More titles from the collection. Film, TV, documentaries, music. There’s more to come!
More titles from the collection. Film, TV, documentaries, music. There’s more to come!
These titles are still missing in action, surviving but with no video release. They are also, with one or two exceptions, completely absent from the bootleg circuit.
Is any company out there interested in securing the rights to get these out in the world for archive TV lovers to enjoy? Would lovers of comedy, drama, or period adaptations buy?
Phyllis Calvert and Penelope Keith in Kate. Photo via Nostalgia Central.
Kate – starring Phyllis Calvert. 38 episodes across three series, 1970-1972. Made for Yorkshire Television. Kate is an agony aunt who has a knack for getting into trouble. Also features Penelope Keith and Jack Hedley.
Helen: a Woman of Today – starring Alison Fiske and Martin Shaw. 13 episodes in a single series, 1973. Made for London Weekend Television. Helen is approaching middle-age and decides to end her marriage. Also features Sharon Duce and Sheila Gish.
Bel Ami – starring Robin Ellis. 5 episodes, 1971. Made for the BBC. Adaptation of Guy de Maupassant’s novel about the amoral Georges Duroy. Also features Elvi Hale, Garfield Morgan, Arthur Pentelow and Peter Sallis.
Stanley Baker and Daphne Slater in Jane Eyre. Photo via Bronte Blog.
Jane Eyre – starring Daphne Slater and Stanley Baker. 6 episodes, 1956. Made for the BBC – my thoughts on seeing it at a BFI screening here. Rich adaptation of the Charlotte Brontë novel, in fact one of the best I have seen.
Liza Goddard and Dinsdale Landen in Pig in the Middle.
Pig in the Middle – starring Liza Goddard, Joanna Van Gyseghem, Dinsdale Landen (and later Terence Brady). 20 episodes across three series, 1980-1983. Made for London Weekend Television. Comedy about the middle-aged Barty who is torn between two glamorous women.
Foxy Lady – starring Diane Keen and Geoffrey Burridge. 12 episodes across two series, 1982-1984. Made for Granada Television. Daisy joins a Northern newspaper in this breezy comedy. Also features Gregor Fisher, Milton Johns and Patrick Troughton.
The Informer – starring Ian Hendry. 21 episodes made across two series, but only 2 survive, 1966-1967. Made for Associated-Rediffusion. Alex is a former lawyer now released from prison, making a living on both sides of the law. Also features Jean Marsh.
Neil Innes as the Wizard with Toby Spelldragon in Puddle Lane.
Puddle Lane – children’s series with Neil Innes. 75 episodes, 1985-1989. Made for Yorkshire Television. A magician tells stories with the help of his cauldron and dragon. Also features Kate Lee.
Great Expectations – starring Dinsdale Landen. 13 episodes, of which 12 survive, 1959. Made for the BBC. The first television adaptation of the Charles Dickens novel. Also features Colin Jeavons, Michael Gwynn, and Helen Lindsay. The atmospheric opening episode is accessible at the BFI Mediatheque.
Article from the Radio Times. Janet Munro in The Tenant of Wildfell Hall. Scan via Britmovie.
The Tenant of Wildfell Hall – starring Janet Munro and Corin Redgrave. 4 episodes, of which 3 survive, 1968. Made for the BBC. Adaptation of the Anne Brontë novel, clips were shown on ‘The Brontës at the BBC’. Also features Bryan Marshall, Megs Jenkins, and Felicity Kendal.
Nicol Williamson, George Segal and Will Geer in Of Mice and Men. Photo via eBay.
Of Mice and Men – starring George Segal and Nicol Williamson. A two-hour drama, 1968. Made for the American Broadcasting Company. Adaptation of John Steinbeck’s classic novel. Also features Will Geer, Don Gordon and Joey Heatherton.
The Coral Island – with Nicholas Bond-Owen and Richard Gibson (I know of the German release without English soundtrack). 9 episodes, 1983. Made for Thames Television. Ralph, Jack and Peterkin find themselves shipwrecked.
Ian Hendry and Nyree Dawn Porter in For Maddie With Love.
For Maddie With Love – starring Ian Hendry and Nyree Dawn Porter. 48 episodes over 2 series, 1980-1981. Made for ATV. Maddie is terminally ill and her husband and children have to come to terms with change. An excellent and overlooked series, only one episode has been officially released on Network’s Soap Box set. Also features Colin Baker, Robert Lang and Bruce Montague.
Dinsdale Landen in Devenish. Photo via Memorable TV.
Devenish – starring Dinsdale Landen. 14 episodes across 2 series, 1977-1978. Made for Granada Television. Prufrock Devenish is an amoral social climber in this nutty comedy. Also features Doran Godwin, Terence Alexander, Geoffrey Bayldon and Michael Robbins.
Clive Dunn and Michael Bentine in It’s a Square World.
It’s a Square World – with Michael Bentine. 56 episodes, of which 45 survive, 1960-1964. Made for the BBC. Zany and influential sketch show . Also features Frank Thornton and Clive Dunn.
Thirty Minute Theatre – just under 50 episodes survive from 285 (many never filmed), but only a handful have been released. Includes key work from a variety of writers and directors. Made for the BBC.
Benedict Taylor and Paul Rogers in Barriers.
Barriers – starring Benedict Taylor. 20 episodes, 1981. Billy seeks his adopted parents. Made for Tyne Tees Television. This has turned up on YouTube so I rewatched it in a poor quality copy, but it has stood up well.
Hamlet – starring Ian McKellen. One-off film, 1970. A co-production between the BBC and Prospect Theatre Company. Also features John Woodvine, Faith Brook, and Susan Fleetwood. One of the few colour Shakespeares that remains resolutely in the archives.
David Swift and Richard Beckinsale in Bloomers. Photo via Nostalgia Central.
Bloomers – starring Richard Beckinsale and Anna Calder Marshall. 5 episodes recorded of the planned six, 1979, this series was curtailed with Beckinsale’s death. Made for the BBC. A comedy in which a resting actor starts work in a flower shop. I have seen the episodes in poor-quality copies, with thoughts here.
William Windom in My World and Welcome to It.
My World and Welcome to It – starring William Windom. 26 episodes, 1969-1970. Made for Sheldon Leonard Productions. John Monroe observes and comments on his wife and family in this comedy based on artist/writer James Thurber. I first saw this in the 1980s on Channel 4, and have seen the whole series on poor quality copies.
That’s my twenty most wanted at the moment – what’s yours?
By no means my entire collection, here is a peek at some of the films and TV series which make up my DVD collection.
Check back for more and for some book shelfies during the next few weeks.
It’s been an exciting few days over at Kaleidoscope, based in Birmingham, as a seemingly endless run of archive television goodies have been announced which were previously missing, believed wiped.
Mostly from one individual collector (!), here’s a quick highlights run down of what episodes and items have been returned to the rights holders:
Z-Cars. Two episodes of the gritty police series; Affray and Family Feud, both from 1962. This brings the survival rate of the first series to nineteen episodes out of thirty-one made. The early episodes I have seen have been very watchable – although only colour episodes from the later years have so far been made available on DVD, by Acorn.
The Avengers. Another episode from the underrated Ian Hendry years, series 1’s Tunnel of Fear, from 1961. One of my number one ‘wants’ so, yes, delighted! This increases the survival rate of the first series to three and a half episodes from the twenty-six made. Before Steed became the lead character with a feisty female sidekick, he was the companion to the decent Dr Keel, and the early extant episodes have quite a different feel to the classic series we know today.
Dr Finlay’s Casebook. A Questionable Practice, from 1963. Many of the surviving early episodes have made it on to DVD, from Simply, and I hope this joins them soon. A very enjoyable series, which benefits from the excellent casting of Bill Simpson, Andrew Cruickshank and Barbara Mullen. .This recovery means there are now seventy episodes available from a hundred and ninety-one made.
Softly, Softly. Talk to Me, from 1966. The pilot episode of the much-loved sequel to Z-Cars, and a very interesting survival.
The World of Wooster. Jeeves and the Great Sermon Handicap, from 1965. This means there are now two surviving episodes from the five seasons which featured Dennis Price and Ian Carmichael as the silly ass and his superior butler. I have heard very positive things about this series and can’t wait to see this episode.
Hugh and I. Beau Jesters, from 1966. A series probably best known as ‘that dreadful series’ David Croft was involved with prior to Dad’s Army, featuring Hugh Lloyd and Terry Scott. Still, it has its fans, and it is always nice to welcome archive comedy back to the fold. This means twenty-five episodes now exist from an estimated sixty-nine made.
Here’s Harry. The Musician, from 1963. The surviving edition from series six of Harry Worth’s show, and notorious in its way for being one of the few programmes not pulled from the schedule on the occasion of President Kennedy’s assassination.
This is very much a time for celebration!
Tunnel of Fear is being shown at the next Kaleidoscope event in Birmingham on the 12th November (sadly now sold out).
Family Feud and Jeeves are being shown at the BFI Southbank’s Missing Believed Wiped event in December (exact date to be confirmed).
Welcome back, all.
The second anthology set I’ll be taking a look at from Network is the twelve disc set released last year to celebrate 60 years of ITV.
Each disc is programmed to represent a typical evening’s viewing, although the earliest title dates from 1955, an episode of ‘The Adventures of Robin Hood’, with the latest programme being an episode of ‘Soldier, Soldier’ from 1994.
The audience for this set is unclear: there are many episodes of series which have been seperately released, with only ten items unique to this collection. Having said that, the variety here is excellent, and the handful of items from the days of Associated-Rediffussion are well-chosen.
Here’s what is included in this voyage though the first thirty-nine years of ITV:
In summary, and especially now prices have dropped considerably from the initial RRP, this is worth your time if you wish to see a range of ITV product in one place, or want to sample some wider releases like The Power Game, Justice and The Main Chance without investing in the full series. However the selection could have included more single plays, more period drama, and some more unfamiliar titles.
I’ve been dipping into the anthology releases from Network recently, which collate a number of related programmes together in what might be described as ‘samples’ of full series.
This series of posts will look at seven such releases:
Soap Box (2011)
Despite being badged ‘volume 1’ it seems unlikely that there will be a further set after five years has elapsed; still, this is a reasonable collection of both daytime and evening soaps produced across ITV.
Over four discs we move from the sole surviving episode of hospital drama ‘Call Oxbridge 2000’ from 1961, through to a 2006 ‘disaster’ episode of ‘Emmerdale’, which, when compared to an episode from thirty years before – when the series was still ‘Emmerdale Farm’ – shows clearly the decline of both focus and writing of one of Yorkshire TV’s most enduring soaps; although it is good to see both Ken Farringdon and Jenny Tomasin in the cast.
From the 1960s we have episodes of ‘Parkin’s Patch’, a police drama; ‘Weaver’s Green’, about a vet; an atypical episode of ‘Emergency: Ward 10’; and ‘Market in Honey Lane’, which makes an interesting comparison to ‘Albion Market’ which also appears here.
Although ‘Coronation Street’ started in the 1960s, the two episodes featured here are both from 1977 – one where Tracy is in peril, and the famous one about Annie Walker and the new carpet. Well-written, these are an interesting contrast to episodes which can be found on the ‘ITV60’ and ‘Jack Rosenthal at ITV’ sets. ‘Rooms’, about lodgers and bedsitters, is a bit disappointing; but both ‘The Cedar Tree’ and ‘Marked Personal’ are well worth watching. The aforementioned episode of ‘Emmerdale Farm’ is something of an odd choice, dealing with a family tragedy right at the end; while from 1972 ‘General Hospital’ and ‘Harriet’s Back in Town’ were worth revisiting.
Into the 1980s there is an episode of ‘Crossroads’, which hasn’t aged well; the opener of ‘From Maddie With Love’, which is well overdue a full release; ‘The Practice’, yet another medical drama, has good production values but is largely forgettable; ‘Gems’ has a bit of sparkle; and the short-lived ‘Albion Market’ shows it might have had legs if allowed to grow.
The 1990s episodes are from ‘Families’, ‘London Bridge’, and ‘Revelations’, all now largely forgotten, and the set is rounded off by the 25th anniversary edition of ‘The Bill’, a live episode which I last saw at the BFI Southbank with cast members including the late Bernie Nolan sitting behind us. It’s bordering on the hysterical and compares weakly to earlier episodes which can be found elsewhere.
If you like the genre of ‘soap opera’ in its loosest sense you will find much to enjoy here, and it is a varied collection of titles from the various ITV companies, with six examples from Granada, seven from ATV; five from Thames; three from Yorkshire; and one each from Anglia and Carlton.
Network have released ‘Coronation Street’, ‘Emmerdale Farm’ and ‘Crossroads’ extensively, and there are also some releases of available of ‘Emergency: Ward 10’, ‘General Hospital’, ‘Parkin’s Patch’, ‘Market in Honey Lane’, ‘The Cedar Tree’, ‘London Bridge’, ‘The Bill’ and ‘Revelations’.
There have been many, many screen versions of Shakespeare’s plays – please follow the links below to my lists on Letterboxd to find a range of straight adaptations and versions inspired by the Bard’s work.
Such a rich store of films, television and recordings from the RSC, the National Theatre, the Globe, and Digital Theatre exist to prove the Bard remains relevant 400 years after his passing.
Shakespeare – The Tragedies (http://boxd.it/8yDy), covering 11 of the 37 plays: Antony and Cleopatra, Coriolanus, Hamlet, Julius Caesar, King Lear, Macbeth, Othello, Romeo and Juliet, Timon of Athens, Titus Andronicus, Troilus and Cressida.
Five to try:
Shakespeare – The Comedies (http://boxd.it/8yDS), covering 12 of the 37 plays: All’s Well That Ends Well, The Comedy of Errors, As You Like It, Love’s Labour’s Lost, Measure for Measure, Merry Wives of Windsor, The Merchant of Venice, Twelfth Night, Two Gentlemen of Verona, The Taming of the Shrew, A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Much Ado About Nothing.
Five to try:
Shakespeare – The Histories (http://boxd.it/8yEc), covering 10 of the 37 plays: Richard II, Henry IV Part 1, Henry IV Part 2, Henry V, Henry VI Part 1, Henry VI Part 2, Henry VI Part 3, Richard III, Henry VIII, King John.
Five to try:
Shakespeare – The Romances (http://boxd.it/8yEw), covering 4 of the 37 plays: Pericles, Cymbeline, The Winter’s Tale, The Tempest.
Five to try:
I’ve been spending quite a large chunk of February reading through this charity anthology which gives fans and followers of The Avengers (and The New Avengers) centre stage, from those who have created websites on the topic, contributed to the DVD sets and series 1 reconstructions, or attended conventions around the world, to dedicated collectors of all things Mrs Peel, Steed-fashion-followers, admirers of the adventurous Miss Tara King, and those remembering an adolescent crush on Mrs Gale in her leathers and kinky boots.
I’m a casual Avengers fan myself, fond particularly of the Emma Peel era, and the surviving episodes from the lost lamented opening series with Dr Keel, but I am also intrigued by how people around the world come together in praise of a particular fandom, whether through TV showings and video releases, the lure of a particular character, the recording of audio from shows pre-VHS (which I did myself, but for Sherlock Holmes, which was my youthful fandom alongside Monty Python), or the borderline obsessive devotion to the cause enough to set up regular location hunts, episode synopses, or indeed, a collection like this one.
Very readable and full of references to pop culture and the TV culture of the 1980s (which spoke to me closely as I was growing up in that decade), this volume, tightly curated and edited by Alan Hayes, who has concentrated in print until now on that early, out-of-reach, set of 1961 episodes, is entertaining and full of anecdotes from the personal (James Spiers’ diaries and thoughts about Mrs Peel) to the professional (Jez Wiseman’s recollections about Patrick Macnee).
Buying this volume – from Lulu.com – will allow proceeds to be donated to Champion Chanzige, a charity organisation that exists to improve conditions for underprivileged children at a primary school in Southern Tanzania. You can almost imagine the dapper Mr Steed and his sidekicks appearing there to do their bit to improve the common good, seeing off the bad guys while always having time to stop and show off those marvellous clothes and exquisitely furnished rooms.
With the wide variety of television channels now available it is possible to see a wide variety of films from the 1940s onwards (and even, occasionally, one earlier: the 30s films of the Marx Brothers have recently shown on one of our comedy channels). Films back to the beginning of features just over 100 years ago can be viewed and celebrated, and in the case of silent cinema, new scores and restorations maintain interest. If you go back to the birth of cinema it is still possible to engage with works back to 1895.
For older television, though, the picture is far different. There are some repeat screenings on TV for the likes of Dad’s Army (1968-1978), the Blackadder series (1983-1989), Lovejoy (1986-1994), One Foot in the Grave (1990-1995), Porridge (1974-1977), and the revered Pride and Prejudice (1995). Largely, though, with the exception of cult favourites Doctor Who (1963-1989) and The Avengers (1961-1969), archive TV series are restricted to DVD and Blu-Ray releases aimed at small groups of enthusiasts, or screenings at the likes of the BFI Southbank or events such as those set up by organisations like Kaleidoscope, dedicated to the preservation and sharing of classic material.
Let’s consider the definition of ‘archive television’. Assuming that the earliest examples of TV broadcasts available in either the UK or the US are from the 1940s (or more likely the 1950s), the term probably encompasses material up to the turn of the century, 2000. I first found myself interested in older examples of period drama in the VHS age, while simultaneously drinking in the chance to see material such as the work of Peter Cook and Dudley Moore (1965-1966), Monty Python (1969-1974), and the aforementioned Avengers.
For me as a lover of classic cinema, I like to follow the careers of performers, writers and directors in all mediums. If the likes of Michael Powell, Mike Leigh and Ken Loach made material for TV, I want to assess it alongside their more showy film output. I want to see the early US versions of material which had a second life in cinema remakes (Bang The Drum Slowly, Marty, Judgment at Nuremberg, Requiem for a Heavyweight).
I want to see small scale material featuring my favourite cinema stars (Richard Harris in The Snow Goose, Richard Burton in The Gathering Storm, Alec Guinness and Lauren Bacall in A Foreign Field, Peter O’Toole in The Dark Angel, Oliver Reed in The Debussy Film, Dan Dailey in The Four Just Men, John Mills in The Zoo Gang, Rex Harrison in Platinov, Judi Dench in Talking to a Stranger). I discovered Play for Today just after I had lived through the marvellous era of Film on Four, Screen One and Two, Performance, and Without Walls.
If people miss out on black and white TV purely because it is not in colour, they’re missing out on not just The Forsyte Saga (1967) but also two superior Sherlock Holmes series (1954 and 1965), the gritty early episodes of Z-Cars (started 1962), the Northern cobble saga of Coronation Street (1960- ), science fiction like Out of the Unknown (1965-1971), comedy like The Strange World of Gurney Slade (1960), early music shows like Beat Club (1965-1972) and Ready Steady Go (1963-1966), and plays like Armchair Theatre (1956-1974) and The Wednesday Play (1964-1970) (where many cinema directors and performers cut their teeth).
I read on an archive TV forum today that there is little chance of a wide population being interested in this stuff because it is only of interest to small and discrete cults. I disagree – the releasing schedules of the likes of Network, Acorn, Simply, DD, Delta, Second Sight, and more have shown there is an appetite for the likes of Roots (1977), The Lotus Eaters (1972-1973), Lost Empires (1986), Hancock’s Half Hour (1956-1961,which I discovered from TV repeats in the 90s that would likely not happen now), Mystery and Imagination (1966-1970), Pipkins (1973-1981), Elizabeth R (1971), I Claudius (1976), Two’s Company (1975-1979), Crown Court (1972-1984), Public Eye (1965-1975), Tales of the Unexpected (1979-1988, which does get regular repeats, still), Ghost Story for Christmas (1971-1978), and Marriage Lines (1963-1966).
Interest in these titles is not exclusive. One may enjoy Widows as much as Rock Follies, Callan as much as Emmerdale Farm, Steptoe and Son as much as Justice, Outside Edge as much as Mr Rose, The New Avengers as much as The Duchess of Duke Street, Poldark as much as The Singing Detective. You may see a different side of a favourite performer by reaching back to their earlier work, or appreciate a fledgling writer’s lesser known screenplays.
While one can still enjoy and appreciate (although with increasing difficulty, often requiring a need to purchase DVD material or assess material via the grey market of YouTube, bootlegs, or torrents) a range of films made for the cinema, archive TV is often derided as cinema’s poor relation, stilted, badly made, unwatchable for recent generations. This is simply not true – yes, not everything is great, but this is also true of material released to the big screen, and one person’s highlights will be another’s rubbish.
Much of it prior to the 1980s is not simply unavailable, but lost due to videotape wiping. In comparison to films from the same era so much has gone – although perhaps not forever, as material does occasionally come back to join the creative ranks once more. You may have to dig hard to locate some material, but there is pleasure in the chase and the discovery of something fresh and new.
So I would say to you if you come across this post and like the old films for their performances, direction, charm, humour, tension or entertainment – you may be pleasantly surprised if you make the acquaintance of the material made for the days where a TV screen was the size of a postage stamp. For me much of this programming is ground-breaking, well-written, beautifully made, and intelligent material.
Don’t let this material disappear to become the preserve only of an elitist group who are ageing and, in the words of some of them, becoming more split into cult factions. Don’t let the huge fandom of Doctor Who swallow up the recovery and rehabilitation of other contemporary material. Don’t allow TV to become isolated as a present and ephemeral medium unable to set itself within the canon of the past. Discover and celebrate the material broadcast on the small screens of the golden age of television and, like me, you might never look back.
Play for Today: The Slab Boys, directed by Bob Hird. Starring Gerard Kelly, Billy McColl, Joseph McKenna and Tom Watson. 75 minutes. 1979.
An excellent ‘Play for Today’, this stage to screen adaptation by John Byrne, the first of an eventual trilogy, shows life in a Scottish carpet factory from the floor where the ‘slab boys’ mix the colours for the designers: three lads work there from the dim clown to the sparky fireball and the sarcastic quiff wearer.
When a posh lad comes into the firm straight from ‘uni’ and starts earning more in a week than all three slab boys together they get a glimpse of what could be, and what might be, for one of them. With realistic regional dialogue and some sense of urban working class life, there are watchable and strong performances from Billy McColl (d. 2014), Gerard Kelly (d. 2010), and Joseph McKenna (not seen on screen since Absolute Beginners).
The boss is one Willie Curry, sardonic and nostalgic for his desert war service. Tom Watson reprised the role nearly two decades later for the glossy feature film, but I find his performance here is more spot on.
Finally, the new lad Alan, still in his blazer and polite to a fault, is played by Mark Windsor, who has also disappeared from the screen after a brief flourish in the late 70s/early 80s. I didn’t find him that convincing but you need this kind of character for contrast and conflict, I suppose.
Very watchable and although it betrays its stage origins now and then, it translates well to the screen.
Play for Today: The Muscle Market, directed by Jim Goddard. Starring Pete Postlethwaite, Alison Steadman, Paul Jesson and Barry McCarthy. 75 minutes. 1981.
A very good Play for Today from the pen of Alan Bleasdale, this provides the missing link between the play ‘The Black Stuff’ which introduced Yosser and the gang, and the subsequent TV serial, ‘Boys from the Blackstuff’. It’s a mystery why this particular play is missing from the DVD release.
This is the story of contractor Danny Duggan (Pete Postlethwaite), who is involved in bad company with some violent and dodgy characters, and the dark situation he finds himself in with books which don’t add up and numerous debts.
It might sound bleak, but there is a lot of black comedy here and a real sense of realism from a master writer. When he has to go serious, he certainly does, that’s the cleverness of the writing.
Strong support from Alison Steadman as Duggan’s secretary, and Terence Rigby as the amiable yet menacing Mr Big owed a lot of cash.
Play for Today: Home, directed by Lindsay Anderson. Starring Ralph Richardson, John Gielgud, Mona Washbourne, Dandy Nichols and Warren Clarke. 86 minutes. 1972.
This is a marvellous Play for Today featuring two theatrical giants, Ralph Richardson and John Gielgud, as two residents of a rest home: much of the play is the two of them, talking, which may not sound much but which is absolute gold.
David Storey’s play flourishes in the hands of director Lindsay Anderson (they would collaborate a number of times), and the joy of this piece is just watching two masters at work, while the audience has to work out just how nutty they are and how they interact with each other.
Mona Washbourne and Dandy Nichols have lesser roles, but are both good, while Warren Clarke has an early role as a simple-minded clot who is simply tolerated by the elderly pair of chatterers. The dialogue is very naturalistic, the set is purely theatrical, but the effect is one of being an audience member on the very front row.
Play for Today: Dinner at the Sporting Club, directed by Brian Gibson. Starring John Thaw, Billy McColl, Maureen Lipman, Jonathan Lynn, and Ken Campbell. 63 minutes. 1978.
“I married a ladies raincoat manufacturer, not a sportsman”.
Maureen Lipman and Jonathan Lynn as a bored and sniping couple are on the sidelines of this sharp and compact play featuring John Thaw as a boxing promoter and Billy McColl as his prizefighter, acceptable to the sporting club fraternity because he isn’t ‘chocolate’.
This is a sparkling character study in many ways – here’s the marvellous Ken Campbell propping up the bar in suit and bow tie, wondering whether to take a flutter on the boy.
“They get enough money for a down-payment on a bungalow out in Ongar and they’re satisfied”.
An on-the-surface romantic view of the boxing ring soon evaporates into the loss of hope in seedy surroundings as McColl’s fighter fails to reach his potential.
Gloriously un-PC, too, with lines like ‘He doesn’t drink, funny being a Mick’. Thaw and McColl are good, and this has a definite whiff of realism with the blood, sweat and tears of the fighting ring.
Wuthering Heights, directed by Rudolph Cartier. Keith Michell as Heathcliff, Claire Bloom as Cathy, Patrick Troughton as Hindley, David McCallum as Edgar, Jean Anderson as Ellen, and June Thorburn as Isabella. 95 minutes. 1962.
An early TV attempt to do justice to the classic novel in 95 minutes doesn’t quite come off, although it has the correct Gothic chills by the end.
Claire Bloom is a radiant, free-spirited Cathy, although her accent is a bit wayward. As her Heathcliff, Keith Michell smoulders with rage, passion and arrogance, but he would improve in acting range over the next decade.
Rounding out the cast, David McCallum as Edgar, June Thorburn as Isabella (her decline from flighty and flirty to desperate is sad to see), Jean Anderson as Ellen, Patrick Troughton as Hindley, and Ronald Howard as Mr Lockwood.
This Rudolph Cartier production was showing as part of the BFI Gothic season and can now be found in the BFI Mediatheque.
Wuthering Heights, directed by David Skynner. Robert Cavanagh as Heathcliff, Orla Brady as Cathy, Ian Shaw as Hindley, Peter Davison as Joseph, Matthew Macfadyen as Hareton, Sarah Smart as Catherine, Crispin Bonham-Carter as Edgar, Polly Hemingway as Nelly and Flora Montgomery as Isabella. 113 minutes. 1998.
This adaptation of Emily Bronte’s classic Gothic romance of the Yorkshire moors has something of an Irish feel (thanks to the casting of Orla Brady as a spunky Catherine, and Robert Cavanah as a brooding and menacing Heathcliff).
This Heathcliff is not the romantic hero we saw in the Olivier-Oberon version in the 1930s; he’s bitter, tiresome, grotesque, unsympathetic, and yet his great love for Cathy shines through.
Matching the novel pretty much chapter for chapter, this version does more with the last third of the book that most other attempts have – the understanding between Hareton and Catherine comes through much more strongly.
It also muddies the waters slightly with respect to the conflict between Heathcliff and Hindley – although we can see why Heathcliff acts as he does, this version doesn’t necessarily excuse him.
This Wuthering Heights is uncompromising, dark, and violent. This possibly contributed to its fate at the time, as the acting is largely fine (including Ken Kitson as Mr Earnshaw, Ian Shaw as Hindley, Matthew MacFadyen as Hareton, Tom Georgeson as Joseph, and Polly Hemingway as Nellie). It represents a decent attempt to get Emily Bronte’s vision on film – it doesn’t work, but it comes very close.
The wildest, funniest, most bizarre of the Monty Python team left us on 4th October 1989 when he died of cancer at the age of 48.
The most talented actor in the group – he played the title role in Life of Brian and King Arthur in Monty Python and the Holy Grail, Chapman was also a hedonist who overindulged in many things, notably alcohol (gin was his drink of choice) and, according to his tongue in cheek book, A Liar’s Autobiography, sex.
Openly gay, he was something of an activist, funding the fledgling publication Gay News. He was also sharply intelligent behind the silliness: a qualified doctor and a man who, in an appearance on the Channel 4 show Opinions, railed against gender stereotyping and dealt with the issue of death in a matter of fact way.
His contribution to Python has been downplayed over the years, with writing partner John Cleese claiming he ‘carried’ Chapman: yet many of the quirks and ideas which made Python sketches special came from the quiet and contemplative pipe smoker in the corner.
His outrageous side was legendary, whether sticking a part of his anatomy into a stranger’s drink in a pub, appearing full frontal nude as Brian, or fully embracing a spoof advice page on masturbation for the team’s second book, The Brand New Monty Python Papperbok. (This last item was said to be ‘upsetting to Gray’s fans’ when I shared on a Facebook page yesterday, which surely misses the point that this chap pushed the boundaries each and every day of his life).
An attractive man, Chapman was probably just as aware of his appeal to fans of both sexes as he was of his ability to appear outrageous (he was the Python who looked best in a dress). His enduring (but open) partnership with David Sherlock lasted more than twenty years, during which time they adopted teenage runaway John Tomiczek.
After Python his career was not that successful, although he starred in two feature films – The Odd Job, which had previously been a vehicle for Ronnie Barker; and Yellowbeard, a sort of mad pirate saga. His last professional appearance was in an Iron Maiden video called Can I Play With Madness.
Chapman died on the eve of Python’s 20th anniversary – a true case of ‘party pooping’. At the memorial service his colleagues took the opportunity to be outrageous and offensive on his behalf. Since then he has been a regular participant in their shows right up until their ‘farewell’ shows at the O2 in 2014.
He will always be my favourite of the Pythons: the one who makes me laugh, and makes me think.
I have fond memories of both the Adrian Mole series from their first transmission in the 1980s. However until this DVD was released in 2012 I had not seen either series for over twenty-five years.
The Secret Diary of Adrian Mole Aged 13 3/4 was shown from September 1985, with The Growing Pains of Adrian Mole following in May 1987. Although Gian Sammarco appeared in both series, there was a casting change relating to Mole’s mother Pauline: in the original series, she was played by Julie Walters, but was portrayed by Lulu in the later series. Surprisingly this change did not hurt the show in any way.
The theme song ‘Profoundly in Love With Pandora’ by Ian Dury was indicative of the time, and Sue Townsend’s books were done proud by these adaptations which pull out the quiet comedy and pathos of growing up as an 80s teenager.
A visit to the BFI Mediatheque is always well worth it, and this time I had a particular Wednesday Play in mind, ‘Horror of Darkness’.
This play by John Hopkins was filmed in 1964 but held back for a year before its television transmission as one of the ‘Wednesday Plays’, perhaps due to worry from the BBC about its subject matter, which touches on homosexuality at a time when this was still a matter for the criminal courts.
Peter (a dour Alfred Lynch) and Cathy (Glenda Jackson in sparkling form) are a couple, not married, but rubbing along together. He’s an artist, illustrating biology books. She appears to be a homemaker. Into their world comes Robin (Nicol Williamson, playing in his native Scots accent), a fey and unpredictable friend of Peter’s from the past, who brings a sense of unease into the happy home.
Early on, we see Robin’s playful but disruptive side when he ruins Peter’s commissioned drawing, but we don’t know why he is like this. We also don’t know why Peter is so shaken to find Robin in the flat with a woman, listening to stereo instrumentals on the gramophone.
As Robin weaves a web in which he claims to be a successful writer, first of a short story in the magazine ‘Impetus’ and then of a produced play, his hosts seem to remain shaken by his presence.
There’s a great scene where Peter and Cathy are shut out from a party going on in their own house, a party we don’t see, and they share wine on the stairs before arguing, again, about their unpaying guest. “Where can he go?” “I don’t know.” “Sad, isn’t it?”.
Robin singing snatches of ‘Over The Rainbow’ probably gives us a large clue these days as to what’s going on – not sure that fifty years ago this would have been as obvious. But then there’s a lovely moment where Peter offers to light his cigarette, and Robin grasps his wrist and holds it just a fraction too long, and then we know, even as they continue to dance around the subject and goad and needle each other.
Then the moment. “I love you!” And an eyebrow raised, beautifully done by Lynch, rejecting his friend with a carefully phrased retort: “Cathy’s right. You can be something of a liability.” Cathy, for her part, is goading too, with a clumsy kiss filled with contempt and a warning to Robin that she knows he aims to take Peter away from her.
There’s music all the way through this play, whether from the LPs which play filling the room (a glorious scene with a classical chorus), or Robin, alone in his lonely bed, whistling. Everyone seems to be heading for breaking point throughout – this is a darker, more dangerous turn away from the niceties of Coward’s ‘Design for Living’ which balances a similar triangle. Peter even makes boiling a kettle full of menace. Robin is as desperate as coiled springs. Cathy is manically miserable.
I didn’t see the twist coming, and that probably makes it effective even now. Robin’s last line in the play is “I can be nice only so long. You know?”, and after that he proves it with his actions and the way they finally tear the couple apart. There’s also a mysterious visitor, who sheds light on what has gone before.
And Peter? Well, Robin said he was ‘just like him’ but ‘safe as houses’, and we understand that, and so does Cathy. The two ‘nicest people in the world’ have destroyed themselves, and there’s a chilling scene where Peter in an act of verbal and physical violence lets out his feelings on the girl Robin had to visit back in the early part of the play.
The three leads are extremely effective together, and there is a real sense throughout that something is going to explode, but we don’t know what – and it never quite does. The gay angle is handled well, and we completely understand what has been going on, and it is quite pathetic to watch this sad trio approach their own private darkness.
My visit to the Mediatheque was completed by watching the final episode of 1957’s television serial for children, the adaptation of ‘The Silver Sword’ by Ian Serraillier, which had been published the previous year. A tale of four Polish children around the time of the Second World War (including familar names Melvyn Hayes (aged 21) and Frazer Hines (aged 12)) this does look as if it would be well worth watching were the whole series to become available.
Amy Steele on music, books and other (mostly alternative) entertainment
Lover of good food, good wine and all things London-related - theatre, music, history and Arsenal FC being some of my particular passions. Join me on my travels around this amazing city and beyond...
Uncovering the lost history of British TV Drama
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