Diminishing, Departures and Arrivals

It might be a bit unfair to describe Mission… Highly Improbable as The Avengers hitting peak Philip Levene, but it’s certainly peak something – there’s a definite feeling of ‘let’s push this format as far as it will go’ in what is, after all, the final episode of series five.

It opens relatively conventionally with a top treasury type (the very capable actor Kevin Stoney – first appearance of two – in a disappointingly small part) turning up at an army base and being escorted from the main gate to the camp proper by a cohort of soldiers led by one Captain Gifford (that other capable actor and generally splendid chap Nicholas Courtney – second of two). However, Stoney and his Rolls Royce seemingly vanish into thin air en route.

Gifford calls in Steed, but of the missing dignitary there is no trace – although Steed does find a small replica Rolls Royce near the road. At this point Philip Levene makes the probably-wise decision to hit the viewer with the episode’s main conceit: a very tiny Kevin Stoney is in the undergrowth squeaking at Steed and Gifford for help (told you Stoney had a small part), but he is scooped up in a butterfly net by passing scientist Chivers (Francis Matthews – second of two) before he can get their attention. (Had Levene attempted to preserve the mystery further into the episode, the chances are that many viewers would put off by how utterly ridiculous the premise of the story was when the big reveal finally came.)

Yes, it turns out that all the requisitioning of materials and general overspending that Stoney’s character was here to investigate is the result of Chivers and his partner Rushton (Noel Howlett) building a shrink-ray machine – Rushton, an amiable mad scientist, hit upon the discovery, which the more ruthless Chivers is seeking to exploit. Chivers is a rather nasty piece of work and seems to get a sadistic thrill from disposing of his tiny victims – Gifford stumbles upon the secret and gets flushed down the drain, for example (Nicholas Courtney would have to find another military role in order to achieve TV immortality).

Chivers’ plan is to use the machine to shrink a new armoured car and smuggle it out in his pocket, preparatory to selling it to the Other Side’s local head of intelligence, Shaffer (Ronald Radd – third of three), who is another of the buffoons that Levene likes to use in this kind of role. However, what he does not realise when miniaturising the vehicle is that Steed is hiding inside it…

With a title like the one it has, you can’t accuse this episode of not being at least somewhat self-aware, but ‘Highly Improbable’ is really understating it – this is an outrageously silly story, mostly played for laughs (Chivers’ sadistic tendencies notwithstanding). That said, it’s an extremely slickly made piece of silliness, with some decent guest performances and great work from the leads as well – Diana Rigg’s double-take upon first seeing a four-inch-tall Steed is one of her best. (Amongst the supporting cast is Jane Merrow, who doesn’t do all that much but clearly made an impression: she was one of the actresses who tested to become Diana Rigg’s replacement.) The episode avoids dodgy compositing and back projection, achieving its shrinking effects through clever camera angles, and tiny and oversized props, so the production values are as polished as ever. I imagine this sort of thing is not to everyone’s taste – it’s almost certainly the kind of episode that led to the programme-makers being ordered to adopt a marginally more serious tone for the following season – but it’s another hugely entertaining show which is very hard to dislike.

Until very recently I’d always assumed that The Forget-Me-Knot was the last episode of series five, rather than the first of series six, which is silly considering what I know about the behind-the-scenes upheavals at this point in the series’ history. Not only did Diana Rigg decide to leave, but Brian Clemens and the other producers were all sacked by the higher-ups and a new regime imposed, who were responsible for casting Linda Thorson as Steed’s new partner (definitely more of a sidekick, I might suggest). After three episodes (considered by those who saw them to be almost unwatchable) Clemens and the others were invited back, at which point they quite rightly decided that Rigg and Mrs Peel deserved a proper departure story – and this is their attempt at doing one, while bridging to the new format.

So, one last chance to enjoy the fifth season opening credits (Macnee’s reaction when Diana Rigg shoots the cork out of his bottle never, ever, fails to make me smile), but very quickly it becomes clear we are in new territory: the font for the title card is different, and the writer and director are billed at the front of the episode now. Yet another of Steed’s colleagues is in trouble: after a fairly well-done fight in a cellar, he makes his escape, but is shot with a dart gun as he leaves. The dart has the effect of giving him amnesia, which causes problems when he tries hailing a cab – he can’t remember who he is or where he wants to go.

Nevertheless, he wanders past Steed’s flat anyway. Presented with this mystery, Steed – somewhat uncharacteristically, one might say – decides to refer the problem upstairs and heads off to report. He goes to headquarters, where we are introduced to his superior, Mother (Patrick Newell), a man who puts the obese in boss (if you see what I mean). Before this, however, he is tackled by trainee agent 69 (oh, good grief), one Tara King (Linda Thorson). There’s a fairly laborious introductory scene for her and some plot being laid in in an equally awkward manner (this is not Brian Clemens’ finest hour, but he was really slipped the hospital pass on this occasion).

It turns out there is a traitor in the organisation (as we have seen already, and will continue to see, Steed’s department is riddled with traitors to nearly the same degree it is stuffed with cannon fodder) who is using the amnesia drug to cover his tracks (apparently he is under orders to test the drug, which is supposed to explain why he doesn’t just kill people). What follows is basically everyone losing their memory either wholly or partly, Diana Rigg spending most of the episode locked in an abandoned factory, and many scenes of Patrick Macnee stumbling about looking bemused as Steed tries to remember who he is. Once you know the circumstances under which the episode was made, it’s very obvious that Diana Rigg and Linda Thorson were only on set together for the briefest possible period of time.

Obligatory photo of the unique Tara-and-Emma handover scene.

Once you get over the novelty of the series doing a ‘bridge’ episode where two of Steed’s partners appear, this is actually quite dull and slow – perhaps this is almost axiomatic of episodes using amnesia as a plot device. The one indisputably good bit is the final sequence, in Mrs Peel and Steed say their goodbyes: this has nothing to do with the main plot of the episode, which is not surprising given it feels like it was written in a hurry anyway. There is the decent gag of Mr Peel being a dead ringer for Steed (there’s a comic strip which reveals this is actually a wind-up, and Peter is actually much younger and blonder), but above all there is Steed’s line – ‘Emma… thanks,’ which tugs at the emotions like virtually no other moment in the entire series. (Apparently Patrick Macnee went back to his dressing room and cried after filming it.) Nice of them to try and give Diana Rigg a proper swan song, but the intention turns out to be much more laudable than the result.