Julius Caesar (1970)

 "This was the noblest Romam of them all."

Obviously, I know this play. I also know the 1953 film with Marlon Brando, and with John Gielgud in a less exalted, but more electrifying part. I mean, is the superlative Sir John Gielgud... phoning it in? I do believe he is.

Not that this film is crap. It's just not the 1953 film, probably. I mean, I saw it probably twenty-five years ago, long before this blog. Memory is an imperfect intrument. But it- and Brando, especially- made a deep impression on me. Any subsequent Mark Antony has big boots to fill. And those big soliloquys must be approached with trepidation. An actor lives or dies by them.

So how does this compare? Well, the standard British characters actors are very RSC. Robert Vaughn impresses with Casca, giving a daring yet pleaasingly arch performance. Diana Rigg shines during her one big scene.

But what of Charlton Heston? Well, this was brave of him. He's no Brando, not even close, but he's good enough. His "Pardon me, thou bleeding piece of Earth" is so so, but his funerary speech for Caesar is fascinating. Not as passionate as many, but great facial acting and restraint, which really, really works.

The entire production is fascinating. We begin with a bird of prey, circling. The battle is visceral, as is the bloody murder. There is no honour in war here, only bloodshed. Shades of Vietnam, and Oh, What a Lovely War?, the 1970 zeitgeist. This is not the best version, being quite flat. But hey, it's Shakespeare.

A Midsummer Night's Dream (1968)

"Lord, what fools these mortals be..."

I never knew before tonight's random looking through Amazon Prime that this odd little Peter Hall film existed- associated with the RSC although unconnected with the many screen Shakespeare plays made a decade later.

As a production it's... odd. There is much use of location and visuals, yet this is very much in the style (and with the necessary attitude to realism) of a stag play- I suspect the budget would not allow otherwise. The make-up for the fairies, in particular, I can imagine working well on stage, but their look falls very flat here.

The fun of this production, though, is not in the visuals; it's in seeing this splendid cast of unfeasible young actors (Helen Mirren is in her early twenties here, and none of the leads are over thirty- five) perform one of Shakespeare's plays with which I'm most familiar. And Ians Holm and Richardson, in particular, are truly sublime as Puck and Oberon respectively. Most striking though is a young, sensual Judi Dench as she frolics erotically with Paul Rogers' Bottom... and yes, I know: that's quite a sentence.

Even a flawed production of Shakespeare such as this can showcase some individual performances worth seeing, and this is the case here. And I must admit that this particular version of Pyramus and Thisbe is the funniest I've seen. On the whole, then, a mixed bag- but it was always going to be a joy to see this play with this cast.

Victoria: The King Over the Water

"You know, erm, I have some socks for you to darn..."

It's the quiet episode before the season finale, so time for slowness, lots of Highlands scenery and some ordinary life for Victoria and Albert for just one night. It's a chance for them to have fun as the loving, easy couple they are again after the problems of the recent past. Never mind the stress they cause to everyone else but, I suppose, it reminds us that all royalty lives in a goldfish bowl. And those poetry recitals don't look like much fun.

We also finally have Drummond and Lord Alfred realising the feelings they have for one another, while Harriet reconciles with Duke Ernest, who we know now probably has syphilis. It's not the most eventful episodes- that's not the point. Unfortunately it drags a bit but I suppose it's nice to see Victoria and Albert having so much fun. It's all very ominous for the finale though.

Beyond that, there's not much to say. I suppose, for filler, the episode is nicely done.

Victoria: Entente Cordiale

"It is a place of artifice and deceit!"

So Victoria and her entourage are off to Paris and its predictably more fashionable court under a diplomatic pretext, and we meet the wily and somewhat precarious Louis Philippe, King of the French, a self-made monarch who has actually, heaven forbid, once had to work for a living. He's a fascinating character with a unique background and hidden depths- and, of course, after the 1848 revolution he would end his life once again teaching in the UK. But that's the future.

The narrative point of this is, of course, for the characters to react to the French court. So Victoria feels a little self-conscious of her style, while the Duchess of Buccleuch is the xenophobic comic relief. But Albert, especially with the sight of his brother's cavorting, is still affected by last episode's revelations and has gone quite alarmingly puritanical. This is, of course, the precursor to his telling Victoria everything; he never could keep a secret. And her reaction is, of course, wonderful. Albert is a very lucky man to have a wife like her; this is superb writing of character.

We see the eating of ortalan, something which may please the late President Mitterand but is not exactly ethical treatment of birds. Miss Coke begins to see that Ernest is that into her, and is not exactly monogamous. But we end on a bit of a cliffhanger: Victoria is pregnant again...

Victoria: The Sins of the Father

"At least Ernst knows who his father is!"

So Victoria gives birth, rather painfully, and his father announces that "we have a Prince of Wales" in a rather excellent episode which is all about fatherhood and paternity. This is made immediately obvious not far in, as Albert's father pops his clogs and he has to be off to Coburg.

But the episode is also, of course, all about what no one in the 1840s would call post-natal depression; Victoria struggles to bond with little Prince Bertie, and is clearly profoundly depressed, something which no one- certainly not the men- seems to even acknowledge as a thing. It's only towards the end that formidable old battleaxe the Duchess of Buccleuch finally reveals that she also suffered from it in her past, unexpectedly bonding a little with Victoria.

But the big bombshell is when Albert learns that Leopold slept with his mother, meaning he may be Albert's father, something which disgusts him. This terrible secret sends him into despair to the point that he even gets drunk for the first time. His entire identity, it seems, and the very legitimacy of his children with Victoria, may be a lie. Still, this turns out to be good news for Mrs Skerrit, who in a neat bit of plotting manages to avoid being dismissed because of this. It's another impressively written episode.

Victoria: Warp and Weft

"They don't need balls. They need bread."

A much better and more substantial episode this week. Victoria is back on track. The conceit of Victoria holding an opulent ball in the middle of the Hungry Forties is a superb fulcrum from which we can explore all kinds of historical and character development. And I don't care about such deliberate inaccuracies such as the fact that Lord Melbourne lived fpr a good seven or so years after the birth of Victoria's second child...

Lord M is clearly dying, getting worse as the episode progresses after his apparent stroke, and this leads to an emotional yet restrained parting with Victoria. His death, interestingly, is juxtaposed with that of Dash; indeed, we deliberately hear Victoria give a funeral speech which seems to be for Lord M until we learn otherwise.. Victoria's old intimates are dying; she has only Albert now.

We learn of the Corn Laws; tariffs to protect the interests of the aristocracy as the poor suffer foreign competition. This is clearly going to be a defining issue for the season, as are the Parliamentary sparring matches between John Bright and Sir Robert Peel. I think the defining issues of the season may have been set. I look forward to it all.

Victoria: The Green-Eyed Monster

"Am I just an ignoramus who has to have things summarised by my husband?"

A somewhat awkward and directionless episode this time, it must be said, despite the clever use of Othello to examine the idea of jealousy between the royal couple. It doesn't really go anywhere or develop Vicky and Albert's relationship notably more than we saw last time.

Vicky suspects Albert of a somewhat unconvincing infatuation with Ada Lovelace, daughter of the notorious Lord Byron, when it’s clear that the nerdy prince is only interested in her and Charles Babbage’s difference engine. This contrived jealousy subplot isn’t really adding anything, and nor is the rehashing of the old debates about the impropriety of Vicky’s friendship with Lord M. Still, Melbourne doesn’t seem to be as well as he lets on.

Elsewhere we get hints of an upcoming affair between Ernest and Miss Cook, and the Coburgs continue to be annoying snobs. Sir Robert Peel continues to impress with his progressive attitude, a contrast to Lord M, while Vicky is pregnant with a second child so soon after the first.

Much though the A plot may be a damp squib, then, the long-term characterisation and plotting continues to impress, as do the performances and direction. I’m sure things will be back to the usual quality next week.

Victoria: A Soldier's Daughter

"It may be your regiment, Albert. But it is my army."

Victoria is back on ITV. I'm afraid I'm late to the party; I assure you I'll catch up quickly.

We pick up as we left off, with Vicky having just given birth to the future mother of Kaiser Bill. And the subject of patriarchy, always foregrounded when it comes to the hereditary principle, is uppermost not only in the incredibly sexist assumptions by the mean surrounding Vicky that she should retire to the nursery and leave affairs of state to the manly hands of Albert- and, indeed, that the scarcely born princess should one day marry the King of Prussia!

There's slow-burning stuff; Vicky struggles to connect with her daughter, both her relationship with Sir Robert peel and his premiership is soon to develop, and the imperious Duchess of Buccleuch arrives in the formidable form of Diana Rigg playing an old battleaxe, for Mrs Peel, incredibly, is now 79. Below stairs, the newly minted Mrs Skerrit is promoted, and Mr Francatelli is eventually persuaded to return.

But the episode, set as London awaits the awful news from Kabul of 4,000 troops being massacred, is about how Victoria always has to fight the patriarchal attitudes of the men who surround her, including her husband. It'll be interesting to see how all this develops, but for now this is a splendidly written, performed and shot bit of telly.

On Her Majesty's Secret Service (1969)

"This never happened to the other fella!"

Well, a couple of days ago I praised You Only Live Twice to the skies and queried whether it would ever be topped. Has it, with the very next film? Well, it's impossible to say. This is an excellent film, but it's so completely unlike its predecessors that I simply wouldn't be comparing like with like.

First things first, though: George Lazenby. Well, I quite liked him. Oh, his acting is awful- his line deliveries are dull and clearly not thought through. And yet.. he hasn't got charisma exactly, but he has presence and is likeable, albeit a softer presence than Sean Connery, even when slapping Tracy across the face...! He was blatantly just cast for his looks, he can't act, but against all the odds he manages to carry the film. Never mind the very odd fact that all his lines when pretending to be Sir Hilary Bray are dubbed by George Baker...!

Speaking of George Baker, this film is extremely well-endowed (er...) with British character actors, boasting James Bree, Bernard Horsfall, a very young Joanna Lumley and Catherine Schell. But it's Diana Rigg, fresh from Mrs. Peel, who dazzled as Tracy, and Telly Savalas is similarly superb as Blofeld.

But this is a very strange Bond film. It may reassure us at the start with the reassuring faces of M, Q and Moneypenny before we see the new Bond, but it's not just Lazenby who's odd here: it may be magnificent, but this is a bloody weird Bond film. There are action sequences, yes, and bloody good ones, but they're surprisingly infrequent. Instead we get romance- we even have an extensive montage where Bond and Tracy fall in love. The middle of the film is an extensive farce sequence with a kilted Bond ("It's true!!!") and a sequence of nubile young ladies. And Bond gets married!!! The ending of the film is truly tragic, with Bond in a state of denial that his beloved is dead from the bullet of Blofeld's pet fraulein.

The sexual politics here raise a bit of an eyebrow ("What she needs is a man to dominate her" says Tracy's doting father), which is typical Bond. Otherwise, though.. c'est magnifique. Mais ce n'est pas James Bond. This is one of the finest films in the series, but one that stands aloof.

The Assassination Bureau (1969)

"Human life is so expendable. So easily replaced, and pleasurable."

This film gets a rough ride from critics, I feel, many of whom just don't get the understated black humour that gives the film its charm. I won't deny that the tone is at times uneven and the premise, great on paper, begins to drag a bit with the monotony of Oliver Reed's Ivan Dragomilovitch having to assassinate his colleagues one by one. But a delightfully urbane and witty Reed, a sexy, unflappable and Emma Peel-sequel Diana Rigg (I love her wardrobe!) and the hugely witty and quotable dialogue make this film a pleasure to watch in spite of its flaws. Hopefully a DVD release in Europe is not too far away; I had to rely on Netflix.

The casting of Telly Savalas to play Lord Bostwick with a blatantly North American accent is often disparaged by critics who miss the fact that the character is clearly based on Lord Beaverbrook. And there are plenty of enjoyable cameos from the likes of Beryl Reid, Roger Delgado, Warren Mitchell and George Coulouris.I thought Vernon Dobtcheff was bogey amusing as a stereotypically lugubrious Russian.

This is a gloriously cynical film, appropriate for one set in an age when war loomed, life was cheaper and it was important, if you had the means, to enjoy life as much as you could while maintaining a raised eyebrow at all times.

Doctor Who: The Crimson Horror

“I think I’m going to go and play with my grenades…”

You know how a couple of weeks ago I expressed some lukewarm sentiments towards Mark Gatiss, and how last week I expressed some disquiet about how this series was perhaps catering a bit too much to the fans and not enough to, as Steven Moffat would say, the “other 100% of the audience”? Well, panic over. This week’s episode is outstanding, and its only overt continuity stuff is fairly recent stuff that the general viewer would remember. And, yes, it’s by Mark Gatiss, who has penned the best story of the season and his best since Night Terrors.

I have to start, though, by praising Saul Metzstein’s extraordinarily brilliant and stylish direction, evoking a Hard Times- style Victorian Yorkshire which is notably different in style from the Victorian London he gave us in The Snowmen. I was delighted by many things, but particularly the sepia textures of the flashbacks. With a quality script and quality direction there’s not much that can go wrong, and it doesn’t.

Gatiss deserves particular praise for the fact that this seems to be a “Doctor-lite” story, and yet the Doctor’s and Clara’s relative lack of screen time is used positively to add mystery and suspense. It’s good to see Vastra (of whom we actually see little), Jenny (who doth rule verily), and the ever-amusing Strax. Our favourite Sontaran nurse gets all the best lines and my favourite scene, in which a “Thomas Thomas” gives him directions. Delightfully, he is in a different and more comedic genre than the rest of the story, although no story in which none other than Diana Rigg gives us a broad Yorkshire Avengers baddie can be considered to be uber-serious. It’s a gloriously bonkers twist, though, with the revelation of “Mr Sweet” as an alien parasite.

There’s a little social commentary amongst all the fun, with a fairly thorough skewering of those patronising Victorian communities created by various tycoons for the benefit of their employees, complete with loads of social engineering- it’s not hard to see the relevance here to the present day, where there is much hand-wringing in right-wing circles about how the poor would be in much finer fettle if they would only have their access to alcohol curtailed by minimum pricing, and their benefits restricted to the basic necessities. Sadly, attitudes to the poor seem to be reverting to Victorian examples.

Friendly to the casual viewer this may be, but there are a couple of nods to the past. The Doctor refers to a certain Australian wanting to get back to Heathrow, and the Doctor being kept in the cell, referred to as a monster and fed through a grille evokes Control in Ghost Light. Mostly, however, the nods are to the present and future. The Doctor pointedly refuses to explain to Vastra and the gang how Clara, who died at Christmas, is seemingly alive again. Most intriguingly, we end with the two children Clara is babysitting blackmailing her into letting them tag along in what the clever kids have worked out is her friend’s time machine.

I’m excited about the future. This episode was excellent, but next week’s is written by Neil Gaiman.