Antony and Cleopatra (1972)

 "I must from this enchanting queen break off..."

I've read Antony and Cleopatra, but this is my first time seeing a production on either stage or screen. The play is, of course, magnificent, as are all of Shakespeare's later tragedies. It is at once a love story and a tale of politics at its most raw and brutal, with legendary characters including the young Octavian Ceasar, played superbly by John Castle as an upright, disciplined young man, exemplifying all that Rome stands for and who very much feels like a younger version of the future Augustus.

This is also a play about two worlds- masculine, martial, relatively puritan Rome versus the feminine weakness and decadence of Egypt and the east... yes, that dodgy trope is old indeed. But one can't deny it's handled well here by the Warwickshire lad.

The film is nicely shot, by Charlton Heston himself, on location in Spain. Half the cast are Spaniards, yet to their credit you wouldn't notice. This may not be right up there with the greats of cinematic Shakespeare, but there's little to criticise... although, superb though Roger Delgado may be as the soothsayer (sadly, one of his last roles), one has to wince at the obvious brownface.

Hildegard Neil is very good as Cleopatra, but Heston is magnificent as Antony, a difficult role. Yet he handles the duality of the character with aplomb, believable both as the great Roman general and the besotted lover of Cleopatra. This is a truly excellent film, one of surprisingly few screen versions of the play.

The Tractate Middoth

 "The other day I was forced to open a hotel door of my own volition!"

Don't worry; this is just a one-off diversion from Life on Mars and The Crown, but Christmas is coming; it would be remiss of me not to watch and blog this splendid adaptation by Mark Gatiss, who also directs, of one of M.R. James' most well-known stories.

And the whole thing is simply a triumph. The direction is magnificent, evoking horror with suspense, and the appearance of the ghost (That skull! Those spiders!) is as impressive as the way it's carefully shot. The cast is similarly magnificent, with a young Sacha Dhawan deeply effective as a leading man, and a strong cast of British character actors from Louise Jamson to Roy Barraclough to Burbage's very own Una Stubbs as a wonderfu comic grotesque. John Castle is, as ever, a splendidly hissible villain. And there's much actor-spotting fun as the Master chats to his mate, a pipe-smoking Nathan Barley.

What holds it all together, of course, is the story, puzzlingly not adapted since 1966. But this adaptation was made with a real love of the source material, and it shows.

The Prisoner: The General

“Nothing’s impossible in this place.”

Another intriguing episode this time, with yet another very ‘60s and very British view of freedom and repression- the conceit is that the “Professor”, with the aid of the “General” is able to create subliminal educational courses which can deliver a three year degree in three minutes. This is, of course, an obvious means of brainwashing, as we see. And the “education” it imparts is of doubtful value- learning by rote set phrases about the Treaty of Adrianople does not impart any real understanding, as Number Six immediately sees.

Number Six is aided, however, by Number Twelve, whose rebel sympathies are  never actually exposed, and it’s ambiguous whether he gets away with helping Number Six. He is played, of course, by a shockingly young John Castle, whom I know well from I, Clavdivs and RoboCop 3. It’s also odd to see Colin Gordon back as Number Two but with no suggestion that Number Six has met this particular Number Two before. Will this keep on happening as previous actors return?

The conclusion to all this is fascinating; the “General” turns out to be a very ‘60s advanced computer, covering a whole wall and with spoils everywhere. And we end with a very ‘60s viewpoint of computers meaning control and repression, of computers as calculating decision makers rather than toys for entertainment, of man needing to make his own decisions. If only they could look ahead...

I, Clavdivs: Poison Is Queen

"Don't touch the figs..."

Well, even by the high standards of this rightly praised drama, that was exceptional. And this, more than anything, proves that the great Brian Blessed was an actor of incredible depth and subtlety, if not necessarily softly spoken while doing so, and it's such a great shame that he very shortly after became typecast as shouty barbarians.

So Germanicus returns to a warm and brotherly reunion with an unhappily married Claudius, and at last hears and believes the news about Postumus' framing for rape and Livia's misdeeds- although, I'm glad to see, not without a very #MeToo nod to the fact that actual rapists use such excuses all the time.

In the very next scene Augustus clearly knows everything, and is very cagey about Livia. Rightly so; his eyes may now be open, but will soon be closed forever. His secret reunion with Postumus is deeply emotional for both men, yes, although Augustus' tears are self-indulgent as ever, but they must tread with care and it is, in truth, far too late. Livia is running rings round them throughout, whether secretly getting access to Augustus' altered will, ensuring the despairing Tiberius is not far away, or finally managing to poison the rightfully paranoid Augustus to death. Too late. poison is queen, and Postumus is doomed, although in the process we meet the ruthless Sejanus, played with icy steel by a young and only very slightly balding Patrick Stewart. It's all moving towards an inevitable conclusion, but you can't take your eyes off it even if the whole thing looks absurdly studio-bound at times.

But Livia, blinded by her cruel dismissal of Claudius. never suspects his part in revealing the truth, and she constantly humiliates him throughout, culminating in that final scene where a somewhat pissed Livia, having achieved what she wanted, mocks Claudius while telling him too much. Sian Phillips is one of the great villains of television history. And what an episode.What writing. What acting. 

I Clavdivs: What Shall We Do About Claudius?

“Are you sure this girl will marry him?”

“What’s it to do with her?”

In a sense, I suppose, you could say that this episode’s plot is largely a continuation of previous episodes in that Livia is still scheming to get rid of all rivals to her sullen son Tiberius so he can succeed Augustus- in this case Postumus, played here by a frighteningly young version of the baddie from RoboCop 3.

But it’s not about the mere plot, of course, entertaining though the scheming may be. No; it’s about the people, the acting, the clever scripting. It’s about the way Livia traps the charmingly thick Livilla (a young Patricia Quinn just after Rocky Horror) into betraying her lover Postumus, running rings around her. It’s about how Postumus blurts out Livia’s entire catalogue of murders to Augustus just before his exile to a tiny island, to the Emperor’s scorn- but manages to reveal all to Claudius first. This smells very much of foreshadowing.

It’s just as much about little moments, too. Augustus appreciating Horace but disparaging Ovid for “smut”. Augustus shouting “Quinctilius Varus, where are my eagles?” as three legions are massacred in the Teutoberg Forest; it’s 9AD, and Augustus is an old man with a lot on his shoulders. Livia’s hilariously psychopath is speech to the gladiators- “These games are being degraded by the use of professional tricks to stay alive, and I won’t have it!”, along with the entire imperial family being perfectly fine with the gruesome spectacle, in scenes more obviously set in a small studio than most. At the Games, we are so very obviously looking at a theatre set with a camera pointed at it, but we are far too engrossed to mind.

But the main purpose is to introduce the young adult Claudius, with Derek Jacobi appearing for the first time without prosthetics in an extraordinary performance. Humiliated, belittled, despiser by his own mother and an embarrassment to all, he causes laughter at his wedding to a woman who dwarfs him . But he is an intelligent and principled young man, as devoted to the republic as his father. And the historian Pollio encourages him to play up his infirmities in order to outlive those who threaten him. It’s an artfully constructed episode, building up Claudius within the flashback narrative alongside plenty of wit and black humour, while moving Livia’s plotting to a point where next episode has to give us some kind of climax.

RoboCop 3 (1993)

"We're dead, you stupid slag!"

This final film in the series is, I see, not much liked. And yes, diminishing returns are indeed a thing here with the weakest of the trilogy. But it’s not bad. Well, not that bad.

The general storyline is pretty damn good and deals with the right sort of themes- OCP is now fully under Japanese control, because it’s the early ‘90s and Japanese corporate domination of America in the near future is very much a thing. OCP are peddling some pie in the sky fantasy of a new 1950s utopian city to encourage people to leave their home while employing nasty mercenaries to evict while neighbourhoods just for profit, while there’s a big Japanese sort of ninja-sequel end of level boss lurking in the wings.

Robert John Burke is as good a replacement for Peter Walker as you’re likely to get, and Rip Torn is always good to see. It’s great to see a lot of the usual guest cast, with the Sarge particularly getting to shine. Also, I love the little girl reprogramming ED-209, John Castle as an evil villain straight out of Thatcher’s cabinet, and Nancy gets a meaningful death. This isn’t a bad film.

So why is it not as good as it could be? Well, the script is pretty good, and has the right kind of cynical political subtext, but the dark humour is gone. And the direction, while competent, is action film direction and lacks the visual wit we have come to expect. You have to say the film is well made, the script isn’t bad, but the end result is a little disappointing.

The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes: Series 1- The Solitary Cyclist

"Did I really do remarkably badly?"

"Yes."

The first example of a big Sherlock Holmes trope debuts this episodes, as a young governess in a strange big house seeks Holmes' services. We'll be seeing a lot more of this sort of thing. But here we have a splendid tale of bicycles, silly disguises, lechery, forced marriage and South African skulduggery. Woodley, a true blackguard, is given a South African accent to show how nasty he is; it is 1984, after all, and apartheid is still practised.

The second best bit is when Holmes sends Watson off on a little mission and then bollocks him for his lack of observation although, of course, Watson's hunch eventually proves to be part of the solution. But the real best bit, of course, is the most Victorian bar brawl ever, with Holmes duffing up a "ruffian" whilst loudly proclaiming throughout that he is fighting like a "gentlemen". Naturally it ends in a round of applause...

It's another first class bit of telly from a series that hasn't had a misfire since A Scandal in Bohemia. The series is only four episodes in, but has felt fully formed for at least three. Superb.