The Strange Case of the End of Civilisation as We Know It

 "The unexpected but accurate bisecting of the Belgian foreign minister; the Royal College of Needlework massacre; the strange affair of the seven boiled bishops; and the man-eating poodle of Lambeth Palace enigma?"

This is, shall we say, somewhat obscure. A one-off ITV comedy thing, co-scripted by and starring John Cleese, and with his signature absurdist verbal humour all over it. It's not available anywhere officially, as far as I know, and will certainly never be seen on television again- it was 1977, and there's a little light racism on show here. But let's just say that YouTube happens to exist, shall we?

But damn, this is funny. Don't get me wrong, it's uneven, and it would be absurd to expect the plot to make sense. But there are some delightfully clever touches and, despite the fact it all looks extremely cheap, the performances are excellent. Atrthur Lowe steals the show as the most bumbling Watson ever, but Connie Booth is also hilarious as Mrs Hudson. And Denholm Elliott is, of course, his usual superb self.

It's also illuminating as to the world of 1977- the Chinese delegate to the Police of Five Continents meeting has Mao's Little Red Book; there's a hilarious spoof of both Henry Kissinger and Gerald Ford; and there's a rather funny scene with a very 1970s computer. Oh, and there's a nicely casual skewering of all sorts of pop culture detectives.

This is not, by any means, one of the best things John Cleese has ever done. Some bits are funnier than others. But this is just so much fun to watch.

The Signalman

 "You! Down below!"

By 1976, it seems, the BBC had decided to move the focus of their Ghost Stories for Christmas annual tradition away from the tales of M.R. James, this time adapting a short story from the later career of Charles Dickens. The visual style and atmosphere, nevertheless, are just as eerie and just as full of foreboding. The change of authorial style is, oddly enough, not strongly felt as the visual tropes of Lawrence Gordon Clark's direction encompass us... eerie silences, creepy yet subtle use of sound, light, voice and facial expressions to evoke unease within these liminal spaces.

I won't repeat the plot, but the whole things is a subtle yet very rreal building up of tension as we are ledft in no doubt, albeit quietly, that dread approaches and that this world, in the depths of the night, is no place for reason. The twist at the end, and the horrifying supernatural sight, are well and truly earned. And the unease has an interestingly philosophical timbre to it- this Victorian signalman is thoughtful and nuanced.

Denholm Elliott, as though it needs saying, is superb. This is as good as any of its immediate predecessors and, indeed, one of the best such stories made by the BBC. M.R. James does not have a monopoly...

The Cruel Sea (1953)

"You know, when you lose a ship, it's like losing a bit of yourself."

I'm becoming increasingly fascinated by British war films made in the decade or so after the Second World War, after a few years had passed and there had been time for reflection on this extraordinary event that had twisted everybody's lives out of shape for six long years, with unimaginable pressure and stress. There's a lot of action, yes, but also a lot of inherent philosophical musing, humanity, and deconstruction of the "stiff upper lip" trope, which never was straightforward.

On the surface, this is the saga of a ship- well, mostly the one ship- and it's crew, as they live and develop over the six years of the War on an Atlantic convoy, protecting the merchant navy from u-boats. There are bit action set pieces- rescuing mainers whose vessels have sunk, chasing u-boats and, indeed, abandoning ship and trying to survive overnight on a tiny little raft.

Yet this is, more than anything, a film about people, in all their complexity. One of the crew hopes to marry his shipmate's sister, only for her to be killed in an air raid. An officer dies a watery death, knowing his wife is sleeping with another man. The first officer wonders whether proposing to his partner is the right thing or not- is there a place for permanence among the uncertainties of war?

This is by no means one of the very best of its genre, but the cast is solid and the script, if not quite first class, is raised up by its themes and subject matter. And, if nothing else, it taught me how to pronounce "coxswain".

To the Devil a Daughter (1976)

 “Damn you!”

I thought this was supposed to be a terrible film, the flop that ruined Hammer. It may not be as good as The Devil Rides Out, Hammer’s previous Dennis Wheatley adaptation, but few films are. Why is this film, which I have just thoroughly enjoyed,so widely disliked?

This is an oddity. Hammer did very few films in 1974, but here comes their last hurrah, two years later, post-dating the attempted revival of the format by Tyburn. And, as far as I can see, this is a wonderful Satanic horror film, not quite up there with Hammer’s very best but very much bubbling under. The plot is gripping, the direction sublime, the tension exquisite, the performances superb. Christopher Lee has never been more charismatic nor more evil. Richard Widmark is the perfect tough guy hero. Klaus Kinski’s daughter is bloody good. Honor Blackman and Denholm Elliott are extraordinary in supporting roles.

I’m baffled as to why this flopped. I enjoyed this much more than Don’t Look Now last night.

Hammer House of Horror: Rude Awakening

 "You shouldn't have killed your wife, Mr Shenley..."

For the second time in succession we have a superb episode. Yes, it helps to have a charismatic lead in Denholm Elliott, cast against type as an estate agent in the least posh role I've ever seen him in, but this script is superb, layering dream within dream and horror upon horror, leading to out increasingly deluded protagonist killing his wife in the belief that it's only a dream.

The structure of dreams within dreams, denying us a stable grip on what is and is not reality, works superbly, and allows the episode to play effectively with form, structure and tropes. Yet beneath it all is something fearfully desperate. This is an episode set within the psyche of one unhappy man.

There are such subtle touches here, beyond the obvious yet well done obvious scares as the creepy voice on the telephone, the collapsing building or the body in the dumb waiter. Yet cleverest of all is the revelation that Norman's secretary, with whom he's been carrying on an affair in a series of implausibly sexy outfits, is in fact just a young and unattainable women whom this unhappy man secretly likes. This is tragedy as horror, puncturing the delusions of a man whose life is without colour. And it's quietly excellent telly.

The Vault of Horror (1973)

 "No money in horror..."

I've seen lots of Amicus portmanteau horror films by now and enjoyed them all to a greater or lesser extent. This is easily the best of the lot.

Partly it's that this time around the tales are all splendidly gleeful in their ghoulish bad taste as the five men who enter the lift each receive their magnificently grand guignol comeuppance. A greedy murderer ends up having blood dispensed from his neck like wine from a wine box. An obsessively nagging husband who insists on neatness has his organs neatly displayed in jars after driving his wife to murder. An insurance fraudster is buried alive and meets his death. And so on, all amongst the most '70s clothing and interior decor that has ever been immortalised in film. 

It helps that Roy Ward Baker imbues the film with some visually witty touches, such as our insurance fraudster reading a novelisation of Tales from the Crypt, to which this is a semi-sequel. The script, too, is wittier and more gleeful this time round.

Yet what really makes this film shine, well-made as it is, is a superb cast full of the sort of well-known character actors who (Terry-Thomas aside) were not quite stars at the time. Standout performances from Glynis Johns and a splendidly vengeful, bizarrely bearded and deeply charismatic Tom Baker are a huge part of the film's success- and a success it is: I care not for the views po-faced contemporary critics.

The House That Dripped Blood (1971)

"The one with Be;a Lugosi, of course. Not this new Fellow.

Time for another of Amicus' splendid portmanteau films, I think, and a haunted house theme can't go wrong. Indeed it doesn't and, while this is perhaps not up there with the finest of Amicus' stuff, it is nevertheless a highly enjoyable film with a magnificent cast of British character actors.

A framing device having been devised with an inspector investigating the bizarre disappearance of the house's latest tenant, we jump into the first segment, and perhaps the best, as Denholm Elliott excels as a horror seemingly becoming obsessed with his latest murderous creation, seeing him anywhere. The twist is clever, and the mood effective.

We then have Peter Cushing and the ever-affable Joss Ackland in a less effective segment about a creepy waxworks, elevated by the extraordinary haunted performance of the recently bereaved Cushing. But what follows, with Nyree Dawn Porter and the great Christopher Lee, is a highly effective example of the trope of the creepily evil child.

The final segment stars Jon Pertwee, showing a delightful disinclination to vary the performance he was giving each week at the time in Doctor Who, but is enjoyably charismatic as the old school horror star who buys a cursed vampire cloak from the truly awesome Geoffrey Bayldon. Ingrid Pitt as an actual vampire just adds to the fun.

Nom not all the segments are equally good. But, like all of its ilk, this Amicus portmanteau horror is massively fun to watch.

Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade (1989)

"Indiana? We called the dog Indiana!"

And so we come to the last and easily the best of the original trilogy. And, given the high quality of the other two films, that's a bloody big achievement.

So why is Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade so bloody good? Well, it's partly because they've clearly thought long and hard about what worked best in the other two films, and they've rightly decided that Raiders of the Lost Ark is worth mining for the good stuff. So Marcus is back. So is Sallah. So, most importantly, are the Nazis. You've got to have Nazis.

There's also an outstanding cast. Ice tagged a few below, but there wasn't room for the likes of Alexei Sayle, Vernon Dobtceff, an uncredited Michael Sheard as Hitler or even River Phoenix as the young Indy. But the real casting coup is, of course, the ever-charismatic Sean Connery as Dr Henry Jones, Senior. Connery is simply excellent here. So good, in fact, that he even condescends to not sound like he's from Edinburgh for once.

Said opening sequence, with young Indy and the train full of circus animals, is superb, and not only because it reminds me of the contemporary 8 bit computer game. It even attempts to explain the origin of Indy's fear of snakes, but it wisely doesn't reveal too much about his mysterious father who, indeed, is held back until just the right moment.

The plot itself is very Raiders of the Lost Ark without being in any way too slavishly similar. And what can outdo the Ark of the Covenant but the Holy Grail? 

As per the previous film we get a series of outstanding set pieces- I love the airship- but the outstanding chemistry between Harrison Ford and Connery adds so much more. Connery is having great fun with a superb character and his presence pushes Ford to ever greater heights: this is one of the most entertaining cinematic double acts ever. 

And then we come to the climax. The "invisible" bridge falls just short of the supernatural, but Donovan's gruesome death at imbibing the false Grail is delightfully gruesome, and the whole climax is deeply satisfying which, er, sounds a bit ruder than intended.

Possibly one of the greatest adventure films ever. Personally I dread to think just how many times I've seen it.

Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981)

"Snakes! Why does it have to be snakes?"

This film still feels fresh thirty years later: not bad for a movie based on the movie serials of the '30s and '40s. What makes it work is that the action never stops, with set piece piled on to exciting set piece and even the exposition scenes being made dramatic. On top of that you have Harrison Ford being, well, himself, Ronald Lacey as the perfect Gestapo baddie and loads of money obviously spent. This is a superb film.

I'm sure many archaeologists would raise an eyebrow at this somewhat glamorous depiction of what they do for a living, of course. Indy is clearly shown to be an academic. Others would raise eyebrows at the spiders, snakes and booby traps galore. The more churlish of us may well raise an eyebrow at the made up mythology if what's supposed to have happened to the Ark, particularly Ethiopians. Personally my own eyebrow is raised a little at the idea of Nazis being so obsessed with such a very Jewish artifact- that must have been awkward for them.

We have all sorts of Indiana Jones tropes here from the start- travelling by map (copyright The Muppets), the action-packed standalone opening sequence and Indy just shoring that bloke who waves a fancy sword at him. It's a brilliant start to s brilliant series. If you haven't seen this, where have you been?

Except, er, Indy doesn't actually accomplish anything, does he? The Ark would have blown up the Nazis whatever happened. Still, at least he gets a nice little Egyptian holiday with some snake-related activities. 

The Rise and Rise of Michael Rimmer (1970)

" Peter, I was just jotting down a few reasons why you might want to leave IOP and come over to us at the Fairburn Organisation."

"Oh yes, that's very well put. I particularly like the noughts."

This is one of the greatest films ever made, a work of true genius. Yet so few people have seen it, or even heard of it, in spite of its stellar cast: it stars Peter Cook, and features the likes of John Cleese, Leicestershire lad Graham Chapman, Arthur Lowe, Harold Pinter (a Nobel Prize winner, no less!), Denholm Elliott, Julian Glover, Dennis Price, Ronnie Corbett and many, many more, and was scripted by Cleese and Chapman. It seems to have flopped, and pretty much vanished off the radar. That's a tragedy; it's one of the greatest works of satire ever, in any medium. Watch it now. Please.

Michael Rimmer (Cook) is a man with no past or hinterland but limitless ambition, who suddenly appears from nowhere. He seems to have no desires beyond the pursuit of power, and his entire personality is constructed so as to achieve his goals, even choosing his wife by focus group. We begin with him inveigling his way into a hopelessly inefficient advertising business managed by the hopeless Ferret (Lowe). This is a far cry from Mad Men, in spite of the sexy secretaries, and probably something of a commentary on the state of British industry circa 1970.

Rimmer gradually gets himself into a position of real power via mastery of opinion polls, and gradually ends up as a spin doctor to the political world, and eventually an MP, Chancellor, Prime Minister and ultimately absolute dictator. Rimmer ends up with the Tories, but it all seems very New Labour. And this is 1970. This film is quite scarily prophetic.

In 1970, political differences meant something. The political left was actually socialist. Unions had real power. Sensible, Keynesian economics was the orthodoxy. It all seemed to be a far cry from our modern era of managerial politics and interchangeable political parties, run by what Peter Oborne describes in his thought-provoking book as "the political class". Today (as Adam Curtis has rather eloquently discussed, especially in such series as The Trap and All Watched Over by Machines of Loving Grace), this sense of politics as merely being about efficient ways of running a market economy with an ever-shrinking state. It seems such a clear contrast between then and now. Why, then, is this film so eerily prophetic?

The cynicism of the political class, and the meaninglessness of ideology, is plain to see. The unnamed Labour prime minister (suspiciously northern, pipe-smoking and, well, Wilsonesque, and played by the caretaker from Grange Hill!) unsuccessfully tries to lure Rimmer into joining the party, insisting that his lack of left-wing views need not be a problem, as Labour is "not bound to dogma". Worse still, once Rimmer is comfortably ensconced in senior Tory circles, a member of the cabinet makes a speech which is obviously meant to evoke Enoch Powell's racist "Rivers of Blood" speech. Yet Rimmer suggests that the Tory leader should do nothing to prevent the speech, but sack the minister afterwards. That way he can have his cake and eat it by looking like a man of principle by publicly opposing racism, while still giving the impression that the Conservatives are tough on immigration. It's deeply, deeply cynical.

The film isn't laugh out loud funny in the way that people might perhaps expect from this cast; it's very much in the style of Yes Minister or The Thick of It. But it's easily as good, as funny and as truthful as both of these, and I personally believe that it's a little more philosophically profound, even if there is a bit of nihilism underneath. Also, there's a pretty naked woman in it. Just saying.

There's another. less political, subtext too, I think. Peter Cook seems to be giving Rimmer the mannerisms of David Frost, and Cook once famously commented that his biggest ever regret was saving Frost from drowning. This entire film may well be one long character assassination, which would be rather ironic. Frost is executive producer...!

There's one thing that's puzzling me a little, though. There's a scene supposedly set in Nuneaton, although there's a suspicious lack of local accents, and I'd love to know whether or not it was filmed there. I know Nuneaton well, being a Hinckley lad, but I wasn't born until 1977, and I know the town centre was extensively redeveloped in the early '80s. So, can anyone put me out of my misery and tell me if it was filmed there or not? I can't say I recognise any of the locations, but things may have changed a lot.