It's a Sin: Part 2

 "There's nothing wrong with boys from London."

Wow. That was another masterclass in television drama from RTD, again managing to meld the deeply tragic with the humorously human in a way that feels like life, with his extraordinary flair for dialogue and characterisation. The spectre of AIDS gets closer and closer to our three stars, and again claims the life of someone whom we care about.

Richie and Jill, bookending the episode with a pair of duets, five is a stark contrast. Richie’s oh-so-clever conspiracy theory scepticism gets a gloriously choreographed monologue to camera, quite rightly breaking the fourth wall in ways that remind me of RTD’s Casanova, which I haven’t seen since before this blog existed. And yet, one of those theories he mocks about where AIDS could have come from is, probably, correct.

Jill, meanwhile, is keen to learn the truth, sending Colin on a fact finding mission in New York and being Gloria’s only confidant, with him in a devastating scene as he tries to deny what is happening, and looking after him while vigorously sponging herself and washing up with rigour. It was 1984, and people really did know nothing.

There is much else happening- the sadness of how Roscoe being himself is affecting his family, and the uncomfortable scenes of Colin’s lecherous boss trying to have his way with the young man in a very MeTok sort of way until he spots the AIDS literature Colin’s being collecting- leading shortly thereafter to the most cheerful sacking ever.

What haunts us most, though, is the sight of Gloria’s family, at his wake, throwing all his loved possessions on the fire and rejecting who he is. Horrible.

I’m dreading what awaits us next week. And yet this is extraordinary telly, still on track to be RTD’s masterpiece.

The Mystery of Chess Boxing (1979)

 "To play chess, one must be as calm as a mountain."

This film, let us be clear from the start, is utter pants. The pace and tone are all over the place, and the characterisation is weak. But, as I've only seen and blogged half a dozen or so martial arts films, it's interesting to look at why.

We have a decent premise here with a young man setting out to avenge his father's death by training in kung fu and using this to wreak his revenge, while engaging throughout in a martial arts philosophy of five elements and the use of chess (xiangqi, or Chinese chess, a broadly similar game) as some kind of vague metaphor for the right sort of kung fu. All with the addition of various hilarious-looking wigs.

And yet it all falls flat. Too much of the early part of the film is devoted to silly slapstick sequences rather than developing the Ghost Faced Killer or developing the characters; instead we get lots of fancy martial arts and acrobatics and lengthy sequences of hazing at the kung fu school, but very little in the way of character development in order to get us to know or like these people. Instead, the entire film has (in English translation at least) extraordinarily functional dialogue throughout, and a lot of the more dramatic scenes towards the end don't have the intended effect, as we simply aren't sufficiently invested in these characters.

Also, I'm no connoisseur of martial arts, but I'm told the fighting is awkwardly directed, with very little visual evidence of the five different element-based styles. And the chess angle, such as it is, is very superficial indeed. the overall effect is, well, rubbish. And it's a pity; the concept could have worked well with a dedent script and execution

Godzilla vs King Ghidorah (1991)

 "You can tell your son about it when he's born, Major Spielberg."

I thought it was about time I continued with my Godzilla marathon, and this is a massively fun film to return to. This is the best kind of unashamed B movie, which quite properly luxuriates in what it is and doesn't care what you think.

I mean, let's recap the plot: people from the future arrive in Japan giving dire warnings of destruction meaning Godzilla must be destroyed before his birth, but secretly planning to destroy future economic superpower Japan by arranging the creation of the monster King Ghidorah. Fortunately not only is Godzilla brought back bigger than before by a random nuclear sub but the Japanese person amongst them, at one point seeming to be a possible love interest for the male lead but ending up as his great grandaughter (er...) is able to return to her time and bring back a cyborg King Ghidorah to save the day.

Yes, that all actually happens. Gloriously mad, is it not?

This film, with its different backstory for King Ghidorah, with (despite some misdirection) no aliens about, underlines the fact that the films from 1984 onwards are a different continuity. It also adds a nice bit of backstory in that the creature that became Godzilla in 1984 was previously a dinosaur in the South Pacific that saved some Japanese soldiers from an American assault in 1944.

There's lots of splendid city destruction with models. there's lots of cheeky "tributes" to Hollywood too- the computer interface of the time machine looks an awful lot like Doc Brown's DeLorean, while the pursuing android looks suspiciously like the baddie from Terminator 2: Judgement Day. This sort of thing makes the film even more fun.

There's one big caveat, though; Japan never underwent the equivalent of West Germany's de-Nazification, and it shows in the nationalistic subtext here. There's a defnite glee in Japan's future economic domination; the android antagonist is definitely coded as American and, worst of all, the Imperial Japanese Army is presented as honourable. Let us be clear: it had absolutely no honout whatsoever, and its officers were not gentlemen.

Disturbing subtext aside, though, I enjoyed this splendidly silly film.

The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes: Series 2- The Final Problem

 "You have less frontal development than I should have expected..."

This episode is, like the short story to which it is almost entirely faithful except for the detail of having Moriarty behind The Red Headed League, completely unlike any other instalment. There is no mystery, no whodunit; this is an entirely different genre as Holmes is close to nailing Moriarty so he and Watson must flee to the Continent. 

I’m no fan of the short story, so it says quite something that I very much enjoyed this episode. The wonderful visuals- particularly the location filming in what I assume must be Switzerland and the actual Reichenbach Falls- are a huge part of this, of course. So are the magnificent performances of Jeremy Brett and Eric Porter. Their initial confrontation scene in Baker Street is mesmerising.

The case in France from the short story is also expanded to concern the theft of the Mona Lisa, which adds an extra element of fun, with Holmes finding a parallel in a skilled copyist of Old Masters- and is that J.P. Morgan to whom Moriarty was about to sell the forgery? 

It’s a fitting end to the first iteration of ITV’s version of Sherlock Holmes. Fortunately, though, it will continue in other titles, with a less wooden Watson than David Burke. And, as I have access to them all, I shall go on and onto the end...

Sapphire & Steel: Assignment One- Escape Through a Crack in Time, Part 2

 "So nothing's safe."

This is the second episode, not the first, so it has a different job to do. Last episode blew me away with the gloriously weird concept of essentially doing horror with time, and using its relative nature to make it creepy. That's a genius concept.

This episode was never going to have the same effect, developing and exploring these ideas rather than introducing them. The cliffhanger gets resolved with, er, the sacrifice of a doll. The cliffhanger at the end of this one is pretty cool- Goosey Goosey Gander and cool-looking ghosts of the Roundheads the rhyme is about- but it's another version of the same concept.

Similarly, it's reinforced that old things are dangerous- Steel insists on using the oldest room in the house, and is careful not to include any old things. Meanwhile, Sapphire traps an annoying policeman in a time loop while Steel seems to do Jedi mind tricks. Their powers are cool enough to intrigue but the explanation from Sapphire for her time loop- a deliberately vague analogy- carefully limits the scope. We can't have our mysterious protagonists be over-powered.

Not much happens, plot-wise, but that's not important at this stage, where we just want to spend time exploring the concept and these two aloof, mysterious characters. I'm still hooked.

It's a Sin: Part 1

 "You haven't got a parrot, have you?"

Russell T. Davies, after a few quiet years since leaving Doctor Who (alas, said quietness for tragic personal reasons) has not only been very much back over the last few years but is arguable at the very peak of his career right now. Cucumber was perhaps underappreciated, as was Years and Years, but few deny that A Very English Scandal was sublime. If this first episode is any guide (and I'm told reviews are raving from those who've binged the whole thing on All4; I'm soing it week by week), this could be the best thing he's ever done.

RTD has always said he wanted to return to gay themes in recent years, and this series confronts the elephant in the room: AIDS, which destroyed and traumatised a generation of gay men through the cruel double whammy of a horrifying disease and the added cruelty of society. I'm sure we will see much overt homophobia in later episodes (RTD has already shown with truthfully subtle dialogue the casual racism), but just as cruel is the fact that same sex relationships must be covert, informal, unrecognised, existing only at the margins of society. 

We see this, horrifyingly, in the person of Henry, played superbly by Neil Patrick Harris. He's lived with his partner (that unsatisfactory word) Juan Pablo for thirty years, a blissfully married couple in all but name. And yet, when they both become sick with this mysterious new gay plague (and yes, this all has resonance in early 2021, with our plague being less easy to ignore for most than the plague of forty years earlier), Juan Pablo's mother takes him "home" to Portugal and they must both die without seeing each other again. Equally horrifying is the sight of Henry, alone in a ward to himself, food left at the door, with no one approaching unless wearing what we have over the past year come to refer to as full PPE.

This episode is about introducing the characters, however, although not without a little foreboding. RTD is making us like these very human, flawed, likeable individuals before putting them through the wringer. We focus on three young gay men- Richie, student turned actor; Roscoe, who has fled the worst kind of religious fundamenalism with his Nigerian family set on "curing" him; and Colin, a shy young tailor from RTD's part of the world. There's also the very lovely Jill, the heart of the Pink Palace, but this episode shos lots of joyous, hedonistic sex, silliness and young people behaving as young people should, ignorant (and in denial) of what's coming.

Worryingly, we end with our three principals expanding on their dreams for the future. Let's hope at least some of them have one.

This is utterly sublime television. RTD makes it look effortless. I already feel I know and care about these people, and am worried.

Camp at Blood Island (1958)

 "No room for shirkers!"

This film is a definite oddity- a non-horror Hammer film (this weekend's theme) made in 1958, several films into the company's horror era, directed by Val Guest and starring Andre Morell, both familiar faces from late '50s horror.

Yet it feels utterly Hammer. It's weird to see Morell not playing a maverick scientist, and the token Amercan is played not by Steve McQueen but by Luke Skywalker's Uncle Owen. There's the obligatory cut price Charles Bronson figure. The sadly late Barbara Shelley is in a very Tenko role, and she's wonderful. It's all very lurid, with staggering amounts of torture and brutal violence for its time- but this probably got hrough the censors precisely because Japanese POW camps really were as bad as this and worse.

The budget is low, the direction is no more than competent, yet Morell is a compelling lead and there's a surprisingly plot that makes this a much better watch than its reputation. The film is gripping throughout, which I wasn't expecting.

The film is, of course, incredibly racist, with the Japanese officers portrayed by made up white actors. And yet this particular racism- although nothing can exactly excuse the yellowface make-up, used in other contexts in contemporary films, and we shouldn'r excuse the various European colonial empires in the Far East or anywhere else- can perhaps not be described as prejudice. Many British people, including my Grandad Gordon, fought in Burma and elsewhere, witnessing many Japanese atrocities and refusing to buy Japanese cars for their whole lives. I'm a lover of Japan, and Japanese culture, but this generation of Japanese soldiers, treating their prisoners of war with sheer cruelty, were utterly without honour.

David Bowie- Blackstar (2016)

This haunting and mournfully reflective bunch of songs was unexpectedly given to us mere days before David Bowie died at the disappointing age of 69 in the early days of 2016, a year which would yet prove to have further unpleasant shocks in store.

It is. of course, a work of brilliance. ate period Bowie is consistently excellent, but tis is something special. It's not just the oft-quoted impression, I think, that this is the album where Bowie, artist to the end, effectively curates his own death. No; it's just a brilliantly introspective album, jazzy, the good kind of weird, that takes a good few listens to drill its tendrils into your brain and then continues drilling indefinitely.

"Lazarus" and "Blackstar" are obviously the standout tracks, but the whole death-soaked album is devoid of filler, ending, appropriately, with the pensive "I Can't Give Everything Away". The perspective of five years has, if anything, made it even clearer that this album is an extraordinary artifact, and perhaps the pinnacle of Bowie's lifelong performance through Ziggy Stardust, Thin White Duke, and finally a personal, but not cultural, oblivion.

David Bowie was a bloody genius. That is all.

The Terror of the Tongs (1961)

 "Like all occidentals, you find it impossible to accept the inevitable."

This is one of those occasional non-horror films Hammer did in their glory days, a tale of a tong rather than a vampire and something a bit different for Jimmy Sangster to write and Christopher Lee to star in.

You can see from the pic that there's an unfortunate amount of yellowface here, prominently so with Lee; it appears that, aside from Burt Kwouk (who inevitably appears), there are no Chinese actors available for speaking roles so the Chinese characters all have to be played by white actors with various degrees of yellowface. Some attempt to sound Chinese; the likes of Lee and Roger Delgado sound English as ever- or, in the case of Yvonne Monlaur, French.

It's a fairly standard revenge plot, although with surprisingly little action overall, with Geoffrey Toone suitably square-jawed as the heroic and very British Jackson Sale.

It is, of course, all told from the perspective of the colonising British, with lots of unfortunate othering of Chinese ways and Chinese culture; it's not just the yellowface that means I'm hardly not exactly going to be able to deny the casual, unthinking racism and racist tropes that permeate this film, many of which no doubt have failed to catch my attention. There's a character called Confucius, after all. But it was 1961, and the past is a foreign country. It's also interesting to see Hong Kong as a place where cultures meet, and what that means for organised crime.

Lee is decent enough- he phones in his performance somewhat, but he's good enough to get away with it. Roger Delgado is also excellent- charismatic and commanding. The plot is standard stuff but decent enough. The direction, though, is sadly flat and uninspired, with unimaginative camerawork and lighting. But the script and performances raise the film to the level of an entertaining curiosity, from a time when no one batted an eyelid at portraying cultures in this way.

Update

Seeing as I've now finished both The Crown and Life on Mars, here's a quick confirmation of what I'll be up to.

Effectively I'll be alternating three old programmes, all of them ITV dramas as it happens- Sapphire & Steel; Catweazle; and the Jeremy Brett Sherlock Holmes. I'll also occasionally be blogging stuff that Mrs Llamastrangler and I watch together, particularly The Mandalorian. Plus the usual films at weekends. And the odd episode of Black Mirror.

After that, Ashes to Ashes is certainly going to be soon. But, as ever, I'm open to suggestions.

The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes: Series 2- The Red Headed League

 "It is quite a three pipe problem..."

Yes, I know; it's been a while, and I stopped abruptly, but now I'm back to blogging the Jeremy Brett series of Sherlock Holmes adaptations. I stopped because of an unfortunate cock-up with Sky Plus, but now I have Britbox. I can now continue the last two episodes of Adventures, folowed by the first series of Return. There may be another pause there untl I'm able to see The Sign of Four, but that's a solid nine episodes for now.

The Red Headed League is one of the more well-known of the Conan Doyle short stories, and certainly one of the ones with which I'm most familiar. It's therefore a rather good episode to reintroduce myself to this wonderful series, drowning in redolent Victoriana, as I again experience the wonders of Jeremy Brett's performance and the nicely adapted story, complete with dialogue reflecting the actual speech patterns of Conan Doyle's characters. There's a superb case here, with Richard Wilson and Tim McInnerny standing out, while John Woodnutt is splendid as his usual vaguely arrogant authority figure. Roger Hammond also tands out in a bravely comical portrayal of Jabez Wilson.

It's an interesting choice, though, in this penultimate episode of the series, to have the whole thing be masyerminded by Moriarty, to give Brett a nice little speevh introducing him as formidable foe, and to give the superb Eric Porter a sublime cameo at the end.

Roll on The Final Problem. This programme is superb. I've missed it.

Sapphire & Steel: Assignment One- Escape Through a Crack in Time, Part 1

 "Lots of old things. Lots of old, old echoes..."

It's been years since I last saw this (and I've only ever seen the first two Assignments, but on this viewing this first episode blew me away. This is quite extraordinary and original television- atmospheroc and compelling.

Sapphire and Steel are fascinating, if alien, characters, and both Joanna Lumley and david McCallum are impressive as the aloof yet cheery Sapphire and the glum, morose Steel. yet this is not so much a drama based on character but ideas, as we're introduced to the terrifying concept of time as a corridor, with weak points in its structure through which terrible creatures can ppunce and "take" people, namely the unfortunate parents of Rob and Helen.

This is scripted, shot and played like horror- and, with a threat which is conceptual rather than gory, extremely effective as such. At times it feels Lovecraftian, especially with the mention of creatures from the beginnings and end of time. Yet, fascinaingly, this is use of the concept of time as a relative phenomenon for purposes of horror, something very post-Einsteinian.

The episode is slow-paced and leisurely, building up the atmosphere and bombarding us with brilliant concepts. It's a thing of wonder, as least for this first episode, and I shall never see nursery rhymes the same way again.

Life on Mars: Season 2, Episode 8

 "If you're strong enough to go through with this operation..."

And so it ends.On transmission, I was a little disappointed: Sam was just in a coma after all, and it seemed as though we'd been fobbed off with the obvious explanation. Watching it again, though, I'm rather impressed. This was always as much of a cop show as telefantasy; there's only so far they can push the envelop with the weirdness and funn with the fourth wall- and, as the episode literally ends with the Test Card Girl switching off our collective telly, I can't complain about any lack of weirdness.

Admittedly, the beginning is unfortunate, for reasons that would not have been forseeable in 2007; Sam hears the exposition on the radio about being operated on on 2007 from... Jimmy Savile. Ouch. Sam even says "Fix it for me, Jim." This unintentional nod to a nonce, in the actual finale, has probably done damage to the series' repeat value.

Nevertheless, this is a nicely structured finale that keeps you guessing as to what's really happening, with things shifting several times. The scene where Sam gives Morgan all his evidence about Gene in order to get "home", only to realise that he and Morgan are not talking abut the same thing and he's an undercover agent from Hyde to take down Hunt, is powerful indeed, and John Simm is extraordinary in the scenes in the graveyard.

The betrayal of all his colleagues, especially Annie, is powerful, as is the moment where all fades to white and Sam wakes up on an operating table in 2006. The world of 2006 is subtly made to look dull and grey and, while Sam's suicide by rooftop is perhaps not quite earned, the last few minutes make up for it as, presumably dying, Sam comes to accept and enjoy 1973... and kisses Annie. a surprisingly excellent and satisfying conclusion.

Catweazle: Season 1, Episode 5- The Eye of Time

) "Thou ass-eared turnspit!"

I know I've done several episodes of Catweazle in a row and seem to be procrastnating over the last ever episode of Life on Mars. Bear with me; things are a bit hectic. Catweazle is short so it's something I can just about manage to blog when time is short. Life on Mars concludes soon, then other stuff will follow.

This is a fine little episode, amusing as ever with Catweazle getting some truly splendid dialogue for the mighty Geoffrey Bayldon to deliver. Even better, the wonderful, extremely funny and actually rather sexy Hattie Jacques is in this in a nice little role as a fortune teller in cahoots with the local betting shop. Catweazle has her number in a wonderful scene in which the two of them get to spar magnificently. It's a real treat to get a guest star of this calibre. In theory, with Catweazle being able to predict every horse race, he and Carrot can become millionaires and lead a life of luxury- but dad says no, and that's that. And Catweazle, for some reason, still wants to return to his extremely unpleasant time.

Yet again it's fascinating, fifty years on (this was filmed in late 1969) to see a Britain in which bets are "five bob" each way and a fortune telling is "seven and six".

The Blood Beast Terror (1968)

 "They'll never believe this at the Yard!"

There were many non-Hammer, non-Amicus little horror films starring Peter Cushing in the late '60s, essentially because he needed the money to go private with the pressng mecical needs of his very ill wife, who was unfortunately to die a couple of years later. This is a fairly anonymous example and, objectively, you can't exactly say it's particularly good. But you can't help but enjoy it.

The plot is a mess, of course. It's not entirely clear why the professor's daughter ends up as a man-eating moth, why he so suddenly turns against her or, indeed, whether he's a professor or a doctor. Also, the moth costume is rubbish, but Vernon Sewell at least has the sense to only show it in glimpses.

Yet the Victorian sets are glorious- including a wonderful chemistry set. There's a play within the film, loosely based on Frankenstein, which lasts for quite a while and is gloriously bonkers. Peter Cushing, although clearly phoning it in, is incapable of being less than excellent. We have Kevin Stoney as a sinister butler, and a couple of splendid comic cameos from a shockingly young Roy Hudd as a cheerful morgue attendant..

And Victorian tropes and references abound. Cushing's daughter has her blood sucked and is mesmerised to remain under the baddies' control- all very Dracula. There's a colonial scene featuring a pith helmet. The police are splendidly Victorian, and the sergeant has a truly magnificent moustache. This may be a very silly film, and not intentionally so, but it's eminently watchable and rather good fun.

Asylum (1972)

"Never turn your back on a patient..."

I've seen a far few Amicus portmanteau horrors by now; I know the score: three or so flashback segments, each a suitably camp little horror story before the framing sequence becomes a story in its own right, with a twist at the end.

This film fits the template exactly and, while there are better examples among the other Amicus anthologies I've seen, this film doesn't disappoint in following the template to perfection while giving us some enjoyably camp body horror and some gleefully insentitive attitudes to mental heath, the camera lingering early on over some lurid old James Gilray cartoons set in a Georgian asylum.

The first sequence, starring a delightfully gruff Richard Todd, is splendidly bonkers, with body parts wrapped up in parcels attacking an adulterous couple in order to exact revenge. The whole concept starts out serious and sinister but soon dissolves superbly into farce in the best way possible.

The second story is a bizarre tale involving a tailor, Jewish stereotypes, and a great deal of fairytale logic. This one is genuinely creepy and arguably the best tale of the lot, with the dark fairytale quality and the presence of Peter Cushing elevating it somewhat, although it is of course as camp as a row of tents.

The third sequence, with Britt Ekland and Charlotte Rampling, perhaps drags a little and is slightly lacking in camp, although Rampling's evil laugh is a thing of magnificence. But the fourth sequence, with its little murdering doll, is just pure weirdness, but you have to admire the decision to actually proceed with something so stark raving bonkers. This is where the framing sequence comes into its own, with a strong performance from Robert Powell and a superb one from Geoffrey Bayldon.

Not every sequence is brilliant. But the whole film is enormous fun throughout.
 

Catweazle: Season 1, Episode 4- The Witching Hour

 "I say, they boy's hair needs a jolly old cut!"

I'm not saying this is the greatest television programme ever or anything- it's a kids' show from the Light Channel- but I thoroughly enjoyed this episode. On the surface it's a fun little farce based on a bit of misdirection- Carrot thinks his dad is going to marry the rich Miss Bonington to save the farm, but actually she's just an influential councillor whom George (his dad has a name!) needs planning permission and not, in fact, a "shrew".

It's fun, it's splendid stuff, but there are all sorts of questions. Is the farm in financial trouble? Is Carrot's family (what happened to his mum?) landed gentry who are now falling on hard times? Why, for that matter, is Catweazle (still with Rapkyn's spellbook) want to travel back to his own unpleasant time, full of nasty racist Normans, rather than stay in 1970 where nobody wants to kill him? I approve of Catweazle's view of hairdressers as "monstrous", though. Hair is, indeed, magic. Mrs Llamastrangler gives me a very slight trim every six months, whether I need it or not. That's enough for anyone.

But, as ever, much of the attraction is gawking at domestic life in 1970. The HP Sauce bottle. The cars. The fashions in the hairdressers. The glimpse of the high street, including a Spar. This programme may not be the deepest stuff ever, but it's such fun.

Catweazle: Season 1, Episode 3- The Curse of Rapkyn

  "'Tis all here, Touchwood. Here lies our way back!"

Another fun little episode here as Catweaze discovers a curse on the farm, helps Carrot get rid of it while getting into a series of scrapes while ending up with a spellbook at the end.

There's more slapstick humour, which works well and showcases Geoffrey Bayldon's comic talent as, among other things, he chases Touchwood around the museum as a bunch of schoolgirls- and their teachers- scream at the toad. There's also a highly enjoyable guest spot from a pre-Last of the Summer Wine Peter Salls who, this time, leaves the Yorkshire vowels to Catweazle.

It's also amusing, half a century later, to see £800 referred to as a massive amount of money, and reassuring that no one seems remotely bothered by the references to Beelzebub and Lucifer, amongst various pagan entities. You certainly wouldn't get away with that on kids' TV today.

It's easy viewing, yes- it's old kids' TV- but I'm enjoying this.

The Crown: Season 4, Episode 10- War

 "There is no dignity in the wilderness..."

And so the season ends, with two parallel plots- the downfall of Thatcher and the collapsing marriage, that cannot be allowed to fail, of Charles and Di. There is, I suppose, a kind of thematic link that we're encouraged to find, in that both Thatcher and Diana find themselves manipulated by men in grey suits- but the script's attempt to find a parallel seems tenuous and awkward.

So the events of Thatcher's downfall pretty much echo the well-known events of reality, with highlights of Sir Geoffrey Howe's resignation speech word for word (he, a senior Tory, expresses deep regret at the deep damage done to the national interest by fatuous loose-lipped Europhobes- imagine!) and Thatcher foolishly meeting her Cabinet one by one rather than the probably safer option of doing so in a group. But the scenes between Thatcher and the Queen resonate, as the Queen wisely refuses a dissolution of Parliament and as she awards the greengrocer's daughter the Order of Merit while trying desperately to find common ground.

The scenes between Charles- shown here as a total dick- and Diana- shown here as lovely, hugging a young lad with AIDS in an act which helps dissolve stigmas and make the world a better place- don't actually add much. We know the Royal Family wants them trapped in that marriage and sod their happiness if they want to "let the side down". We know also that their unhappiness is in a context of extreme privilege, albeit a privilege entirely without freedom. What's a little newer is Camilla's understanding that she and Charles cannot be together without her being humilated and cast as the villain.

I suspect this season has been just as good as its predecessors, and certainly so more prone to fictionalise history whatever certain commentators may say, but this Charles and Di stuff I find tiresome uject matter, bordering on the tabloidy- and we're getting well into living memory for me. I'm not finding The Crown in the 80s and 90s as factinating as the 50s and 60s. I may or not watch and blog the next season. We shall see.

Life on Mars: Season 2, Episode 7

 "I appear to have killed a man..."

The penultimate episode; we're close to the end, and it's interesting to see where they're going. The character of Frank Morgan- Gene's hopefully temporary replacement from "Hyde" with a name evoking The Wizard of Oz- is initially suspicious in his apparent desire to ruin hunt, but in the end he privately holds out to Sam the hope of getting "home". Ooh.

But all that metatextual telefantasy stuff is for the finale; this penultimate episode again focuses on a plotline that can only be done once: Gene Hunt being a suspect for murder. And it's very well done indeed, both as a whodunit and as an exploration of the bond between Sam and Gene. As Gene says, "Just be the picky pain in the arse you normally are and I should be fine." It's good to see the effects on Ray and Chris of the Guv being a suspect, but the whole will-they-won't-they romance between Sam and Annie has been strung along with so little consistency from episode to episode that their almost-kiss means very little.

It's all very clever, plot-wise, with twist and turns to keep you guessing, and a satisfying conclusion. There's surprisingly little of the usual '70s versus '00s culture clash stuff, but I suppose the premise doesn't really lend itself to that. Still, as we approach the end, I'm still of the view that Life on Mars succeeds more because of the great premise, the production and the performances, and that the scripts- while frequently good whodunits- are not really first rate stuff. But let's see how it all ends...

The Card (1952)

 "Oh, indeed. I thought you were a gentleman."

Ealing comedies are always fun to watch, lightly amusing and very well-acted and made, but they're also deceptively clever beneath the surface and have something to say, and this is no exception.

I've never read the original novel by Arnold Bennett, or indeed anything by him; I'm afraid this is essentially because he's been unfashionable ever since Vitginia Woolf slagged him off. However, the script here is quite wonderful, a nice little light-hearted film of an unscrupulous yet somehow charming man who uses sneakiness and trickery to get on in life, but remains likeable enough for us to root for the loveable rogue, a difficult balancing act. Alec Guinness seems born to pla ythe part, and his performance is triumphant- charismatic, broad and nuanced all at once, in a part where he not only stars but literally carries the whole film. 

Glynis Johns is also utterly magnificent and has perfect comic timing as a cheekily seductive femme fatale, and it's fun to see a minor role for Joan Hickson, many years before Miss Marple, still looking somewhat old.

This is a wonderful comedy of class, gentle greed and Edwardian social mores, but rings true today with its depiction of the sort of person who tends to end up rich and land on their feet. It's all very cleverly plotted and charms the viewer with the machinations of its loveable rogue. Not, perhaps, quite up there withe the best Ealing comedies, but a wonderfully fun way to spend ninety minutes.

Sherlock Holmes: The Masks of Death (1984 TV Film)

 "Madam, I would not be surprised to learn you were a suffragette!"

This is a very rarely seen 1984 TV movie, not released on any digital format in the UK, starring Peter Cushing as Holmes asnd John Mills as Watson. It also boasts Anne Baxter, in her final role, as Anne Baxter, and even Gordon Jackson as Inspector MacDonald, a surprisingly famous actor for such a part. You may already be thinking that the star wattage is overly bright, And the principle stars are somewhat older than tradition would dictate.

Even the second stringers tend to be very busy character actors like Susan Penhaligon and James Cossins. Yes, there's the distinct feel throughout that the casting was done too much on the basis of star wattage rather than suitability. And it shows. John Mills is fine, though too old as Watson.  But Cushing... well, his technique is excellent as ever but- I say this never having seen his late '60s telly Holmes- he doesn't find the character. He plays certain sorts of parts, but to play a good Holmes one needs an appreciation of humour that the characer lacks to show the appropriate depths: see the line at the top. While Cushing was doing this TV film, Jeremy Brett was doing Holmes sublimely on ITV. This performance is good geneic actng but the very frail-looking Cushing, in one of his rare post- Star Wars appearances- no longer quite convinces as Holmes, much as we all love the man. At least Anne Baxter- in her final role- is a superb Irene Adler.

The script is good, though, judged as a whodunit, although the gas masks are surreal and the title is a total spoiler. And, while the fruity dialogue and voiceover from Watson evokes Conan Doyle and sneakily speeds along the pace, it doesn't feel quite like Sherlock Holmes. That's in spite of the fanwank- after all, both Irene Adler (who eventually does very little) and Inspector Mac are featured. And Roy Ward Baker directs the whole thing as though it was a '70s Amicus horror anthology- lots of shocking moments but ill-judged for a script that wants to be serious.

Having said that, this is flawed but still quite good overall. Its flaws are fascinating from the viewpoint of 2021. And this cast is always worth watching.

Catweazle: Season 1, Episode 2- Castle Saburac

 "Thou be-skandered newt!"

The bulk of this episode had me wondering how the format was ever going to settle down. There’s plenty of entertaining slapstick humour, and Geoffrey Bayldon’s charisma and comic talents are if anything even more impressive on this second outing, but is every episode going to consist of Carrot trying to hide Catweazle from Sam (who is definitely suspicious) and his dad?

Thankfully, by the end, it appears not, as Catweazle has set himself up in an empty water tower, with his toad Touchwood to boot. This will hopefully increase the diversity of stories that can be told as we settle Ito episodes of the week.

Now that we know this slapstick format isn’t what the show is going to be, it’s all rather fun, and Neil McCarthy is rather good too. It’s also fun to see domestic life in 1969, in the early months of colour telly on ITV- it’s a delight to see such things as a contemporary bottle of HP sauce. I think I’ll enjoy this.

And yes, I k is I wasn’t necessarily going to blog this so soon but I have access now, so why not? Both of my existing series are about to end soon, and Catweazle has short episodes which I, being not exactly tim-rich these days, can manage to blog when there isn't time for anything longer. Expect to see Catweazle quite regularly from now on.

The Crown: Season 4, Episode 9- Avalanche

 "Most marriages survive because most people aren't fantasists."

Meh. I'll admit that this episode is as well-written and well-made as ever, but I'm just not invested in the Wales' marital problems, which I recall as tabloid tittle-tattle. Yes, Josh O'Connor and Emma Corrin are superb. Yes, we have an interesting love triangle with Camilla as a nicely nuanced third side, although James Hewitt is not sufficiently developed to make a true love rectangle. It's interesting to see the problem in the marriage is not so much the age difference but the fact that he's an introvert and she's one of those curious extrovert people, more interested in musicals and chart pop than in books and ideas.

There's a real savng grace in Anne though, who is fast becoming a favourite character of mine, the Princess Margaret of her generation and delightfully witty and wise in her balanced and human cynicism. The two highlights here both consist of Anne delivering some home truths- first when she pithily tells the Queen the brutal truth about the Wales' marriage and secondly when she tells Charles, equally pithily, to stop with the self-pity and get on with it. As the Queen says, the marriage of the heit to the throne "simply cannot be allowed to fail". Charles may be a self-pitying spoiled brat, but no one should ever be trapped in a loveless marriage.

Sigh. This is good stuff, I know. Charles in particular is a fascinating, nuanced character. I cant say this isn't very good indeed. But The Crown, over this season, seems to have developed into something that's, well, not my thing. I'll see how the finale goes, but may possibly give the next series a miss.

Life on Mars: Season 2. Episode 6

 "Yeah, they come over here, they take our bullets..."

It's no coincidence, I think, that Life on Mars leaves it until so close to the end to do a big, full-fat racism episode, full of casual bigotry from Gene and the gang. This is the one thing where, even given the 1973 context, in a 2007 programme we need to know the characters well to accept this kind of thing. In the end, though, the whole subject is dealt with sensitively and well, and even with some romantic musing over music, exile and the contemorary plight of Ugandan Asians, one year after Idi Amin expelled them. It would have sat better, I think, from a South Asian writer, but Guy Jenkin does a good job.

Gene and Ray keep the casual racism flying to Sam's dismay, as the temporal culture clash reaches its peak here. This is good character stuff for Sam but nicely balanced in not going too far with Gene.

It's also the wittiest episode for a while, with Gene in particular getting some superb lines. After it seems they've used up all the coma-related 2006 plot points we get a good one as, this time, Maya slowly decides to give up on Sam- just as the plot concerns her rather groovy parents. It also works well as a whodunit that doesn't cheat, and even develops Gene by giving him a brother addicted to speed. It also has the finest ferret scene I've yet to see on television, and Sam getting to interrogate his girlfriend's father.

It's a standout episode, again not written by a showrunner. It's also, I suspect, our last one-off whodunit as the end approaches...

Frank Zappa- Apostrophe (') (1974)

 I only own about three of Frank Zappa's six million or so albums and this is, I confess, the one I listen to the least and, seemingly, my least favourite. That means, on the one hand, that it's not overly famliar to me, and this listen felt elatively fresh. And I like the album. I just don't love it.

And I quite like Frank Zappa, really. On the one hand he's weird, musically intellectual, playing about with weird time structures all over the place. On the other hand, he manages to write catchy songs and very much have a pop sensibility- when he chooses to. Those last four words ae important, of course; Zappa was an arrogant git who was quite aware he was often the cleverest mn in the world, but somehow managed to be ironic enough to be sort-of likeable anyway. 

This album is fairly typical of his more popular fare, managing to be accessible and catchy but with songs which nevertheless are deceptively complex without being pretentious and go well over my head while somehow also being a kind of bubblegum pop. I like it, it just doesnt have his usual one or two showstopper tracks- no "Peaches en Regalia" or "Valley Girl". Ultimately, I think, what I'm trying to sa is that I ought to listen to some more Zappa and make some kind of futile attempt to get me head around it.

The Crown: Season 4, Episode 8- 48:1

 "That was impressively c*nty..."

I must admit that, while this season maintains the high quality we've seen from The Crown since the beginning, and this episode for one is typically excellent although with a few , I'm afraid my interest is waning because of the subject matter. The '50s, '60s and '70s felt like history but this season, gradually focusing into my own remembered lifetime, feels more like tabloid celebrity tittle tattle- Charles and Di and, as here, Fergie and dodgy Andy. As a television drama it's still intelligent and excellent as ever, but the subject matter is grabbing me less.

This episode, however, addresses a serious constitutional question: what if a monarch truly comes to loathe a prime minister, and breaks the habit of a lifetime by subtly allowing this to be known- just this once? The matter is particularly acute as the key to the disagreement is the very clear moral need for sanctions against apartheid South Africa. Thatcher's stubbornness is not shown in a good light here. Still, while far from a Thatcherite myself, I must say that the script sets out to portray her in a bad light, heartless and arrogant. The Queen and Thatcher are paralleled throughout, with the Queen consistently shown in terms of her love of the Commonwealth and that speech in Cape Town on her 21st birthday (a nice touch, and lovely to get another scene with Claire Foy) dedicating herself to altruistic service, whereas Thatcher is made to say that she believes in encouraging people to look after number one, and only then to their neighbour. Still, she's right about the Commonwealth including several dictators with

One could argue that Thatcher is portrayed in a bad light here. One could also reasonably argue that her actual opinions don't seem to be misrepresented from what I know of the woman, and that those opinions were callous and ignorant. However, the episode tries to find a balance in the use of the character of Michael Shea who, having advised the Queen against making her views known, does so on her orders- and ends up as scapegoat having had his honourable behaviour highlighted by the script. This doesn't seem to reflect reality, and seems to be there to provide some sort of moral equivalence, although it's well done. But, while there are plenty of examples of royals being brutally unfair to their employees, in this case it appears to be entirely made up. I don't mind artistic licence, or facts being shaped to fit dramatic needs, provided the underlying truth is portrayed, or an attempt made to do so, and I've defended the programme before on such grounds. That doesn't seem to have happened here, however, which is a shame.

We also have some nice dialogue between the royal siblings on the occasion of Andy's wedding, as Charles arrogantly dismisses his siblings as "fringe" and earns the above splendid quote from Anne. His schadenfreude at his mother is, of course, a delight.

So, a well-structured episode with some nice character stuff, especially between the Queen and Thatcher, whose relationship has pretty much collapsed. But I don't like the use of events that didn't happen to provide balance.

Doctor Who: Revolution of the Daleks

 "This is why people don't like experts..."

Happy New Year and that. Last night was a bit of a washout for me what with the fireworks terrifying the little one andher not settling until very late indeed. This morning was somewhat unpleasant, too, waking up to the news that a fellow member of Doctor Who fandom, stalwart of the Whoovers, and regular MC of the Whoverville convention, died suddenly during the night at an unacceptable age. This has shaken East Midlands fandom a lot. I didn't know Ian well, far from it, but my few interactions with him were pleasant and enjoyable, his Facebook contributions have always been a pleasure, and this has absolutely no business happening. My sincere condolences to his wife, family and many friends.

Yet it seems somehow appropriate that I should be here, with some rather pleasant Chilean Cabernet, blogging the first new episode of Doctor Who in what feel like much longer than it actually was- March of 2020, just before the current plague hit my native foggy island, feels like another era. And, I'll say this up front, I liked this episode a lot.

And there's a lot to talk about, much of it fannish stuff, such as the cleverness of the title which deliberately evokes Revelation of the Daleks while homaging elements from that story's plot such as the original Daeks arriving at the end to exterminate the "impure" new race, and even a brief not to cannibalism. But I must, firstly, talk about Chris Chibnall, who is impressing me more and more.

Chibnall had the misfortune of following Russell T. Davies and Steven Moffat, both of whom are writers of the very first rank. I'm not sure either is quite up there with the Troy Kennedy Martins or the Dennis Potters, but the comparison isn't absurd. It's no criticism of Chibnall to say that I wouldn't put him in such company. He's certainly an impressive writer, though. Alas, I've still yet to see his much-praised Broadchurch, but I'm currently rewatching and blogging Life on Mars and Chibnall is, for me, the best of its writers by far. It's clear that the man has talent- yet his pre-showrunner episodes of Doctor Who were decidedly mixed- partly, I suspect, that despite being a Doctor Who fanboy of old (though not necessarily of the works of Pip and Jane Baker), his natural talent lies more towards straight drama nd crime than to whimsical science fantasy.

Certainly, with his first season as the Moff's successor, I felt that he had shown himself to be an impressive showrunner in the decisions he made around where to take the series while not necessarily being that great as a writer. I felt, and still feel to an extent, that his dialogue lacks the sparkle of both of his most recent predecessors. And yet, last season, with his glorious heresy of introducing pre-Hartnell Doctors and cheerfully telling us that everything we knew was wrong, he impressed me hugely and seemed to find his mojo. He seems to have embraced his inner fan in a big way without compromising his professional judgement or knack for what the casual viewer (always the most important consideration) will enjoy.

And, with that preamble out of the way and setting a context, I think I probably ought to talk about the episode.

I like that all the problems in this episode stem from politicking, greedy humans monkeying around with the remaining tiny bits of Dalek DNA left over following the decidedly explosie conclusion of Resolution. I like that Jack Robinson is back as a gloriously hissable baddie, a kind of Donald Trump without the dementia. Even more, though, I like the perfectly judged political subtext. Like the Cyberman (and, indeed, all science fiction), the Daleks at their best when their use is actually about something. I'm sure that those  who like to sneeringly use the word "woke" whenever Doctor Who addresses political matters (often choosing to ignore just how left-wing the stories were in the Pertwee years, and not just those by Malcolm Hulke) will insist that this episode's nod to Black Lives Matter is overly didactic, yet I'd say it's subtle, effective and perfectly judged. We all saw the ridiculous over-policing of the protests after the brutal murder of Mr George Floyd, with tanks and armoured vehicles being deployed by police forces. The use of Dalek casings for the same purposes, with water cannon and CS gas, is both clever and effective. I also like the gentle satire of the corrupt, authoritarian prime minister (blatantly a Tory) through dialogue, in which Chibnall manages to outdo David Hare in Roadkill.

I like also that Robinson is seen to do his Tobias Vaughn thing with the Daleks- with the Tobias Vaughn being a well-honed Doctor Who trope- betraying his species to save his skin- and not only escapes the expected extermination but ends up being hailed as a hero, no doubt to return for more enjoyable Trumpian skulduggery, nicely subverting the Tobias Vaughn trope. And I like the light touch with which Captain Jack's backstory is gently fed to casual viewers who won't necessarily remember back to 2005. It's a joy to see the good Captain, with his good humour and his squareness gun, and John Bannerman is fantastic. He has a lovely character moment with Yas in which he notices her strong emotional connection to the Doctor- could this be a hint at romantic feelings? I think we are, at least, meant to wonder.

Characterisation as a whole is VERY strong here. I've criticised Chibnall in the past for his use of three companions and failing to balance them all, and I feel on the while that my criticisms were valid in terms of story structure. Yet we find ourselves, by this point, with a surprisingly well-characterised TARDIS crew. The nice little heart to heart between Ryan and the Doctor is wonderful, foreshadowing his forthcoming departure and setting the scene for Ryan to leave too, in a perfectly realised double companion departure that works dramatically and feels just right. There's more, though. Although I've always liked Jodie Whittaker's performance- she's the Doctor- I've always felt that Chibnall has written this Doctor as a rather flat character, without any of the character depths of all the Doctors from Eccleston to Capaldi but more like the Doctor as written prior to the show's revival. This episode, with the Doctor articulating her angst at no longer knowing who she is and Ryan urging her to search for answers, goes a a long way to address that. I'm increasingly getting the sense that, although I've had my criticisms of Chibnall's writing in the past, he's been very much aware of his flaws and is addressing them. His writing seems to constantly improve, which is exciting and wonderful.

Finally, I love the treatment of the Daleks here. There's no dwelling on their complex backstory; they're simply doing their traditional thing of emerging from theor flying saucers to fly about exterminating people with a CGI version of the traditional special effects. The latest "new paradigm" Daleks (actually a rather good design) are symbolically exterminated by more traditional models. The ethnic conflict between Daleks echoes both Revelation and Remembrance, a subtle reset to the '80s ideas of what Daleks are about. There's some lovely fanwank, too, with the other inmates of the Doctor's Shada-like prison.

Oh, and on the subject of fanwank, this hard of hearing viewer is delighted to see the subtitles render the TARDIS' wheezing, groaning sound yet again as "Vworp, vworp". Long may this cotinue. And long may Doctor Who continue to be as good as this. Chibnall is really growing as a writer, and it's a joy to see.