Saturday, 6 July 2013

Saturday 6 July 1963


We open this week with the dramatic scene of a mysterious figure breaking into a safe in a laboratory, only to be interrupted by a stock footage chimpanzee.




PG7's not a new BBFC rating, it's an airborne inhalant gas set to revolutionise warfare, and the file on it has gone missing.  Nick Craig's back after a few weeks' absence to handle the case.  Superintendent Stock's mysteriously absent once more, though, his place as head of Ghost Squad taken this week by the rather dreary Superintendent Owen (Ross Hutchinson).  Jean Carter definitely doesn't think much of him, if the unimpressed looks she casts his way are anything to go by.


Nick heads down to the labs of Paxter and Winch, pretending to represent their Canadian office.  He meets director Professor Haydon (Frank Gatliff), who seems very close to super-efficient administrator Diane (Pauline Yates).


But Haydon's just one of two men Diane's got on the go.  She's also seeing Professor Boone (Michael Gwynn), the developer of PG7, who left Paxter and Winch after fighting with Haydon over Diane.


Boone's a naive idealist who's been hoodwinked into making PG7 for American arms dealer Mr Sullivan (Gordon Tanner).  He's of the belief that the gas just sends people to sleep, making it "the ultimate humane deterrent": if any country starts making trouble you can just knock its entire population out.  That'll learn 'em.  But Craig witnesses tests on chimps that prove that shortly after coming round, the unfortunate gassee always drops dead.


It turns out Haydon knew all about this but deliberately omitted to let Boone know.  "Oh yes, a childish manoeuvre in your dreary little sex war," spits Craig (the most preposterous of several odd lines in Joshua Adam's script).  Despite the dialogue Michael Quinn's unusually impressive as Craig in this episode, convincingly contemptuous of the scientists' petty squabbles.


Sullivan has a prospective buyer for the gas in the ruthless Faria (rent-a-foreign-baddie George Pastell).  Jean gets an unusually exciting task in trailing him to his lair above the Gay Hussar restaurant - only to be tied up and tortured in a most peculiar way by his regulation burly henchman.





Craig sets out to rescue Jean from Faria's evil clutches with the help of his network of informers - my favourite of whom is "Gert the Gypsy, who'd sell her own daughter for a bottle of gin".  I've seen the actress who plays Gert in tons of uncredited bit parts and I've no idea what her name is.  If anyone can help I'd be very grateful.


Meanwhile (it's an usually action-packed episode, this), Sullivan gets Boone to try out the PG7 on his increasingly useless spy Todd (Alister Williamson),the lab security chief, as an alternative to the oblivious scientist's original suggestion they try it on themselves.


In an unexpected twist, Faria turns out to be horrified when Craig informs him of PG7's deadly nature, and agrees to skip the country and have no more to do with the gas.  Our hero manages to reach Sullivan's headquarters and arrest him just in time for Todd to drop dead with a satisfying "Ah-haaaaaargh!"


Make sure you tune in next week for the last ever Ghost Squad!



A girl named Jane (Meg Ritchie) lies confined to bed, subject to the ministrations of her sinister guardian (Mary Kenton)...



A comparison of this week's episode title to last week's suggests that either there have been over 1500 cases since last week's or that the Victorian CID had an extremely confusing filing system.  Anyway, Sergeant Cork's returned from solving a case up north to the tender attentions of his cheery housekeeper Mrs Fielding (why, it's Carmen Silvera, from 'Allo! Allo!).  But before he can sink his teeth into her pudding he has to deal with a difficult client brought to him by young Bob Marriott.


This quarrelsome lady is Miss Beasley (Margaret Diamond), and the sickly girl we saw earlier is her niece.  Since her father's death at sea young Jane's been left in the care of her stepmother Charity, of whom Miss Beasley strongly disapproves, and the mysterious Dr Lukas, of whom she disapproves even more strongly (principally because he's a foreigner).  Miss Beasley's convinced her niece is being slowly poisoned by this pair.  As the woman's clearly deeply resentful at having her place in the household usurped by Charity, Cork's more than a bit sceptical of her accusation.  But he decides to follow it up, not least as he finds the starchy spinster a fascinating psychological case study.

We already know there's something  dodgy going on in the Beasley household, so there's no real suspense on that count, but there's still the question of exactly what.  Cork's actually sidelined for most of the episode, with the focus on the pathetic Jane and her sadistic tormentor.  There's a pair of superb performances from Ritchie and especially Kenton, who makes the ironically named Charity a deeply frightening character - there's a sense of a terrible rage bubbling just underneath her genteel surface.  "Is that what you'd like to be Jane?" she taunts her stepdaughter, "A lunatic in an asylum?" We never get to see Charity's wrath in full flower, but it's clear that it would a terrible thing to behold.




It's the purest of Victorian melodrama, but with the arrival on the scene of Charity's lover Dr Lukas (TV's Germanic baddie of choice, Joseph Furst), a more contemporary angle emerges.  Lukas is a pioneer in the science of the mind, his enormous monocle doubling as a handy hypnotising tool.



Far from plotting to kill Jane, Lukas has something even more sinister in mind.  He intends to use her as a guinea pig for his studies, subjecting her to various severe traumas in the belief they will lead to the erasure of her personality, after which he can create a brand new one from scratch.  It's an idea familiar from various cold war brainwashing stories, and the basis of the then-recent Dirk Bogarde film The Mind Benders, but seeing it translated to a Victorian setting is wonderfully strange.

Slowly, the monstrous Charity becomes something like a sympathetic character.  "You are a very strange person, aren't you?" asks the doctor. "You have enjoyed hurting the child, I've watched you."  Charity opens up about her inner feelings: "Sometimes it's burning in my head and then yes, yes, I enjoy hurting her.  And then other times I just want to take her in my arms and beg her to forgive me."  She begins to realise the extent to which she's been used as Lukas casually admits that while she imagined them to be in love he's been studying her as a case of split personality and keeping detailed notes on her.


With the help of an old friend in the medical profession (Philip Latham in a ludicrous stick-on beard), Cork manages to work out what Lukas is up to - but he's already subjecting the murophobic Jane to her worst experience yet, being locked in a room full of rats...



The eventual capture of Lukas and Charity is great Boy's Own stuff, Marriott daringly knocking a gun out of the bemonocled blackguard's hand with his bowler hat.  The Case of the Girl Upstairs is wonderfully compelling stuff, far darker than last week's first case and a great advert for Sergeant Cork's ability to cover a wide range of different stories.  Among some fantastic performances the show's stolen by Hilda Fenemore as the Beasleys' hilariously truculent maid Nellie.  Her considered opinion on Dr Lukas: "If 'e's a proper doctor, I'm 'arry Champion with knobs on."  Here she is getting ready for a night on the tiles...


...and I shall use that as a highly tenuous link to see what the nation's youngsters have been dancing to this week.  Gerry and the Pacemakers cling on to the top spot with "I Like It" and the Shadows remain at 2.  At number 3 here's a song it seems doubtful all that many youngsters have been dancing to, Frank Ifield's "Confessin' (That I Love You)".


Friday, 5 July 2013

Friday 5 July 1963

Anyone suffering from space withdrawal symptoms since Fireball XL5 went off the air should be space chuffed by the new addition to the TV Minus 50 schedule that makes its debut appearance today.  Space Patrol, created by Roberta Leigh and Arthur Provis, collaborators with Gerry Anderson on early shows The Adventures of Twizzle and Torchy the Battery Boy, had actually been running on ABC in the Midlands since April, but I've decided to go with the London region airdates as those were the ones I was using for Fireball XL5.  Well, now that fascinating piece of information's out of the way, I shall crack on with introducing you to the peculiar world of Space Patrol.


Now THAT's a font
The similarities between Fireball XL5 and Space Patrol are abundantly obvious.  For one thing they both focus on an organisation calling itself a Space Patrol, and in particular on the adventures of a daring space pilot and  his crew.  Space Patrol's Captain Larry Dart is considerably more hirsute than Steve Zodiac, though.


Captain Dart's facial hair seems symbolic of the differences between the two shows: far more than Fireball XL5Space Patrol is science fiction as it might appeal to beardy intellectual types.  Rather than just telling rip-roaring space adventure stories, the makers of Space Patrol seem to have given some serious (if eccentric) consideration to what life might be like in the future, and as such it feels more ambitious than XL5 - though its budget is clearly considerably smaller (the model scenes aren't quite as good as Anderson's, and the noticeably smaller cast of puppets have an eerily blank look to them).  Of course, Space Patrol's still a children's puppet show, and in many ways (which I'll detail here) it's just as wonderfully silly as the Anderson series.  But at its core there's an attempt at being far more high-minded.  The choice of music sums this up nicely: in place of a rousing Barry Gray theme we're given the strange electronic noises of F C Judd.  No end credits singalong here (unless you like to sit and whir to yourself).

The Wandering Asteroid's a straightforward tale of an impending natural disaster that only Space Patrol can avert.  The asteroid of the title's heading straight for Wotan, capital city of Mars.  For the childish among us there are guffaws aplenty as Martian Professor Zephyr and his assistant spy the asteroid through their telescope: "Is it a large one?" "The biggest I've ever seen!"


Space Patrol are called on to blast the thing out of the sky.  The organisation's chief, Colonel Raeburn, proves to be just as much of a grump as his Fireball XL5 counterpart Commander Zero: "Why in space have I been sent this information about an asteroid? I'm head of the United Galactic Organisation, not a stargazer!" I get the impression he'd be a very tedious person to have a conversation with.


The colonel's assistant, Marla, might be a bit more interesting.  She's an ethereal Venusian with a bizarre high-pitched voice and the ability to read minds.  Space Patrol's Venusians, with their elfin appearance, psychic powers and preference for logic over emotion, seem a plausible influence on Star Trek's Vulcans: Space Patrol had a brief run on US telly and earned cult status over there as a result.


When Marla computes the trajectory of the asteroid there's an amazing montage of machinery that looks as antiquated in 2013 as it did ultramodern in 1963.








Chief scientist Professor Aloysius O'Rourke O'Brien Haggerty, a flamboyant begorrah-ing Irishman assisted by his daughter Cassiopeia, is called on to assist - interrupting his vital work on genetically engineering square eggs.



Raeburn's banking on Haggerty to help with the asteroid: "I was hoping you'd come up with some crazy Irish idea!".   "I'm a scientist, not a demolition man," clucks Haggerty, which also sounds a bit familiar.  Fortunately he has a bomb hanging around that can be used to blow up the asteroid, but it'll take skilful astronauts to plant it.  Time to call on Captain Dart.

Dart's meant to be on holiday, so he's not best pleased to be sent on a life-or-death mission at short notice, though hero that he is he accepts the assignment.  Accompanying him is his trusty co-pilot Slim, a male (though you wouldn't know it to look at him) Venusian, and formidable Martian Husky, who's, er, obsessed with sausages.



This lot travel to Mars in their distinctive-looking ship, the Galasphere 347, with the bomb in tow.


Parking the ship above the asteroid, the crew venture down on their flying scooters.  Yes, they're a bit like the ones in Fireball XL5 but by contrast there are no oxygen pills here, the crew having to rely on proper breathing apparatus.


With the bomb slightly off centre, Slim has to fly off into space using an ion-gun in order to move it to the right place.


Eventually the asteroid gets blown up and the people of Mars are safe. Hurrah! But it's not all good news: it turns out Professor Haggerty's square eggs don't have any yolks.  Shame.

One of my favourite things about Space Patrol is the final shot of its end credits, proof positive that it's improving stuff for inquiring young minds:


Excitingly, you can watch The Wandering Asteroid here:




Next tonight we venture back 900-odd years for more historically questionable adventures of the Plantagenet family.



After all his adventures in foreign lands Richard's finally back home.  But before he gets much of a chance to settle back into his throne his inner sanctum's invaded by a deeply disgruntled pair of yokels.  These are Jasper of Lyntor (Bartlet Mullins) and his daughter Helen (Jocelyn Britton).  They're a formidable pair despite their short stature, Helen quite happy to give the palace guard what for.



The reason for Jasper and Helen's quarrel with the king is the vastly inflated amount of taxes they've been expected to pay in the last year.  Neither Richard nor his chancellor are aware of any reason for the tax hike - but as Lyntor's in Cornwall, one of the counties which was ruled by dastardly Prince John in Richard's absence, the king begins to get an inkling of where the money might be going.

In what could be an intriguing new direction for the show, Richard decides to head off to Lyntor himself, with loyal Sir Gilbert in tow, to investigate what's going on.  If only today's royal family showed such get up and go - who could resist the idea of the Queen roaming the land like a wellie-clad Miss Marple, poking her nose into people's financial affairs?

On arrival in Lyntor incognito, the first person Richard wants to talk to is innkeeper Michael Henry.  He and Jasper were once best friends, but since Michael was appointed district tax collector their relationship's turned hostile.  Michael's played by Roy Kinnear, instantly familiar to viewers in 1963 as a member of the That Was the Week That Was team.  Unfortunately Kinnear doesn't get much of a chance to show off his innate comic brilliance here, or do anything much other than be rustic behind a cumbersome false beard.

  
The only slightly funny thing he gets to do is exchange a ridiculous "Yikes!" look with his son Tom (Love Thy Neighbour's Jack Smethurst) on learning the king's true identity.


Tom and Helen are supposedly betrothed, but their relationship's soured since their fathers began their feud.  Sir Gilbert engages the lovelorn Tom in some manly chat: "I've an eye for the ladies myself - as long as they can cook".  Well I could have guessed it wasn't their bodies he was interested in.


Later Gilbert expands on his philosophy to the king: "I've often thought that a good feast and a tankard of ale was worth more than all the wenches in Christendom".  Hmm.


Anyway, back to the plot (such as it is).  Richard deduces that Baron Fitzjames, the Sheriff of Cornwall (regular Danzigers character player John Scott), has been extorting extra money from the folk of Lyntor at the bidding of his master Prince John.  When John learns that Richard's on his trail there's some wonderfully overripe "You fooool!" acting from Trader Faulkner as the Prince lambasts his unfortunate henchman.


Eventually the Lyntorians all join with Richard to fight off the Prince's forces, the rather wonderful Helen right in the vanguard.  The final confrontation between the Brothers Plantagenet's ever so thrilling.



The episode ends with Baron Fitzjames being cast into jail while, utterly unfairly, Richard lets John off purely because he's his brother.  Clearly having a ball with the thoroughly panto role of the black-hearted Prince, Trader Faulkner departs in classic baddie style with the line: "Don't worry Richard, you will never catch me!" (bwah-ha-ha not included).

Tune in for more adventures of Richard the Lionheart: Tax Detective in a couple of weeks.