Erik the Viking (1989)

 "Stay calm. This is not happening."

Oh dear. What went wrong here? We begin with a moderately well-scripted Pythonesque little scene about, er, rape (yes, quite), and then we seem to descend into quite the mess.

And yet... it's written and directed by Terry Jones, he of Monty Python fame, certainly someone with comic talent, many glimpses of which are seen here- it's a bad film, yes, and don't get me started on the dragon, but there are funny concepts and funny lines. Jones, of course, knows his mediaeval history, and there are references and in-jokes aplenty, many of which go over my head. There's a theme of belief that runs throughout- Harald the Missionary refuses to believe in the aspects of Norse myth that surround him, and cannot see them. The King of High Brazil and his subjects refuse to believe that their land is sinking beneath the waves. And Erik falsely believed that he is wearing an invisible cloak.

There are other little bits of cleverness. The Norse gods are played by children. And yet... overall, it falls flat. There's a clear plot, pretty much, but it all falls flat. This tries to be a Monty Python and the Holy Grail or a Time Bandits but... it isn't.

Then there's the performances. Jones himself is excellent, as is John Cleese as the delightfully evil Halfdan the Black. But so many of the cast fail to shine. And I suspect this offers us a clue: Terry Jones is a damn good writer and performer, and I don't think the script is at all the problem here... but he's just not a good enough director to helm a big blockbuster, at least on his own.

An interesting failure, then, and with nuggets to be found. But a failure nonetheless.

The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes: Series 2- The Red Headed League

 "It is quite a three pipe problem..."

Yes, I know; it's been a while, and I stopped abruptly, but now I'm back to blogging the Jeremy Brett series of Sherlock Holmes adaptations. I stopped because of an unfortunate cock-up with Sky Plus, but now I have Britbox. I can now continue the last two episodes of Adventures, folowed by the first series of Return. There may be another pause there untl I'm able to see The Sign of Four, but that's a solid nine episodes for now.

The Red Headed League is one of the more well-known of the Conan Doyle short stories, and certainly one of the ones with which I'm most familiar. It's therefore a rather good episode to reintroduce myself to this wonderful series, drowning in redolent Victoriana, as I again experience the wonders of Jeremy Brett's performance and the nicely adapted story, complete with dialogue reflecting the actual speech patterns of Conan Doyle's characters. There's a superb case here, with Richard Wilson and Tim McInnerny standing out, while John Woodnutt is splendid as his usual vaguely arrogant authority figure. Roger Hammond also tands out in a bravely comical portrayal of Jabez Wilson.

It's an interesting choice, though, in this penultimate episode of the series, to have the whole thing be masyerminded by Moriarty, to give Brett a nice little speevh introducing him as formidable foe, and to give the superb Eric Porter a sublime cameo at the end.

Roll on The Final Problem. This programme is superb. I've missed it.

Edge of Darkness: Part 3- Burden of Proof

"I don't believe in the conspiracy theory of history."

This episode may perhaps be, again, less obviously artistic than the first and even more so than the second and, by now, deeply engrossed and, indeed, engrossing in the unravelling of the complex yet clearly narrated plot, but that is achieved without sacrificing either characterisation or verbal wit. This is still extraordinary, even sublime television, three episodes in.

Bob Peck is again, well, deservedly BAFTA-winning in how he portrays deep emotion and bereavement in a restrained man. Craven may be seen, by the end, by his boss as in need of help over his seeming obsession with deeper conspiracies behind Emma's death, but he is simultaneously seen by Harcourt and Pendleton, those nebulous spooks, as a credible witness for their plans to somehow nobble Bob Bennett, whom they suspect of killing Emma. Craven refuses them, of course, being the decent father that he is, but this goes to illusrate that things are not as they seem. The Texan act of the ever-thinking Jedburgh is, as H and P point out, an act. He's a fascinating, deep and nuanced character, hiding beneath both a stereotype and a supposed political standpoint, yet according to Clemmie he co-founded GAIA, an environmental organisation he now loudly derides as terrorists? With him, there are layers to unpeel.

It's odd, and disturbing, to learn of Craven's intimate, touchy-feely interrogation techniques with Lowe, but then it's established that he's a sex offender. Godbolt again pops up, looking anxious to deny things And Terry, Emma's erstwhile boyfriend, is murdered in the bath after giving Craven a clue. The plot thickens, as always. And there are far too many nuances to recount the plot. Suffice to say, I'm gripped.

If this all reads as the work of a drunk person, well, I'm forty-three today, and I've just finished a bottle of rather good Chilean Cabernet. Burp. Stay at home. Beat coronavirus with good wine. That is all.

Edge of Darkness: Part 2- Into the Shadows

“It’s an anal disease. Marx has trouble with his bowels...”

A less poetic episode this time, perhaps. The camera lingers less and we have a greater focus on the unfolding mystery. There's a lot of plot, although masterful scripting means both that it's easy to follow and the exposition follows naturally from character.

So the subtle recap  at the start comes from the faces of the appalled investigating officers as they hear a tape recording of Ronald Craven's testimony- and I shall start calling him Craven rather than Ronnie; it fits his world. And the world of the spooks- not just Pendleton but Harcourt, his eccentric "other half", played by a young Ian McNeice- is one of exposition, certainly, but also of contrast- southern as opposed to northern, wit and eccentricity as opposed to Craven's sober stillness.

Then there's Emma's shifty boyfriend Terry, played an extraordinarily young Tim McInnerny of the same age as when he first played Percy in Black Adder II. He's a man of apparently strong political views but of dodgy loyalties- a police informer and sleeping with another girl before Emma is even buried. He is, I think, very much a type you'll see in the various organisations of the hard left, some of them rather rapey and all of them full of big fish playing their little games in small pools. Craven doesn't like him and, as we see everything through his eyes (including his daughter in his mind's eye, which continues to humanise him), neither do we.

But by this point we know that Emma led a raid on a nuclear facility at Northmoor. And we, and Craven, learn much more when we meet the fascinating figure of Jedburgh, who hides considerable depths beneath that Stetson hat and brash, Republican, Commie-bashing exterior. He and Craven bond unexpectedly over Willie Nelson, and we discover more juicy little details.

This is clever, controlled, deeply human and a fascinating glimpse into the psyche of 1985. I'm utterly addicted.

Black Death (2010)

“I believe hunting necromancers and demons serves men more than it serves God."

This film seems appropriate right now, does it not? Personally I'm not scared for my own safety, really, nor that of either Mrs Llamastrangler or Little Miss Llamastrangler. We are all young and healthy. I'm more worried about my retired parents, the likelihood that at least someone I know is probably going to die when our current plague washes over us properly. And, given our circumstances, I've no idea what the Hell we're going to do for childcare if... when the schools close.

Anyway, this is an oddly redolent film and it's an act of defiant black humour to blog it. I suspect that, within weeks or days, it will become tasteless. Some readers, I fear, will already find it so, but let us not be too quick to cast aside the consolations of black humour.

I fear also that this film is rubbish. Oh, it's well-made in its impressive German locations and the cast- led splendidly by Carice van Houten, a very young Eddie Redmayne and the ever-doomed Sean Bean, is magnificent. The plot rattles on nicely with a nice twist at the end with Langiva only having drugged Averill, with Osmund the one who killed her. But it's rubbish nonetheless. I don't mind historical inaccuracies, especially in the name of artistic licence, but this film makes no attempt to research or approximate the England of 1348. The opening narration refers anachronistically to a "germ". All the characters have cod-Anglo-Saxon personal names which would be centuries out of use. And, of course, while mediaeval people lived in a world of superstition, they were not barbaric enough to burn women as witches until at least a century after this. And we may get an amusing tour of the tropes of plague- the obligatory flagellants and plague doctors, but the latter belong to the seventeenth century.

Worst of all, while I love the scene in which the encroaching Christian part is drugged and seized like Vortigern at the Night of the Long Knives, the idea of a whole village renouncing Christianity in favour not even of paganism but what seems to be atheism is not even slightly plausible. A pity; change the details and set the film in a fantasy world and it would be a nicely told and splendidly violent tale. But when historical inaccuracies are this fundamental they are not a small detail but a major flaw. Sadly, this is rubbish.

Severance (2006)

"Foursome?"

My, this is brilliant. A superb script from James Moran and excellent direction from Christopher Smith of Creep fame give us a hugely entertaining comedy slasher- which is, of course, always the best kind of slasher.

Danny Dyer is, well, Danny Dyer. But it's a shock for this fairly regular EastEnders viewer to see him looking so bloody young. The film is really carried, though, by character actor stalwarts such as Andy Nyman and the superb Tim McInnerny.

The film oozes confidence and fun, beginning in media res with some unfortunate Hungarian employees of the same weapons company  employing our mainly British cast getting a foretaste of what we will soon be seeing. We also get enough time to get to know our engaging and well-scripted characters before the carnage begins, and I mean it entirely in a good way when I note that this film dates from a time when The Office was firmly part of the zeitgeist. Noughties office humour and the slasher genre mix very well indeed. This is a bloody good film and more people should see it.

The best bit, of course, involves a decapitation and the few seconds thereafter...

Sherlock: The Abominable Bride

"I fear she has branched into literary criticism by means of satire. It is a distressing trend in the modern landlady."

Well, wasn't that superlatively brilliant? Oh, the present day scenes were a little pointless in terms of content (I hate Sherlock's "mind palace", too) but I suppose they had to be there to justify this episode happening. Everything else was awesome.

There's a lot here for fans of Conan Doyle's original stories by delightfully mashing A Study in Scarlet with A Study in Pink, introducing us to Sherlock with Victorian trappings. It's a real treat; all of the characters as portrayed by the actors we know work just as well in a Victorian setting, as well they should, and we have lots of fun with all of them, including Mrs Hudson. Even Mycroft (Mark Gatiss in a fat suit) and Molly Hooper (er, in a moustache, but nicely illustrating the episode's themes) make appearances.

The central image is delightfully grotesque, too- a gun totin' and bloodied bride, reminding me of the character from Kill Bill. So too is the use of Watson's stories for the Strand magazine, and the suggestion that there's a distinction between the "real" Holmes and the one who appears in the stories.

It's well directed, as everything by Douglas Mackinnon invariably is, with plenty of Sherlock's trademark visual storytelling tricks, a magnificent escape from dull realism as well as being extraordinarily clever.

There are plenty of nods to the canon, from the acknowledgement that The Blue Carbuncle is a bit pants to the five orange pips (and the use of Klan like hoods at the end ties into this, if I may spoil a century old short story). The ghostly figure haunting Sir Eustace through the mist even calls to mind The Hound of the Baskervilles. Most intriguing is the mention of Itene Adler, and the hint that the "real" Holmes has a more complicated reason for lack of interest in women than the canon version. And then there's the cocaine. And Reichenbach. Yes, even Moriarty works in this context.

The big reveal- that behind all this are a protocol-female just secret society out to get votes for women and punish abusive men- is both wonderful and a satisfying payoff to the wry commentary on gender politics as seen throughout the episode.

And then it's the present day. And Moriarty's back. Not that he isn't dead or anything, but he's back anyway. And we probably have years until the next episode...

The Devil's Whore: Episode 4

"I took a husband from you."

"You took two."

Suddenly, from a series which has been exploring the heritage of the British Left from the Civil War origins of the Tory/Whig divide, we get what seems to be contemporary political commentary. Lilburne's final days in his Jerseyan Guantanamo may be straight out of the history books, but they have deep contemporary relevance for a drama made in the first decade of the twenty-first century. Cromwell, in choosing rendition over what were, even in 1654, the proper constitutional procedures, begins to look very much like a Blair figure, perhaps even a Bush the Younger, the type who would support ninety day detention and identity cards. His later debate with Angelica over security versus liberty makes this clear, and Lilburne's tragic last few years make it clear that power does not lie with us civil libertarians.

Interesting, then, that all this should be juxtaposed with Cromwell's dismissing of the Rump Parliament, with the prospect of his declaring himself King, and with an angry Sexby, fresh from shooting Percy through the head, confronting him over the circumstances of Rainsborough's death. If Cromwell is Blair here then the comparison is not a flattering one. But then, everyone on the British left considers Blair to be a cuckoo in the Labour nest. Indeed, even we on the non-Orange Booker, Guardian-reading, Coalition-opposing wing of the Lib Dems think of him as a true small "c" conservative, although no Tory. This is also an apt description of the historical Cromwell.

It's nice that, the night before Sexby meets his doom in failing to assassinate Cromwell, he and Angelica should have what the director makes very clear is good, meaningful, loving sex, sex which ultimately results in the birth of a daughter. 

History takes it's course, and a caption informs us of Cromwell's death and the Restoration. There is a happy ending, of sorts, as Angelica's young daughter sees no devil in the tree.

This is a brilliant, brilliant, unappreciated series, and you must go and watch it immediately. Please. It's really rather good.

The Devil's Whore: Episode 3

"We begin again..."

It's very neat, the parallel between the trials of Angelica and the king, both sentenced to die on the same day. Angelica languishes in a miserable cell, giving birth there, jeered at and humiliated over her last few days, with only the Lilburnes for friends, and dies painfully, with the cruel jeers of Percy ringing in her ears. Except she doesn't, because Sexby has replaced the hangman and her death is faked, if still bloody painful.

Charles actually dies. His humiliations are of a lesser type, though significant for a king; he has to pick up the ball from the top of his cane himself when it falls to the floor. Capaldi is amazing here, showing us both the King's arrogance and his vulnerability. His trial is equally unfair, but he, too, has the ironic support of John Lilburne, who will not compromise in matters of justice and gets himself arrested yet again.

Also unjust is Cromwell's behaviour in Ireland, which is more reminiscent of the Thirty Years War than the comparatively civilised conflict in England. Sexby receives advancement, being made a colonel, but the moral compromises he has to make are appalling. He betrays the soldiers under his command, who are hanged by Cromwell although he had assured then they would not be, and in Ireland he is certainly guilty of war crimes.  The plebeian philosopher at last dips his hands in the blood. (Although, of course,he has fought as a mercenary in the Thirty Years War himself; his hands can hardly have been clean in the first place.)

He's not good enough for Angelica, though, as she refuses his proposal of marriage. She may be increasingly radical, but Sexby would still be a match well below her station. Her eventual reluctant acceptance is a defeat for her.

As Sexby bloodied his hands further across the Irish Sea, Angelica continues her journey into radicalism by joining the radical, stoic and bonkers Diggers sect. She is attracted to their lifestyle but alienated by their creepily conformist religiosity, adhering to a vague, hippyish spiritualism. She is finally cast out of this egalitarian paradise, but not before asking why, if all are equal, do women toil in the fields all day and then cook for their children at night?

The most fun part of the episode is, of course, Lilburne's trial and speech, and his triumphant acquittal. But the last few minutes are far from fun; a damaged Sexby arrives back from Ireland and all but rapes his new wife, and then abandons her. And, worse, the ex-Digger with whom Angelica has now shackled up turns out to be an underling of Percy's...

This continues to be superb. It works as melodrama, with dramatic reversals of fortune, but this also serves to parallel with the experiences of the great and good, and to illustrate history, or rather a particular slant of history that seeks to explore the heritage of the British Left and present things, quite deliberately and fairly, a little anachronistically. All history, after all, exists only in relation to the present.

The Devil's Whore: Episode 2

"How did your husband die?"

"Because I was not tamed."

"The world would have you tamed?"

"I know."

"Then the world is full of fools."

It's puzzling, watching The Devil's Whore again, that it was apparently intended to be twelve parts but was cut down to four. It's hard, not having seen the unedited version, to judge the wisdom of this decision; certainly the version we have does not seem unduly rushed, and is superb to boot. But perhaps this reflects how TV execs generally find the Civil War an unsexy period, with its suspicious lack of Tudors or Nazis.

Who cares. This is still top stuff. We're two years on, the programme is still lit to look like the paintings of the Dutch masters, and Angelica incurs the ire of a strangely nasty Percy from Blackadder after killing a man who tries to tape her, something for which she is unlikely to garner much sympathy in the less than enlightened times in which she lives. She grows close to Sexby, though. Both are philosophical and both are excluded from power, one by sex and one by class. Sexby may be rough trade for a lady of her background, but the two of them seem to have much in common.

John Lilburne continues to be in trouble, his ideas being far too radical for even the Parliamentarian establishment (for which read the mainstream, triangulating left), let alone the Royalists. Angelica and Sexby are on his side, though, even though his ideas extend even as far as putting the King on trial. 

Also radical, and sympathetic, is Thomas Rainsborough, an astute politician and military strategist yet, we feel, a little too radical for Cromwell and his ilk. He is immediately and passionately drawn to Angelica, preferring a "free spirit" to a woman who submits to privilege and patriarchy. Sexby, meanwhile, is in gaol and hence unable to seethe with jealousy when she sleeps with him.

Things then get complicated. It is only Rainsborough among the senior Parliamentarians who has the guts to have the King arrested, and it is only Rainsborough who is able to protect Angelica from Percy's nasty, sadistic, misogynistic urge to see her humiliated and hanged.

Lilburne is magnificent, and I'm not just saying this because I so hugely admire the historical Lilburne. Here, he insists to Cromwell that there must be no purge of Parliament without an election. The people will vote for the King's men, as Cromwell point out, but they must have their say, and Lilburne will not budge on that point of principle.

Ironically, Angelica is saved by the freed Sexby threatening Percy and not by any deed of Rainsborough, but she agrees to marry the glamorous general anyway. The lady and the republican have their marriage blessed by a stoic Sexby, and Cromwell agrees to free Lilburne as a wedding gift. The couple are happy ever after.

Except they aren't. Cromwell, embodying all the cynicism of Middle England, has Rainsborough murdered as he furiously prays. Angelica is widowed for a second time and, just to kick her when she's down, Percy arrests her yet again...

This just keeps getting better and better.

Doctor Who: Planet of the Ood

“The circle must be broken.”

Bit hard to know what to say about this one, really. It’s sort of… average. Not that it doesn’t have lots of things going for it, of course; there’s Ood, Tim McInnerny, and the still great chemistry between Tate and Tennant. And I love the scene with the claw. It’s just that it’s all a bit… “meh”, as I’m told the young folks say. Even the dialogue hardly sparkles at all, unusually for the RTD years, hence the desperate choice of quotation above.

There’s a bit of political subtext (What? You noticed?), but it doesn’t really go anywhere beyond “Slavery is bad, mmmkay?” and a bit of superficial dialogue about culling cows during outbreaks of foot and mouth. Even the whole “Who do you think makes your clothes?” thing rather comes across as fence-sitting in the execution. Otherwise there’s little that particularly stands out about the plot, good or bad. I had to raise a smile when the lovely Solana betrayed our heroes, though; by the laws of the programme she’s signed her own death warrant.

There’s lots of good Doctor / Donna stuff though. Again we get the “We’re not married”, again we get Donna experiencing both the wonder and the horror of the universe. And Donna’s turnaround from despair at the Ood’s singing and wanting to go home to euphoria and enthusiasm again echoes last week very well. Their mutual character development is being very well handled.

There’s another mention of the bees disappearing, I notice, confirming its significance, and another pleasing reference to the show’s early days as the Sense-Sphere gets a name check. This story pretty much confirms the likely exploitation of the planet by humans after our original TARDISeers left, incidentally, but then it was clear at the time that this was bound to happen. Oh, and this is 4126, so RTD is sticking to his habit of often setting the future stories in defined periods, including the year Five Billion and the 42nd century.

The ending’s a bit odd- the Doctor and Donna have been rather passive throughout the episode, so what’s Ood Sigma thanking them for? We finish on an ominous note, though, as the Doctor is told “I think your song must end soon.” 3/5.