Update

 This is just to say there will be no updates this week as I’m in full on dad mode, but I’ll be back with Doctor Who late on Saturday and a normal posting schedule from then onwards.

Doctor Who: 73 Yards

 “Everyone has abandoned me my whole life…”

Let’s just pause to get the praise out of the way before we start: this is a bloody brilliant bit of telly. Now that’s out of the way… yeah, this is going to be a long one. Make yourself comfortable. 

So the Doctor and Ruby land in what’s instantly recognisable as the South Wales cost to we long-running Doctor Who fans. The Doctor briefly mentions a future prime minister from the area, Roger ap Gwilliam, but it’s nicely downplayed, a throwaway remark and not obvious as Chekhov’s gun at this point.

Ruby disturbs an odd little new age shrine thingy… and suddenly the Doctor vanishes, for this is a Doctor-lite story. And suddenly the direction, the cinematography, the texture of the footage itself, suddenly start to look like the best of co temporary horror. And the central conceit is utter genius: a ghostly old female figure always follows Ruby, staring exactly seventy-three yards away. Others can approach her, but not Ruby… and when others approach, they run. This is deeply creepy and possibly the best horror idea ever in Doctor Who, in terms of both idea and execution.

Of course, I’m sure I’m not the only one who thought of the Watcher in Logopolis…

Anyway, we soon meet a hiker lady, played by Susan Twist, who was the AI ambulance last episode but, in hindsight, has played an awful lot of bit parts recently. And Ruby notices, at this point, that her face is sort of familiar… yeah, definitely a Bad Wolf sort of situation. Who is she? And, while we’re at it, who is Mrs Flood, who briefly appears again? Susan was mentioned last episode- could either of them be her?

There follows a quietly brilliant scene in a local pub where Ruby, at a loss with what to do, meets with an unfriendly reception, being English. Yet there is fault on both sides. The pubgoers are certainly rude, unjustifiably so, but Ruby is also guilty of stereotyping although, perhaps, “racist” is a strong word. I love the prank they play on Ruby about the fairy circle thingy and “Mad Jack”, and all that stuff about the cliff top being a boundary between land and seas and a “liminal space”… the first time that concept has been mentioned in Doctor Who. Oh, and yeah, up until the joke is revealed it’s all bloody terrifying.

It gets worse, of course. Ruby goes home, Carla goes to talk to the figure, runs… and abandons Ruby, shockingly. We get a nice, reassuring cameo with Kate Lethbridge-Stewart… but the same happens with her… although not before, as the explains UNIT to Ruby, complete with its habit of employing ex-companions, as an organisation that deals with extra-terrestrial threats and now also the supernatural as “Things seem to be turning that way these days”. Hmm. Since the Doctor did that thing with the salt in Wild Blue Yonder, perhaps?

Ruby, though, is alone… and the years and decades go by, the figure always there and Ruby never finding happiness, being dumped by boyfriend after boyfriend. It’s an extraordinary direction for the story to go in, much though we sort of know at this point that there’s going to be some sort of reset button.

And so we have the clever resolution. The decades going by and the slightly off near-future feels very Years and Years. But Ruby manages to save the world from a nationalistic nuke -happy maniac by using the figure as a weapon to get Ap Gwilliam to give up. Don’t you think he looks tired?

And so Ruby lives out her sad lovely, life, a life dedicated to saving the world but at a terrible cost to her. No snow, no family, no excitement, no love. And then… the final reveal. The Doctor. And Ruby suddenly has a second chance at life.

I suspect, if you look too closely. There may be the odd little plot inconsistency. I don’t care. This is more than just brilliant. It’s beautiful. 

Carry On Jack (1964)

"And all I get is the scrubbing..."

This is not one of the well-remembered Carry Ons... and there's a reason for that. As with most of the films, it's written by Talbot Rothwell and shot by Gerald Thomas, but... well, it doesnt exactly not feelmlike a Carry On film, but... well, we've had films before with some of the regulars missing, but the only real regulars here are Kenneth Williams and Charles Hawtrey. Bernard Cribbins stars, and he's bloody good... but he's not really "core" Carry On.

That's not to say that this is in any way bad, despite its lack of any truly memorable set pieces. The script is fine, and the directing is more than fine. This is the first historical Carry On, set in the Royal Navy of Nelson's day, and it all looks great. We get all the tropes- mutiny, Spanish Armadas, pirates, walking the plany, the cat o'nine tails, press gangs. It's all good fun. But a lot of the rest of the cast... well, they're competent, but no more than that.

This is a fascinating time capsule into the Britain of sixty years ago, though. There's a fair bit of sexual innuendo here; the franchise has come a long way over its six years so far but at last the '60s have started to swing a bit. Some of the social attitudes have perhaps not aged well. 

Nevertheless, this is, well, by no means a bad film, but it's hardly going to stand out, and it's no wonder that this is one of the more obscure films in the series. Still, in opening up the way to using historical settings, it points the way forward.

The Pledge (1981)

 “There's no peace for a dead man..."

Yes, it’s another old adaptation of an old horror short story tonight- this time it’s The Highwayman, by Lord Dunsany, who comes well recommended by no less a figure than Neil Gaiman. You will find the original story here: this is a fairly straight retelling.

And yet... the plot is hardly the point. The original vignette is all mood, atmosphere, dread. Very little happens, but we feel a kind of existential terror.Soit is with this shorty film, with its grainy cinematography and moody moorlands... and the horrible corpsecswinging on the gallows, decaying more and more with every shot, its lips forever stuck in a cry of pain and its mouth swimming with maggots.

Effectively, we see short scenes from Tom's ill-fated life, of rape, of robbery, of murder.And we hear his death sentence as we see the horrid corpse swing from side to side.

This is twenty short minutes. Yet it's a real triumph of moody, visual horror.

The Sweeney: Queen's Pawn

 "I'm not a gentleman. And I don't like losing."

Oh, I like this episode: hard boiled and clever. It's a simple premise: arch robber Johnny Lyon gets off at court and Regan is given free rein to bring him in by any means necessary, working on his two associates playing clever, amoral mind games- this is personal, and Regan will do absolutely anything. He's a moral man, in a way, but the ends justify the means.

Yes, like other episodes, this is policing from another era, and it's fascinating seeing the nation as it was half a century ago, shortly before I was born. The social mores, the gender roles, the conventions are all subtly different. But the scene where Johnny (Tony Selby is superb here as Regan's ever-more-desperate prey) loses at chess to his lawyer (a typically suave Julian Glover) in a fool's mate serves as a microcosm for the entire episode which consists of Regan playing ten dimensional chess. Even the title is a clever pun- it;s just a matter of which of Johnny's cronies will end as Regan's pawn, and turn queen's evidence.#

The twist at the end is shocking... and Regan's fault. But this is a hard world. One fascinating to watch, if not to live in. And Regan's bosses... such cynical ***s. This is good telly.

Echo: Maya

 "You must not run..."

Well, I suppose this is a satisfying finale. Fisk and his subordinates infiltrate the Choctaw pow wow and he sets out to kill Maya's family asa revenge for her abandoning him, which, wow, and she defeats him by channeling te energy and talents of all her female ancestors, seeded throughout the previous episodes. It work well... but isn't it, well, exactly what we expected to happen?

Still, there are highlights. The flashback to the CGI woodpecker is nice, and the scene with Maya meeting her mother's spirit for a spot of heartwarming exposition is nice. It's cute to see Chula and Skully reconcile and hold hands, and, in the end, Maya reconnects with her family properly. All the character threads are more or less resolved. The visuals of Maya (and Bonnie, and Chula!) being infused with their ancestors' power is pretty damn cool.

And Fisk- Maya seems to try to heal him of those deep seated childhood "cycle of abuse" scars... but perhaps it's simply that such trauma can't be waved away. The Kingpin is who he is and, judging by the mid-credits sequence, he has big plans for New York City.

This is, I suppose, good stuff, well executed. But the plot, for me, was ultimately a little too neat and predictable.

Doctor Who: Boom

 "Keeps you dying. Keeps you buying."

Phew, I've finally seen this, after twenty-four hours of feeling like I'm in that episode of Whatever Happened to the Likely Lads? that everybody remembers. This may happen a few more timnes this series but, well, let's just say that Doctor Who may be vastly important, of course it is... but some things matter musch, much, more.

Anyway, Steven Moffat is back and this episode is a thing of wonder. It's very high concept- the Doctor saves himself, Ruby, the Anglican Priests around them and indeed much of the planet- all whuile standing on a landmine and incredibly close to death- and, incidentally, Ncuti Gatwa's performance here, the right, Doctorish type of fear, is acting perfection. Yet, by Disney standards- there's a lot of CGI- this episode, with its small cast and small stakes, feels like it was the season cheapie. But then so was Blink, and, well.

This is Moffat at his very best- not spread thinly as showrunner but able to focus all his Moffaty goodness into forty-four minutes. As we expect, the plot works like clockwork and has a highly satisfying resolution. Yet, in other respects, this is different, and perhaps deeper. And everybody does not live.

It's 3,082 years after Ruby's birth (Late 51st century? Time agents, Boeshane Peninsula and Magnus Greel?) , a timeframe Moffat likes to play with.The Anglican priests are back... but this time there's an attempt to almost explain them with the line that priests not being soldiers isan unusual "blip". There's an ambiguity about religious faith- on the one hand, it can dull sceptical thinking, yet on the other it can comfort- which doubtless reflect's Moffat's own thoughts, an atheist, but certainly not a "New" one.

Yet the central conceit here (SPOILER KLAXON!!!) is deliciously and unashamedly political: an arms corporation that keeps casualties at the most proftable level, and a war against a phantom enemy purely so that said corporations can supply weapons. The ultimate end result of unregulated corporate greed run amok. 

There's not much arc stuff here- Villengard and the Anglican soldier priests aside, both Moffat creations of old- but we get that snow with Ruby again: all very "Bad Wolf". And it's good to see Varada Sethu from Andor. But sometimes a good standalone episode, or indeed a great one such as this, is just what the Doctor ordered.

The Sweeney: Thin Ice

 "I merely strangled the hound with my bare hands..."

This is the best episode yet. Oh, the plot is clever and entertaining, and we're getting to know Regan, Carter and the rest of the Flying Squad, but more than anything else this is just bloody good writing.

This episode is basically ten dimensional chess between three parties. Bishop (Alfred Marks is a splendid presence) is a criminal  mastermind on the run to France, and there's a rivalry between Regan and one Superintendent Pringle (a perfectly cast Peter Jeffrey) on how to deal with him, and how. It's fun to see how things play out, with Regan ultimately outsmaring both his adversaries.

Yet it's more than that. It's dialogue that is witty but also very real. People talk at cross purposes, there's wordplay, there's perfectly played cynicism. These characters feel real, despite us not knowing them much, purely because of the deftness of the words and the performances. Little things, like the unfriendliness of the local constabularty or the dark hints of domestic abuse at the end.

Yes, this is certainly the quintessential showabout maverick '70s cops who cut corners to get results. But damn, it's clever.

The Pit (1962)

 "Morte!"

This is a fascinating litle curiosity, a short, thirty minute film made for the British Film Institute as an artistic experiment, one which leads me to wonder whether much else like this may exist from the period. It is, of course, an adamptation of Poe's The Pit and the Pendulum. And, while short, it is perhaps the finest I've seen. Roger Corman this is not.

Aside from the wonderfully darker ending, this is actually a pretty faithful adaptation of the short story. The film abounds with disturbing sounds and screams, but dialogue is almost non-existent. Monochrome, textured, the extraordinary setting shot with great atmosphere from such brilliant angles, with wonderful use of light... we really feel the prisoner's terror, as every night he sleeps in his cell to await to further fear and peril, knowing that, ultimately, he's just being cruelly toyed with. Ultimately, he is doomed. Brian Peck conveys his understated sheer terror to perfection.

The visuals are superb, the inquisitors utterly, existentially terrifying, and those horrible bells are still tolling in my mind. Short this may be, but it's well worth a look. this is the perfect encapsulation of why short films need to exist. Who has time for too much plot when you can have sheer, atmospheric terror?

Schalken the Painter (1979 TV Film)

 "The darkness is unsafe..."

This is an intrertestying little curiosity, a one-off Christmas ghost story broadcast on the BBC in late December 1979, on the surface feeling very much like the many M.R. James ghost story adaptations that were made at the same time. But, in reality, this is very different.

It's a ghost story, yes, this time from a short story by Sheridan Le Fau, and a rather chilling and atmospheric on, with a deathly, ghostly suitor that a man give his ward's hand in marriager to him in what we would, today, call a forced marriage... and there are terrifying hints that this many may be something undead or unholy, and that the poor girl is perhaps damned forever because "She is your property. She will become mine...".

The main character, Gottfried Schalken, is a very real, albeit relatively minor, Dutch painter from the late 17th century, and the period is shown perfectly in terms of cinematograpjhy, texture and direction. The actors are shot superbly,in an age where blocking was still a thing.

And yet, it's more than that. The slow, langorous pace, unthinkable nowadays, is essential to the creation of atmosphere. And the useof light echoes Schalken's paintings themselves, everything liyt by candlelight, strangely loveless, with something perhaps lurking in the darkness...

This is quite a wonderful little gem

Better Call Saul: Winner

 "I mean, four or six nipples. That's interesting..."

This is, of course, a truly astonishing finale, based around two shocking moments. The long pre-titles gives us some very bad karaoke and a flashback reminding us of the dynamic between Jimmy and Chuck, with Jimmy, even back then, as shallow and self-centred as ever. But then we get to the two contrasting narratives that define this finale.

Werner is going to die. We know this from the start. He's been too indiscreet, and attracted the attention of Lalo. The final scene between him and Mike is as inevitable as it is harrowing. The scene is utterly masterful, with Werner slowly realising wjhat has to happen, and accepting his fate with calm resignation. Yet the shot itself is not the worst part. It's that Werner, sothat his wife may live, has to phone her one last time and break her heart.

Throughout it all, we see Mike's pragmatic efficiency. He lies well, yes, but not like Jimmy- for him it's a job. And he has his ethics. He goes as far as he can in trying to persuade Gus to show mercy... but Gus's face is chilling. Giancarlo Espososito is a true master of facial acting.

And then we have Jimmy's hearing to be readmitted as a lawyer, an operation planned with the same military precision as the hunt for Werner. Jimmy's cynicism is a sight to behold. Visiting his own brother's grave only to be seen, performing as the good and dutiful man. His performance, in the end, is extraordinary... but it is just that: a performance. There are, perhaps, signs at the very end that Kim may be beginning to understand what Jimmy really is.

And the final lines, that Jimmy is not going to be practising under his on name and "Good, man"... oh my.

And yet... none of this is the most revealing thing about Jimmy.It's how strongly he identifies with a former shoplifter who is fated never to be accepted because of one mistake in her youth, how much he projects himself on to her, his own demons, how his rant supposedly in support of her is... not a good thing. Even in empathy, Jimmy is a selfish monster, one of the most fascinating characters of all television drama.

Doctor Who: The Devil's Chord

 "I thought that was non-diegetic".

The above quote says it all, and the song at the end even more so: this episode has a delightful relationship with the fourth wall. Some will hate this. Personally I love it.This episode is wonderful, witty, crammed with ideas, far more than a mere "celebrity historical" about the Beatles would have been.

The pre-titles is wonderful, establishing the Maestro as a terrible, Godlike figure who emerges out of piano lids and seems beyong the laws of reality. This is a nicely written scene, establishing the awful alternate history that we see.And the Devil's Chord... ah, Black Sabbath.

Ruby is excited to see the Beatles recording Please Please Me in her first tripminto human history... and it's hugely amusing, as well as cleverly avoiding copyright issues, to see the Beatles performing songs that are... rubbish. As has been all music since 1925, causing all sorts of consequences, hence Khruschev threatening Finland, which didn't happen in our timeline. A world without music, the highest art form, inevitably ends in the coldness of nuclear winter.

One may quibble over the mechanics of alternate history. If all good music ended in 1925, that creates many ripples. 1962 is decades later. The world should, perhaps, be different. The Beatles may never have met, or theor parents never met, meaning they would not be born. But... let us not quibble, for alternate histories traditionally fail to consider such things, and the scene where Ruby sees a devastated London in 2023, redolent of Pyramids of Mars, is chillingly effective.

But there's also time to reflect on the fact that the Doctor, in an earlier incarnation, is also here. We get a mention of Susan, the Doctor's grandaugher, to Ruby's amazement... and, heartbreakingly, we learn that she may have died in the "genocide". This is how to use continuity: this is a powerful character moment, not a random bit of fanwank.

And new mythology is being created. Maestro is the Toymaker's child and, like their father, one of the "Pantheon", a series of capricious beings, reminding me of the old Indo-European gods of Olympus or Asgard. I suspect more is to be revealed, but there is an "Oldest One" present at Ruby's birth, and "The One Who Waits" is coming. This, I suspect, is a season arc.

Overall, this episode is a joy. Playful, creative, respectful of the programme's past while looking ahead to its future. And that future appears to be in safe hands.

Doctor Who: Space Babies

 "Is vthat, like, a matter transporter, like in Star Trek?"

Here we are, at last, at the start of a proper full run of episodes with RTD at the helm and Ncuti Gatwa's new Doctor. So we begin, with the iconography of the new era in the shape of the Whoniverse logo and a nice little reprise for the new viewers.

This shows just how bloody good RTD is at the nuts and bolts of storytelling. After all, this is Ruby's introduction to the TARDIS and what it does, so why not use this as a pretext for a bit of exposition for viewers jumping on right here? So we get a nice, concise little precis of the premise of the show, but framed in a fascinating way: the Doctor, like Ruby, is a foundling, adopted by "posh people" on a fancy planet that is now gone because of "a genocide"- surely not an accidental choice of words to be spoken by an actor of Rwandan birth. There are non-diegetic hostorical echoes here.

The Timeless Child stuff is reframed here. It's not presented as a puzzle, but as part of the Doctor's background andhis depth of a character: he's alone, yet free, far more than just a Time Lord, and Gatwa plays the depth of the character superbly. I love the way he does comedy, too. Only RTD can give us a hugely expensive scene with CGI dinosaurs (thanks for the budget, Disney) just to make a fourth wall-brreaking little joke about the butterfly effect, but both actors play it superbly. And the joke is a statement of intent: that isn't how time travel works in Doctor Who. 

So we reach the main story, with space babies, a nanny, capitalism causing child abandonment and, er, a literal bogeyman. There's lots of nice, subtle political commentary here, not least with the fact that refugees can claim asylum, but only if they can find a legal route in, which they can't, because none has been providefd, Catch-22 by design. Quite. Small boats, anyone?

It's a delightfully weird, awfull clever story and, although RTD was criticised of old for his plots not quite working, this is like clockwork. The chemistry between the Doctor and Ruby is joyous. There are echoes of the Ninth Doctor and Rose, of coiurse. Instead of farting bins we get a snot monster and a space station which is lierally powered to move across space by baby poo. And the Doctor rejigs Ruby's phone to call her mum... and says "Tell your mum not to slap me".

This is all just there as a jumping on point, to introduce the show to new viewers, which it does superbly. But there's a deep orphan vibe here. The Doctor, Ruby and the space babies are all orphans. This is certainly pointiong somewhere... aspecially as the Doctor warns Ruby that they can't visit the time of her birt and do a Back to the Future, Part II, lest they cause a paradox.

In short, quite wonderful. I expected no less.

Total Recall (1990)

 "Hey, I've got five kids to feed!"

Yes, I know. I'm exactly the age and demographic to have seen this film close to when it came out, but have somehow contrived not to have seen it until I'm tantalisingly close to forty-seven years old. Well, I've seen it now. And, well, it's fascinating.

I mean, obvioudsly, it's an Arnie film and does all the Arnie stuff, but it's also fascinatingly conceptual hard science fiction, based on a story by Philip K. Dick. Admittedly, the only novel of Dick's that I've actually read is The Man in the High Castle, but I've seen enough film adaptations to recognise his signature themes of memory, identity and reality in play here- and the film is conceptually fascinating.False memories of great experiences being marketed to the public; false memories of an eight year marriage; the sheer bloody cldeverness of the plot when revealed at the end; a sex worker with three breasts; the question of, if you have amnesia, would you lose your new identity if you had your old memories back?

Arnie is gloriously Arnie, Sharon Stone has a nicely subtle little role, and you can always rely on good old Ronny Cox to play a damn good baddy at this time. And the effects- not CGI but real effects- are a joy to behold. That thing with the eyes when people are exposed to the Martian surace, though... urgh.

The end may be a bit of a cop out- surely Quaid and Melina would have died long before Mars was fully terraformed by the alien magic button? And would the alien device really terraform the planet with the exact amount of oxygen needed by humans? But these things don't stop Total Recall from being an absolute joy.

Echo: Taloa

 "I suspect you've come to kill me. Again."

For the most part, Maya is likeable, despite how brurally direct she can be at times. She cares, and she tries tyo fdo the right thing. But... pouring good wine away? Outrageous.

This is a rather gripping episode the finest yet, a tale of three tense conversations. The first, between Maya and the Kingpin, is the best: Vincent D'Onofrio, as ever, is simply extraordinary The two of them debate, often bitterly, but Fisk has no ill will for his surrogate daughter and insists he still loves her in spite ogf the minor incident surrounding a certain eye. Indeed, he has a proposition. Joi  him, and they can rule the galaxy as father and daughter. Or words to that effect.

Yet the calm confrontatiin between Maya and Chula is gripping too. Yes, their meeting has blatantly been delayed for plot reasons as they mutually realise they've been having the same visions of their ancestors. But, truth to tell, Chula really was neglectful because she couldn't bear to look upon the grandaughter who reminded her of her dead child.

So then we have the final confrontation between Maya and Kingpin, wherre Kingpin pours out his own abusive past... and Maya can't bring herself to kill him. He thinks he's persuaded her but, in an extraordinary piece of acting, he erupts in rage when he hears she's not going to join him. He's a dangerous, volatile man. But he really does love her...

Good, suble, character stuff.

Peeping Tom (1960)

 "Whenever I photograph, I always lose..."

, a

This film, by Powell not Pressburger, was apparently considered so shocking back in 1960 that Michael Powell's reputation never really recovered, but in more recent decades it's been recognised as a superbly conceived and shot examination of the psyche of a murderous voyeur... and that it certainly is.

The direction is utterly superb from the start, full of tension and playfully, visually, using the concepts of cameras and points of view. I can think of no film for which the phrase "male gaze" is more apt. All the murders of the women are superb pieces of drama.

Yet the characterisation and performances are also on point. Karlheinz Bohn, despite his accent often slipping (he was German), is very good as Mark, our creepy protagonist. Yet Maxine Audley is also superb as Mrs Stephens, blind, depressed, self-medicating on whisky, who ironically almost sees through Mark. Yet the character of Mark is well-observed. We see just enough of the childhood abuse he endured, and some to understand this twisted and damaged individual.

This is also a film unusually filled with granular detail of everyday life in the UK in 1960, a fascinating little time capsule in that sense. Most of all, though, it's a real triumph both visually and conceptually.

Mulholland Drive (2001)

 "You will see me one more time, if you do good. You will see me two more times if you do bad..."

This is, of course, an interesting film to watch while I'm one season in to Twin Peaks. The directorial style, obviously, is very much going for the same thing, and I don't just mean that it's directed by David Lynch; the colurs, the lighting, it's all going for a riff on small town homeliness, but with something not quite right. This is very much a film about Los Angeles, of course, but this is perhaps appropriate as for much of the film we see the city through the wondering eyes of Betty from small town Ontario, who initially can't stop smiling.

The film constantly exists on the edge of realism. For most of its length there's a mystery plot that makes sense if you squint a bit, only for realism to break down at the end of the film as paradoxes abound. Artistically, it's quite wonderful, perhaps about what Hollywood ultimately does to people's dreams. They arrive hoping to make it... but the city is chaos, and nothing makes sense. The film looks like a dream, but perhaps the prospect of making it in Hollywood is no less so.

People don't quite behave realistically. It's 2001, but mobile phones don't exist; the film is and isn't quite set in the present. There are dreams, states of waking... it's very Lynch.

Regardless of meaning, though, the film is a joy to watch, with fascinatingly weird set pieces and visuals which, again, skirt the edges of realism. Is it my favourite David Lynch film that I've seen? Hard to say. But it's certainly an extraordinary piece of art.

Passport to Pimlico (1949)

 "Blimey! I'm a foreigner!"

It's ridiculous that I hadn't seen this iconic Ealing comedy until last night but, well, now I have. And it's brilliant, obviously. But it wasn't quite what I expected. And I'm not just talking about the scene with a pig in a parachute..

This is very visibly and very deliberately set in a post-war London of rationing and bomb sites. An unexploded bomb looms large. There are constant references to the privations the characters all went through a few years earlier. In the late 1940s, this is what it means to be British... and yet, the characters are all fun, quick-witted, likeable and enjoying life regardless. This is not the privately educated England of the stiff upper lip, but the real England of beer and belly laughs.

...Until it isn't. The central conceit is that, suddenly, this little street on Pimlicois in fact, legally, a random surviving remnant of the Duchy of Burgundy, with a descendant of Charles the Bold as its sovereign. The film plays, for laughs of course, all the difficulties ofva community finding itself as a microstate, with no pre-existing law, government, police, armed forces or foreign relations. Indeed, the film gets surprisingly abstract and philosophical as it humorously examines the very concept of nationhood. It's a nice touch that the microstate enjoys a massive heatwave while it's Burgundyy but, as soon as it's British again, the heavens open...

The cast is superb. Stanley Holloway is perfect, a strikingly young Charles Hawtrey has a memorable role, but for me it's Margaret Rutherford's eccentric professor who stealds the show. This is a fine little comedy but also quietly intelligent in its themes, and a fascinating little time capsule.

The Sweeney: Jackpot

"There's got to be a perfectly logical explanation for all this..."

Another excellent episode to follow-up the pilot, perhaps no surprise as it's scripted by Troy Kennedy Martin. Realistic characters, naturalistic dialogue- a very hard thing to do- naturalistic action and naturalistic, shaky camerawork, surely an even harder thing to do with the size of TV cameras in 1974.

The plot- a bag with £35,000 goes missing after some villains are apprehended after a robbery, and it's suspected that Regan or one of his men may have nicked it- is conceptually simple. But the resolution is quite clever, and the conceit works quite well in drawing out the characters and relationships between Regan's men. I wonder if we'll get a proper ensemble feel, looking ahead. And the main villin, a man universally despised and looking at a fourteen year stretch, looks a truly tragic figure by the end. That's good writing.

Again one has to raise an eyebrow at the casual attitude to warrants and waiting for the suspect's solicitor before interviewing him.. but this is the Dark Ages, before 1984. Waterman is superb, and so is Thaw... and that's his natural Mancunian accent, isn't it?

I'm already enjoying this a lot. It's much more serious than it's popular reputation so far. Let's see if this continues.