agent that can’t be the reason why they want him so badly.

Snell suggests using a computer to locate Richmond. Today, of course, that would be the first thing they’d do, but back in the early 1970’s it would have been a much more novel idea. Hunter is initially reluctant – but he eventually appreciates that a computer could cross-check all the available information they have on Richmond (and suggest likely people who would assist him) much quicker than a team of people could. Meres tells Hunter that the FBI computer in Washington could produce half a dozen suspects out of million possibilities in six seconds – although the British computer will take a little longer (a day).

Callan keeps fairly quiet during this exchange, although he does close the scene by wondering if human beings are becoming redundant. Hunter and Snell’s visit to the computer, run by the boffin Routledge (Peter Sallis), is an eye-opener. It’s located in the sort of area that’s quite typical for computers of this period – a windowless room packed with shelves of magnetic tapes. Routledge is very proud of Edna (Electronic Distributed Numbers Assessor) although Hunter still remains jaded – his only interaction with computers has been when he receives his bank statements, which is why he’s not confident!

Edna eventually spits out a list of nine possible people that Richmond could contact. The one that he’s actually visited is Harris (Robin Ellis). Harris has been a sleeper agent since the mid sixties and this is the first time he’s been called on to do anything. The arrival of Richmond out of the blue is obviously unwelcome, but he has little choice but to obey. Ellis (later the star of Poldark) starts by sporting a lovely tanktop, which, perhaps thankfully, he changes shortly afterwards.

Callan’s dislike for computers only increases when Hunter tells him that he’s been named as one of the nine possible contacts. A running theme during the Richmond trilogy is how alike Callan and Richmond are – which is one of the reasons why the computer has linked them together. But to be fair to the computer it did also come up with Harris’ name, although Callan also tracked him down the old-fashioned way (by pounding the streets, asking questions).

Callan seems confident that Richmond is holed up in Harris’ house, although the way they attempt to flush him out is odd (to say the least). Firstly, they lure Harris away, drug him, and then bring him back. By the time they return it’s not surprising that Richmond has left – so it’s difficult to understand why they didn’t simply stake-out the house and wait for Richmond to leave.

Hunter has a lead – Richmond’s likely to be at a Russian Vodka factory, waiting for a ship to take him out of the country. Although the majority of Callan‘s location work was shot on videotape, all of the factory scenes (which take up most of part three) are shot on film and this does help to give the sequences an extra sheen. But it does seem more than a little contrived that Callan has to go to the factory alone (apart from Lonely) since Hunter can’t spare anybody else. It helps to make the final showdown between Callan and Richmond more tense, but it’s a pity that it was set up in a rather artificial way.

Callan is a man who rarely shows fear – at the end of If He Can, So Could I he told Lonely how he had to constantly maintain an aura of hardness – but here he does show a twinge before he enters the factory. This scene is notable for Lonely calling Callan by his first name – something he hardly ever did, which demonstrates that Lonely has picked up Callan’s sense of unease.

There’s a nice nod to the iconic title sequence as Callan shoots a light-bulb (although it’s not swinging). He then proceeds to stalk Richmond through the factory, eventually shooting him just after Richmond looses off a shot at Lonely. Richmond is still alive, but begs Callan to finish him off – he doesn’t want to end up in Snell’s hands.

Callan may be a killer, but he’s always been a reluctant one. To murder somebody in cold blood – and who’s asking to die as well – is clearly hard, but he does it (although he closes his eyes as he pulls the trigger). Woodward and Hunter then share a lovely scene together, in which Lonely decides that after all they’ve been through they’re now pretty much equal – although he still ranks Callan as his friend, indeed the only friend he has. In some ways, this points towards the restructured relationship that we’d see in the comeback episode The Wet Job (1981).

Hunter promises to break Callan for deliberately killing Richmond but Callan tells him that he’s too late and walks away. Callan’s future therefore remains uncertain – we’ve seen before how leaving the Section isn’t an option, so it seems inevitable that Hunter will now place him in a Red File.

Although A Man Like Me was the final regular episode, it wasn’t quite the end of the story. There would be a film two years later (based on the original Armchair Theatre story A Magnum for Schneider). And in some ways the story does work better as a postscript to the series (since it deals with Callan being brought back into the Section after leaving) as it did when it was a prologue.

Alas, the story didn’t end there as in 1981 a one-off television special was broadcast (the aforementioned The Wet Job). Although it was written by Mitchell and starred Woodward and Hunter, it was in so many ways a massive disappointment. It’ll be something that I’ll rewatch in due course, but it seems wrong to do so immediately after the end of A Man Like Me.

A Man Like Me offers no happy ending or comfortable closure, just the image of Callan walking out into an uncertain future. Callan is a series that may be superficially dated in certain aspects, but the core themes of deceit and dubious morality remain just as relevant today. Thanks to the magnetic central performance by Edward Woodward and the impressive supporting cast headed by Russell Hunter it’s a programme that’s still so compelling – nearly fifty years after the Armchair Theatre pilot first aired.

Callan – The Richmond File: Do You Recognise The Woman?

November 20, 2015November 15, 2015 archivetvmusings ITV Drama - 1970's anthony valentine, callan, edward woodward, russell hunter, t.p. mckenna, william squire

Written by Bill Craig. Directed by Peter Duguid

Richmond makes contact with two sleeper agents, Dowsett (John Moore) and Norah (Sheila Fay). Dowsett is a radio operator whose job is to ensure that Richmond’s messages are relayed back to Moscow.

This is one of the most obvious ways that Do You Recognise The Woman? can be dated to the early 1970’s. Today it would be the matter of a few seconds to send an email to a location anywhere in the world – back then communications were much more limited. Dowsett’s receiver is deliberately not very powerful (the greater its range, the easier it would be for the British to detect it) and they also have to rely a Russian trawler being close at hand. When the trawler is in position it can pick up Dowsett’s Morse message and relay it onto Moscow.

This part of the story does have a rather WW2 feel about it, since it appears this type of technology has stayed the same for decades. It’s a frustrating time for Meres, who’s been cooped up in a television detector van for the past week. The van has been reconnoitering the area, constantly on the lookout for any suspect transmissions, but Meres ironically mentions that they’ve achieved very little – except panicking people to rush to the post office to renew their television licences!

With it proving difficult to track Richmond down this way, the Section try a different tack. Flo Mayhew (Sarah Lawson) was a Russian spy arrested in the episode Call Me Sir! and both Callan and Hunter believe she can lead them straight to Richmond. Flo is currently in prison and is looking at a sentence of some fourteen years. Callan and Flo had an uneasy relationship in Call Me Sir! (which wasn’t really surprising since Flo was coordinating an attempt on his life) and it continues in this episode.

If the radio transmitter used by Dowsett seems like a relic of a different age, then so does the prison where Flo is currently incarcerated. Due to Callan‘s regular use of VT for outside broadcast shooting it’s not clear whether the prison was a well-designed studio set or shot on location. Either way, it has a very bleak and Victorian institutional feel – enhanced by the uniform of the warder (played by Bella Emberg).

Although Callan tells Hunter that he has no qualms about using Flo to serve their purposes, as he spends more time with her he starts to unbend a little. Later, they take a walk in the park (handcuffed of course – he doesn’t trust her that much) where she muses that “people like us, you and me. Are we really committed to any cause or do we just do what comes naturally and enjoy the game?”

Hunter and Bishop demonstrate their ability as arch manipulators. They’ve allowed Flo to have a taste of freedom and she’s also been told that she’ll be exchanged for another prisoner (similar to the Callan/Richmond handover in That’ll Be The Day). But after expressing their regret, they inform her that the Americans have asked them not to continue – so she’ll be going back to prison.

To have the prospect of freedom suddenly taken away creates the correct psychological atmosphere to enable them to make their intended play – Richmond’s location. If Callan had initially approached her with this request it seems obvious she would have refused. But now, with her hopes raised and dashed, she should be more pliable. Callan’s expression makes it clear that whilst this might be necessary, he doesn’t have to like it.

But in Callan nothing can ever be taken for granted and Flo isn’t quite the broken woman she appears to be. She manages to overpower Callan and leaves him handcuffed in the bathroom (much to Meres’ amusement). Flo’s able to make contact with Richmond, but both he and Norah are suspicious – is she now working for the British?

The last minute twist that Richmond and Flo have a daughter has all the more impact when he executes her shortly after. Part of him might believe she hadn’t been turned by the Section (as well as the personal regard he felt for her) but his duty to the KGB overrides everything else.

Four characters dominate this episode – Callan/Flo and Richmond/Norah. Given that we later learn of Flo’s links to Richmond, it’s possibly not surprising (and obviously intentional) that Flo tells Callan they have more in common with each other than they do with their respective employers. In some ways the Callan/Flo interaction is similar to the sparring between Callan and Richmond. Both are so steeped in deceit that it’s difficult to know when to believe them – but it’s evident that her death does affect him.

In this episode we see a Richmond effortlessly in command (although his ultimate objective is still nebulous). His decisions are questioned by his subordinate Norah though and it’s the tension between them which gives T.P. McKenna’s scenes a certain spark.

Do You Recognise The Woman? moves the Callan/Richmond story on, although they don’t actually meet in this one. But there’s a sense that their story is entering its final chapter as we reach the episode A Man Like Me.

Callan – The Richmond File: Call Me Enemy

November 19, 2015November 15, 2015 archivetvmusings ITV Drama - 1970's anthony valentine, callan, edward woodward, russell hunter, t.p. mckenna, william squire

Written by George Markstein. Directed by Bill Bain

Call Me Enemy, the first in a trilogy of stories which closed Callan‘s fourth and final series, sees the return of the KGB agent Richmond (played by T.P. McKenna, who had previously appeared in the series four opener That’ll Be The Day). Richmond is, in some ways, Callan’s opposite and equal and this might be the reason why Hunter has decided to leave him in his care.

We open with Lonely driving the pair of them down to a palatial country house, where Callan and Richmond will stay until their business is concluded. All the rooms are wired for sound, which means that every word is recorded and relayed to Hunter back in London. Richmond is well aware of this, hence his ironic toast “to the British taxpayer” as he and Callan tuck into a particularly fine meal (with some decent wine). For Hunter, listening to their exchanges back in London (and with only a sandwich) it’s rather galling!

Jarrow (Brian Croucher) has been seconded to the Section to maintain the recording equipment. His long hair appalls the highly traditional Hunter, who’s astonished to discover that Jarrow was formerly a captain in the Royal Signals.

Why is Richmond speaking to the British? He doesn’t want to defect, but he does want to fade away. Richmond asks Callan if he’s ever “wanted just to disappear. Have you never got tired of the whole business? Had just one wish, to forget and be forgotten.” He has something to sell. Whilst he has no intention of betraying his own people, he’s happy to reveal the identity of a mole within the Section.

George Markstein had story-edited the first thirteen episodes of The Prisoner (he’s the man behind the desk in the title sequence) and following his departure from that series joined Thames as a writer and story editor. Apart from serving as Callan‘s story editor during the third and fourth series, he worked on several other series, including Special Branch, in the same capacity. He always had an interest in spy and espionage stories (he would later write several episodes of the mid eighties series Mr Palfrey of Westminster, which had something of a Callan feel) so it’s rather surprising that this was the only episode of Callan that he wrote.

Call Me Enemy is a character piece and it’s very much a two-hander with Woodward and McKenna both excelling. Richmond is an arch dissembler – he’s made a career out of lying, so how much credence can we place on his claims of there being a traitor in the Section? Possibly he’s only here in order to sow dissent and confusion.

This seems to be working as he starts to needle Callan. Richmond claims to do what he does out of strong ideological convictions, whilst Callan does it because “it’s a job.” Richmond decides that Callan owes the Section everything. “Your father was on the dole, you never had a decent schooling. The army even took away your medal. You owe them a lot, don’t you?” This section of the story offers a brief insight into Callan’s earlier life (something that’s rarely been mentioned before) with Richmond asserting that the Section blackmailed him into joining. It’s notable that Callan doesn’t contradict him.

We also learn something of Mere’s backstory. He was an officer in the Brigade of Guards, but was kicked out after the death of a private soldier. However, his father (a Lord no less) was able to pull some strings and ensure that he wasn’t court-martialed.

Richmond names Meres as the mole and makes a compelling case. Meres’ sudden appearance comes as something of a surprise – has he come to silence Richmond, Callan or both of them? But it becomes clear that Meres is there with Hunter’s blessing. So if Richmond is playing an elaborate game it appears the Section is doing so as well, although Callan’s life is very much at risk. Hunter seems sanguine about this, but it’s telling that Bishop is much more agitated. He rates Callan as the Section’s best man and doesn’t want to lose him.

In the closing minutes, Richmond asks Callan to defect. “For people like you and me, safety can only be found amongst our enemies. It’s our friends who will kill us.” They seem on the verge of leaving together, when Richmond knocks Callan out and escapes on his own.

Meres congratulates Callan. He believes that Richmond hadn’t convinced Callan and so decided to cut his losses and leave. What does Callan believe? He seemed very keen to leave with Richmond – was this simply part of the plan, or did he genuinely see an exit? Like so much of the episode, it’s open to interpretation and this is one of the reasons why Call Me Enemy is an episode that only gets better with each rewatch.

Callan – The Contract

November 18, 2015November 15, 2015 archivetvmusings ITV Drama - 1970's anthony valentine, callan, edward woodward, russell hunter, william squire

Written by Bill Craig. Directed by Reginald Collin

Callan, Meres and Lonely are keeping Major Harcourt (Robert Urquhart) under observation. Harcourt was an officer and is still a gentlemen, but these days he earns his living as a hit-man. He’s worked for the Section in the past (which will become important later on) but his current contract is very much against the Section’s interests.

Harcourt has been hired to kill a nameless Field Marshall from a nameless country (we never learn any more details than this, but the actual assassination isn’t the point of the story). Although he’s slightly over the hill he’s still a professional – and therefore dangerous – so Callan and Meres approach with care.

It’s quite interesting that both Meres and Callan are captured by Harcourt at different points in the episode and that they also exhibit a certain amount of fear as Harcourt threatens them with death. Early in the episode Meres shadows him but ends up as his prisoner. Callan’s able to overpower him though, but their victory is short-lived as Harcourt escapes.

This isn’t a particularly good episode from the point of view of demonstrating how efficient the Section is. Meres is captured and then both Callan and Meres lose Harcourt. It’s all a bit sloppy really and not quite what we’ve come to expect.

Harcourt being at large does cause a problem, but Hunter presses on with his plan of allowing Callan to impersonate the Major. To do this Callan asks Meres for his coat (which he gives up with a little reluctance!). Callan’s not really officer and gentleman material, so it would have been more logical for Meres to undertake the masquerade. But since Callan’s impersonation of Harcourt is the centre of the episode it’s not surprising that Woodward features (and he’s excellent, of course).

It turns out that Harcourt is one of three assassins, all of whom will take four hour shifts. They know that the Field Marshall will pass a certain window at the Embassy some time over the next few days, but they don’t know exactly when – which is why they require more than one shooter.

This is where the plot starts to feel a little contrived. One of the other assassins is Lafarge (Michael Pennington). Lafarge harbours a grudge against Harcourt, since the Major (acting for the Section as a freelancer) killed his friend and partner some years previously. It’s something of a coincidence that both Lafarge and Harcourt should be selected for the same job – plus it’s also a little difficult to believe that Lafarge knew the identity of his friend’s killer. And even this is negated at the end when Meres tells Callan that the Major missed and he did the killing anyway. So why did Lafarge believe it was Harcourt rather than Meres?

Also present is Kristina (Jane Lapotaire). Kristina claims to be a member of the country’s resistance and wishes to kill the Field Marshall purely for ideological reasons. Callan gently baits her about this, whilst Lafarge remains aloof. Indeed, Callan doesn’t get on with either Lafarge or Kristina (Lafarge is young and arrogant, and Callan delights in rubbing him up the wrong way).

Events get more complicated when Harcourt turns up and we see genuine fear from Callan (quite a rarity) as Harcourt comes close to killing him. It doesn’t happen of course, as Lafarge kills the Major first. It’s a great pity that as the camera switches to a close-up of what should be Harcourt’s lifeless body, we see Robert Urquhart’s eyes move. Presumably there was no time for a second take.

It turns out that Kristina isn’t all she appears – she’s working for the same party that the Field Marshall belongs to. Since he’s become too soft and conciliatory they see a chance to kill two birds with one stone – remove the Field Marshall and tarnish the reputation of the resistance groups operating in the UK.

It’s the interaction between Callan/Lafarge/Kristina as all three are holed up in the attic, waiting for the call to kill the Field Marshall, that’s the stand-out part of the episode. Edward Woodward has two very good actors to bounce off against – Michael Pennington and Jane Lapotaire. Both have enjoyed lengthy and successful careers – Pennington is a notable Shakespeare actor (who also has plenty of film credits, including Return of the Jedi, to his name) whilst Lapotaire has an equally impressive cv. They have to sport foreign accents, which can potentially be a problem, but they do so with aplomb.

Apart from this, there’s the usual banter between Callan and Lonely as well as some nice byplay between Callan and Meres. The tension that existed between the two of them during the time that Callan was Hunter seems to have now dissipated.

Although The Contract does feel a little insubstantial (probably due to the low-stakes feel of the story) the performances help to carry it along.

Callan – The Carrier

November 17, 2015February 14, 2018 archivetvmusings ITV Drama - 1970's anthony valentine, callan, edward woodward, russell hunter, william squire

Written by Peter Hill. Directed by Jonathan Alwyn

The Carrier opens with Callan and Lonely indulging in a spot of breaking and entering. This was something they did on a regular basis during the first three series, but this episode marks the first time they’ve indulged during series four.

What’s very noticeable about this section of the story (which lasts for the first fifteen minutes) is that neither of them speaks a word. It’s reasonable enough that they would want to keep noise to a minimum, but the complete lack of dialogue was presumably Peter Hill’s choice. And it does help to make what would otherwise be a fairly routine sequence slightly more interesting.

Lonely’s cab is parked right outside and this will lead to both of them getting arrested. As they continue to work inside the house, outside we see a policeman take an interest in the parked cab. Bizarrely, he’s able to open the door (did neither of them think to lock it?) and he then proceeds to spend the next few minutes walking around it.

It’s not entirely clear why the cab should be of such interest. Did no cab driver ever park their vehicle outside their house? If this was such an usual sight on a London street in the early 1970’s then it probably would have been wiser for Callan to have used an unmarked car, rather than something so distinctive as a black cab.

As Callan and Lonely work on, we cut back to the Section where Hunter explains to Meres (and the viewers) exactly what’s going on. The house belongs to Professor Rose (Peter Copley), a notable scientist who intends to hand over the plans of a new radar network to the Russians. The Professor is a familiar character-type from television drama of this era – the misguided scientist. He’s not selling secrets for personal gain, he simply wants to ensure that all sides have access to the same knowledge. This doesn’t cut any ice with Callan who later tells him that “you’re not even a real traitor are you? You’re just a woolly headed do-gooder trying to play god.”

Everything seems to go off fine – Callan photographs the documents that the Professor is intending to hand over to his contact (who he believes is a Dutch bookseller called Amstell, but is actually a KGB hitman called Tamaresh) and returns to the Section. But Lonely takes a fancy to a small trophy in the Professor’s study and steals it. When the Professor returns home the next day he notices that it’s missing and calls the police.

This is a part of the plot which stretches credibility a little. It might have been possible to believe that the series one Lonely would have been so foolish, but it’s less credible that the series four Lonely would have done so. And as the police have a record of the cab parked outside the Professor’s house they put two and two together and pick up Lonely and Callan.

Callan and Lonely aren’t in police custody for long though, as they’re bailed out by Detective Superintendent Brown (Windsor Davies) of Special Branch. This disgusts Detective Inspector Vanstone (Michael Turner), the officer in charge of investigating the break-in. Vanstone might accept that people like Callan are necessary to defend the security of the realm, but it’s the sort of person he is (an ex-con) which seems to upset him.

Hunter’s far from pleased that he had to ask Special Branch to release Callan and Lonely. This then develops into the major theme of the remainder of the episode – the uneasy relationship between the Section and Special Branch. Both organisations operate in similar areas, which often means that their interests overlap – but neither Hunter or Brown would dream of pooling information with the other. This, as we’ll see, will have tragic consequences.

Special Branch also have an interest in Tamaresh (Ralph Nossek). Two officers, Mary (Jean Rogers) and Allan (Roy Herrick) are assigned to tail him, but it’s clear that neither know who he really is. We see Callan and Meres monitoring their radio transmissions as they follow Tamaresh to Epping Forest and both Section men know that the officers are going to their deaths. They could have warned them, but since they shouldn’t have been monitoring their radio in the first place it’s not surprising that they didn’t.

Tamaresh quickly kills Allan (who followed him into the wood) and then emerges to find Mary. Whilst he killed Allan without speaking, he’s slightly more sadistic with Mary – he tells her that her partner’s dead and lets the news of that sink in before he kills her as well.

When Callan realises that Special Branch had no idea who they were trailing, he launches an angry tirade against Hunter. Hunter’s unmoved though – the Section doesn’t share information with other departments and that’s an end to it.

It’s an attitude which Callan finds hard to take – at least when he goes up against men like Tamaresh he knows what to expect, but the two unarmed police officers (who Callan says were little more than kids) never had a chance. Hunter orders Callan to kill Tamaresh (which he naturally does) and the Professor is brought in. Nothing will happen to him, but he’ll have to live the rest of his life knowing that nobody will ever trust him again.

Peter Hill’s only script for Callan is a decent effort, although several parts of the story (Lonely’s cab and his light-fingered pilfering) do detract a little. It’s possibly no surprise that the police feature strongly in this episode since Hill had worked for the Metropolitan Police for thirteen years, ending up as a Detective Inspector in the Murder Squad. He left the police in 1969 to pursue a writing career and by this time had already contributed to several popular series, such as Public Eye, Armchair Theatre and Special Branch.

Since there was no real need for Callan and Lonely to be arrested, it might have been better to remove those scenes from the script (it wouldn’t have affected the later conflict with Special Branch). But it does give us another one of those wonderful scenes where Callan browbeats Lonely. When Lonely calls round to see him, Callan is unblocking the sink (another thing you never see James Bond doing) and he proceeds to berate Lonely whilst waving a sink plunger in his face!

Callan – I Never Wanted The Job

November 16, 2015November 15, 2015 archivetvmusings ITV Drama - 1970's anthony valentine, callan, edward woodward, russell hunter, william squire

Written by John Kershaw. Directed by Jim Goddard

I Never Wanted The Job is a non-spy story. There’s a vague mention of a (very minor) job that Callan and Meres have to attend to, but in the end they never get to it – because they’re busy dealing with Lonely’s spot of trouble.

Lonely’s been moonlighting in his cab again, but when his latest fare is shot dead he naturally turns to Callan for help. The murdered man, Ted Dollar (Val Musetti), was a known criminal and his murder bears all the hallmarks of a gangland execution. This is a strong hook into the story, especially as director Jim Goddard elected to use a crane to pull back from Dollar’s dead body. It’s certainly a striking piece of camerawork – we see Dollar’s dead body face down on the road outside his house, with a large pool of blood from the shotgun blast which hit him directly in the chest.

Callan has a stinking cold and so isn’t best pleased when Lonely comes calling. This is another nice character touch as his cold has no importance in story terms, it just reminds us that Callan isn’t James Bond, he’s simply an ordinary man with extraordinary skills. When Lonely pours out his story it soon makes him forget his sniffles though, and gives us another of those wonderful two-handed scenes between Woodward and Hunter.

Indeed, this episode is an excellent one for those who enjoy the Callan/Lonely relationship. There’s plenty of resigned whining on Lonely’s part, whilst Callan responds with his trademark bitter humour and anger. But although Callan’s highly displeased that Lonely has potentially involved him in a situation that’s attracting the attention of the police, for once Lonely is able to stand up to Callan.

As the title tells us, Lonely never wanted the job of taxi driver for the Section and wants to pack it in. Callan is quick to remind him that if he hadn’t taken on the job he would most likely have wound up dead. And it could still happen, since Hunter has become aware that something is going on with Lonely and has asked Meres to keep an eye on things. He hasn’t ordered Lonely’s death – not yet – but circumstances may yet force his hand.

Dollar was killed on the orders of Abbot (William Marlowe). Although Marlowe was probably best known for operating on the other side of the law (in The Gentle Touch) he was no stranger to playing villains and he does a good job here. He’s suitably menacing, but the audience knows that Abbot isn’t going to be a match for Callan.

A key moment is the scene where Callan confronts Abbot in his club. After easily disabling several of Abbot’s minders, Callan has a simple message – leave him and Lonely alone. Simple though this is, Abbot has trouble believing it. Surely nobody would confront him just for someone so insignificant like Lonely? He’s convinced that Callan is attempting to muscle in on his manor and can’t be convinced to back down. As expected, this is the last mistake he makes.

Although the story features several deaths (and Dollar’s is particularly bloody – taking a shotgun blast to the chest at point-blank range) there’s also something of a light-hearted feel about it. Possibly it’s because for once the stakes are low – the security of the nation isn’t at risk and the only trouble comes from a few members of the underworld.

The closing moments, with Callan and Meres squirming in front of Hunter like two naughty schoolboys, is particularly telling. Hunter might have been aware that something was going on with Lonely but he asked Callan to fix it – with the implication being that he didn’t want to know the details. Of course, Hunter knew exactly what had happened and after they leave the office he allows himself an indulgent smile.

It’s possible to feel a little sorry for Abbot, as he was dead the moment he decided to target Callan. William Marlowe brings a touch of class to proceedings and Paul Angelis and Michael Deacon are effective as Abbot’s henchmen, Steve and Sunshine. They’re the pair who threaten Lonely (and smash up the cab, much to Callan’s annoyance).

For Doctor Who fans there’s an appearance by John Levene in a minor role and the ever dependable Ron Pember also turns up as a cafe owner. Although tonally different from the rest of the fourth series, I Never Wanted The Job foregrounds the Callan/Lonely relationship, which is a major plus point in its favour.

Callan – Charlie Says It’s Goodbye

November 15, 2015November 15, 2015 archivetvmusings ITV Drama - 1970's callan, edward woodward, russell hunter, william squire

Written by James Mitchell. Directed by Peter Duguid

Hunter believes that a top civil servant called James Palliser (Dennis Price) is due to defect to Eastern Europe shortly. Palliser is under the impression that the man he loves is waiting for him in Poland – Callan, of course, knows this is the oldest trick in the book. So before we’ve even met him, the character of Palliser has been quite clearly defined – he may be an important man, but he’s also a gullible one (it’s later reveled that Palliser’s lover died under interrogation some time before, but faked messages are being used to lure him out).

Callan is assigned to watch him and it seems to be a quite straightforward brief. But there’s a distraction as Palliser has a friend called Susan Morris (Beth Harris). He introduces himself to both Palliser and Susan and makes no secret that he works for security (Hunter’s suggestion – as he thinks it might spook Palliser into running earlier than planned). Susan reacts sharply when she meets Callan for the first time – her husband was investigated by security and later took his own life. But a later meeting is more cordial and Callan becomes more and more attracted to her ….

With Charlie Says It’s Goodbye, series creator James Mitchell crafts a story which takes a closer look at Callan the man. There’s already been plenty of evidence provided during the series to date which makes it clear that Section operatives like Callan can hardly expect to lead a normal life. All the previous relationships we’ve seen him enjoy have tended to be short (and usually terminated by death of the female – such as Suddenly – At Home, for example).

He makes a valiant effort here to try and convince Susan that he’s nothing more than a nine to five pen-pusher, but she senses that he’s not being honest with her. And finding he wears a gun is something of a giveaway of course. It makes a change to see a more vulnerable Callan. This is demonstrated when he gives her a present of a box of chocolates and she remarks that it’s a little old-fashioned. Callan (obviously somewhat out of date when it comes to any form of relationship) is rather discomforted by her gentle chiding.

If the Callan/Susan relationship is the emotional heart of the story then Palliser’s attempted defection provides the more conventional spy angle. Dennis Price, best remembered for the classic Ealing film Kind Hearts and Coronets, is a solid presence as Palliser whilst Richard Morant plays the hip-and-happening Trent, who’s been assigned by Komorowski (John G. Heller) to guard Palliser until he’s cleared to leave for Poland.

Trent does seem to be an unequal opponent for Callan as he’s far too young and casual. There is a reason for this – Komorowski wishes to defect to Britain and therefore deliberately sabotages Palliser’s defection by entrusting him to someone he knew would be no match for Callan.

Callan is easily able to disable Trent and bring Pallsier in, but there’s a complication. Hunter’s received an anonymous letter stating that Callan has been spending his free time with Susan. There’s a telling moment when Hunter questions Liz about it, and she declines to answer his questions. It’s a sign that her affection for Callan has overridden her duty to the Section. And for somebody like Liz, who has even less of a life outside the Section than Callan does, this is quite noteworthy.

Is there a happy ending for Callan? He loves Susan and would be happy to leave the Section, but he knows in his heart he wouldn’t be allowed to walk away, whilst Susan loves him in return but detests the job he has to do. It’ll probably come as no surprise that things don’t end well. Trent targets both of them and Callan kills him (with a harpoon, no less). He had no choice, since both their lives were under threat, but Susan’s total shock at seeing violent death close-up brings their relationship to an end.

Nearly everybody loses in this one. Palliser’s hopes of being with the man he loves are cruelly dashed when Hunter tells him he’s dead, whilst Susan’s revulsion at seeing the sort of violent man Callan is can only serve to harden him a little more and make it unlikely he’ll ever decide to open up again. The only winner therefore is Komorowski, who will no doubt be able to live a comfortable life as a defector.

Whilst not the absolute best the series can offer, Charlie Says It’s Goodbye is still pretty compelling, thanks to the emotional dramas that are played out over its fifty minutes.

Callan – None of Your Business

November 13, 2015November 13, 2015 archivetvmusings ITV Drama - 1970's anthony valentine, callan, edward woodward, russell hunter, william squire

Written by Trevor Preston. Directed by Voytek

After a brief spell as a (reluctant) member of the establishment, Callan now finds himself on the outside. He’s been relived of command and placed on “special leave” by Bishop, pending the appointment of a new Hunter.

Callan quickly understands that he’s persona non grata. Lonely tells him he’s been ordered not to drive him and Liz is unable to hand over his passport. As an aside, it’s always struck me as odd (and rather unbelievable) that Lonely would have been drafted into the Section, even as just a lowly driver. But it does mean that at the start of the episode his inability to help serves to increase Callan’s sense of isolation.

There’s rarely been any love lost between Bishop and Callan and this is made evident by their early exchange. “All you want to do Mr Bishop is keep your paperwork neat. but then you are a very neat man, aren’t you Mr Bishop? You have neat hands, neat clothes, neat manners, neat mind. Place for everything, everything in its place. Cross/suicide/file closed/what’s for lunch. Neat.”

As Callan’s on “leave” he decides to take a holiday, but Bishop won’t release his passport. The reason why is never made clear, is Bishop simply being awkward or does he fear that Callan might defect? Either way, Callan decides to obtain a fake passport and this is where the story really starts.

What stops None of Your Business from being a top-drawer Callan episode is the somewhat unlikely chain of coincidence. Meres and Stafford are investigating how a Russian agent came to be in possession of fake, but very convincing papers. They have a lead, West (Peter Eyre), but his sudden suspicious death stops them in their tracks.

Of course, the people that Callan approaches are the same ones that Meres and Stafford are interested in – and it’s this rather clumsy plotting which is the problem. It’s also rather out of character that Callan would be so driven to try and leave the country – he has to be otherwise the story wouldn’t work, but it just doesn’t feel quite right.

But if some of the plotting is a little suspect then there’s still plenty of incidental pleasures to be found with the guest cast. Tony Selby plays Lucas, the man who seems to be in charge of the forgery ring. He starts off as a confident figure, convinced he’s got the measure of Callan, but it’s plain he has no idea what he’s let himself in for. Brian Murphy, as Reeves, first appears as one of Lucas’ potential customers (presenting a cowed, shambling figure) but it’s later revealed that he’s the brains behind the whole operation. It’s a nice enough twist, even if Reeves’ motivations (and the precise nature of the forgery ring) remain somewhat nebulous.

There’s several small character touches which enhance the episode. The first comes after Callan realises that Lonely’s told Lucas where he lives. A spasm of anger crosses his face and he punches Lonely – hard. Seconds after you can see that Callan regrets this, especially when Lonely tearfully tells him that he didn’t have any choice – Lucas’ heavy had hurt him. Woodward and Hunter had shared so many scenes together by this time that they were able to display a world of meaning even in non-verbal ways.

And when Squire’s Hunter returns to the Section late in the episode, both Meres and Stafford automatically stand up but Callan remains seated. This is a nice unspoken sign of Callan’s disdain for authority – although his relationship with this Hunter was always more cordial than with some of his predecessors.

The new Hunter is revealed – in fact it’s the old one as William Squire returns to the series. It would have been the ideal time to bring in a new actor but given how good Squire always was I can’t really complain.

Callan – That’ll Be The Day

November 8, 2015November 10, 2015 archivetvmusings ITV Drama - 1970's callan, edward woodward, julian glover, patrick mower, russell hunter, t.p. mckenna, william squire

Written by James Mitchell. Directed by Mike Vardy

That’ll Be The Day certainly has a strong opening – we begin at David Callan’s funeral. The mourners include Hunter, Bishop, Colonel Leslie, Cross and a clearly distraught Liz. A late arrival is Lonely, who comes complete with an impressive floral display (which he’s naturally pinched).

One of the few moments of levity in the episode occurs when a disbelieving Lonely hears the vicar’s fulsome tribute. He describes Callan as a humble man of peace – a far cry from the person that Lonely knew. So Lonely comes to the conclusion that they’re burying the wrong man!

Arresting as this is, it’s not very logical. If Callan had been a public figure (a politician, say, or a civil servant) it would have made sense to stage a mock funeral. But as he’s not, the only thing the funeral does is to make Lonely convinced that Callan isn’t dead after all.

In Mitchell’s original draft script, Callan and his Russian counterpart (originally called Lonsdale, later renamed Richmond) were apprehended at the same time – both sides then agree on a publicity blackout so they could be exchanged. This makes the reason for the mock funeral slightly more plausible, but it’s still a problem.

Also present at the funeral in Mitchell’s draft script was Toby Meres. He didn’t feature in the final program, but he is mentioned (and will return later in the series). Somebody who does make an appearance is a previous Hunter, Colonel Leslie (Ronald Radd). Since he doesn’t speak a word, for anybody not familiar with the first two series he could be taken for just another extra. But for those who’ve seen the black and white episodes it’s a lovely touch.

Callan isn’t dead of course, he’s a prisoner of the Russians and currently undergoing interrogation at the Lubyanka. The first time I saw this episode I assumed it was the second part of an existing story – mainly because of the cold open. We’re told that Callan was on assignment in East Germany, that the girl he was with was killed and that he was then taken to the Lubyanka. It’s very jarring that this is all tell, not show. A modern series would have no doubt set this plot-line up at the end of the previous series, closing on a cliffhanger of Callan’s abduction.

He’s clearly in a bad way – his head is shaven and he’s been pumped full of drugs. In many ways he’s in a similar state to how he appeared in Death of a Hunter, although it’s true that here he’s more aware of what’s happening – in Death of a Hunter his moments of lucidity were few and far between.

Karsky (Julian Glover) is given the task of interrogating Callan. Just as Callan has his counterpoint in Richmond, Karsky has an obvious opposite number in Snell (Clifford Rose). Whilst Karsky is using drugs to interrogate Callan, Snell is doing the same to Richmond. And Karsky and Snell are very similar character types – neither are cackling villains, instead they view their subjects with detachment and, especially in Karsky’s case, seeming compassion.

Karsky knows that Callan will eventually tell them everything – the drugs will ensure that. But if Callan cooperates then the drugs won’t destroy him. So why fight? Naturally Callan replies in the negative, but it doesn’t shake Karsky’s composure at all. As might be expected, Julian Glover is excellent in these scenes, as is Woodward, and these two-handed moments are the highlight of the episode.

T.P, McKenna’s Richmond is an interesting character. At this point he seems to have been created simply to solve the problem about how to extract Callan from the clutches of the Russians. But he makes an unexpected return towards the end of the series in several key episodes. He doesn’t have a great deal of screen-time here, but he still manages to make an impression.

Another indication that Callan and Richmond are two sides of the same coin is demonstrated when it’s decided to exchange them (much to Hunter’s displeasure – he considers swapping Richmond for Callan is a bad bargain). Both Callan and Richmond are holed up in adjoining hotel rooms in Helskini – and they each offer their handlers a drink (which are refused).

Callan’s miraculous return from the dead comes as a shock to some, especially Cross. You get the sense that he’s just started to enjoy being the top man in the Section and now that’s cruelly taken away from him. Patrick Mower would leave the series after episode five, so Cross only has a limited character arc in series four, but it’s still quite effective.

In series three, Cross was several rungs below Callan – the older man was quicker, sharper and always more capable. He’s maybe slightly closer in ability now, but he also possesses character flaws which will prove to be his undoing. He’s always had a certain sadistic attitude – witness how he plays Russian Roulette with Lonely (admittedly with blanks) – and over the course of the next few episodes we’ll see how he gradually steps further and further over the mark.

Hunter’s meeting with Callan is a rather frosty affair. He admits that if it was his choice he wouldn’t have had him back. But Callan is back and since Richmond was a top man it’s a matter of prestige for the Section that they can’t be seen to have swapped him for a lesser prize. But how can they prove to the Russians that Callan is Richmond’s equal?

Promotion is the obvious course …..

Blakes 7 – Horizon

October 9, 2015October 7, 2015 archivetvmusings BBC Drama - 1970's allan prior, BBC, blakes 7, david jackson, gareth thomas, jan chappell, michael keating, paul darrow, peter tuddenham, sally knyvette, william squire

Allan Prior contributed five scripts to Blakes 7 (Horizon, Hostage, The Keeper, Volcano and Animals). It’s fair to say that none of these episodes would feature in most people’s top tens (unless it was a top ten of least favourite stories).

Prior’s work on B7 tended to range from the competent to the mediocre, which is slightly surprising given his very lengthy list of writing credits. He wrote over a hundred episodes of Z Cars and also contributed to many other popular series during the 1960’s, 1970’s and 1980’s (such as Sergeant Cork, Armchair Theatre, Dr Finlay’s Casebook, Warship, The Sweeney, The Onedin Line, Secret Army, Juliet Bravo, The Charmer, etc etc). It’s an incredibly impressive CV, but it’s notable that apart from Blakes 7 he never wrote for any other science fiction or fantasy series.

His debut script, Horizon, is possibly his best. The science fiction in this one is laid on fairly gently – as it’s essentially a colonial story that could easily have been set in any African country (for the Federation just substitute the British Empire).

The regime on the planet code-named Horizon is one with obvious parallels in history. The Federation needs the minerals it has in abundance (such as Monopasium two-three-nine) but a full occupying force would tie up too many people. So the Federation “educates” the elite of the planet who remain nominally in charge whilst the Federation rule behind the scenes and siphon off the resources for their own use.

Ro (Darien Angadi) is a textbook example of a native who has been educated to think and act as a member of the Federation. His former teacher is now the Kommissar ultimately response for the planet (played to perfection by William Squire) and he’s confident that he can continue to bend Ro to his will.

The heart of the episode is the relationship between Ro and the Kommissar. Partly this is because the only other native speaking role we see is Ro’s finance Selma (Souad Faress). The remainder of the natives tend to toil in the mines and are hairy, grubby and mute. It’s slightly surprising that Ro doesn’t have a council of leaders that he has to report to – that would have created some decent dramatic tension, but restricting everything down to just a single man does work as well.

It’s interesting that Ro is aware that the mortality rate in the mines is high, but he’s just not terribly bothered about it. To him they’re savages, little more than animals. The fairly heavy irony that he was in exactly this position before he was lifted up by the Federation never seems to occur to him.

Blake and the others turn up to Horizon after they follow a Federation supply ship. It’s travelling to Zone Nine – far off the beaten track – and Blake is intrigued. But everybody else is exhausted from a series of close shaves and it’s fair to say they don’t share his curiosity. The ratty, bad-tempered banter at the start is a nice touch and it gives all of the regulars a few decent character moments before the episode proper begins.

Blake and Jenna teleport down and are captured. When they don’t return Gan and Vila teleport to look for them and are captured. Cally then teleports down to look for them all and she is captured as well. This leaves Avon by himself (“and then there was one”) apart from Orac and Zen. We then see Avon wrestling with his conscience – can he simply run out and leave the others?

AVON: If I go alone, can I pilot the Liberator indefinitely?
ORAC: With the help of the automatics, of course you can.
AVON: I know that.
ORAC: Then why did you ask the question?
AVON: I didn’t. How long can I maintain myself?
ORAC: Is that a question?
AVON: Yes.
ORAC: We have concentrated food for one person for a thousand years.
AVON: And our power is self-regenerating.
ORAC: Affirmative.
AVON: Can you plot courses to keep out of the range of any known spaceship manned by the Federation?
ORAC: The battle and navigation computers can handle that perfectly adequately.
AVON: I asked if YOU could.
ORAC: Of course, should it be necessary.
AVON: Failing that, we are powerful enough to resist all but an attack by three Federation pursuit ships at once.
ORAC: Is that a question?
AVON: No. If we go now, we can sail the universe for as long as we like in reasonable safety, provided we keep out of everybody’s way and we do not do anything rash.

When he learns that three Federation pursuit ships are en-route to destroy the Liberator he decides to stay and fight. Was he ever seriously intending to cut and run? Maybe not, as I’m sure the pleasure he derived from rescuing everyone else was immense! And once he teleports down Paul Darrow looks like he’s enjoying himself as Avon turns into a Wild West gunslinger, cutting down Federation troopers left, right and centre. He nearly blows Blake’s head off as well, but luckily(?) the shot goes wild. There’s a lovely expression on Gareth Thomas’ face as he deadpans the line “missed”.

If there’s a weak part to the story then it’s when Blake is initially captured and interrogated by both Ro and the Kommissar. Blake’s quickly able to gain Ro’s trust by telling him that he knew an old friend of his, Paura. Blake and Paura were both convicts on the ship London, bound for Cygnus Alpha. This just seems a little contrived – had Blake travelled to Horizion, armed with this knowledge, expressly to talk to Ro it might have seemed more reasonable.

This niggle apart, Horizon is a pretty good stuff. As I’ve said, William Squire (best known as Hunter in the Thames version of Callan) is perfectly cast as the arch-manipulator. Darien Angadi also has a decent amount of screen-time as the apparently subservient puppet ruler. Brian Miller and Souad Faress exist to act as sounding-boards for the Kommissar and Ro respectively, so have less chance to impress – but both are capable enough.

And Sally Knyvette looks rather lovely, which is always a plus point for me.

Callan – Amos Green Must Live

March 30, 2015June 9, 2016 archivetvmusings ITV Drama - 1970's callan, edward woodward, patrick mower, russell hunter, william squire

Written by Ray Jenkins
Directed by James Goddard

Amos Green Must Live is a bit of a misfire. Although Amos Green’s views are just as topical today as they were over forty years ago, a slightly incoherent script does tend to drag the story down.

Amos Green (Corin Redgrave) is a politician with a clear message – Britain is full to bursting point, so he advocates sending the immigrants back home. He’s clearly a man who likes to court controversy and when his life seems to be under threat, the Section are tasked to protect him.

Corin Redgrave is by far the best thing about this story. He’s very watchable in all his scenes and Ray Jenkins’ script provides him with plenty of good material. Whether Green actually believes what he says or whether he’s simply making political capital is left to the view to decide. Later in the story, Hunter (who for some inexplicable reason is attending one of Green’s dinner-parties) does make the point that before 1967 Green never spoke about immigration, which does visibly ruffle the politician’s feathers.

As for the worst, Annette Crosbie as Green’s housekeeper May Coswood, takes some beating. It’s probably not Crosbie’s fault, rather it’s the way the part has been written. May is besotted with a black man called Casey (Stefan Kalipha). Naturally, she keeps this from Green, but she starts to act very oddly – stealing a dress, for example. Her erratic behaviour only draws attention to herself (and Casey).

If May’s motivations are sometimes hard to understand, then the same can be said of Casey. Towards the end we learn that he’s the prime mover behind the plot to kill Green – but there are various plot-holes along the way which are never resolved.

The Section are originally drawn into the case after a black civil rights activist from America called Arrillo is fished out of the river. In his pocket was a book of matches with a picture of the Ace of Spades. A similar book of matches is sent to Green, so it’s surmised that his life will also be under threat.

Casey admits that he was the taxi-driver who picked up Arrillo. As the American was carrying a considerable sum of money, we can surmise that Casey killed him for it – which he planned to use to finance an attack against Green. If this is so, why would he place the matches in Arrillo’s pocket and why send a similar matchbook to Green? If it hadn’t been for the matches, then Green wouldn’t have known that his life was in danger. But frankly, it’s a very obscure clue – what are the chances that somebody would have made the connection between Arrillo and Green?

Although Casey is organising the attack against Green (with gas weapons and guns) it’s actually carried out by several Americans (well, I think they’re attempting American accents, it’s hard to be sure). Were they recruited with the money Casey stole from Arrillo? Or since Arrillo was an American, did they follow him over?

Whilst there are a few nice moments (Lonely buying Callan the most hideous tie imaginable as a thank you present, for example) it’s certainly one of the less engaging episodes of the series. When a General Election was called in 1970, the episode was pulled from the schedule and transmitted later in the run (as previously mentioned, Breakout should have been the series finale). So there is a certain historical curiosity in watching this (albeit-temporarily) “banned” episode.

The character of Amos Green tapped into the debates of the day (he’s clearly a thinly-veiled portrait of Enoch Powell, notorious for his “Rivers Of Blood” speech) but whilst Redgrave is fine, the episode in general is just a little too heavy handed and from a modern viewpoint feels rather crude.

Callan – Breakout

March 29, 2015March 31, 2015 archivetvmusings ITV Drama - 1970's callan, edward woodward, patrick mower, russell hunter, william squire

Written by James Mitchell
Directed by Reginald Collin

Hunter wants KGB agent Lubin (Garfield Morgan) picked up. He possesses a list of names that would prove incredibly damaging to the Section if he were able to deliver them to his masters. And since Hunter knows that Lubin hasn’t had the chance to communicate with them yet, speed is of the essence.

But Lubin surrenders himself to the police. He faces a lengthy spell in prison, but Hunter knows exactly why he’s done it (inside prison he’d be out of Hunter’s reach). Hunter has a plan though – Lubin will expect to be broken out by the KGB, so he plans to arrange for Callan to spring him and then kill him.

Breakout is more of a straightforward action story than many episodes of Callan, but though it lacks the depth of characterisation that we usually see, it still has plenty of interest – not least for the central role played by Lonely.

In Where Else Could I Go? we saw Callan stand bail for Lonely. Now, Lonely finally faces trial for his numerous petty crimes. As ever, Russell Hunter is a pleasure to watch – even when he has no dialogue he’s capable of expressing so many emotions. This is highlighted when the judge comments that Lonely’s crimes were carried out with “great expertise ” (a pleased expression plays across his face) but “little intelligence” (which instantly changes to downcast).

When he’s sentenced to six months imprisonment for each of the twenty-five offences (to run concurrently) he displays a whole range of shocked emotions, especially when he sees Callan laughing. Eventually he understands that he only has to serve six months instead of twelve and a half years, but it’s clear that it doesn’t quite sink in (as he still asks Callan for reassurance later on).

If there’s a major flaw in Breakout, then it’s the idea that Lubin is untouchable in prison. It’s hard to believe that Hunter lacks the ability to transfer him and it’s even harder to accept that he couldn’t pull some strings to infiltrate a man into the prison to eliminate him without having to break him out first.

But whilst these possibilities are never discussed, they are able to put a man on the inside – the unfortunate Lonely. Lubin is on remand at Castle View (where Callan once spent “six lovely months”). Lonely is dismayed to hear that he’ll be transferred there – but Callan is delighted, as he tells him that he’ll be able to do a little job for him.

Woodward and Hunter shared many lovely two-handed scenes during the four series of Callan and there’s another cracking one here. When Callan tells him that he’s arranging a breakout from Castle View, Lonely’s first response is that he doesn’t mind doing his time. Callan gently tells him that he’s not the person to be sprung – Lubin is. Lonely is dismayed. “I don’t hold with spies. Mr Callan, that man is a traitor to the Queen.” To which Callan ironically mutters “Rule Britannia”!

Russell Hunter continues to have good material to work with, especially in the aftermath of the breakout. As Callan enters the cell, he says “good luck, Mr Ca-” before Callan brutally pistol-whips him. This was because Lubin knew Callan’s name (although he didn’t know what he looked like) so it was vital that Callan silenced Lonely before he revealed all. Of course, in the light of this, it was rather silly to put Lonely in his cell (as we later learnt he spent most of his time taking about Callan!).

Callan is the leader of the small group tasked to breakout Lubin. Cross and Mellor (Billy Cornelius) are the others. Something we’ve seen over the years is that the Section seems to have very few decent agents and Mellor is the latest, somewhat inept, example. Lubin is easily able to deal with him – but Callan is a different proposition. After a brief gun-battle, Callan finishes him off.

Breakout was originally intended to be the final story of the third series and this is reflected in the final scene which sees Hunter and Callan sharing a cup of tea on a cold and deserted beach. Hunter tells him that the KGB now regard him as a top man and so in the future he’s bound to be targeted. This would have lead nicely into the opening story of series four, That’ll be the Day, in which Callan was picked up by the KGB and underwent a harrowing interrogation.

Unfortunately, the running order was re-juggled at the last minute – so the rather less satisfying Amos Green Must Live was the last transmitted story of this series.

Callan – God Help Your Friends

March 28, 2015March 21, 2019 archivetvmusings ITV Drama - 1970's callan, edward woodward, michael jayston, patrick mower, russell hunter, stephanie beacham, william squire

Written by William Emms
Directed by Peter Duguid

In Callan’s world, the innocent often have to suffer. They frequently find themselves used as pawns, sacrificed in a game they don’t even know they’re playing. God Help Your Friends is a prime example of this – it also demonstrates Callan’s disdain for the work he has to do.

Hunter tells Callan and Cross that the engagement between Beth Lampton (Stephanie Beacham) and Mark Tedder (Michael Jayston) has to be stopped. Beth works as a top-level interpreter for NATO whilst Tedder is suspected of being an agent for the opposition. Hunter accepts that they have no definite evidence about Tedder, but the merest hint of suspicion is enough to make their union highly undesirable.

It’s not a job that Callan relishes, so he spends the episode in a very bad mood, taking every opportunity to rile Hunter and Cross. Callan and Cross spend their time digging for dirt on Tedder and then making sure that Beth knows about it. This isn’t a problem for Cross, who shares none of Callan’s scruples, although he does come to believe that if they end the relationship it will be for the girl’s benefit.

At the start, we see that Beth and Tedder are very much in love. But once a little suspicion and paranoia are introduced, even the strongest relationships can be destroyed. Hunter is keen for them to achieve this as quickly as possible, but he’s adamant that he doesn’t want anything untoward to happen. Callan bitterly reassures him that “there are other ways of killing people than with a bullet.”

Hunter assigns Cross to keep an eye on Beth (posing as a time and motion expert) whilst Callan roots around for incriminating evidence. Initially, Callan assumes that Hunter will want him to romance the girl, but by assigning Cross we can assume that the intention is to infer that Callan’s getting slightly too old to play the lover ….

Beth is a nice girl – possibly too nice and innocent for the world she’s found herself in. She’s surprised that, despite her sensitive job, her immediate superior wants to know about her engagement. Given this, it seems clear it would never occur to her that the security services would be at all interested in her or her fiance.

Mark Tedder is a smooth, charming man (played to perfection by the always impressive Michael Jayston). We never discover if he was actually an agent or not, but that’s not the point of the story. In the shadowy world of the Section, there’s no judge or jury (although there’s certainly plenty of executioners).

As good as Russell Hunter always was (and Lonely has some nice moments in this one, especially in his first scene, when he’s dressed in a very smart suit, complete with umbrella!) by this point it was sometimes difficult to include him in the episodes without stretching credibility to breaking point. During the first series (when Callan was still officially out of the Section) Lonely was a useful character, since he could obtain things (such as guns) which Callan couldn’t get any other way.

But by series three he doesn’t fulfill any function that a trained member of the Section couldn’t provide – so it’s sometimes harder to justify his presence. For example, Callan asks him to break into Tedder’s flat and look for anything that could be used against him. Callan then waits in the street below and only goes up to the flat once Lonely signals that he’s found something. Lonely’s ability as a burglar is well-known, but do we really believe that Callan couldn’t have picked the very simple lock on the door or that he’d let Lonely search the flat by himself?

This does, however, give us the one moment of levity in the story – as Lonely excitedly thrusts a series of red-hot letters into Callan’s hand. “Now the bird that wrote that, that is terrible, that is shocking, she’s got no shame. Now read that, read that.”

But the letters (referring to an old love-affair before Tedder met Beth) don’t do the trick and so Callan has to resort to other methods. Eventually they succeed, but by the end of the episode there’s no particular cause for celebration. The final words of the story go to Woodward and once again he delivers the goods.

God Help Your Friends was William Emms’ second and final script for Callan (he also wrote the wiped story The Running Dog for series two). Active as a writer during the 1960’s and 1970’s he contributed to a number of popular series, such as Redcap, Public Eye, Doctor Who, Mr Rose, Ace of Wands, Z Cars and Owen M.D.

Peter Duguid would eventually direct eleven episodes for Callan, of which this was the eighth. His direction here is unshowy and straightforward, but he manages to capture good performances from both Beacham and Jayston (who carry many of the key scenes). Woodward is pushed more into the background, but he’s a constant, brooding presence and plays Callan’s disgust with the job (and with the way it turned out) to perfection.

Callan – Act of Kindness

March 27, 2015March 22, 2019 archivetvmusings ITV Drama - 1970's callan, edward woodward, patrick mower, russell hunter, william squire

Written by Michael Winder
Directed by Mike Vardy

Away from the Section, David Callan has one major interest – model soldiers and fighting war-games with them. Given that his job involves killing (and usually it’s the dirtiest and most squalid kind) it’s worth wondering if his love of re-creating famous battles from history is a yearning for the time when conflict was maybe a more honest and chivalrous pursuit.

Like the Armchair Theatre pilot, A Magnum for Schneider, Act of Kindness sees Callan tackle an opponent across the tabletop field of battle and it provides us with a very interesting clash of personalities. Heathcote Land (Anthony Nicholls) isn’t a spy or an enemy agent – he works for a company that exports tractors worldwide (one of their biggest markets is Russia).

When Land receives incriminating photographs showing Donovan Prescott (Ray Smith) in bed with a young woman, he demands Prescott’s resignation. Prescott refuses and tells him that since the photographs (taken on his last trip to Russia) must have been made by the KGB, he should tread very carefully.

Smith (a familiar face, thanks to his appearances as the acerbic Spikings in Dempsey and Makepeace) is very Welsh here (the odd “boyo” is thrown into the conversation). He’s presented as a laddish man-about-town, but he also appears to have a patriotic side (since he did some unspecified low-level work for British Intelligence). It’s this connection that makes Hunter keen that Land shouldn’t make the photographs public and so Callan is tasked to stop him by whatever means necessary.

Since Land also has an interest in model soldiers and war-games (or “toy soldiers” as Hunter dismissively calls them, much to Callan’s irritation) Callan is the obvious choice to tackle him. “You really are a bastard aren’t you?” he says, less than happy that the one pastime he has which is separate from the Section has now been compromised. After Callan leaves the office, Hunter confides to Cross that whenever Callan is angry, he remembers what happened to his predecessor ….

There’s one very clumsy piece of plotting in the story. This occurs just after Callan has introduced himself to Land and the pair of them begin to chat about model soldiers and battles. For some reason, Callan is using the alias of Tucker (which is odd, since we learn in Where Else Could I Go? that Callan isn’t his real name anyway). As Callan and Land start fighting a practice battle at the model soldier convention, Lonely passes by and refers to him as Mr Callan. This, of course, instantly sets alarm bells ringing for Land. It’s a rather sledgehammer way to raise Land’s suspicions and it’s a pity that something more subtle couldn’t have been done.

Later, we see Callan and Land prepare to fight a battle in the business-man’s impressive war-room. There are two battles going on at once (the one between the model armies and the other between Callan and Land themselves). The pair indulge in a fair bit of verbal jousting, each of them skirting around the issues, but it becomes clear that both know exactly what the other is thinking.

Eventually, Land comes to the point and calls his opponent Callan. But even with this acknowledgment that Callan isn’t all he says, the battle goes on. For those who favour the more action-orientated episodes, this one might seem to be a bit slow – but the battles between Callan and Land (although they don’t involve guns) are fascinating nonetheless.

At one point in the story, Prestcott tells Callan that if he wants to blackmail Land then he’d have to create something, since he seems to lead a totally blameless life. As the pressure increases to protect Prestcott, all possibilities are debated by Hunter, Cross and Callan. Cross favours taking Land out of circulation (either temporarily or permanently). But a visit by Land to a toyshop might just provide them with the leverage they need …..

Anthony Nicholls (probably best known for sporting a rather unconvincing beard as Treymayne in The Champions) gives an excellent performance as the moral and principled Heathcote Land. He shares a fair amount of the story with Woodward and the pair spark off each other very well – their conflict is definitely the highlight of the episode. Ray Smith is rather less convincing as his business rival, but then it wasn’t such a well-crafted part. This was the second and last of Michael Winder’s scripts for Callan (he previously wrote the stunning series two finale Death of a Hunter).

Act of Kindness must be something of a rarity for a Callan story, since it doesn’t feature any deaths, but that doesn’t stop it from being another intriguing story – thanks to Woodward and Nicholls.

Callan – Suddenly – At Home

March 26, 2015June 21, 2016 archivetvmusings ITV Drama - 1970's callan, edward woodward, patrick mower, russell hunter, william squire

Written by James Mitchell
Directed by Piers Haggard

Callan’s in love. Those familiar with the parameters of the series will be probably be able to guess that his happiness is going to be very short lived.

Lady Lewis (Zena Walker) is the widow of Sir Colin Lewis, the youngest Foreign Secretary for a century. Whilst his death hasn’t left her penniless, her financial situation is certainly a little strained (she has two sons to put through public school. which isn’t cheap). So when the smooth-talking documentary film maker Rene Joinville (Tony Beckley) approaches her with an offer of ten thousand pounds to appear in a programme about her husband, it seems to be the answer to her prayers.

But Hunter doesn’t want the documentary to go ahead. Sir Colin knew too many secrets and he fears that whilst Lady Lewis won’t deliberately betray any confidences, the skillful Joinville will be able to tease them out of her. It’s interesting that. for once, the Section doesn’t have all the facts. Joinville is a Russian agent, but this vital piece of information isn’t discovered by them until very late on. Had they known, of course, then things might have turned out very differently.

Hunter assigns Callan to warn Lady Lewis off. He thinks that blackmail might be a good method, but Callan is rather more subtle than that. He appeals to Lady Lewis’ sense of duty and also hints that the establishment would view the programme with extreme disfavour. Woodward is delightfully bashful in this scene – he’s slightly hesitant and occasionally stumbles over his words. We tend to see Callan as the forceful man of action, so this is a good insight into his softer side.

There’s an instant attraction between them, sparked by Callan’s love of model soldiers. He promises to bring one to show her at a later date and once he leaves she starts to swot up on the subject. Given how totally different they are as characters, it’s a little difficult to believe in this sudden romance – but Woodward and Walker are both so good that they make it work.

Unfortunately for Callan, he never progresses beyond a rather chaste kiss. Since Lady Lewis won’t take part in the documentary, Joinville is ordered to kill her. He’s told to use a gun favoured by the Section – that way they’ll be blamed and the resulting furore will be something of a propoganda coup.

The killing is carried out and when Callan receives the news it’s possible to see the light go out of his eyes. He instantly changes back into the cold, remorseless killer and you’re left in no doubt that he will avenge her death. Initially Cross is a suspect, but he’s cleared and when the truth about Joinville is discovered, Hunter gives the younger man the task of bringing him in. Callan queries whether he has to be brought in alive and Hunter is quite clear that, yes, he’s not to be killed.

Cross’ bungled attempt to apprehend Joinville is another example of just how inexperienced he is. He gives Joinville plenty of warning by making a hash of picking the lock on his hotel-room door and then is very easily disarmed. Luckily for him (although Cross doesn’t see it like that) Callan is outside the window and deals with Joinville. When he’s finished, Joinville is very dead.

Suddenly – At Home was James Mitchell’s third script for series three. I’ve always had a soft spot for this one – partly because, along with Breakout, they were the first episodes of Callan that I ever owned (they were released on video in the late 1980’s). Whilst it’s a bit of stretch to accept the instant relationship between Callan and Lady Lewis, there’s plenty of incidental pleasures. Tony Beckley sports an outrageous French accent as Joinville. He gives a slightly off-kilter performance, but it does work (where a more naturalistic turn might not have). Zena Walker impresses as Lady Lewis – she plays her as calm and charming, which makes her sudden, violent death all the more shocking.

Piers Haggard’s direction is quite noteworthy, with some well chosen shots. At the start of the story we see Joinville preparing to accept an award for one of his films – and the camera shoots through the award as he’s speaking to Lady Lewis (creating a quadruple image). Also, when Callan first meets Lady Lewis, part of the scene is shot directly at a mirror, so that we see a reflection of the characters, before the camera pans off to focus on them. Plus there’s a number of close-ups (which help to create a claustrophobic atmosphere, especially in the immediate aftermath of Lady Lewis’ murder) and some interesting low-angle shots (these make fairly standard sets look a little more interesting).

It’s another very solid episode in an impressively consistent series.

Callan – A Village Called ‘G’

March 25, 2015June 21, 2016 archivetvmusings ITV Drama - 1970's callan, edward woodward, patrick mower, russell hunter, william squire

Written by James Mitchell
Directed by Mike Vardy

Hunter’s secretary, Liz, is an absolute model employee. She’s never late and she’s never ill, so when she fails to turn up one morning it sets the alarm bells ringing. Hunter decides to give her another hour and if she still hasn’t appeared then the department will be on red alert. Cross queries whether that isn’t a little excessive, but Hunter spells it out to him. “Liz has never been late here in her life, she’s never missed a day. She’s an example to you all. You think I’m fussing, but I’d sooner be foolish than careless.”

Hunter’s fear is that she’s been picked up by the opposition – she knows all of the Section’s secrets so she’d be an invaluable asset. The truth of the matter is rather different though – she’s embarked on a personal mission of vengeance and Callan, naturally enough, is right in the thick of things.

Lisa Langdon made her first appearance as Hunter’s secretary at the start of series one. It wasn’t a terribly auspicious start, as for the first few stories she was nothing more than a disembodied voice on an intercom. After a while she started to appear in the flesh and gradually was given a little more to do. During the black and white years, Heir Apparent is probably the best example of this – following the death of Michael Goodliffe’s Hunter, Liz was a useful character to place between Callan and Meres.

But A Village Called ‘G’ was the episode that put her firmly in the centre of the action. Written by series creator James Mitchell, we find out about Liz’s background – and this provides the explanation for her disappearance.

After searching her flat, Callan reports on her lack of personal documents. “There’s no letters, there’s no memos, there’s no diaries. Nothing. She’s a sad one, that. Yeah, well, it’s pretty sad if you’re that lonely.” The lack of information means that Callan has little to go on, so he asks Hunter if he can see her file. Hunter refuses, but fills him in on her history.

Liz was born in Poland. Her village was totally wiped out by the Germans in 1944, when she was just three years old. Every man, woman and child were killed (except for Liz, who had been hidden behind a bookcase by her father). She was later adopted by a British couple called March in the early 1950’s. March had worked as a cypher clerk, so the Section kept a watching brief on Liz. When her foster parents were killed by a hit-and-run driver some five years earlier, it was decided that Liz would be an ideal employee for the Section (since she was fluent in numerous languages and had no family ties). As Hunter says. “The Section is all she has, David. Her mother, father, her home.”

Callan goes back to Liz’s flat and asks the caretaker (a wonderfully grimy performance by George Innes) if he’s noticed whether Liz has had any regular male visitors. When he says yes, and that the man’s name was James Cross, this immediately catches Callan’s interest. It becomes clear that Liz and Cross have been enjoying a relationship strictly against departmental regulations. Callan, of course, makes it clear to Cross just how stupid he’s been (in the way that only Callan can!).

Cross tells Callan that he thought that Liz was worried about something, although she didn’t say what. She did speak about her childhood though – which given what we’ve learnt, seems to be significant. Cross and Callan hit the archive, looking for any recent activity regarding Poland. They find a file on a war criminal called Klist and also discover that Liz checked out a file on a man called Sabovski (Joseph Fürst).

There’s evidence to suggest that Sabovski and Klist are one and the same and that Klist was involved in the massacre of Liz’s village. Hunter decided that no action would be taken and it’s this which pushes Liz over the edge as she decides to take the law into her own hands and kill Klist.

Fürst had previously appeared in the Armchair Theatre pilot A Magnum for Schneider. Infamous in certain circles for his incredibly ripe performance as Professor Zaroff in the Doctor Who story The Underwater Menace, he’s much more restrained here.

Liz fails to kill Klist and Klist drugs her, takes her back to her flat and puts the gas on. Luckily Callan, Cross and Lonely reach her in time (Lonely’s comment to Callan “you haven’t croaked her?” is priceless). There’s also a nice cameo appearance by Graham Crowden as the Groper (a struck-off doctor who Callan calls in to check Liz over). Quite why Callan didn’t call the Section is a bit of a mystery as surely they have medical staff, but if he had then we’d have missed out on Crowden’s remarkably camp performance!

Klist is dealt with by Cross, although Callan brutally tells Liz that Cross cares more about his job than he does about her. “Listen darling, don’t you think Liz that he killed Klist for you. He didn’t. He killed him for himself. Killed him because he’s got to finish the case.”

This wasn’t the first story to feature a Nazi war criminal (see The Good Ones Are All Dead from series one). But Klist is much less central to this story than Strauss was in that episode. A Village Called ‘G’ is more about Liz, Cross and Callan. It ends with Hunter and Callan sharing a drink and Hunter complimenting Callan on handling matters effectively. The two wouldn’t always see eye-to-eye, so this is quite a notable moment.

Callan would be Lisa Langdon’s final television credit. She only had a handful of other credits, such as a Jackanory appearance in 1968 and a few other minor roles (like ‘Woman in Street’ in an episode of Dixon of Dock Green). But although her cv wasn’t particularly extensive, she was always worth watching in Callan – as Liz brought a welcome human touch to the often cold and unwelcoming Section.

Callan – The Same Trick Twice

March 24, 2015March 25, 2015 archivetvmusings ITV Drama - 1970's callan, edward woodward, patrick mower, richard hurndall, russell hunter, william squire

Written by Bill Craig
Directed by Peter Duguid

Callan has been sent to oversee the exchange of a Russian prisoner for two British ones. Also present is Mr Bishop (Geoffrey Chater) who apparently works for the Foreign Office. The handover goes smoothly and Bishop welcomes both Surtees (Richard Hurndall) and Mallory (Patrick O’Connell) back to the free world.

Later, Mallory expresses his bitterness to Callan. He’s spent five long years in a Russan jail, thanks to Surtees (who buckled under the initial interrogation and revealed everything). And Surtees himself plans to go public and disclose how he was blackmailed into working for British Intelligence.

The only problem is that nobody in British Intelligence has ever heard of Surtees …..

The Same Trick Twice is a dense story, where nothing is quite as it seems. It has some excellent actors and moves at a nice pace, but there are some flaws which are hard to ignore.

The first comes right at the start. Callan tells Surtees that he’ll be looking after him and has a nice rest laid on at East Grinstead. The clear inference is that this is a safe house where Surtees can be intensely debriefed. Surtees seems not to care for this and throws a cup of coffee in Callan’s face. This allows Bishop to take charge of Surtees and he’s later allowed to go public with his claim of blackmail. If Callan had orders to keep a tight grip on Surtees, why did he let him walk free?

Shortly after, we find that Bishop doesn’t actually work for the Foreign Office, instead he’s connected with Intelligence – not directly in the Section, but he’s certainly able to come and go there as he pleases. Geoffrey Chater would pop up during series three and four as a semi-regular and his languid demeanor ensures that Bishop enjoys some entertaining clashes with Callan, who has a much more down-to-earth attitude. Callan asks several times exactly who Bishop is (and he’s ignored each time by both Hunter and Bishop). It’s never made clear what his position is, but it’s obvious that he outranks Hunter.

If you’ve got a decent selection of television from the 1960’s, 1970’s and early 1980’s, then the odds are that you’ll have some programmes featuring Richard Hurndall. Hurndall was an intense, compelling character actor who always gave striking performances. Off the top of my head, I can pick down from my shelf appearances he made in The Power Game, Manhunt, Public Eye, Blakes Seven, Bergerac and of course The Five Doctors.

He’s very good here as a character whose motivations remain unclear for some time. There’s several possibilities – he could be a British agent or a double-agent working for the Russians. Or maybe he’s simply been duped into believing he was working for the British, when actually the Russians were controlling him.

This tangle leads us to our next plot flaw. It later becomes clear that Surtees is something of an innocent – he believed that British Intelligence had blackmailed him to work as a spy, but instead it was actually the Russians who were feeding him disinformation. But if this was the case, how was he able to blow Mallory’s network? Only a genuine British agent would have known specifics about the network – so did the Russians give this information to Surtees? And if so, why didn’t Surtees mention this when he was released?

Possibly the most problematic part of the story is Mallory’s reassignment to the Section. Callan is appalled as in his opinion Mallory is far from stable – this is understandable, since he’s spent five years in a Russian prison. It’s clear that Bishop has ordered Hunter to take Mallory on, but why? As with Bishop steering Surtees away at the start, he seems to have his own agenda – but it’s not clear what it is.

Time’s running out and Surtees is ready to publish his story. It’s all lies (disinformation fed to him by the opposition) but it sounds plausible enough and would certainly be damaging if it made the papers. Hunter visits Callan’s flat (he expresses surprise that this was the best they could do for him) and speaks to him off the record.

He wants Surtees killed, but Callan is far from happy. “You want a chopping done, you write out a chit. You want a killing, you give an order direct, straight, in front of witnesses.” The unofficial nature doesn’t please Callan, but he eventually agrees.

But he doesn’t have to kill him, since he’s able to convince Surtees that he was duped. But somebody does murder Surtees later (and whilst there’s a moment of misdirection, it’s fairly obvious who did it). There’s a droll moment when Hunter examines the body and declares that as he was shot in the back of the head it’ll be difficult to call it suicide, unless he was a contortionist!

Although the plot doesn’t quite hold together (especially the involvement of Mallory) there’s still a great deal to enjoy here, such as Lonely’s job as the lavatory attendant at Harry’s strip bar. Or a “hygiene operative” as Lonely defensively tells Callan. Harold Innocent is delightedly camp as Freddie, the photographer who arranged the compromising photos of Surtees and Trisha Noble is gorgeous as Jean Price, who posed in those photos with a drugged Surtees.

Callan – Summoned to Appear

March 23, 2015March 23, 2015 archivetvmusings ITV Drama - 1970's callan, edward woodward, patrick mower, russell hunter, william squire

Written by Trevor Preston
Directed by Voytek

Callan faces a thorny moral dilemma in Summoned to Appear. Needless to say, the other members of the Section (Cross and Hunter, for example) find it hard to understand why Callan is at all concerned …..

Callan and Cross are tailing a Czech operative called Palanka (Sylvester Morand). Hunter doesn’t know exactly what Palanka’s up to, but it’s certainly something that needs to be stopped. They follow him into a railway station, but lose him. Callan takes one platform and Cross the other. As a train pulls in, Palanka breaks cover on Cross’ platform.

Cross goes to intercept him, but barges straight into a man walking forward to catch the train. The unfortunate man is accidentally pushed onto the tracks and is killed instantly. Cross disappears, but the police are called, so Callan has to remain since he’s an eye-witness.

As he later tells Hunter, he was able to lie beautifully, telling Inspector Kyle (Norman Henry) that in his opinion the man committed suicide by throwing himself under the train. But matters are complicated by another witness, Mrs Kent (Rhoda Lewis). who maintains that she somebody push the man off the platform.

It probably goes without saying, but Edward Woodward is excellent in this episode. Callan is an oddity in the Section – a man with a conscience. Both Hunter and Cross are only concerned with the man’s death insofar as how it affects the Palanka operation. But Callan is more troubled that a man is dead – someone that would have left a widow and possibly children behind.

The fact that Cross doesn’t understand why Callan is upset provides us with some decent character conflict – and we’ll see this same conflict played out in various ways throughout the third series since Callan and Cross are two very different characters.

Callan is older and highly experienced. Hunter admits that he’s the best operative in the Section (maybe the best they’ve ever had) although he regards Callan’s conscience as his one major flaw. Cross is young and inexperienced. His impulsiveness and rashness are highlighted in this episode and we also see, during the climax, how embarrassingly easily Palanka was able to deal with him.

Hunter elects to use a Czechoslovakian dissident called Karas (George Pravda) to lure Palanka into the open. Callan and Hunter both know that Palanka won’t be able to resist the chance to kill Karas. When Cross wonders how Callan can be so sure, he tells him that Palanka is “young and arrogant. He’s got something to prove, just like you James.”

Lonely doesn’t have a great deal to do in this episode but I love the first flat scene where Callan asks Lonely to tail Palanka. At once point Callan calls Lonely perceptive and there’s a great reaction from Russell Hunter, who makes it clear that Lonely doesn’t understand the word and is working out whether it’s an insult or a compliment!

Callan is summoned to appear at the Coroner’s inquest, which is a problem – and it’s further complicated when he’s visited beforehand by Mr Leach (Edward Burnham) who is the solicitor acting for the widow of the dead man. He tells Callan that if a verdict of suicide is recorded then the widow, Mrs Arlen, will only receive a fraction of her husband’s insurance policy.

Callan is under no obligation to do anything. The Section is in the clear since there’s not sufficient evidence to prove that Cross, or anybody else, pushed the man under the train. He could simply repeat his original statement that the man committed suicide and that would be an end to it. But of course he doesn’t – instead he changes his story (much to the annoyance of the Coroner) and a verdict of accidental death is recorded.

Meanwhile, Palanka very easily gains access to Karas’ apartment, knocking out Cross and disarming him. In the end, it’s Karas who kills Palanka, whilst Cross looks on helplessly. Since Karas is an invalid, it’s even more embarrassing for Cross.

Summoned to Appear is very much a human drama (both the unfortunate Mr Arlen and the dissident writer Karas). Callan has several blazing rows with Hunter (and they won’t be the last!) which really highlight just how good an actor Edward Woodward was. When he was on full-throttle, there was nobody better.

It’s always a pleasure to see George Pravda (as well as his real-life wife, Hana Maria Pravda who played Mrs Karas). The supporting cast is typically solid, with the likes of Edward Burnham and Norman Henry, whilst a young Warren Clarke makes a brief appearance as a railway guard.