The Russians Are Coming - (Only Fools and Horses episode)

Another notable episode from the first series of "Only Fools and Horses" is "The Russians Are Coming", in which the Trotters build their own nuclear fall-out shelter.

The premise of "The Russians Are Coming" is not exactly original, as lots of movies, television shows, comedies and the like were eagerly tapping into unease and paranoia about the Cold War and nuclear weapons in the early and mid-1980s. In the event, this episode contains some of the most affecting observations and passages of any of the show's plot-lines. Their impact and poignancy is perhaps heightened by the humour with which they are surrounded and occasionally clothed.

The plot stems from a business deal concluded by Del, a by-product of which results in him inadvertently "acquiring" an experimental "do it yourself" atomic fall-out shelter. The family decides to assemble it and spend some time living in it, as their own form of emergency planning.

Following an amusing effort to replicate the panic of the four-minute warning, and a simulation of the journey to a prospective location of refuge, the story really takes off when Del, Rodney and Grandad are safely ensconced in the shelter itself. The logistics and practicalities of surviving Armageddon are the source of some good, strong material. The highlight is perhaps Grandad's monologue about the true nature and horrors of war, delivered to chastise and rebuke Del for some of his excessively gung-ho and glib talk on the subject.

Whenever the subject matter threatens to become too serious and heavy, John Sullivan's comedic genius kicks in, and the mood lightens. The "captive" situation in the shelter creates an atmosphere conducive to sharp, taut and rich exchanges, and all three of the actors are on fine form, with great use of lighting to accentuate the intimacy. There is a noticeable absence of filler or padding in the script, and the shelter sequences are indeed very concentrated, fluent and absorbing. A real high point of the early days of OFAH, on more than one level.

Some speculation on the likely social consequences of a nuclear war adds to this episode's resonance and charm. Besides the humorous ruminations on the likely effects of the feared catastrophe, this is an intelligent and finely judged piece of work, addressing a difficult and emotive topic with more simplicity ,honesty and acuity than many more "serious" works arising from that era. It is also highly entertaining and funny.

Go West Young Man (Only Fools and Horses episode)

Following on from my "review" of "Big Brother", let's take a look at the episode which followed it in the first series of "Only Fools and Horses", namely "Go West Young Man".

This episode sees Del (and Rodney) venturing into the second-hand automobile arena, and also looking after Boycie's Jaguar E-Type, with fairly predictable outcomes!

The dialogue in this episode has much more charm to it, and in addition it is delivered more naturally. There is a more confident air generally, with Del's contribution feeling more rounded and convincing. Perhaps the actors were beginning to find their roles? There are a few signs of the Del Boy who we would come to know and love.

The jokes are more vibrant and potent, and the mood more relaxed, possibly because there was less pressure to introduce the characters and the back-story?  It is also true that the plot of "Go West Young Man" offered more possibilities, and was more conducive to a flowing and invigorating slice of situation comedy. 

Here we also witness the writer John Sullivan, and the production team, acquiring the knack for delivering "set-piece" scenes with truly memorable lines. The two night-club scenes in this episode are right up there in the OFAH pantheon, as is Rodney's assertion that he had "never smoked astro-turf".  Some of the most effective humour,as in later episodes, stems from their feeble attempts to impress women.

It is also possible to argue that the inclusion of more locations in this one imbues it with greater verve. The action is not confined to the Trotter flat and The Nag's Head.  The aforementioned sequences in the night-clubs provide a more colourful edge, and help to diminish the "austerity" which characterizes other early episodes of the show.

Boycie is introduced, but the character does not make as deep an impression as he would in, for example, "A Losing Streak", where we are exposed to more of his personality traits. It really needed the appearance of Marlene as a visible presence, and the "tension" which went with this, for Boycie to become a truly prominent and important character.

This episode is not perfect, as it meanders and goes flat a little at times, but it has some impetus and atmosphere of its own.  The magic formula was just on the horizon....

Big Brother (Only Fools and Horses episode)

Recently, I have started re-watching episodes of the great British sitcom "Only Fools and Horses", and thought I would put together some articles on noteworthy or important episodes.

For the uninitiated, "Only Fools And Horses" followed the lives, loves, fortunes and misfortunes of the Trotter family from London. They eke out a living by market-trading and assorted black-market activities, engaging in various "schemes" which they hope will make them into millionaires.  The two main characters are Derek "Del Boy" Trotter (played by David Jason) and his younger brother Rodney (Nicholas Lyndhurst).

Starting from the beginning, let's take a look at the very first episode of the first series, entitled "Big Brother".....

The first thing which I noticed was the state of the characters. Del Boy in particular is nowhere near as rounded and subtle an entity in these early days as he would later become.  Del even displays signs of "sophistication", and there is not always the requisite dose of bathos to balance things out. Traits which would become familiar are under-cooked and undeveloped. There were rough edges to smooth over before the character found its comforting, natural and pleasing equilibrium. The same applies to the character of Trigger. The path to the "polished" characterizations would be uneven.

It is perhaps unsurprising that these early episodes were erratic in quality and atmosphere, as any ambitious brand new concept has to be given time to find its feet and evolve. Even the talents of David Jason and Nicholas Lyndhurst don't always transcend the issues.

The tone in these early days was darker and grittier than the later seasons, and the humour was not as homely. As others have observed, some of the dialogue, and its delivery, seemed forced at times, at odds with the seamlessness, freshness and naturalness which would later become one of the hallmarks of "Only Fools and Horses".

Although the plot of this opening episode ostensibly concerns a batch of "dodgy" briefcases, it is really a vehicle for introducing us to some of the elements of the "situation" in the sitcom, and to the relationship between Del and Rodney in particular. Bits of exposition and back-story are liberally sprinkled amongst the narrative.

"Big Brother" invokes one of the strands which permeates the show through all its incarnations - Rodney's yearning to escape from the shadow of Del, to achieve more independence, in this case by running away. However, Rodney usually ends up returning to "the fold".  By the same token, Del, although on the surface confident and self-reliant, is somehow incomplete and lacking in zest without his brother as his sidekick. Expediency and brotherly love both have a bearing on this.

The "Grandad" character, so beautifully played by Lennard Pearce, hits the ground running, fully formed, more than the other participants, partly because of the nature of the actor's performance, and partly because the Grandad persona was less complicated and intricate.

Making some allowances, this is still quite a weak and unsatisfying episode, not as watchable even as some of the other episodes in the first season, which betray more of the OFAH charm and depth. This is "Only Fools and Horses" in raw, incipient, prototype form.

You would have been hard pressed in 1981 to envisage it achieving classic and culturally iconic status in the UK. It must have seemed like something which might be confined to a cult following or a niche. "Big Brother" is still worth seeing, for curiosity value, and as a measure of just how far John Sullivan and his creation traveled in the years which followed.

Peter Vaughan 1923-2016

It was with great sadness that I today learned of the death of the British actor Peter Vaughan.

He had a varied and distinguished career, but I will always remember him best as "Genial" Harry Grout in the classic 1970s television sitcom Porridge, which was set in a prison.

In Porridge the Harry Grout character was the prison's "Mr. Big", who appeared to control most things which occurred in the institution, and who inspired fear and apprehension in his fellow inmates as well as the staff.

The character only appeared in three episodes of the show, as well as the 1979 movie spin-off, but the impact of Vaughan's portrayal, and the superb writing of Dick Clement and Ian La Frenais, made it seem like he was a permanent fixture.  Vaughan managed to convey an effortless but almost avuncular menace, and his scenes with Norman Stanley Fletcher (played by Ronnie Barker) were particularly memorable and amusing.

Interestingly, Peter Vaughan also appeared in an excellent episode (entitled "Stay Lucky Eh?") of the groundbreaking crime show The Sweeney, playing a character not totally dissimilar to Harry Grout, with the difference that he was "on the outside".

However, the Harry Grout character remains as one of the most enduring and fascinating in British sitcoms, and as an illustration of Peter Vaughan's talents.

This Is Spinal Tap

When I am asked to compile a list of my favourite films of all time, This Is Spinal Tap always threatens to penetrate the higher reaches. It is not necessarily the "best" or the most profound, but it is right up there in terms of entertainment value and enjoyability.

Basically, This Is Spinal Tap, released in 1984, is presented as a documentary, or "rockumentary", following the fortunes of British heavy rock outfit Spinal Tap as they tour North America to promote their latest album. Numerous disasters and setbacks ensue, and these episodes form the basis for much of the comedy, and no little pathos.

I cannot really make up my mind why the picture is made in the style which it is.  Some of the "sloppiness" may be intentional, while some may even be a product of budget constraints.  Either way, many segments have a very gritty, "fly on the wall" character, either consciously or unconsciously drawing inspiration from some of the music documentaries of the past (D.A. Pennebaker's work springs to mind).  I also like the way that dialogue is delivered by the actors in an "untidy", ad-libbed manner. This adds realism, as does the editing.

The "amateurish" style is one of the factors which helps this picture to endure, whereas other similar efforts fall short by being excessively glossy or calculating. In addition to a certain innocence, a lot of elements in "Spinal Tap" conspired to engender a peculiar magic, the kind which defies straightforward explanation. Much has been made about the the cliches which the movie celebrates, but people forget that many of these cliches were popularized by the film itself.

A facet of This Is Spinal Tap which receives insufficient attention is the nature of the settings. Almost every scene is situated in a hotel room, concert venue, dressing room, airport or vehicle. This serves to illustrate the confined, claustrophobic and unreal world inhabited by rock musicians.

The acting by the main players has a naturalness which is a delight. The deadpan delivery is a key, especially at the funniest junctures. The more minor roles add much sparkle. Fran Drescher as Bobbi Flekman, and Paul Shaffer as Artie Fufkin really stand out. These characters are not stereotypes as such, but may be exaggerated conceptions of people who might have been around at the time.

Whilst according the cinematography and the acting due credit, it is the writing and the humour which really transports the film onto another level. Many lines and phrases have entered into the lexicon of popular culture, which is a tribute in itself. Moreover, many of the jokes and sketches are still fresh. I have viewed the film untold times, but still find myself laughing out loud.

The narrative manages to elicit sympathy, too, as Spinal Tap stumble from one misfortune to another. It is a little while before grim reality registers, and the downward spiral in the band's fortunes arrives almost imperceptibly. Gallows humour is mixed with humiliation, and desperate efforts to remedy the predicament (such as the "Stonehenge" sequence).

When I first saw this movie, many years ago, I recall being startled by the quality of the music. The songs, however, do not really stand up to the stresses of repeated listening and scrutiny, even if the lyrics remain hilarious, shedding none of their lustre.

Yes, the film satirizes the Neanderthal attitudes and pretentiousness of some rock musicians, but it also becomes a celebration of the absurdity and the energy of the genre. The running jokes about "drummers" and "the album cover" help to imbue the piece with some structure and continuity.

Viewers can probably discern references to certain real-life groups and artists, but a notable thing is that Spinal Tap can not be directly pigeon-holed and directly compared to such-and-such a band. There is a vaguely "Lennon and McCartney" dynamic in the relationship between David St. Hubbins and Nigel Tufnel, but only vaguely. Half the fun is looking out for allusions, but the writing is sufficiently subtle to leave one guessing.

An endearing feature of the movie is the amount which is left unsaid or unexplained. There is plenty going on in various scenes, involving extras and so forth, and enigmatic lines are left hanging in the air.

Of the characters, Nigel Tufnel's persona is perhaps the most forcefully projected, his uncomplicated and naive dimness shining throughout. The others are maybe less easy to pin down. Tony Hendra, as the group's manager, gets some of the most interesting and substantial lines, although the character himself feels more like a 60s/70s managerial type.

It feels like the funny lines are packed in to the picture, even "under" the closing titles, which is a testimony to the amount of strong material which the writers had. This Is Spinal Tap remains fine entertainment, and retains its unique charm after all these years. Modern audiences might be nonplussed by the absence of slickness, but the accent is on creativity and content, and not the "packaging".

A wonderful film.

The Likely Lads (1976) - movie review

In the 1970s and early 1980s there were lots of cinematic spin-offs from British television sitcoms, and the artistic quality of these projects was variable to say the least. One of the better of these spin-offs was "The Likely Lads" from 1976, starring Rodney Bewes as Bob Ferris and James Bolam as Terry Collier.

The original "Likely Lads" TV series from the 1960s followed the fortunes of Bob and Terry as young men, and the follow-up "Whatever Happened To The Likely Lads" picked up the story when they had reached the brink of their thirties, at the time of Terry's return from a stint in the Army.

This film appears to be set a couple of years after the end of the timescale of "Whatever Happened To The Likely Lads", with Bob going through some kind of emotional, existential crisis. Indeed, the central themes of the movie are "there must be more to life than this" and "where has the past gone?", universally understood sentiments which engage the viewer. Times change, but our own routine becomes and remains tedious, and we ask whether the grass is greener elsewhere.

Even more so than the second television series, this film screams "Seventies!", from the fashions, to the backdrops, to the cultural references and the social mores. Added to this are Bob's Vauxhall Chevette, the boutique and the predilection for caravanning!

As ever, the writing of Dick Clement and Ian La Frenais drives proceedings charmingly. The storyline is a good, solid one, with a nicely conceived ending which inverts the conclusion of the original 60s series. The writers specialized in extracting great comedy from mundane, everyday things, and the eccentricities of the tenets of English life. The script of this film, to me, celebrates nostalgia whilst at the same time hinting that there is no easy escape from the pressures of the present. The grass is not necessarily greener, and we sometimes envy the lifestyles of our peers whilst overlooking the pitfalls of those lifestyles and the virtues of our own hard-won stability and security...

One thing which does not feature that prominently in this movie is the tension between Bob and Terry's relative social aspirations, an angle which dominated parts of the 1970s TV series. The emphasis here is on more elusive emotional and spiritual concerns. That said, the characterizations are still endearing and natural.

Rodney Bewes does a fine job in this film of portraying the angst-ridden and preoccupied Bob. The character has moved on from the "upwardly mobile" persona which he exuded during the second TV show. His life has reached a disconcerting and bewildering plateau.

The settings are different from "Whatever Happened To...", but I see this as a strength, as it helps to endow the movie with an identity of its own. The pleasant location shots of the North East England countryside and coastline also contribute to an overall visual appeal, and the "Whitley Bay" sequences are truly evocative!

There are some fine individual scenes, most notably the first one in the boutique, which kick-starts the central portion of the movie. As ever, the most effective comedic exchanges between Bob and Terry are tinged with poignancy and sadness, such as the conversation on the ship near the end.

To my present-day self, the overall effect of this picture is to induce sorrow and regret at a period gone forever, when life was simpler, or so we like to believe. It was released during my childhood, and the imagery brings back fond memories. This kind of nostalgia leavens the sterility and uncertainty of the present.

Opinion of this film among critics has been mixed, but I really like it. It has charm as a period piece, quite apart from the richness of the writing, the humour and the acting. Fine entertainment, and rather heart-warming...

The Wayne's World Movies

There will doubtless be some media coverage in the next few days about the fortieth anniversary of the original release of Queen's "Bohemian Rhapsody". Included will probably be reference to the song's second lease of life following its inclusion in a memorable scene in the first "Wayne's World" movie. I recently watched both of the "Wayne's World" films, back-to-back, and found them highly enjoyable.

The thing which stands out for me is the fast pace of the first picture in particular, and the amount of information, particularly the pop-culture references and often obscure jokes. For this reason, the movies bear repeated viewings, so that anything which was missed can be swept up and absorbed. There is a lot going on....

The movies both celebrate and satirize modern media culture, and poke fun at consumerism. One thing which is curious about these films is that by the time they appeared in the early 1990s much of the music and ethos which they seek to venerate was being deemed passe. However, its celebration of the wonder and the occasional absurdity of the "classic rock" genre is touching - the guitar shop scenes epitomize this almost naive enthusiasm, as does the "homage" paid to Alice Cooper and Aerosmith.

Inter-generational teasing forms part of the comedy, as does sending up what Wayne and Garth would perceive to be the dullness and conformity of the corporate world. To describe it as "the kids against everybody else" would be to over-simplify it, but the sub-text is definitely there.

I don't think that Mike Myers has received sufficient credit for his acting performance as Wayne.  He is dynamic but subtle, and he also displays his talent for physical comedy. My interpretation is that Dana Carvey intentionally plays Garth in an "exaggerated" way, so as to accentuate the character's social awkwardness and geekiness.

The sub-plots greatly enrich both of the films. The morose musings of the guy who runs the diner, Wayne's ex-girlfriend Stacey, and in "Wayne's World 2" Garth's romantic liaison with Kim Basinger. The latter was one of the seemingly unlikely but ultimately inspired castings in the movies, two others being Rob Lowe and Christopher Walken, not to mention the cameo by Charlton Heston in the second picture.

I find the plot of the first film to be somewhat unoriginal - evil businessmen and media moguls exploit and ruin innocent and vibrant youth culture - but it is so well executed and entertaining that this hardly matters.

In some ways I prefer "Wayne's World 2" to its predecessor. The plot revolving around a rock festival is more interesting. The writing is sharper, the musical content is cooler (Bad Company, Edgar Winter Group, Golden Earring etc.) and it feels more like a real story. In addition, the sequel is imbued with instant validity by virtue of the appearance by Harry Shearer of Spinal Tap fame!

There are some stellar and engaging scenes in the second movie - the launderette encounter between Garth and Kim Basinger, the martial-arts-film-spoof involving Wayne and Cassandra's father, and of course the great "Village People" parody.

My main gripe would be that a similar "alternative endings" formula was employed in both films. However, both remain fine, feel-good entertainment.

Kelly's Heroes - movie review

When I was young, and less wise, I developed some strange ideas about what constituted a great film. After seeing "Kelly's Heroes", for instance, I was convinced that I had just experienced the greatest war movie ever made. Little did I know that it was really intended as a "comedy", blending subtle satire, frivolity and action. Whatever my youthful misconceptions, it remains an entertaining, and occasionally thought-provoking picture.

The film centres on the exploits of a group of American soldiers in France in 1944, and their successful efforts to "steal" a haul of gold from a bank located behind enemy lines. The driving force behind the operation is Kelly, played by Clint Eastwood, who summons up his best "mean, moody and magnificent" persona for the role..

"Kelly Heroes" has much in common in many respects with the Vietnam-era war films which appeared later in the 1970s and 1980s. The fact that this picture was made in 1969/70 doubtless helped to shape its aesthetic and some of the undercurrents in the script. The music is vaguely "Age of Aquarius" in nature, and bits of the dialogue are not what one would normally associate with a World War Two film.

This juxtaposition between the Second World War and later counter-cultural values is of course epitomised by the character "Oddball", played by Donald Sutherland.  Oddball's tank unit resembles a proto-hippie commune, and the "modifications" to his armoured vehicles are perhaps an insinuation that evil can be tackled without recourse to excessive violence...

I have read it suggested that "Kelly's Heroes" contains an anti-war message. I would concur with this assertion, but at the same time this is an undercurrent, not rammed down the viewer's throat, and it may not be immediately clear to those only watching casually. There is mixture of satire and "black comedy" which helps to soften any abrasiveness or preachiness which might have crept in.

I am not entirely sure whether the producers of this movie were seeking to pose deeper and more complex moral questions.  The relative "merits" or stealing gold and waging war spring to mind, although of course in reaching the bank the troops had to engage the German forces anyway.  Men died in the process. Which was the more noble "cause"?

Some of the action sequences leave a little to be desired in terms of authenticity, but then again I doubt that "Kelly's Heroes" was aimed at the "purist" audience, militarily or historically speaking. One needs to accept some of the occasional absurdity, and disregard technical minutiae, to appreciate the basic thrust of the movie.

There are, however, one or two memorable scenes. The sequence where the unit becomes trapped in a minefield is especially gripping. More levity is provided by the comical misinterpretations by the American general, who thinks that news of the appearance of Kelly's men behind enemy lines is evidence of some heroic and selfless act of initiative and aggression. Telly Savalas' performance is also worthy of praise, as the irascible sergeant "Big Joe".

It might not be a good idea to watch "Kelly's Heroes" back-to-back with a "serious" war movie, but it is still an intriguing watch.

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Whatever Happened To The Likely Lads?

Just recently, whilst seeking inspiration and emotional sustenance, I dug out my DVDs of "Whatever Happened To The Likely Lads", the classic BBC sitcom from the 1970s. The works of Dick Clement and Alan La Frenais are always a nice refuge, because of the depth and richness of their writing.

Apart from the quality of the scripts and the acting, the major strength of this show was its premise, Terry Collier returning from five years in the Army to find his best friend Bob Ferris immersed in his career, and on the verge of domestic bliss with Thelma. The tension and comic potential inherent in this scenario are harnessed to the full. However, it is the particular methods of the writers which created the real magic.

The humour is very British, but the subject matter is universal.  Much of the dialogue deals with the problems of leaving behind one's youth, and the conflicting attractions of domesticity, independence and carefree indolence. The show also examines issues of class, snobbery and social structures in a very natural and perceptive way, pointing out what really happens, not the version which tends to be projected by those with some axe to grind. The absence of preaching and moralizing is an advantage, and although contentious issues are not overlooked, they are not allowed to overshadow the levity.

A real asset of Clement and La Frenais' writing is the capacity to be honest and realistic about social mores and hang-ups, and to extract great and enduring comedy from it. Moreover, in addition to the laughs, the situation and the stories have the power to provoke reflection on the part of the viewer. The ground which is covered is that with which real people can identify, because it is rooted in everyday existence - social climbing, thwarted aspirations, nostalgia, family, friendships. This makes it timeless, like few other comedies of its era. Only the hairstyles and the fashions have dated!

The scripts are delightfully homely and organic, conveying the vitality, eccentricity and occasional absurdity of British life, its contradictions and foibles. Much of the material concentrates on the dichotomy between the less complicated worlds of childhood and young adulthood, and the practicalities and harsh but inescapable realities and responsibilities of being "grown up". Much of this is encapsulated in the episodes  "Storm in A Tea Chest" and "The Ant and the Grasshopper" - the battle to maintain a balance in the face of commitments, priorities and pressures.

The subject of friendship is also explored;its limitations, its virtues and its constraints, and how it evolves and becomes more complicated and occasionally burdensome.

If this wonderful show reminds me of anything these days, it is that whatever our idealism and nostalgia, the world of adult existence is one long series of compromises. Many of us either never fully embrace this, or realize it too late....

The Reginald Perrin Omnibus

One of the more curious and interesting phenomena in popular culture in the 1970s was that of Reginald Perrin.  My interest in the character having recently been re-ignited, I made a point of searching out The Reginald Perrin Omnibus, a collection of the David Nobbs-penned books on which the later television sitcom (starring Leonard Rossiter in the title role) was based.

For the avoidance of confusion, it should be emphasised that although the TV sitcom was entitled The Fall and Rise of Reginald Perrin, it  actually covers the same events and timespan as the three novels which make up the omnibus, the first of which is itself also called "The Fall and Rise of Reginald Perrin", the other two being called "The Return of Reginald Perrin" and "The Better World of Reginald Perrin".

To summarise for the uninitiated, Reginald Perrin is a middle-aged executive with Sunshine Desserts, and as the story begins, he is being confronted with an incipient breakdown of sorts, seemingly precipitated by the drudgery of his job and his daily routine, and a nagging feeling that "there must be more to life than this". The three novels which constitute the "omnibus", and the aforementioned sitcom, follow Reggie through his various life-changes, projects and adventures in the ensuing few years.

One of the first things which I noticed when reading The Reginald Perrin Omnibus was how much the books had been compressed when adapted for television.  The novels have a more sinuous and less streamlined quality about them, with the more risque aspects and sub-plots left in. The additional exposition which this all permits, and the more expansive prose, make these written stories an even more surreal and comic experience - more of a black comedy when in print form, I would say.There is much light-hearted and satirical musing on 1970s Britain, with more context and perspective than could be realistically expected in a condensed small-screen version.

The novels allow more extensive concentration on the niceties and absurdities of English middle-class suburban and rural life. The quirks and eccentricities are woven into the plot in wonderfully deadpan and undemonstrative style, and this forms a sizeable part of the appeal.This is the kind of book which one can breeze through almost effortlessly.  I was past page 500 almost before I realized it!

Another thing which occurred to me when working my way through the pages was perhaps what the author was aiming at, namely a more rounded and all-encompassing look at "modern life", from a 1970s viewpoint. Yes, fun is poked at consumerism and careerism, but equally there is much gentle but pointed teasing at the expense of the "trendy" and "progressive" ideas, attitudes and practices which were in vogue at the time. One senses that Reginald Perrin was striving to rise above it ALL, maybe sensing that even "alternative" things very soon assume a form of normality and routine. These nuances did not come out as strongly in the TV show, I feel.

Bearing in mind that this was written during the 1970s, some references contained within it might not meet with the wholehearted approval of the 21st century palate, although it is arguably reflective of the social and cultural climate of those days.

Despite reinventing himself a couple of times, Reggie ended up coming full circle in a professional and lifestyle sense, although the conclusion of our story is left open-ended as, confronted with a sense of deja vu at Amalgamated Aerosols, he initiates plans to return to the Dorset coast, scene of his two previous metamorphoses.

Although the ultimate outcome is not made clear, one can speculate what the inference was. This left me with a slightly deflated feeling.  Even when we take it upon ourselves to "change", life is still a cycle, or a series of cycles.

Did Reginald Perrin eventually see only one mode of escape from the cycle of cycles?  Or did he re-emerge again, to reboard the treadmill, in the hope that he would find something which even he had difficulty conceptualizing?  It is significant that each time he "disappeared", it did not take long for him to revert to being Reggie again. A recognition that we can never really escape or shed our "self"?

It is tempting to see the Reginald Perrin saga as an ultimately sobering and discouraging parable of modern man.  However, not only is it an enjoyable and stimulating read, but it can also be construed as inspirational, by affirming that things do not necessarily have to be "this way".  It conceivably also lends weight to the notion that "it's better to travel hopefully than to arrive".  Does the "arriving" ever really happen for most of us? The grass is not always greener on the other side, but the chasing, hoping and striving is what makes things worthwhile. Is this exhilaration the substitute for real contentment?  Do we have to learn to accept and value this as our lot in life?

Returning to the book, it would be fair to say that those whose perceptions of Reginald Perrin have been conditioned and shaped by the TV series may take a little while to adapt to the denser storyline, and some of its deviations. Equally, there is much more extensive and thorough development of, and insight into, the various characters and their foibles and idiosyncrasies.

Read and enjoy....

Going Straight

Spin-offs or sequels to celebrated situation comedies have a chequered history, to put it mildly.  However, one which merits some attention and praise is Going Straight, which followed on from the immense Porridge.

The basic premise of Going Straight was the struggle of Norman Stanley Fletcher, played by Ronnie Barker, to re-adjust and reintegrate into society following his release from Slade Prison.  However, to me the series, brief though its tenure was, was so much more than that.  Direct comparisons with its illustrious predecessor were also unfair, for several reasons.

The "situation" was one of the prime factors which made  Porridge such an endearing and effectual situation comedy.  This element is not as pervasive or concentrated in Going Straight, the arena being the big, bad outside world, and not the confines of a prison. This would inevitably mean that the follow-up would seem more disparate by comparison.  It does have pronounced virtues and hallmarks of its own, though.

The tone is markedly less outwardly comedic, and more dark, than Porridge, with much more in the way of poignancy and pathos.  I will admit that Going Straight is not always a comfortable watch, because of the predicament in which Norman Stanley Fletcher finds himself, and the vulnerability which this evokes.  The certainties of incarcertation have been stripped away, and he is at the mercy of the more varied and unpredictable vagaries of wider society.  The priority in prison was short-term bucking of the system, whereas on the outside one perhaps has to accept that the oppressive forces are too diffuse and powerful.

One of the great strengths of the series is its subject matter, which transcends time, and never grows stale.  Temptation, honour, dignity, perseverance, resolve, integrity and resilience are all tested and scrutinised. Despite the 1970s cultural references which abound in Going Straight, the themes raised are still startlingly relevent today.

The subject matter is, of course, expertly collated and deployed by the peerless writing team of Dick Clement and Ian La Frenais.  Their scripts for Going Straight were sharp and fresh, and possessed their uniquely appealing combination of warmth, incisiveness and empathy.

Of course, one of the departures of Going Straight was its wider diversity of major characters.  In this respect, the performance of Patricia Brake as Fletch's daughter Ingrid was particularly impressive, if under-rated. Torn between love and sympathy for her father, concern for the welfare of her wider family, and a sense of right and wrong.

To varying degrees, the six episodes chronicle the never-ending struggles of life, the ongoing battle to balance expediency with morality and integrity. By and large the righteous honest course wins out, if only just.  This ensures that some hope does at least emerge from the somewhat gloomy tenor.

We are left with a keen sense of the underlying decency of most ordinary people, trying constantly to "do the right thing", often when confronted by insurmountable odds.

One of the most intriguing sub-plots is the apparent role reversal involving Fletch and his erstwhile cellmate Lennie Godber, played by Richard Beckinsale. In prison, Fletch was the mentor, but Godber, with the advantage of youth, finds it much easier to adapt to "civilian" life.  The world has moved on, and Fletch feels left behind. In striving to overcome these obstacles, he feels tempted to resort to skullduggery in order to put himself on a more solid footing. The old chestnut about "ends" and "means" rears its head.  This time it is Godber, and other younger characters, who are dispensing the guidance and advice.

During the series, optimism and promise flicker fitfully for Fletch, as he searches for inspiration and direction.  He tries his best, but faces cynicism from others, some of which is born of a lack of understanding.  At least the series ended on a positive note, as he curtails involvement in a criminal enterprise in order to be at Ingrid and Lennie's wedding.

In portraying the changing role and fortunes of Fletcher, Ronnie Barker displayed his real versatility and mastery of characterisation. 

When engineering the "set-piece" scenarios in the series, plausibility was stretched at times, with several coincidences, and old acquaintances of Fletch coming out of the woodwork in a relatively brief timescale.  However, to me this never felt really contrived, and the quality of the writing and acting always tended to win out and prevail.

Of course, further series of Going Straight were precluded by the tragic death of Richard Beckinsale in 1979.  It is intriguing to extrapolate things, and imagine how the story could have panned out. Fletch's efforts and challenges, and brushes with temptation, would doubtless have continued.  Perhaps Godber's own situation might have altered, and the "balance of power" between himself and Fletch shifted once more?

Whatever, the speculation, my view remains that Going Straight is worthy of inclusion in a list of great British sitcoms of its era.  If anything, it gets better with the passing of time...