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...
Showing posts with label whatever happened to the likely lads. Show all posts
Showing posts with label whatever happened to the likely lads. Show all posts
Saturday, 12 December 2015
Wednesday, 19 March 2014
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....
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....
Thursday, 15 December 2011
The Ant and The Grasshopper
Among my favourite sitcom episodes is one from Whatever Happened to the Likely Lads, entitled The Ant and The Grasshopper. This portrays, in some comedic style, the contrasting lifestyles of Bob Ferris and Terry Collier; the career-minded and industrious approach of the former, and the life of leisure and relative indolence pursued by the latter.
The title of the episode is taken from one of Aesop's better know fables, which looks at similar, if not identical, themes.
In a more modern social context, the dichotomy is often expressed as that between rigid careerism and downshifting, and also as the desire for a greater work-life balance.
As somebody who has experienced both sides of this particular coin, I often feel that it is seen in simplistic,black-and-white terms, when in reality there are a million shades of grey in between. Generalisations and idealistic views abound, and most of these are often swiftly dispelled not long after people imagine that they have "crossed the line".
Downshifting, and its variants, are not necessarily the idyllic and carefree existence which those still embedded in the rat race think them to be. A salaried or 9 to 5 job has in-built motivatory factors, imbuing one with a sense of purpose, targets to aim for, and some semblance of structure and continuity. Those who embark on alternative courses may come to yearn for some of these things.
It is oft remarked that one of the drawbacks of living a regimented life is the tendency to experience "ruts", brought on by drab and repititive routines. However, downshifters can also fall prey to such difficulties, as a life without a sense of purpose and direction can become soulless, notwithstanding its apparent flexibility and other benefits.
So what is the answer? Well, one thing to bear in mind is that the grass is not always greener on the other side. Pursuing both paths to extremes can represent a fool's paradise, and it is easy to be seduced by the platitudes of others. Self-awareness, being alive to warning signals, and a readiness to embrace changes, are all of benefit, but of course are not possessed by everyone.
It is tempting to reach the conclusion that each philosophy can learn from the other, in the search for a more balanced and fulfilling life. Combining the practicalities of "the treadmill" with room for hopes and dreams, or marrying a sense of excitement to some roots and foundations would perhaps be a more realistic scenario. The very lucky amongst us achieve at some point a feeling of equilibrium, where the ideal becomes reality in one organic whole. The rest of us have to be content with reining in fanciful ambitions or notions, and coming to terms with the necessity for pragmatism and compromise.
If I have learned anything from my own experiences on both sides of "the fence", it is that mental complacency is the main enemy, and that this can lead to stagnation and disillusionment. It sounds trite, I know, but variety is the spice of life, and this applies particularly to interaction with other human beings. We just keep on learning, often from our mistakes and traumas, and try to train our minds to recognise when the rot is setting in, and act accordingly.
The title of the episode is taken from one of Aesop's better know fables, which looks at similar, if not identical, themes.
In a more modern social context, the dichotomy is often expressed as that between rigid careerism and downshifting, and also as the desire for a greater work-life balance.
As somebody who has experienced both sides of this particular coin, I often feel that it is seen in simplistic,black-and-white terms, when in reality there are a million shades of grey in between. Generalisations and idealistic views abound, and most of these are often swiftly dispelled not long after people imagine that they have "crossed the line".
Downshifting, and its variants, are not necessarily the idyllic and carefree existence which those still embedded in the rat race think them to be. A salaried or 9 to 5 job has in-built motivatory factors, imbuing one with a sense of purpose, targets to aim for, and some semblance of structure and continuity. Those who embark on alternative courses may come to yearn for some of these things.
It is oft remarked that one of the drawbacks of living a regimented life is the tendency to experience "ruts", brought on by drab and repititive routines. However, downshifters can also fall prey to such difficulties, as a life without a sense of purpose and direction can become soulless, notwithstanding its apparent flexibility and other benefits.
So what is the answer? Well, one thing to bear in mind is that the grass is not always greener on the other side. Pursuing both paths to extremes can represent a fool's paradise, and it is easy to be seduced by the platitudes of others. Self-awareness, being alive to warning signals, and a readiness to embrace changes, are all of benefit, but of course are not possessed by everyone.
It is tempting to reach the conclusion that each philosophy can learn from the other, in the search for a more balanced and fulfilling life. Combining the practicalities of "the treadmill" with room for hopes and dreams, or marrying a sense of excitement to some roots and foundations would perhaps be a more realistic scenario. The very lucky amongst us achieve at some point a feeling of equilibrium, where the ideal becomes reality in one organic whole. The rest of us have to be content with reining in fanciful ambitions or notions, and coming to terms with the necessity for pragmatism and compromise.
If I have learned anything from my own experiences on both sides of "the fence", it is that mental complacency is the main enemy, and that this can lead to stagnation and disillusionment. It sounds trite, I know, but variety is the spice of life, and this applies particularly to interaction with other human beings. We just keep on learning, often from our mistakes and traumas, and try to train our minds to recognise when the rot is setting in, and act accordingly.
Saturday, 3 September 2011
Relics From Our Childhood
One of my favourite sitcom episodes is "Storm in a Tea Chest", from "Whatever Happened To The Likely Lads". In this particular episode, the Bob Ferris character, played by Rodney Bewes, agonizes over whether to dispose of some of his childhood nik naks and keepsakes, such as toys, books and such like, which are all contained in an old tea chest.
The dilemma is presented to Bob because he has just moved into a new house, and his wife Thelma is averse to what she regards as clutter. Bob, on the other hand, realises how his life is undergoing changes, and is anxious to retain a link to his past, and to assert his own identity.
I have myself recently been ruminating over this subject, prompted by a couple of very different occurences. Some of my recent philosophical reading has centred on the need to maintain some contact with one's beginnings, and not to become divorced from a sense of roots and humility. Then, yesterday, I saw a picture of a teddy bear on the internet, and this sowed a seed in my mind!
Upon closer contemplation, it has dawned on me that I have retained very few reminders of my childhood years, save for a few fairly inconsequential items. This situation has arisen for two main reasons. My mother was always virulently opposed to things being "hoarded" in her house, and lots was therefore disposed of. More importantly, however, in my late teens and twenties, I lost contact with my past and my identity as an individual, retreating into my own "bubble", which merely gave the illusion of comfort and contentment. Little did I know how hollow and misguided this approach was.
My biggest regret in this area is discarding things such as football and comic annuals, and diaries. It is a sign of how divorced I was from my true "self" for much of my adult life, that I did not wish to maintain any sense of continuity or progression, but just preferred to sleepwalk from crisis to crisis. Getting rid of the aforementioned items may also have been a sub-conscious attempt on my part to distance myself from years past, in parallel with the many deluded "relaunches" which have punctuated my life.
Tangible reminders of our formative years, and beyond, can help us to determine how we travelled to our current point, and in some ways indicate how we can plot a path back there, to those carefree days of innocence and purity, or at least to the mindset which still prevailed at that stage.
Some of us whose existence became largely devoid of such mementos, or at least the state of mind which they helped to foster, were forced to take a very different route back to where it all began.
The dilemma is presented to Bob because he has just moved into a new house, and his wife Thelma is averse to what she regards as clutter. Bob, on the other hand, realises how his life is undergoing changes, and is anxious to retain a link to his past, and to assert his own identity.
I have myself recently been ruminating over this subject, prompted by a couple of very different occurences. Some of my recent philosophical reading has centred on the need to maintain some contact with one's beginnings, and not to become divorced from a sense of roots and humility. Then, yesterday, I saw a picture of a teddy bear on the internet, and this sowed a seed in my mind!
Upon closer contemplation, it has dawned on me that I have retained very few reminders of my childhood years, save for a few fairly inconsequential items. This situation has arisen for two main reasons. My mother was always virulently opposed to things being "hoarded" in her house, and lots was therefore disposed of. More importantly, however, in my late teens and twenties, I lost contact with my past and my identity as an individual, retreating into my own "bubble", which merely gave the illusion of comfort and contentment. Little did I know how hollow and misguided this approach was.
My biggest regret in this area is discarding things such as football and comic annuals, and diaries. It is a sign of how divorced I was from my true "self" for much of my adult life, that I did not wish to maintain any sense of continuity or progression, but just preferred to sleepwalk from crisis to crisis. Getting rid of the aforementioned items may also have been a sub-conscious attempt on my part to distance myself from years past, in parallel with the many deluded "relaunches" which have punctuated my life.
Tangible reminders of our formative years, and beyond, can help us to determine how we travelled to our current point, and in some ways indicate how we can plot a path back there, to those carefree days of innocence and purity, or at least to the mindset which still prevailed at that stage.
Some of us whose existence became largely devoid of such mementos, or at least the state of mind which they helped to foster, were forced to take a very different route back to where it all began.
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