I must congratulate you on the use of your umbrella.

The Avengers

3.1: Concerto

Terrance Dicks and Malcolm Hulke deliver a run-of-the-mill spy romp, distinguished mainly by how ludicrous the villain’s final gambit is. However, Concerto is somewhat salvaged by a surprisingly fun turn from Nigel Stock as Zalenko, a Russian opposite number to Steed.

It’s a good thing Stock is having a good time, as his accent is pretty pokey. At first, it appears as if Zalenko will merely be a buffoonish incompetent (which wouldn’t be a surprise given Stock’s form, playing Watson to Peter Cushing’s Holmes, a particularly ineffectual Number Six in The Prisoner, and, of course, Mr Pickwick) as Steed mocks his undercover surveillance skills (“Of course, that cycling trip in Germany. The one that took you past all the American bases”), and more so when it appears that, during a drinking session, Steed is getting him sozzled on his own voddie rather than partaking himself (“No, you don’t have to leave yet. I want to tell you a funny story about a funeral”, Zalenko entreats).

Steed: And where did you learn that particular piece of nastiness?

Zalenko: Saturday afternoons, British television. Last time I was here. You should watch.

But when it comes to ensuring the safety of Stefan Veliko (Sandor Eles), “the finest young concert pianist in the world”, he proves surprisingly effective, such that Steed is given to compliment him on his fighting skills (it’s a combined effort on their part), albeit requiring clarification that his manoeuvre was an attempt to disjoint the heavy’s left arm from its socket (the quote above). The episode concludes with the two of them drinking again, and Zalenko reminiscing about old Russia (‘You’re a naughty boy” suggests Steed; “No, no, I was miserable” he quickly protests).

Unfortunately, this is by far the highlight of an otherwise so-so outing. The unlikely scheme involves a series of attempts by the villains to manipulate Veliko into killing the trade minister during highly important talks, and so lousing-up Anglo-Soviet relations. First a woman is found dead in his apartment, and then he’s lured to the Stud Club; he’s photographed exiting the strip joint with a British secret agent (guess who), which is used as rather unlikely leverage by British Cultural Council traitor Peterson (Bernard Brown). This strategy doesn’t bare much scrutiny, hence we concur when Veliko turns the gun on Peterson with “You didn’t really expect me to do it, did you?”

Cathy does some snooping at the BCC, ending up on the receiving end of a game of Russian Roulette from rotten lackey Burns (Geoffrey Colville). Who gets a face full of telephone when Steed comes to her rescue. Mrs Gale is generally rather side-lined, and Steed takes all the best moments, be it being described by Zalenko as a man about town (“his other activities are rather obscure”) or casually reprimanding a secretary who has given his mail to Peterson (“Now, if there are any more letters for me, perhaps you could keep them for me”).

Agree? Disagree? Mildly or vehemently? Let me know in the comments below.

Comments

I think I’m Pablo Picasso!

Venom: Let There Be Carnage (2021) (SPOILERS) I get the impression that, whatever it is stalwart Venom fans want from a Venom movie, this iteration isn’t it. The highlight here for me is absolutely the wacky, love-hate, buddy-movie antics of Tom Hardy and his symbiote alter. That was the best part of the original, before it locked into plot “progression” and teetered towards a climax where one CGI monster with gnarly teeth had at another CGI monster with gnarly teeth. And so it is for Venom: Let There Be Carnage . But cutting quicker to the chase.

These are not soda cans you asked me to get for you.

The Devil’s Own (1997) (SPOILERS) Naturally, a Hollywood movie taking the Troubles as a backdrop is sure to encounter difficulties. It’s the push-pull of wanting to make a big meaningful statement about something weighty, sobering and significant in the real world and bottling it when it comes to the messy intricacies of the same. So inevitably, the results invariably tend to the facile and trite. I’m entirely sure The Devil’s Own would have floundered even if Harrison Ford hadn’t come on board and demanded rewrites, but as it is, the finished movie packs a lot of talent to largely redundant end.

Are you, by any chance, in a trance now, Mr Morrison?

The Doors (1991) (SPOILERS) Oliver Stone’s mammoth, mythologising paean to Jim Morrison is as much about seeing himself in the self-styled, self-destructive rebel figurehead, and I suspect it’s this lack of distance that rather quickly leads to The Doors becoming a turgid bore. It’s strange – people are , you know, films equally so – but I’d hitherto considered the epic opus patchy but worthwhile, a take that disintegrated on this viewing. The picture’s populated with all the stars it could possibly wish for, tremendous visuals (courtesy of DP Robert Richardson) and its director operating at the height of his powers, but his vision, or the incoherence thereof, is the movie’s undoing. The Doors is an indulgent, sprawling mess, with no internal glue to hold it together dramatically. “Jim gets fat and dies” isn’t really a riveting narrative through line.

Maybe the dingo ate your baby.

Seinfeld 2.9: The Stranded The Premise George and Elaine are stranded at a party in Long Island, with a disgruntled hostess.

Fifty medications didn’t work because I’m really a reincarnated Russian blacksmith?

Infinite (2021) (SPOILERS) It’s as if Mark Wahlberg, his lined visage increasingly resembling a perplexed potato, learned nothing from the blank ignominy of his “performances” in previous big-budget sci-fi spectacles Planet of the Apes and, er, Max Payne . And maybe include The Happening in that too ( Transformers doesn’t count, since even all-round reprobate Shia La Boeuf made no visible dent on their appeal either way). As such, pairing him with the blandest of journeyman action directors on Infinite was never going to seem like a sterling idea, particularly with a concept so far removed from of either’s wheelhouse.

I can do in two weeks what you can only wish to do in twenty years.

Wrath of Man (2021) (SPOILERS) Guy Ritchie’s stripped-down remake of Le Convoyeur (or Cash Truck , also the working title for this movie) feels like an intentional acceleration in the opposite direction to 2019’s return-to-form The Gentleman , his best movie in years. Ritchie seems to want to prove he can make a straight thriller, devoid of his characteristic winks, nods, playfulness and outright broad (read: often extremely crude) sense of humour. Even King Arthur: Legend of the Sword has its fair share of laughs. Wrath of Man is determinedly grim, though, almost Jacobean in its doom-laden trajectory, and Ritchie casts his movie accordingly, opting for more restrained performers, less likely to summon more flamboyant reflexes.

Five people make a conspiracy, right?

Snake Eyes (1998) (SPOILERS) The best De Palma movies offer a synthesis of plot and aesthetic, such that the director’s meticulously crafted shots and set pieces are underpinned by a solid foundation. That isn’t to say, however, that there isn’t a sheer pleasure to be had from the simple act of observing, from De Palma movies where there isn’t really a whole lot more than the seduction of sound, image and movement. Snake Eyes has the intention to be both scrupulously written and beautifully composed, coming after a decade when the director was – mostly – exploring his oeuvre more commercially than before, which most often meant working from others’ material. If it ultimately collapses in upon itself, then, it nevertheless delivers a ream of positives in both departments along the way.

I’ll look in Bostock’s pocket.

Doctor Who Revelation of the Daleks Lovely, lovely, lovely. I can quite see why Revelation of the Daleks doesn’t receive the same acclaim as the absurdly – absurdly, because it’s terrible – overrated Remembrance of the Daleks . It is, after all, grim, grisly and exemplifies most of the virtues for which the Saward era is commonly decried. I’d suggest it’s an all-time classic, however, one of the few times 1980s Who gets everything, or nearly everything, right. If it has a fault, besides Eric’s self-prescribed “Kill everyone” remit, it’s that it tries too much. It’s rich, layered and very funny. It has enough material and ideas to go off in about a dozen different directions, which may be why it always felt to me like it was waiting for a trilogy capper.

Madam, the chances of bagging an elephant on the Moon are remote.

First Men in the Moon (1964) (SPOILERS) Ray Harryhausen swaps fantasy for science fiction and stumbles somewhat. The problem with his adaptation of popular eugenicist HG Wells’ 1901 novel isn’t so much that it opts for a quirky storytelling approach over an overtly dramatic one, but that it’s insufficiently dedicated to pursuing that choice. Which means First Men in the Moon , despite a Nigel Kneale screenplay, rather squanders its potential. It does have Lionel Jeffries, though.

I’ve crossed the Atlantic to be reasonable.

Dodsworth (1936) (SPOILERS) Prestige Samuel Goldwyn production – signifiers being attaching a reputable director, often William Wyler, to then-popular plays or classical literature, see also Dead End , Wuthering Heights , The Little Foxes , The Best Years of Our Lives , and earning a Best Picture nomination as a matter of course – that manages to be both engrossing and irritating. Which is to say that, in terms of characterisation, Dodsworth rather shows its years, expecting a level of engagement in the relationship between Sam Dodsworth (Walter Huston) and his wayward, fun-loving wife Fran (Ruth Chatterton) at odds with their unsympathetic behaviour.

Now In Full Color, with a Happier Ending

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