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.

A Study in Terror (1965)

 "Mr Holmes is usually right..."

This is quite the obvious concept- Sherlock Holmes does Jack the Ripper- and one which, I suppose, succeeds or fails on the realisation.

There is, of course, something uneasy about the use of Jack the Ripper- of the brutal and sexualised murder of women- as entertainment, particularly in a film where men (and one woman, presented as the one "whore" not driven to the work by poverty). The male gaze, the Bechdel test, the sheer unthinking misogyny of it all- it can't go unacknowledged, much as we accept that such reactions were not common currency in 1965.

That said, though, this is a frustrating film. The script is, I think, first class- a superbly constructed whodunit, albeit cheating just a little with the final reveal of the killer not being earned, despite the neat cleverness of the other complex yet clear threads; good characterisation; a great deal of wit; lots of Sherlockian allusions in the script with frequent uses of Conan Doyle's dialogue. It's also a nice touch that the character of Dr Murray is a likely nod either to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle himself- a charitable man- or his mentor Dr Bell, or both.

And yet this excellent script is quite poorly realised. John Neville and Donald Houston are a pedestrian, superficial Holmes and Watson, failing to play their parts as actual characters rather than cyphers, wasting the nuanced lines they are given. The direction may be interesting in places- we get a rather odd shot of the final murder from the Ripper's POV, a disturbing riff on the male gaze- but the costuming (all the prostitutes wear symbolic red!) and sets are a little disappointing.

It's a shame that we end up with a film that's merely quite good; the script is better than that.