It was, er, quite a killing. That is the correct term, isn’t it?

The Avengers

4.4: Dial a Deadly Number

Dial a Deadly Number features a number of memorable scenes and abundant witty dialogue, as well as a return by the then-in-everything Peter Bowles, but despite strong direction from series stalwart Don Leaver, it’s difficult to care very much about who’s doing what to whom in Roger Marshall’s teleplay.

The title suggests something Hitchockian, but the reality is more mundane, revolving around the then very contemporary, nay futuristic, use of bleepers, and their corruptibility as a means of murdering company CEOs. That there needs to be a means of conveying the signal to the victim (in whom a heart attack is triggered) leads to a Steed sporting a Chekov’s Pocket Watch, not hitherto known for carrying one; it was bequeathed by an uncle and dented in the battle of the Somme (“German Bullet?” asks Emma. “Canadian mule” replies Steed). Its presence needs to be established in order for it to become a vessel for the signal implanted in a similar item by Fitch (John Carson, Ambril in Snakedance, and also previously in the series in A Chorus of Frogs and Second Sight).

Fitch is perhaps the most memorable villain here, particularly in his desire to do for Emma (“I shall kill you with scientific tenderness, Mrs Peel”). Dissolute.com clearly got excited by this scene, as its plot synopsis describes how he “unzips part of her catsuit and touches her milky breast”. Steady! He’s also part of the second-best scene in the episode, in which Steed arrives, ostensibly unable to open his watch and calling on Fitch’s skills to do so (“Having trouble with my watch… The button’s stuck”) as the latter flees across the room in panic at his prospectively imminent demise.

Harvey: There are two occasions in life when one shouldn’t speculate. When one can afford it, and when one can’t.

Steed: Thanks for the advice.

Harvey: Not mine, Mark Twain.

The best sequence involves wine, however, albeit this aspect isn’t as well-integrated into the plot as in The Secrets Broker (and it wasn’t well integrated there at all, but at least it was a consistent thread). Steed is inveigling himself into the world of stock market investments (the chairmen who died all saw share prices plunge in the aftermath, with a banker in common, although it is his lackey John Harvey (Bowles), rather than Clifford Evans’ Henry Boardman, who is the ringleader), and their elitist methods finds him called upon to partake in the delicate art of wine tasting.

Shot by Leaver in the manner of a western gunfight, Steed and Boardman stand at opposite ends of the cellar giving their take on the plonk in question. Boardman identifies his Latour ’59 immediately (“A hit, a palpable hit”), while Steed takes his time honing his options, before picking a “Chateau Laffite-Rothschild…1909, from the northern end of the vineyard” (Steed may not pass his IQ tests, but he knows his drink).

There’s more cellar action at the climax as Steed emerges from behind a barrel and announces “I just couldn’t stay away. It’s that Chateau Rothschild”. This extends into the alcohol-fuelled coda, with Emma guessing the wine in a manner we could all see coming (“Nose or palette?”: “I read the label”).

Ruth Boardman: I have an appointment with my hairdresser.

Steed: Are you sure?
Ruth Boardman: Certain.

Bowles is on good form as John Harvey, but as with Second Sight, he’s making more of the material than he has on paper. Jan Holden (previously of The Undertakers) is strong as Boardman’s promiscuous missus (“A true gentleman doesn’t know of a lady’s promiscuity” chides Emma when Steed confesses his suspicions).

Steed: What’s the Club Special when it’s at home?

Waiter: Oh, that’s one layer of delicious prawns, one of egg mayonnaise and lightly toasted rye bread. I can recommend it, sir.

Steed: Splendid, at least one of us will enjoy it.

Steed’s ever playing up the sly dog (“Oh, Mr Steed” replies Suzanne – Tina Packer, Anne Travers in The Web of Fear – when he emphasises studying round figures). He’s subject to a decent assassination attempt by bikers in an underground carpark and shows wanton disregard for Mrs Peel’s cover when he greets her at the bank (she professes to be from Barbados and he remarks upon the absence of a tan). And then there's his wonderful menu put-down (above). Most of the episode plays well in individual increments, then, but it falls down somewhat in conveying a compelling plot.

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

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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…

Move away from the jams.

Aladdin (2019)
(SPOILERS) I was never overly enamoured by the early ‘90s renaissance of Disney animation, so the raves over Beauty and the Beast and Aladdin left me fairly unphased. On the plus side, that means I came to this live action version fairly fresh (prince); not quite a whole new world but sufficiently unversed in the legend to appreciate it as its own thing. And for the most part, Aladdin can be considered a moderate success. There may not be a whole lot of competition for that crown (I’d give the prize to Pete’s Dragon, except that it was always part-live action), but this one sits fairly comfortably in the lead.

He made me look the wrong way and I cut off my hand. He could make you look the wrong way and you could lose your whole head.

Moonstruck (1987)
(SPOILERS) Moonstruck has the dubious honour of making it to the ninth spot in Premiere magazine’s 2006 list of the 20 Most Overrated Movies of all Time. There are certainly some valid entries (number one is, however, absurd), but I’m not sure that, despite its box office success and Oscar recognition, the picture has a sufficient profile to be labelled with that adjective. It’s a likeable, lightweight romantic comedy that can boast idiosyncratic casting in a key role, but it simply doesn’t endure quotably or as a classic couple matchup the way the titans of the genre (Annie Hall, When Harry Met Sally) do. Even its magical motif is rather feeble.

Why would I turn into a filing cabinet?

Captain Marvel (2019)
(SPOILERS) All superhero movies are formulaic to a greater or lesser degree. Mostly greater. The key to an actually great one – or just a pretty good one – is making that a virtue, rather than something you’re conscious of limiting the whole exercise. The irony of the last two stand-alone MCU pictures is that, while attempting to bring somewhat down-the-line progressive cachet to the series, they’ve delivered rather pedestrian results. Of course, that didn’t dim Black Panther’s cultural cachet (and what do I know, swathes of people also profess to loving it), and Captain Marvel has hit half a billion in its first few days – it seems that, unless you’re poor unloved Ant-Man, an easy $1bn is the new $700m for the MCU – but neither’s protagonist really made that all-important iconic impact.

Bleach smells like bleach.

Million Dollar Baby (2004)
(SPOILERS) I’d like to be able to say it was beyond me how Clint’s misery-porn fest hoodwinked critics and the Academy alike, leading to his second Best Picture and Director double Oscar win. Such feting would naturally lead you to assume Million Dollar Baby was in the same league as Unforgiven, when it really has more in common with The Mule, only the latter is likeably lightweight and nonchalant in its aspirations. This picture has buckled beneath the burden of self-appointed weighty themes and profound musings, which only serve to highlight how crass and manipulative it is.

You're reading a comic book? What are you, retarded?

Watchmen: The Ultimate Cut (2009)
(SPOILERS) It’s a decade since the holy grail of comic books finally fought through decades of development hell to land on the big screen, via Zach Snyder’s faithful but not faithful enough for the devoted adaptation. Many then held the director’s skills with a much more open mind than they do now – following the ravages he has inflicted on the DCEU – coming as he was off the back of the well-received 300. Many subsequently held that his Watchmen, while visually impressive, had entirely missed the point (not least in some of its stylistic and aesthetic choices). I wouldn’t go that far – indeed, for a director whose bombastic approach is often only a few notches down from Michael Bay (who was, alarmingly, also considered to direct at one point), there are sequences in Watchmen that show tremendous sensitivity – but it’s certainly the case that, even or especially in its Ultimate Cut form and for all the furore the change to the end of the story provoked,…

I’d kill you too, Keanu. I’d kill you just for fun, even if I didn’t have to.

Always Be My Maybe (2019)
(SPOILERS) The pun-tastic title of this Netflix romcom is a fair indication of its affably undemanding attributes. An unapologetic riff on When Harry Met Sally, wherein childhood friends rather than college attendees finally agree the best thing to be is together, it’s resolutely determined to cover no new ground, all the way through to its positive compromise finale. That’s never a barrier to a good romcom, though – at their best, their charm is down to ploughing familiar furrows. Always Be My Maybe’s problem is that, decent comedy performers though the two leads may be – and co-writers with Michael Golamco – you don’t really care whether they get together or not. Which isn’t like When Harry Met Sally at all.

You're always sorry, Charles, and there's always a speech, but nobody cares anymore.

X-Men: Dark Phoenix (2019)
(SPOILERS) To credit its Rotten Tomatoes score (22%), you’d think X-Men: Dark Phoenix was a travesty that besmirched the name of all good and decent (read: MCU proper) superhero movies, or even last week’s underwhelming creature feature (Godzilla: King of Monsters has somehow reached 40%, despite being a lesser beast in every respect). Is the movie’s fate a self-fulfilling prophecy, what with delayed release dates and extensively reported reshoots? Were critics castigating a fait accompli turkey without giving it a chance? That would be presupposing they’re all sheep, though, and in fairness, other supposed write-offs havecome back from such a brink in the past (World War Z). Whatever the feelings of the majority, Dark Phoenix is actually a mostly okay (twelfth) instalment in the X-franchise – it’s exactly what you’d expect from an X-Men movie at this point, one without any real mojo left and a variable cast struggling to pull its weight. The third act is a bi…

They went out of business, because they were too good.

School for Scoundrels (1960)
(SPOILERS) Possibly the pinnacle of Terry-Thomas’ bounder persona, and certainly the one where it’s put to best caddish use, as he gives eternally feckless mug Ian Carmichael a thorough lesson in one-upmanship, only for the latter to turn the tables when he finds himself a tutor. School for Scoundrels is beautifully written (by an uncredited Peter Ustinov and Frank Tarloff), filled with clever set pieces, a fine supporting cast and a really very pretty object of the competing chaps’ affection (Janette Scott), but it’s Terry-Thomas who is the glue that binds this together. And, while I couldn’t say for sure, this might have the highest “Hard cheese” count of any of his films.

Based on Stephen Potter’s 1947’s humorous self-help bestseller (and subsequent series of -manship books) The Theory and Practice of Gamesmanship (or The Art of Winning Games without Actually Cheating), which suggested ungentlemanly methods for besting an opponent in any given field, gam…

I should have mailed it to the Marx Brothers.

Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade (1989)
When your hero(es) ride off into the sunset at the end of a film, it’s usually a pretty clear indication that a line is being drawn under their adventures. Sure, rumours surfaced during the ‘90s of various prospective screenplays for a fourth outing for the whip-cracking archeologist. But I’m dubious anyone really expected it to happen. There seemed to be a natural finality to Last Crusade that made the announcement of his 2007 return nostalgically welcome but otherwise unwarranted. That it turned out so tepid merely seemed like confirmation of what we already knew; Indy’s time was past.

Now In Full Color, with a Happier Ending

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