Juvenile Liaison

George Ray might look like rather a nasty bully on the photographic evidence presented above, but, in a way, bullying is his job: he's a Sergeant in Blackburn's Juvenile Liaison team. George will do anything in his power to stop naughty kids becoming naughty grown ups, and this includes shouting, hair pulling, threats of imprisonment and lots of mind games. His aim is to get an apology, a few tears, a feeling of regret and to administer a short, sharp shock that will jolt the young miscreant back on to the right track - easier said than done, given some of the environments the children come from.

When he's not making infants cry, George is an affable and rather philosophical character. He used to have 'Left-ist' views, but a spell in the Navy and some life experience taught him otherwise. He works for the Establishment because, although he recognises it isn't perfect, he prefers the status quo to what he sees as the alternatives: anarchy, or a totalitarian state where people are shot or 'dropped into baths of acid'. 

The young offenders are a mixed bunch, often from families with what they now call 'multiple problems'. This manifests itself in houses that are cluttered and chaotic, full to capacity with duffel coat clad kids and Aunties, so much so that the parents seem to have lost control and even lost count of their own offspring. You wonder where they all sleep, and what they have for tea. You worry for them. No wonder some go off the rails: their homes are like madhouses.



Some of the pint sized crooks are cocky, even defiant to start with - but they all crumble in the end (well, almost all, but we'll get to that), the Juvenile Liason team expertly probing for the button that turns on the waterworks. Their 'crimes' run from the spectacularly trivial (stealing fruit from a school mate's bag) to the more sinister (physical violence; extortion). There's plenty of truanting, and a fair bit of shop lifting (Woolworths is under constant attack). Standard bad behaviour, I suppose, but misdemeanours that George and his team take very seriously indeed, seeing these petty infractions as symptoms of criminal rot setting in.  

THE JUVENILES    

Tearful.

Cheeky.

Gormless.

Defiant.

THE ADULTS

People used to wear glasses like this.

And house coats and head scarves. Incredible, isn't it?

An elder brother who doesn't like the Police. We had wooden walls like that.

Interesting decor, terrifying inhabitant.

Op Art Wallpaper. In this case, the Op is short for Optrex. 

The parents and guardians are all horrified at their children's behaviour, of course, and 'beltings' usually feature as a deterrent. In one case, the father is in hospital, so George volunteers to take over the corporal punishment duties in his absence - a simple but effective threat that has immediate results. George is occasionally far more 'hands on' than we would expect today's Policemen to be, of course, but he saves this for those accused of being physically threatening - a free lesson in the politics of violence: there's always someone bigger and nastier than you. These scenes shocked audiences (they're uncomfortable viewing), and the film was withdrawn for many years as a result.

Beneath it all, however, George is not an unkindly man, he is just following the contemporary credo that wilful children must be broken, and if this means a clip around the ear, threats of bringing in 'the CID' to investigate the appropriation of a toy gun, or a visit to the cells, then so be it. He'd rather reduce them to jelly now than have to lock them up for real in a few years time, although, in some cases, he'll probably end up doing both.   

She's not helping.

Here's a lesson, Glen - learn it.

My favourite bit in the programme is courtesy of Rashida, an eleven year old 'immigrant' (her parents are from Pakistan, but have lived in the UK for 40 years). Rashida is accused is stealing pens, an apple, and eight and a half new pence from her school friends. George counts out the pens as he questions her, and gesticulates with her little purse. Rashida, however, in contrast to most of the children we've met, isn't sullen and tearful and struck mute with fear - instead, she talks and talks and talks - fluently, articulately - and she has an answer for everything. After about five minutes, George sends her out of the room, lights up a fag and says 'well, I can't break her'. Unable to force a confession, he sets a trap - puting green dye into a bag and nabbing Rashida when she's seen with it all over her hands. Rashida doesn't give a shit. 

    

The offending felt tips.

Rashida, mid flow.

Sgt Ray would make a good Vic Reeves character.

Directed by Nick Broomfield and Joan Churchill, 'Juvenile Liaison' is a classic in the 'find an interesting character doing an interesting job and just follow him around' documentary style. In fashion terms, 1975 was the mid-way point between Glam and Disco, but you won't find a sequin or a bit of sparkle here - just dirty kids, frightening wallpaper, tiny tellies and the grim grey, mustard and green of working class life in the industrial North. It's a real eye opener.

Clear Your Diary 1

Subverse Britannia is here. Today. Ulp. Kindly make your way to the Showroom Cinema in Sheffield where, at 2pm, you can hear Dr. David Forrest introduce the superb 'This Sporting Life', the best film ever made about Rugby League.

After that, Dr. Forrest, Dr. Matt Cheeseman and plain old Mister Me will be talking about the film and the 'Subverse Britannia' mini season and what it's all about. In particular, I will be called to give evidence on what British exploitation films have to say about post war Britain, so I'm hoping I will have a convincing answer by this afternoon.

I hope to see you there but, if you can't make it, there are two more opportunities for you to get on board, on the 23rd and the 27th, so get something organised, ffs, I've done everything I can do.

Enemy From Space

Two years after ‘The Quatermass Xperiment’, Brian Donelevy was back as the nutty professor in ‘Quatermass 2’ (I have wondered if this film and the TV version that preceded it are the first examples of numbered sequels, but it’s not like I’ve looked into it or anything).  Once again, Quatermass is battling an alien invasion, this time a methane breathing mass of micro-organisms who have been coming to Earth in artificial meteor showers, latching onto human hosts and getting the resulting zombies, some of whom are in positions of authority, to do stuff for them, including building a massive, top secret base out in the country.

Shot mostly on location, the film benefits from filming at two fantastic sites: the new town of Hemel Hempstead, still under construction (more here) and the huge but lightly manned Shell refinery at Stanford-le-Hope in Essex (the facility was largely automated, which adds to the eerie atmosphere). It is at the refinery where the bulk of the horror takes place: an MP dies after snooping around a storage tank and being covered in a horrible, hot, corrosive black slime; men are murdered and their bodies shoved into pipes to stop Quatermass gassing the aliens; the metal domes are not full of synthetic food (the cover story), but with millions of individual alien life forms clinging together to make a pulsating, undulating giant pile of greasy, toxic life.  Best of all are the silent, scarred guards – mindless enforcers and killers for an alien hive mind. They are cool.

Full of conspiracy and unease, ‘Quatermass 2’ is a superbly paranoid film, brilliantly creating a world where nothing is as it seems and all the misgivings the individual has about big business, corporate secrets and government collusion turn out to be true, and the implications far worse than anyone (except perhaps David Icke) could imagine.

Donlevy is noticeably less shouty as Quatermass this time around, although he still truncates his sentences and has a fairly obvious stand in for scenes that require rapid movement. He is ably supported by a cast of smooth British character actors, including the unflappable John Longden, the suave William Franklyn and a bequiffed Bryan Forbes. Sid James is in it too, playing a drunken, wide boy journalist who dies a hero.

The script was adapted from the original teleplay by Nigel Kneale himself, and condenses three hours of TV into a tidy hour and twenty five. It’s a classic, and a huge favourite of mine.  

Quatermass 2

No Terror Ever Like...

Hammer’s 1955 film adaptation of Nigel Kneale’s ground breaking ‘The Quatermass Experiment’* perhaps inevitably loses some of the subtlety and complexity of the much longer TV series, but it makes up for it in sheer propulsive energy, and in the way it uses documentary film devices to make science fiction appear to be science fact.

When the first manned rocket into space (British, of course) breaks contact with base for several days, it is assumed to have been lost until it suddenly reappears and crashes into a field. The rocket is intact, but minus two out of three astronauts, who seem to have vanished, leaving only their empty suits behind. The third man (the unforgettably named Victor Caroon) is in a catatonic state, and who can blame him, because Victor isn’t really Victor anymore as the rocket was infiltrated by a drifting parasitic space bug which has largely conquered Caroon, completely absorbed his two colleagues and now intends to take over the world. It’s a solid gold concept, and the film conveys the horror and uncanny threat of it superbly.

Shot largely in a cinema verite style, it’s gritty, actual approach lends a sense of genuine unease, especially when the mutating Caroon is stalking the bombsites and back yards of a very recognisable London, or sucking the animals at the zoo dry to feed the invaders insatiable appetite.

As Caroon, Richard Wordsworth gives a quite amazing performance, his long, bony face wordlessly expressing that the true tragedy of the situation is not that Caroon has disappeared, but that a part of him is still in there, completely unable to stop his absorption into something foul and alien and slimy but desperate to try. There is a scene where Caroon breaks into a Chemist’s shop and, horribly aware of what is happening to him,tries to mix the necessary poisonous elements needed to kill himself but, overcome by the alien forces within, murders and absorbs the pharmacist instead. The original ending of the TV series played on this awful concept, with the powers that be appealing to the human beings now within the alien to destroy themselves – and it – in order to save the world. In the film, however, they simply electrocute it – ZAP! – and the rubber prop catches fire and falls to bits, a far less satisfactory but perhaps more obviously ‘thrilling’ finale (it's definitely more shocking, if you'll forgive the pun. Oh, you won't? Fair enough, it was pretty poor).

Professor Quatermass, the progenitor of the scheme, is played by Brian Donlevy. Donlevy has long been a figure of ridicule for his brusque, barking, waddling performance, as well as for apparently being hammered in pretty much every scene. I don’t think he’s that bad, but he simply doesn’t convince as a visionary scientist – he doesn’t think or understand enough, and always seems to be a beat behind, reacting to rather than anticipating issues. He’s also an American, which makes sense in terms of contemporary funding / box office opportunities, but now seems like a lost opportunity for a generation of home grown character actors. Shame, especially as, ironically, Donlevy was actually born in Northern Ireland.

For all the quibbles, though, it remains a great film - but then, with the sort of source material Kneale provided, greatness is no more than you would expect. What would proper film critics call it? Oh yeah, a truly seminal work.

*Hammer’s version was renamed ‘The Quatermass X-periment’ to make the most of its ‘X certificate’ status. Brilliantly predictable, those Hammer types, shameless masters of self-promotion. 

The Quatermass X-Periment

F*** Me, It's Freddie!

FMIF as a twitchy but immaculately dressed reporter in 'Assault' (1971).

Thanks to the legendary Freddie Jones for holding the fort. We'll be back open for business tomorrow. See you then.

F*** Me, It's Freddie!

FMIF as George Kovich in David Lynch's 'Wild at Heart'(1992). it's a brief role, but a memorable one, especially as he talks like Donald Duck throughout. Good old Freddie.

F*** Me, It's Freddie!

FMIF as tweedy terrorist / embittered nutter Sidney Buckland in Richard Lester's bombs on a cruise ship thriller 'Juggernaut' (1974).

F*** Me, It's Freddie!

FMIF as the pensive Dr. Charles Logan in 'Journey To Where', a 1976 episode of 'Space 1999'. no, that's not the late Pat Butcher with him, it's Isla Blair - no big earrings, see.

F*** Me, It's Freddie!

FMIF as Claudius in the quite brilliant TV series 'The Caesars' (1968). Freddie is superb in this, and deservedly won 'The World's Best TV Actor' award for the role at the 1969 Cannes Film Festival.

F***, It's Freddie!

FMIF as the hairy and mystical Ynir in Saturday afternoon TV favourite 'Krull' (1983).

F*** Me, It's Freddie!

FMIF as runaway mob book keeper Dobson in a 1978 episode of 'Hazell' called 'Hazell Settles The Accounts'.   

F*** Me, It's Freddie!

FMIF as Sir George Uproar in the melancholy 'The Ghosts Of Motley Hall' (1976-1978), a sort of Rent-A-Ghost scripted by Ibsen.

F*** Me, It's Freddie!

FMIF as Mr. Quirly in a 1971 episode of 'Jason King'. Note how tall Freddie is (Peter Wyngarde is five foot ten, and he's not all hunched up like Freddie), and how cool they both are in their very different ways.

We'll Be Back!

Happy New Year!

I'm going to have ten days off now but, until I return, please enjoy some archive Fuck Me, It's Freddie! posts first seen on Ye Olde Unmann-Wittering blog.

Rule Britannia!



'Primitive London'

Astoundingly, I will be leaving my Fortress of Solitude / Mind Palace / Shed to appear in public next month, not once, not twice, but three times!

‘Subverse Britannia’ is a short season of films at Sheffield’s excellent Showroom Cinema which will take place on consecutive Sundays in 2013: the 13^th, 20^th and 27^th of January.

As part of this marvellous event, I will be introducing and gabbing about ‘The Damned’ and ‘Primitive London’, as well as taking part in group discussions and generally hanging about looking slightly uncomfortable / vaguely menacing.

You can book for the whole thing, or simply select individual screenings. If you do come, please be assured that fame has not yet gone to my head yet, so I’m still very approachable. That will change, of course, I accept that but, for now, I’m just a normal person, so please feel free to say ‘hi’.

Bloody New Year

‘Bloody New Year’ is more like a fairground ride than a film: it’s cheap; it’s tacky; held together with bits of string and glue – but it’s fun, and it’s funny and you just need to give into it and enjoy yourself.  Oh, and keep your hands inside the car.

When a group of very old teenage holiday makers are shipwrecked on a seemingly deserted island, they take refuge in an eerie hotel decorated as if it were Christmas. Unfortunately for them it turns out that the island was the scene of a plane crash on New Year’s Eve in 1959 and that the plane was talking part in a time travelling experiment.  As you might expect, this has turned the island into an outlandish time warped hell hole where all visitors are killed by a variety of deadly apparitions, including fishing nets, disfigured ghosts, murderous silver screen sheiks, bannister knobs, tinsel and rough chain wielding psychos from the Butlins at nearby Barry Island.

It’s bizarre, frankly, and bears no logical examination whatsoever, but it’s a real hoot. The main issue for me is a very personal one: it’s too eighties. But then it would be, wouldn’t it, having been made in 1987. I remember that era well and despised the stonewashed denim and mullets look then, so it’s occasionally painful for me to look at now, but others may well get a kick out of it rather than a cringe.

‘Bloody New Year’ is wrong on so many levels, and by no means showcases director Norman J. Warren’s unique talents or prove a suitable swansong (he hasn't directed since), but it’s incredibly imaginative for a film that clearly cost about sixty quid, and is enormously good fun, which is what it’s all about, really, isn’t it?   

Happy New Year to all our readers!