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Posts Tagged ‘Louise Jameson’

Genre’s a funny old thing, especially when you start playing games with it. I used to watch a lot of rather formulaic American TV shows and in some cases the only specific episodes I can remember are the ones which stirred a big dollop of fantasy or horror into an otherwise naturalistic set-up: both CHiPs and Matt Houston did episodes about alien abductions, while there were also episodes of Quantum Leap featuring vampires and the Devil. As we have recently touched upon, British series have sometimes done the same thing – just today they repeated the episode of The Saint with the giant ants in it, while we’ve been talking about those episodes of The Avengers which included things like alien plants and genuine telepathy, rather than the usual tongue-in-cheek whimsy. (I suppose it works the other way too: the various Star Trek series would very occasionally do a show which was SF only in virtue of its setting.)

In conjunction with this, I recently mentioned the Bergerac Christmas special from 1986, which is a) exactly the sort of thing I’m talking about and b) memorable for being properly scary (at least it was when I was not yet in my teens). Bergerac, for those not in the know, was a sort of precursor to modern shows like Death in Paradise and Midsummer Murders, in that it was built around competently-presented detective story plots (with perhaps a touch more action to them than usual), occurring against an attractive, escapist background. To pay for the thing, the BBC went into partnership with an Australian network, and quite possibly the Jersey tourist board too, given this is where the series is largely set.

Our lead character is Jim Bergerac (played by John Nettles), a detective with the (fictitious) Bureau des Etrangers, a usefully vague fictitious branch of the Jersey police. Bergerac has the two essential attributes of a 1980s TV detective, namely a memorable car (a 1947 Triumph roadster, it says here) and a complicated personal life (he is divorced and has a history of alcoholism).

The Christmas show in question is entitled Fires in the Fall, and was written by Chris Boucher (this must have been one of the last things he did on the show before departing to focus on Star Cops, which we have also discussed recently). The tone is quite properly set by a scene in a darkened graveyard and what sounds like a child’s voice chanting a nursery rhyme. Yes, this is going to be a bit spooky. The plot itself gets underway with Bergerac’s father-in-law, local tycoon Charlie Hungerford (Terence Alexander), asking for his help in exposing a man named Raoul Barnaby (Barrie Ingham) whom Charlie believes to be a fake medium (widescale cognitive dissonance ensues for anyone used to John Nettles himself playing a character named Barnaby in Midsummer Murders).

Barnaby has been attempting to insert himself into the good graces of wealthy local widow Roberta Jardine (Margaretta Scott), a friend of Charlie’s, by trying to contact her late husband. Jim and his partner Susan (the great Louise Jameson) duly attend the seance, something Susan is not entirely pleased about following a rather eerie experience at an old house she is involved in selling. Further odd events ensue at the seance, with the voice of a young girl being heard, strange scratches appearing, and a grave in an one of the island’s cemeteries bursting into flame at the same time.

Barnaby appears convinced he has been contacted by the spirit of the girl whose grave was interfered with, and goes to the press with this – a scummy reporter (Paul Brooke) duly appears – which in turn forces Bergerac’s boss to task him with finally closing the case on the girl’s death. Apparently she was the only victim of a spree of arsons back in the 1960s, but what is the connection to the Jardine family? It turns out the cop who was assigned to the case back then retired after it went nowhere – well, not quite ‘retired’, but took a well-paid job with Jardine’s company. There are also some irregularities involved with the firm of undertakers who handled the interment.

Bergerac thinks he’s cracked the case – the arson attacks back in the 1960s were the work of Mrs Jardine’s disturbed son, who is known to have committed suicide. Bergerac thinks he killed himself out of guilt, after being responsible for the girl’s accidental death, and the family covered up the scandal. Now Mrs Jardine’s rapacious niece (Amanda Hillwood) has uncovered the family’s dark secret, and – in partnership with Barnaby, an old associate of hers – is using it to damage her aunt’s mental stability to the point where they can fake her suicide, allowing them to inherit the family fortune.

So far, a satisfying and clever detective story, as smart and cynical as the best of Boucher’s work elsewhere. The supernatural trappings just seem to be set dressing, fun though they are. But what was that scene with the spooky old house all about? Before we even have time to ponder that, things abruptly take a different turn. Mrs Jardine abruptly rumbles Barnaby as a fraud after he affects to receive messages from her dead son. The corrupt copper involved in the cover-up (Ron Pember) and Barnaby himself are found dead in mysterious circumstances, with a black-robed figure seen near them shortly before, both times.

It turns out that the dead son did not in fact die: he was just horribly burned and smuggled off to a Swiss sanatorium by his mother, with the story of his death put about to facilitate the cover-up. Now, it seems, he is back in Jersey, and seeking revenge on the individuals involved in his mother’s murder (quite why he offs the bent copper is a bit of a plot hole). It also seems that he used to live in the spooky old house where Susan had her scary experience at the start…

Cue a rather creepy sequence where Susan is stalked around the old house again by the cowled spectre – all of the set-piece ‘phantom attacks’ are very well directed, with Tom Clegg the gentleman responsible. Perhaps running and screaming is a bit less than Louise Jameson deserves as a performer, but Bergerac was a show with a very large and unwieldy regular cast at this point (there’s Bergerac, his girlfriend, his ex-father-in-law, his ex-wife, his daughter, his boss, his boss’ secretary, two other detectives from the Bureau, and a nightclub owner of his acquaintance) and I suppose this was as elegant a way of incorporating all of them into the plot as any. It’s almost a shame they don’t make more of this horror angle, but the script still manages to bring it into the resolution of the main story: the villain confesses to the murder after glimpsing Nemesis over the shoulder of an oblivious, genially sceptical Bergerac: an almost uncannily creepy moment.

And Boucher still hasn’t quite finished – the final twist of the episode is that the believed-dead son has not snuck back to Jersey, killed his mother’s tormentors and then escaped. According to the Swiss staff, he has been there in the sanatorium all the time. Nettles delivers this information with a completely straight face, in complete contrast to the amused scepticism about the supernatural that’s been going in. It’s very nicely pitched, in fact: it’s up to the viewer to decide whether this a simple case of the Swiss staff getting it wrong, or some sort of psychic projection, or something even stranger and more obscure. Anyone who doesn’t like Christmas ghost stories is afforded just enough wriggle-room to be able to avoid feeling peeved.

At the time this felt like a fun seasonal change of pace, but it seems that Bergerac did its first horror-tinged episode earlier in the same season (I should say that every other episode was shown in 1985) – What Dreams May Come, starring Charles Gray (and very much informed by Gray’s appearance in The Devil Rides Out). The annual excursion into something a bit supernatural became something of a Bergerac tradition (I remember my teenage sister being genuinely scared by 1990’s The Dig, about a Viking burial site with a spectral guardian), but I don’t think any of them were quite as effective as Fires in the Fall (maybe the ninety-minute run-time helps the story and atmosphere develop). No-one, I think, would describe Bergerac as a genuinely classic piece of TV, but this is a solidly entertaining episode.

 

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And here we go again: no, we are not finished with Terry Nation’s Survivors quite yet. One thing about revisiting these old genre TV shows in earnest: it sometimes leads to you uncovering stuff you’d never known about them before. I was completely oblivious to Babylon 5: The Lost Tales for five years, until I bought the complete boxed set. And did I ever actually hear that Big Finish were doing their own series of Survivors plays? I suppose it’s possible, but if so it was one of those things that never really registered – Big Finish’s output is so prolific these days it’s difficult to keep track of everything they’re doing.

I go back with Big Finish (creators of high-quality audio drama) to the end of last century, when they launched their range of Doctor Who stories. I bought dozens of these, didn’t miss a single one between 1999 and mid-2006, but since I went off to Japan I’ve only partaken of their wares very, very sparingly. (Perhaps I am subconsciously keeping all these hundreds of stories as a potential supply of new Doctor Who ahead of that moment when Chris Chibnall or whoever casts a woman in the part and I finally part company with the TV show.) The best of their output is quite brilliant; the bad stuff is still rarely painful to listen to. These days, it seems that they have expanded their scope, and as well as doing a vast number of Doctor Who-related plays, they’re also tackling everything from The Avengers to Terrahawks. So Survivors feels like a natural fit for them.

The first installment of the series, Revelation (also available as a free download), is written by Matt Fitton. I suppose it’s notable that Big Finish managed to negotiate the rights to the actual TV version of Survivors, which is something the BBC either couldn’t or chose not to do ten years ago when they were preparing the new version of the series. The most striking thing about Revelation is how little use it makes of those rights. None of the characters from the TV series appear, nor are there any references to specific on-screen events; it could just as easily be a spin-off from New Survivors, or a completely original drama. All that survives (no pun intended, probably) from the TV production is the theme tune, which sounds like it’s been recreated using a synthesiser and given a key change in the process – I can’t decide whether this is just about acceptable or slightly painful to the ear.

The story itself is a, brace yourself, paraprequalel (i.e., a parallel prequel) to the bulk of the TV show, depicting events happening around the time of The Fourth Horseman, but featuring different characters. Some interesting creative choices here: Big Finish have decided that the virus hit its peak during the run-up to Christmas, which seems equally as valid as my own feeling it might be early to mid January. If nothing else this expands the gap between the end of Gone Away and the beginning of Corn Dolly, quite useful if you’re looking to find places to insert Further Adventures not shown on TV. (The Big Finish version of the plague virus causes a lot more coughing than the TV one, but then it is audio, after all.)

The story advertises itself as that of a pair of journalists who uncover the story to end all stories (quite literally), and while one of the story threads does concern these characters (portrayed by John Banks and Caroline Langrishe), it doesn’t quite dig into the potential here in the way I might have expected: they just get overwhelmed by the chaos the outbreak causes like everyone else. The other major element of the story concerns a Loud American Lawyer (something of a stock type, I would suggest), stuck at a British airport and unable to get home as the transport system simply breaks down. This is largely a two-hander between Terry Molloy as a civil servant struggling to follow his instructions in defiance of all common sense, and Chase Masterson as the lawyer. (I was once standing three feet away from Chase Masterson while she shouted ‘There are no men around here! I have no-one to flirt with!’ and I hope you appreciate that I’m working very hard to be fair and objective in this review despite that.) Minor plotlines concern a polytechnic lecturer and a woman who works on a farm.

This episode is all set-up and hardly any resolution, but needless to say it functions efficiently enough. The plotline with the two journalists recalls The Fourth Horseman most clearly in its more domestic elements (one of the character’s family is stricken with the virus), but probably the most memorable parts of the story are the scenes at the airport between Molloy and Masterson, as they do give just an inkling of a sense of the international scale of the crisis, not to mention an insight into the handling of it by the government.

The Fourth Horseman, of course, took us from peak virus, through the collapse, and then to the very beginning of the reconstruction. Revelation operates a little differently, in that the collapse still seems to be very much in progress as the episode concludes; certainly not many people seem to be thinking in terms of how they are going to survive the secondary kill yet (with the possible exception of Adrian Lukis’ sociologist). The story is notably free of Terry Nation’s proselytising for more self-sufficiency and the need to rediscover traditional skills. If there is a thematic underpinning to the new series, it probably gets its best elaboration from Lukis as James Gillison: early on, before the collapse, he delivers a lecture about how it is only the construct of society that forces people to keep their baser natures and desires under control. As a foreshadowing of the rest of the Big Finish version of the series, it is rather ominous.

The biblical nomenclature continues with Jonathon Morris’ Exodus, a slightly odd title for an episode about characters going to a place rather than leaving it. This is very much part two of the same story as Revelation, dealing with most of the same characters as they begin to come together. The focus is on the London-based community set up and overseen by the lecturer Gillison, and the increasingly authoritarian methods he uses to maintain it. To say much more would be to start unloading spoilers, and as this is still such a relatively new series (at least compared to the episodes it is based on) I don’t feel I can really do that.

Suffice to say the secondary kill starts to kick in with a vengeance, and Big Finish fully exploit the possibilities that come from having almost an entirely new slate of previously-unknown characters – by the end of Exodus you are fully conscious of the fact that anyone could potentially die at any moment in this series. Making a particular impression this time around is Louise Jameson as Jackie, a woman struggling to come to terms with the loss of her family. There will always be a special place in my affections for Louise Jameson – I have known she was since before I could read or write, after all – and this episode shows just what a talented actress she has always been. This is probably the bleakest and darkest version of Survivors yet, and the wrenching quality of Jameson’s performance sells this as much as the grimness of events as the story unfolds.

In contrast, what could have been the episode’s most significant moment passes off almost unheralded – Daniel (Banks) and Jackie are driving across London when they encounter a young woman walking out of the city. Her name is Jenny, and she is heading for the countryside, on doctor’s orders. I expect I shall be saying this a lot, but the ease with which Lucy Fleming recreates a performance from forty years ago is utterly astonishing – she does literally sound as though she’s just walked off the set of The Fourth Horseman. But, as I say, this is very much a minor moment in a story which is notably confident of its ability to survive on its own terms – confidence, I have to say, which seems entirely justified. If this is the quality they can produce with a new cast and characters, then the possibilities when all of the original trio get a chance to go to work in earnest are incredibly exciting. I am aware I am well behind the times when I say this, but just in case you haven’t heard it before: if you like the 1970s version of Survivors, this new version from Big Finish is sounding very much like an essential purchase.

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