Skip to main content

Have you ever seen an honest man?

Blake's 7
1.2: Space Fall


I owned a copy of the BBC video release of the butchered first four B7 stories, and it was Space Fall that made the strongest impression (I joined the original broadcast of the series during Season Three). The difference between this and The Way Back is very evident in terms of atmosphere, and as such it feels like a second pilot, or the way in which US TV commissions a pilot and then rejigs a significant number of elements (tonally, cast or otherwise) by the time the series begins. It’s interesting to note that this was shot before the opener.

Despite the first episode being very much its own beast, Space Fall is in many ways its equal. While The Way Back feels, to some extent, as if the characters are being moved about in order to meet the demands of where the plot wants to get to and the world it wants to establish, Space Fall (despite having been as well-catered for plot-wise) places the characters front and centre. This is where we get to know the future crew of the Liberator. And, really, where we get to know Blake. He instantly falls into place when squared against Avon, but more of that later. Less essentially, in just two episodes the cross-pollination of casting with Doctor Who (in many cases within a year or so of each other) is glaring, and mostly good fun to spot.


Pennant Roberts’ work on this episode is much more consistent than on his Who stints. He doesn’t bowl you over, but at no point are you acutely conscious of someone just going through the motions.  Indeed, he sets his stall up from the opening shot, sweeping down from a high angle to show the prisoners’ seating deck.


The crew of the London are all recent or soon-to-be Whoveterans; Glynn Owen gives a very humane performance as Commander Leylon. Either the accent got the better of him, or he just couldn’t be arsed as Rohm Dutt in The Power of Kroll. Leslie Shofield (Caleb in Roberts’ The Face of Evil) relishes his role as the sadistic Sub-Commander Raiker while Norman Tipton as Navigator Artix is as wet as he would be in the same month broadcast of Underworld (as Idas). There’s nothing particularly polished about the setting up of the various characters, but it’s accomplished economically and without fuss. Which is important, as later their roles will be as significant as The Way Back’s defence counsel. You know when Leylon tells Raiker to be discreet in dealing with Jenna that he’s going to be a complete bastard.

A couple of other points about this scene; the prisoners have suppressants in their rations, but you’d never know this if you hadn’t been told. The crew of the ship have clipboards with strange symbols on. Just as long as they know what they mean.

The effort to make the series “realistic” is evident in the decision to have the journey to Cygnus Alpha last eight months. Raiker’s little talk with the still-confined Blake is a bit clichéd (“I didn’t hear an order, SIR”)  but it serves to build the lines of conflict. Likewise, Raiker slapping Jenna when she whispers something rude in his ear is unsubtle, but it works like a charm in making you look forward to his good riddance. 


And then...

Avon. There he is. Looking inscrutable.

There’s something about Paul Darrow’s effect on a scene that is very akin to the way Tom Baker imposes himself. Their energies are very different (Tom propels himself forward, Darrow rather bridles demanding your attention) but they both command their scenes effortlessly. Gotta love Paul Darrow.

The different characterisations are so quickly and confidently established that you’d be forgiven for thinking they’d been doing this for years. Jenna and Vila’s repartee is fun, although Keating’s approach to playing the fool is at times I’M PLAYING THE FOOL – maybe this changes as we move along, or maybe that exaggerated performance style was why I liked his character so much when I was younger.

When Avon opens his mouth, it’s to explain how the doors in the craft work.

Blake: Neat.
 Avon: Most computer-based functions are.

I love how his dry wit instantly establishes him as someone who not only thinks of himself as superior to everyone else in the room, he knows that he is. And you believe him too. The exchange also sets up his barely concealed contempt for Blake’s principles, sealed in the later exchange between the two in the ship’s computer room. He’s also given a duly mythological backstory (the Number Two computer expert in the Federated Worlds, the Number One having caught him – his reason for failure, relying on others, is quite amusing.)

We learn that Jenna’s surname is Stanis in this scene, and that Avon’s first is Kerr. (Is it significant that Jenna and the “female” Vila are referred to by their first names but the dominant Avon and Blake are on surnames basis? The emasculate Gan is too, but I’m not sure I can face discussing Gan yet.)

The conversation regarding the faking of the running log, entertaining though it is in terms of Vila’s humorous hypochondria (he thinks the prisoners will be dumped out of the airlock long before they reach Cygnus Alpha), is slightly peculiar as it is implied that Avon has been “given” the idea of suggesting this to the crew as a course of action (it’s referred to again later, months later, but I can’t see Avon doing more than dismissing it out of hand). Blake revealing that he’s planning to take the ship is not unexpected, but...

I presume the rather nifty model shot of the ship flying by a spinning globe (an asteroid, given the speed of rotation?) signals that they have been en route for four months, as Roberts does nothing to convince us of this beyond Blake’s reference in a subsequent scene. But it’s taken Blake four months to get as far as exploring the ducting? And his calculated risk approach to trying to take over the ship while it is being battered suggests that for all his moral upstanding he’s not necessarily the best at practicing what he preaches.  

The battering is, of course, the space battle that leads to the discovery of the Liberator. There’s something endearingly Great Escape/WWII about Vila distracting a guard with coin tricks while Blake emerges from the ducting. You half expect Blake to drop sand from his trousers. It’s Terry Nation all over. I’m frankly surprised that Avon would agree to go down the ducting while the ship’s hull is getting punctured (“Control the computer and you control the ship”).



Vila: I’ve got this problem with confined spaces. There’s a medical name for it.
Jenna: Cowardice?

 For some reason the computer room (like the ducting) is shot on film (later the docking tube will be too); I can’t see the reason in this case (in the others, it marks out that texturally they’re close to an “exterior”), although it probably makes Avon’s fight sequence more dramatic and it certainly does the death of Nova (Tom Kelly, who had roles in The Face of Evil, The Sun Makers and The Invasion of Time), in the ducting as it fills with sealing gel.


It’s a mystery how Gan’s inhibiter (unmentioned at this point) inhibits him, since he all but strangles a guard in the attempt to gain control of the ship. Okay, Olag Gan. No... I’ve got nothing. The failure of the take over – dropping his gun when the crew are ordered and saying “I got confused” – really makes Vila too much of a buffoon.


Seven prisoners were killed in the attempted insurrection (so Blake’s doing well on the body count thus far) and Raiker’s free hand to prise Avon, Jenna and Blake out of the sealed computer room results in three more deaths. This gambit (Raiker shoots a prisoner every 30 seconds until they give themselves up) is very Destiny of the Daleks, so I assume that scene in Destiny was not one of the ones written by Douglas Adams.


Raiker is hissably off-the-leash by this point, set to reap an unspeakable revenge on Jenna until Leylon intervenes (“Mr Raiker have you gone completely mad?”) And Leylon facing up to the implication of his allowing Raiker carte blanche (everything will be in the report) means that we continue to be engaged by the plotline involving the crew.


The earlier scene in the computer room sees Blake setting out his agenda, and thus that of the series, so it’s worth noting that he wants to return to Earth and “tear the heart out of the Federation”, putting power back with the honest man. Avon’s disgusted response (“Have you ever seen an honest man?”) and Jenna’s acknowledgement that Blake might be that man gives us the season’s dynamics right there. Avon and Blake have a complete absence of common ground in terms of ideology. (Blake appeals to Avon’s responsibility to his fellow man, but Avon is having none of it; he would steal his 100 million credits and everyone else has the same chance as him.) Indeed, Avon’s pronouncement “Wealth is the only reality” is a particularly chilling ethos in the perspective of the past 30 years of capitalism.

Avon: What a fiasco! Your troops bumble around looking for someone to surrender to and when they’ve succeeded you follow suit.




36 minutes in and this our first sign of the Liberator. It’s a great design, and I’ll big up Pennant Robert’s competence in this episode again. The transfer tube sequence works very well, both as a model sequence and the corresponding interior. Even if the boiler suits and daft helmets of the crew sent on board are on the cheap and cacky side.


The exploration of the abandoned ship precedes the one in 2010: The Year We Make Contact by about seven years. Having the events related only by audio is an especially effective device. The manoeuvring to persuade Blake, Avon and Jenna to go aboard is quite deft, if foolhardy; the promise by the Captain that their sentences will be quashed if they succeed is unlikely to hold much sway as it seems unlikely that he would have the influence to ensure this occurred.  There’s a decent shock effect as mad crewmember Krell bolt from the tunnel, foaming at the mouth, just before the trio enter.


The hallucinations encountered on the bridge are something of a damp squib after that build up, but it’s been such a lean, taut episode that this scarcely matters. I guess the sequence serves to mark out Blake as the alpha male (he resists the images, knowing that his brother is dead). It also suggests that Avon cares about someone (his brother) although this seems somewhat atypical of his later behaviour. Blake’s “It seems I can recognise dreams” in response to Avon’s earlier computer room put-down is a bit pat.


The sequence of Raiker getting sucked into space is another very well executed set piece. I wasn’t quite sure how to read Blake’s “I had a disagreement with Raiker. And then the hatch closed”, directed at Avon. Is it an admonishment, as Avon assumed command, or just a comment on the good timing involved (Blake had just been shot, after all)? Either way, it sets a precedent for the sparring between the two that will often finish episodes.  So it’s off to Cygnus Alpha, to release the rest of the prisoners and “then we can start fighting back”.


Tightly scripted, commandingly performed and directed with accomplishment. This is another first rate episode. Blake is already playing second fiddle to Avon in his own show, as there’s no doubt Darrow knows it’s all about him (even if the producer, writer, script editor and director are not yet aware of this). I’ll probably comment more on this as the season progresses, but the approach to character and event is already marked out as very modern. This is an ongoing story, not one where the characters and plots are reset each week. 

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

She writes Twilight fan fiction.

Vampire Academy (2014)
My willingness to give writer Daniel Waters some slack on the grounds of early glories sometimes pays off (Sex and Death 101) and sometimes, as with this messy and indistinct Young Adult adaptation, it doesn’t. If Vampire Academy plods along as a less than innovative smart-mouthed Buffy rip-off that might be because, if you added vampires to Heathers, you would probably get something not so far from the world of Joss Whedon. Unfortunately inspiration is a low ebb throughout, not helped any by tepid direction from Daniel’s sometimes-reliable brother Mark and a couple of hopelessly plankish leads who do their best to dampen down any wit that occasionally attempts to surface.

I can only presume there’s a never-ending pile of Young Adult fiction poised for big screen failure, all of it comprising multi-novel storylines just begging for a moment in the Sun. Every time an adaptation crashes and burns (and the odds are that they will) another one rises, hydra-like, hoping…

Prepare the Heathen’s Stand! By order of purification!

Apostle (2018)
(SPOILERS) Another week, another undercooked Netflix flick from an undeniably talented director. What’s up with their quality control? Do they have any? Are they so set on attracting an embarrassment of creatives, they give them carte blanche, to hell with whether the results are any good or not? Apostle's an ungainly folk-horror mashup of The Wicker Man (most obviously, but without the remotest trace of that screenplay's finesse) and any cult-centric Brit horror movie you’d care to think of (including Ben Wheatley's, himself an exponent of similar influences-on-sleeve filmmaking with Kill List), taking in tropes from Hammer, torture porn, and pagan lore but revealing nothing much that's different or original beyond them.

You can’t just outsource your entire life.

Tully (2018)
(SPOILERS) A major twist is revealed in the last fifteen minutes of Tully, one I'll happily admit not to have seen coming, but it says something about the movie that it failed to affect my misgivings over the picture up to that point either way. About the worst thing you can say about a twist is that it leaves you shrugging.

There's something wrong with the sky.

Hold the Dark (2018)
(SPOILERS) Hold the Dark, an adaptation of William Giraldi's 2014 novel, is big on atmosphere, as you'd expect from director Jeremy Saulnier (Blue Ruin, Green Room) and actor-now-director (I Don’t Want to Live in This World Anymore) pal Macon Blair (furnishing the screenplay and appearing in one scene), but contrastingly low on satisfying resolutions. Being wilfully oblique can be a winner if you’re entirely sure what you're trying to achieve, but the effect here is rather that it’s "for the sake of it" than purposeful.

No one understands the lonely perfection of my dreams.

Ridley Scott Ridders Ranked
During the '80s, I anticipated few filmmakers' movies more than Ridley Scott's; those of his fellow xenomorph wrangler James Cameron, perhaps. In both cases, that eagerness for something equalling their early efforts receded as they studiously managed to avoid the heights they had once reached. Cameron's output dropped off a cliff after he won an Oscar. Contrastingly, Scott's surged like never before when his film took home gold. Which at least meant he occasionally delivered something interesting, but sadly, it was mostly quantity over quality. Here are the movies Scott has directed in his career thus far - and with his rate of  productivity, another 25 by the time he's 100 may well be feasible – ranked from worst to best.

Well, you did take advantage of a drunken sailor.

Tomb Raider (2018)
(SPOILERS) There's evidently an appetite out there for a decent Tomb Raider movie, given that the lousy 2001 incarnation was successful enough to spawn a (lousy) sequel, and that this lousier reboot, scarcely conceivably, may have attracted enough bums on seats to do likewise. If we're going to distinguish between order of demerits, we could characterise the Angelina Jolie movies as both pretty bad; Tomb Raider, in contrast, is unforgivably tedious.

If you want to have a staring contest with me, you will lose.

Phantom Thread (2017)
(SPOILERS) Perhaps surprisingly not the lowest grossing of last year's Best Picture Oscar nominees (that was Call Me by Your Name) but certainly the one with the least buzz as a genuine contender, subjected as Phantom Thread was to a range of views from masterpiece (the critics) to drudge (a fair selection of general viewers). The mixed reaction wasn’t so very far from Paul Thomas Anderson's earlier The Master, and one suspects the nomination was more to do with the golden glow of Daniel Day-Lewis in his first role in half a decade (and last ever, if he's to be believed) than mass Academy rapture with the picture. Which is ironic, as the relatively unknown Vicky Krieps steals the film from under him.

This is it. This is the moment of my death.

Fearless (1993)
Hollywood tends to make a hash of any exploration of existential or spiritual themes. The urge towards the simplistic, the treacly or the mawkishly uplifting, without appropriate filtering or insight, usually overpowers even the best intentions. Rarely, a movie comes along that makes good on its potential and then, more than likely, it gets completely ignored. Such a fate befell Fearless, Peter Weir’s plane crash survivor-angst film, despite roundly positive critical notices. For some reason audiences were willing to see a rubgy team turn cannibal in Alive, but this was a turn-off? Yet invariably anyone who has seen Fearless speaks of it in glowing terms, and rightly so.

Weir’s pictures are often thematically rich, more anchored by narrative than those of, say, Terrence Malick but similarly preoccupied with big ideas and their expression. He has a rare grasp of poetry, symbolism and the mythic. Weir also displays an acute grasp of the subjective mind-set, and possesses …

My name is Dr. King Schultz, this is my valet, Django, and these are our horses, Fritz, and Tony.

He mobilised the English language and sent it into battle.

Darkest Hour (2017)
(SPOILERS) Watching Joe Wright’s return to the rarefied plane of prestige – and heritage to boot – filmmaking following the execrable folly of the panned Pan, I was struck by the difference an engaged director, one who cares about his characters, makes to material. Only last week, Ridley Scott’s serviceable All the Money in the World made for a pointed illustration of strong material in the hands of someone with no such investment, unless they’re androids. Wright’s dedication to a relatable Winston Churchill ensures that, for the first hour-plus, Darkest Hour is a first-rate affair, a piece of myth-making that barely puts a foot wrong. It has that much in common with Wright’s earlier Word War II tale, Atonement. But then, like Atonement, it comes unstuck.