Inspector Morse: Driven to Distraction

 "I think our friend Chief Inspector Morse could prove to be something of a major pain in the rectum area."

This one is.. well, different. it's the first episode that doesn't feel as though it fits the format. Morse essentially bodges the whole thing, single-mindedly pursuing a suspect on a hunch. There were moments here when I genuinely wondered whether I was watching a Columbo-style "howdunit" where the killer is known but our protagonist just has to prove it... but mostly it was clear that Jeremy Boynton was just the very obvious red herring.

And yes, the reveal of the actual murderer ewas well done, but as a whodunit this episode is much less well- constructed than we'd usually expect from Inspector Morse. And yet... this is still a good piece of television precisely because Morse gets it so wrong, leading to real clashes with both Lewis and Superintendent Strange. At last his unorthodox methods lead him to come a cropper.

Yet he bonds with the rather clever Sergeant Maitland, a true kindred spirit played superbly by Mary Jo Randle- I suspect, sadly, we won't be seeing her again. Indeed, this episode breaks the usual format in nodding towards actual police procedure. Morse doesn't just have Lewis here, but others. There's even an incident room.

So the format has been broken, and it's worked. Could it happern again...?

Inspector Morse: The Last Enemy

 "Dr. Kerridge! We are trying to master the Veleta!"

Nearly a year and a half seem to have gone by since the last time I blogged Inspector Morse. I won't be blogging them that often, but I ought to be getting through the series at a faster pace than that. Ahsoka tomorrow, probably. 

Anyway, good episode as ever, again not from a novel but from an idea by Colin Dexter. This is almost the Platonic ideal of an Inspector Morse episode, I suppose. It's all about arrogant, ambitious Oxford academics sceming against each other while being well-read, rather snobbish and drinking spirits at all times of the day.

Ah, the 1980s. 1989 doesn't feel that long ago- I was twelve- but, as I've remarked before, we have desks without computers, people in the streets wearing suits in away that doesn't happen today, and Morse whingeing about the word processor beginning to challenge the almighty typewriter... while pining for a proper fountain pen with a bottle of ink. Everyone is "Mr", "Mrs" or "Miss", where first names would be used today. It was a long time ago, yet in many respects it wasn't.

There are some splendid turns from the guest cast, and both Kevin Whateley and Amanda Hillwood impress. Yet John Thaw once again excels as the complex man that is Morse, a man who is only slightly older than I am now...

Inspector Morse: Last Seen Wearing

 "You were so keen to have a murder. You should be happy."

One ought to bear in mind that Colin Dexter's novel was written fifteen or so years earlier, but it's striking to see that, in 1988, missing persons cases were dealt with via paper files, and in the case of Valerie Craven the number of files means that Morse, "the three file man", has to be called in. It dates the programme quite as much as the appearance of the London Docklands.

The characterisation of Morse here, while fascinating, may be a bit of a time capsule too, and I shall focus on this rather than commenting on the whodunit: I remember the novel too well, He's presented as a devilishly clever chap who is allowed to behave in shockingly unprofessional ways- extensively drinking on the job, not bothering to look at the files, perving at the private schoolgirls doing PE who he denigrates as "rich and thick", being terribly cynical about the whole thing, even forging a letter to the parents of the missing girl- and getting bollocked by Strange for good measure.

Yet, after the bollocking, he gets results. And continues to be a beer snob, a definite point in his favour. The dialogue, and characterisation, is subtly brilliant here, from Morse to Lewis to Strange to the arrogant gaslighting Phillipson to the cultured, Irish, Yeats-quoting Mrs Craven. This is the subtlest, finest, adaptation yet.

But I fear we are, mostly, to be veering off Colin Dexter's path most of the time from here. Let's hope the quality remains.

The Box of Delights: Leave Us Not Little, Nor Yet Dark

"Splendiferous!"

So that’s it. A splendid ending to a bonkers but deeply festive and entertaining adventure. Let’s just gloss over the disappointing fact that it was all a dream, shall we?

This episode is all action, with nary a chance to breathe- but there’s still time for lots of magic. The whole sequence with Abner and his secret semi-TARDIS, accesses through a secret door by drawing a glowing and inverted Star of David (probable symbolism there, although I’m buggered if I know)  is awesome, with the sarky statue head thing that Abner leaves upside down when in a sulk, and the cool animated dragon that Abner uses to prevent the secret agents of the Church of England fouling his dastardly plans. Yes, Abner is pretty much a cartoon villain at this point, but I for one have no problems with that.

However, his underlings have betrayed him, nicked the loot and freed the Bishop and his crew. Abner may not be in as good a position as he thought- as we confirm when (yay!) we finally meet Cole again. Patrick Troughton is on top form here as our Punch and Judy Gandalf saves the day in spite of rising water by drawing a key with which to escape (couldn’t he have done that earlier?) and co juri g up a boat from his hat as all are rescued, including Peter and the long-sidelined Caroline Louisa. It’s as though the world of the children (with which Cole is most certainly aligned) manages to save Christmas for the grown ups. We end, with the help of magic, with the Christmas service in the cathedral saved, and a few minutes where The Box of Delights briefly turns into Songs of Praise. What’s particularly nice, though, is that this is done with the help of the decidedly pagan figure of Herne the Hunter, who is basically Woden- true religious harmony. And we see that old woman again. Who is she meant to be? It’s not entirely clear.

And then... Kay spins around, recreating the final moments of another Patrick Troughton masterpiece... and it was all a dream. That doesn’t change the fact, though, that this is a truly wonderful and special bit of telly.

Maybe I should make this a 35 year thing? See you in 2054. I’m sure my pension will stretch to it, if England isn’t a desert by then.

The Box of Delights: Beware of Yesterday

"Now do you see, you mutineering doddlehead?"

Well then. A lot can happen in half an hour.

We begin with a reprise of the big cliffhanger reveal about Arnold of Todi and Ramon Lully, aka Cole Hawlings, and then we, along with a miniature Kay, get to see the splendidly moustache-twirling Abner providing more and more exposition, ostensibly to the mutinous but dim Joe. The clergymen have been taken as hostages for the Box's return, and silly Abner doesn't suspect Kay simply because Sylvia Daisy Pouncer has declared him an "idle muff". Heh. This may be the most lampshaded piece of dramatic irony ever.

But Kay has failed to rescue Cole, Peter or Caroline Louisa, so in desperation he turns to the Box, and Herne the Hunter. If Kay can go to the past, and persuade old Arnie to take back the Box, it wont be around to cause all this trouble, right? So we get a trippy and cartoony interlude as Kay travels to a surreal-looking Trojan War past which makes no attelpt at realism and, above all, probably didn't cost that much. Here he finds a delightfully eccentric Arnie, played by Philip Locke, who went forever to the past because "my own time was dull"; believes Englishmen has tails; has no wish to leave the tiny island in 1200ish BC on which he happens to be marooned, alone; and is quite, quit mad, This is silly, pointless, and really rather brilliant.

Back in the present, the Bishop and a load of choirboys are in dungeon cells and Abner plans to double cross hi underlings to escape on his own with the fortune from the various robberies the gang has committed. But they plan to double cross him too. Neither of whch is Kay;s concern at present as he's small, has lost the box, and is trapped.

This is, by now, completely and utterly bonkers. I love it.

The Box of Delights: The Spider in the Web

"Put her in the scrounger!"

A revelatory episode at last as we stake out the baddies’ lair and, at the end, finally get some answers. This one is all plot with rather less symbolism. On the other hand, though, there seems to be a car that turns into an aeroplane, plus we get more Patricia Quinn. All is well and good.

We begin with a jolly jape as Kay and the Jones children get a ride down a waterfall on the toy boat, and dodge the evil curated and their aeroplane before arriving home... to signs of a burglary, the reasons for which are obvious. But the Box, of course, has been with Kay.

I love the whole sequence with Maria being scribbled and her defiance against the wonderfully evil Sylvia Daisy Pouncer. It’s brilliant how we are not shown the scrounged but get to imagine the ways in which it might go “round and round” and turn children into dog biscuits- but Maria gives as good as she gets.

Sadly, the inspector pooh poohs all this as usual; it’s up to the kids. So we have Kay and Peter staking our the baddies’ lair but it all goes wrong as Peter is, er, scrobbled. And back home things are getting worse- various clergymen are being randomly scrobbled as, it seem, has Caroline Louisa. Rarely has there been such a surfeit of scrobbling, and something must be done.

So Kay must go small once more, and spy on Abner with his dastardly scrying globe- and here we come across a bombshell: the Box belonged to Arnold of Todi, a mediaeval philosopher, who got stranded in the past. And it was then taken by another mediaeval philosopher, one with an elixir of youth, one Ramon Lully... yes, it’s Cole, and he’s locked up in their dungeon.

An absolute delight. More please.

The Box of Delights: In Darkest Cellars Underneath

“He was a child for whom I had the utmost detestation and contempt.”

More goodness here as Kay and his rubbish mouse friend begin the episode spying on the baddie, Abner Brown, his fellow evil vicars and, er, rats, as they ponder over where Cole’s box may be- implying they may indeed have “scribbled” him. They suspect it’s with the bishop but, more importantly, the wonderful Patricia Quinn suddenly appears as the splendidly nasty Sylvia Daisy Pouncer. I hope to see more of her.

It’s interesting that adults are often absent- Cole, the mysteriously delayed Caroline Louisa, the Jones’ awfully neglectful parents- and those that are around- the avuncular inspector or the unworldly bishop- are not quite authority figures. There’s no one to protect them from Abner, and he certainly seems to have young Maria (pronounced the old way, in a nice touch, as it would have been in 1935).

The Christmas party at the Bishop’s is an odd affair- did bishops really do this for local kids, I assume not just the well-heeled ones? He gets burgled for reasons we know damn well, and there’s a Punch and Judy show ostensibly by Cole Hawlings- but we don’t see him.

There’s more odd symbolism as Kay walks with a Roman soldier, dressed in the classical rather than late Roman armour, who tells him of wolves and lambs in a way which unavoidably evokes Romulus and Remus. This Christmassy programme has an awful lot of pagan undertones.

We end with not only Kay but Peter, Jemima and Susan all shrunk and hiding from the evil vicars on a toy boat, about to go down a waterfall. More please. This is great, and also really weird, a perfect combination.

The Box of Delights: Where Shall the 'Nighted Showman Go?

"I think it's the purple pim!"

Ok, now this is getting delightfully weird. The cliffhanger reprise sees Kay, having flown on his white horse, inside Arthur’s camp at some undefined mediaeval (Arthurian?) time and he’s asked to pitch in with a sword and defend them all against wolves. I’m sure there’s all sorts of symbolism here, and I’m wondering about the name “Kay”, very Arthurian.

But then it’s escape out of that “picture” to Cole, and some exposition. The box belongs to “Master Arnold” but Kay is to keep it safe. It can make him “go small” or “go swift”. Come only knows the “old magic” and is vulnerable to the “new magic”. All very intriguing and atmospheric. This is getting really good.

Things remain symbolic and weird as Kay and his friend Peter see Cole kidnapped by that dodgy pair of curates. Yet Cole phones them at the police station to say he’s alright- somehow we know that can’t be him. Incidentally, it’s surreal that the Inspector is in fact Superibtendent Strange from Inspector Morse with a Mummerset accent...

Caroline Louisa is away and incommunicado, leaving the maid in charge- has something happened to her? And when Kay looks into the box he sees a figure he recognised as Herne the Hunter, superficially a forest ghost but really a rich legendary figure, Lord of the Wild Hunt in all of Germanic Europe, and actually Woden. These may no longer be “pagan times” but the old gods are not forgotten.

And I had a jolt of memory- I remember that cartoon where Kay and Herne jump from animal form to animal form, with predators always being there. It’s awesome, and has brought back a long buried memory from when I was seven. Wow. And I’m appreciating more and more the great sense of using cartoons to remove the need for prohibitively expensive special effects.

This is awesome. So awesome, in fact, that I can accept that, when Kay shrinks and sets off to find the baddie, he can talk to an anthropological talking mouth in a terrible costume, and dodge some cringeworthy anthropomorphic rats. I don’t care. A programme this awesome can afford the off but of absolute crap like this. Never mind that we’ve never previously been made to suspect that talking animals might be a thing. I’m hooked.

This is awesome. I’m seven again.