Imagine a plant that could think... Think!

The Avengers

4.12: Man-Eater of Surrey Green

Most remarked upon for Robert Banks-Stewart having “ripped it off” for 1976 Doctor Who story The Seeds of Doom, although, I’ve never been wholly convinced. Yes, there are significant similarities – an eccentric lady who knows her botany, a wealthy businessman living in a stately home with an affinity for vegetation, an alien plant that takes possession of humans, a very violent henchman and a climax involving a now oversized specimen turning very nasty… Okay, maybe they’re onto something there… – but The Seeds of Doom is really good, while Man-Eater of Surrey Green is just… okay.

Sir Lyle: For all we know, they feel. Perhaps, even think.

And while you’re at it, you might cast your net wider and suggest Robert Holmes was an aficionado of the story, since the “meteorite” (actually a lost astronaut’s ship crashing to Earth) heralding an invasion of the planet is also a large part of Spearhead from Space’s premise. Derek “Ensor/Orac” Farr’s Sir Lyle Petersen is closer to Hibbert than he is Harrison Chase, and he populates his mansion with shop window mannequins for some curious reason. Or even Holmes’ The Time Warrior (alien intelligence snatches and mind-controls scientists for its own nefarious ends). Man-Eater in turn owes a considerable debt to The Quatermass Experiment (Quatermass II was, of course, an influence on several Holmes projects).

Steed: Where does that little beggar come from?

Mrs Peel: Mars.

Steed: Mars?

Mrs Peel: Or even the Moon. Recent photographs show whole areas of vegetation.

The main problem with Man-Eater is that it’s very “straight” and, the spirited performance of Athene Seyler as plant expert Doctor Sheldon aside (although she’s even more fun in Build a Better Mousetrap), none of the characters are very memorable. Which makes its atypicality in The Avengers sphere, more so than the earlier The Cybernauts (also by Philip Levene), closer to doing for science fiction in the show what Warlock did for the supernatural, all the more of a missed opportunity. Man-Eater’s is an unashamedly ‘50s B-movie riff, and Steed and Mrs Peel are more functional than invited to embrace the absurdity of the plot. Of particular note in the poker-faced stakes is that, in The Avengers universe, the Moon is populated with lush foliage, it seems. I suppose at least it isn’t actually an egg. That really would be ridiculous.

Wing Commander Davies: Looks like some sort of mad octopus.

Steed: Well, what was it doing up in the cosmos?

The episode has its roots slightly more under the ground prior to the discovery of the space capsule (“A spaceship lost about a year ago”, 5,000 miles up) and an accompanying (plausibly-designed) expired plant that releases seeds, similar to the common or garden dandelion: “This seed has an embryonic brain. Oh, what a disaster that it was damaged. Imagine a plant that could think... Think!”. We later learn the one that has been rescued and is growing on Sir Lyle’s property (with the help of twenty tonnes of fertiliser) could reach 200 times higher than the Empire State Building and the cover the Earth in a matter of weeks.

Doctor Sheldon: Just imagine the tendrils…

Steed: I’d rather not.

Doctor Sheldon: … racing up for miles.

The plant also has a taste for human flesh, there being only one source of hydrochrome oxidase on the planet (“Yes, this was a man-eating plant. If it had germinated, it would have required us as much as we require green vegetables”. So not at all, if you’re Scottish).

Fortunately, there’s some herbicide – propionic acid – on hand (also The Seeds of Doom’s solution) and the climax is an effective piece of action work from Sidney Havers (his direction of The Cybernauts was also the highlight of that story. Well, aside from John Hollis, naturally) as Steed fails to prevent Doctor Sheldon being dragged off by a tendril while fending off a possessed Mrs Peel (the means of defence against the plant’s sonic signal, hearing aids, isn’t so much heavily signposted in the first scene as beaten around the viewer’s head with a particularly robust root vegetable, leaving them insensible).

Steed: Morning Sunrise. A fully-fledged bloom of delicate russet tints and a haunting bouquet. For you, Mrs Peel.

There are a few noteworthy incidents courtesy of the regulars: Steed looks most uncomfortable at the appetites of Sir Lyle’s Venus flytraps and narrowly escapes a poisonously phallic cactus up the bum.

Mrs Peel rather finally blows away Scorby-like chauffeur Mercer (Joby Blanshard) with a shotgun. Admittedly, he blew someone’s head off earlier, but that’s still a pretty shocking, take-no-prisoners approach. She also gets slapped on the breast by an excited Dr Sheldon, and in response smiles indulgently at her eccentricity.

Sir Lyle: Do you, eh, drink brandy, Mr Steed?

Steed: If you mean, “Am I accustomed to drinking brandy?”, Sir Lyle, the answer is yes. If you mean, “Would I like one now?”, the answer is also yes.

And there’s the occasional witty remark. Emma ripostes "Why not? The plant's only man-eating" when Steed advises her not to lose her hearing aid. Steed, posing as a representative of the Tree Preservation Society, announces to a mannequin, nude but for a garland of leaves, “Come autumn, I hope to see more of you”, enjoys his proffered brandy (“Delicious”). On the debit side, upon demolishing the threat, he informs Mrs Peel “I’m a herbicidal maniac, didn’t you know?” Which is appalling, even for him.

This is the kind of Avengers you’d think was the best ever, if you were seven, so very like The Cybernauts in that regard. Man-Eater of Surrey Green isn’t bad, but it’s quite threadbare, lacking the tension or intrigue exhibited by the better more serious stories or the colourful characterisation of the superior more flamboyant ones. We end with Steed and Mrs Peel on the back of a hay cart discussing a visit to a friend for tea who grows things, including giant creepers that are, fortunately, strictly vegetarian.

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

The Illumi-what-i?

Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness (2022) (SPOILERS) In which Sam Raimi proves that he can stand proudly with the best – or worst – of them as a good little foot soldier of the woke apocalypse. You’d expect the wilfully anarchic – and Republican – Raimi to choke on the woke, but instead, he’s sucked it up, grinned and bore it. Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness is so slavishly a production-line Marvel movie, both in plotting and character, and in nu-Feige progressive sensibilities, there was no chance of Sam staggering out from beneath its suffocating demands with anything more than a few scraps of stylistic flourish intact.

What’s so bad about being small? You’re not going to be small forever.

Innerspace (1987) There’s no doubt that Innerspace is a flawed movie. Joe Dante finds himself pulling in different directions, his instincts for comic subversion tempered by the need to play the romance plot straight. He tacitly acknowledges this on the DVD commentary for the film, where he notes Pauline Kael’s criticism that he was attempting to make a mainstream movie; and he was. But, as ever with Dante, it never quite turns out that way. Whereas his kids’ movies treat their protagonists earnestly, this doesn’t come so naturally with adults. I’m a bona fide devotee of Innerspace , but I can’t help but be conscious of its problems. For the most part Dante papers over the cracks; the movie hits certain keynotes of standard Hollywood prescription scripting. But his sensibility inevitably suffuses it. That, and human cartoon Martin Short (an ideal “leading man” for the director) ensure what is, at first glance just another “ Steven Spielberg Presents ” sci-fi/fantas

This risotto is shmackin’, dude.

Stranger Things Season 4: Part I (SPOILERS) I haven’t had cause, or the urge, to revisit earlier seasons of Stranger Things , but I’m fairly certain my (relatively) positive takes on the first two sequel seasons would adjust down somewhat if I did (a Soviet base under Hawkins? DUMB soft disclosure or not, it’s pretty dumb). In my Season Three review, I called the show “ Netflix’s best-packaged junk food. It knows not to outstay its welcome, doesn’t cause bloat and is disposable in mostly good ways ” I fairly certain the Duffer’s weren’t reading, but it’s as if they decided, as a rebuke, that bloat was the only way to go for Season Four. Hence episodes approaching (or exceeding) twice the standard length. So while the other points – that it wouldn’t stray from its cosy identity and seasons tend to merge in the memory – hold fast, you can feel the ambition of an expansive canvas faltering at the hurdle of Stranger Things ’ essential, curated, nostalgia-appeal inconsequentiality.

Is this supposed to be me? It’s grotesque.

The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent (2022) (SPOILERS) I didn’t hold out much hope for The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent being more than moderately tolerable. Not so much because its relatively untested director and his co-writer are mostly known in the TV sphere (and not so much for anything anyone is raving about). Although, it has to be admitted, the finished movie flourishes a degree of digital flatness typical of small-screen productions (it’s fine, but nothing more). Rather, due to the already over-tapped meta-strain of celebs showing they’re good sports about themselves. When Spike Jonze did it with John Malkovich, it was weird and different. By the time we had JCVD , not so much. And both of them are pre-dated by Arnie in Last Action Hero (“ You brought me nothing but pain ” he is told by Jack Slater). Plus, it isn’t as if Tom Gormican and Kevin Etten have much in the way of an angle on Nic; the movie’s basically there to glorify “him”, give or take a few foibles, do

Whacking. I'm hell at whacking.

Witness (1985) (SPOILERS) Witness saw the advent of a relatively brief period – just over half a decade –during which Harrison Ford was willing to use his star power in an attempt to branch out. The results were mixed, and abruptly concluded when his typically too late to go where Daniel Day Lewis, Dustin Hoffman and Robert De Niro had gone before (with at bare minimum Oscar-nominated results) – but not “ full retard ” – ended in derision with Regarding Henry . He retreated to the world of Tom Clancy, and it’s the point where his cachet began to crumble. There had always been a stolid quality beneath even his more colourful characters, but now it came to the fore. You can see something of that as John Book in Witness – despite his sole Oscar nom, it might be one of Ford’s least interesting performances of the 80s – but it scarcely matters, or that the screenplay (which won) is by turns nostalgic, reactionary, wistful and formulaic, as director Peter Weir, in his Hollywood debu

Are you telling me that I should take my daughter to a witch doctor?

The Exorcist (1973) (SPOILERS) Vast swathes have been written on The Exorcist , duly reflective of its cultural impact. In a significant respect, it’s the first blockbuster – forget Jaws – and also the first of a new kind of special-effects movie. It provoked controversy across all levels of the socio-political spectrum, for explicit content and religious content, both hailed and denounced for the same. William Friedkin, director of William Peter Blatty’s screenplay based on Blatty’s 1971 novel, would have us believe The Exorcist is “ a film about the mystery of faith ”, but it’s evidently much more – and less – than that. There’s a strong argument to be made that movies having the kind of seismic shock on the landscape this one did aren’t simply designed to provoke rumination (or exultation); they’re there to profoundly influence society, even if largely by osmosis, and when one looks at this picture’s architects, such an assessment only gains in credibility.

That, my lad, was a dragon.

The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug (2013) (SPOILERS) It’s alarming how quickly Peter Jackson sabotaged all the goodwill he amassed in the wake of The Lord of the Rings trilogy. A guy who started out directing deliciously deranged homemade horror movies ended up taking home the Oscar for a fantasy movie, of all genres. And then he blew it. He went from a filmmaker whose naysayers were the exception to one whose remaining cheerleaders are considered slightly maladjusted. The Desolation of Smaug recovers some of the territory Jackson has lost over the last decade, but he may be too far-gone to ever regain his crown. Perhaps in years to come The Lord of the Rings trilogy will be seen as an aberration in his filmography. There’s a cartoonishness to the gleeful, twisted anarchy on display in his earlierr work that may be more attuned to the less verimilitudinous aspects of King Kong and The Hobbit s. The exceptions are his female-centric character dramas, Heavenly Creat

Gizmo caca!

Gremlins (1984) I didn’t get to see Gremlins at the cinema. I wanted to, as I had worked myself into a state of great anticipation. There was a six-month gap between its (unseasonal) US release and arrival in the UK, so I had plenty of time to devour clips of cute Gizmo on Film ’84 (the only reason ever to catch Barry Norman was a tantalising glimpse of a much awaited movie, rather than his drab, colourless, reviews) and Gremlins trading cards that came with bubble gum attached (or was it the other way round?). But Gremlins ’ immediate fate for many an eager youngster in Britain was sealed when, after much deliberation, the BBFC granted it a 15 certificate. I had just turned 12, and at that time an attempt to sneak in to see it wouldn’t even have crossed my mind. I’d just have to wait for the video. I didn’t realise it then (because I didn’t know who he was as a filmmaker), but Joe Dante’s irrepressible anarchic wit would have a far stronger effect on me than the un

Twenty dwarves took turns doing handstands on the carpet.

Bugsy (1991) (SPOILERS) Bugsy is very much a Warren Beatty vanity project (aren’t they all, even the ones that don’t seem that way on the surface?), to the extent of his playing a title character a decade and a half younger than him. As such, it makes sense that producer Warren’s choice of director wouldn’t be inclined to overshadow star Warren, but the effect is to end up with a movie that, for all its considerable merits (including a script from James Toback chock full of incident), never really feels quite focussed, that it’s destined to lead anywhere, even if we know where it’s going.

Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls… dyin’ time’s here!

Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome (1985) Time was kind to Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome . As in, it was such a long time since I’d seen the “final chapter” of the trilogy, it had dwindled in my memory to the status of an “alright but not great” sequel. I’d half-expected to have positive things to say along the lines of it being misunderstood, or being able to see what it was trying for but perhaps failing to quite achieve. Instead, I re-discovered a massive turkey that is really a Mad Max movie in name only (appropriately, since Max was an afterthought). This is the kind of picture fans of beloved series tend to loathe; when a favourite character returns but without the qualities or tone that made them adored in the first place (see Indiana Jones in Kingdom of the Crystal Skull , or John McClane in the last two Die Hard s). Thunderdome stinks even more than the methane fuelling Bartertown. I hadn’t been aware of the origins of Thunderdome until recently, mainly because I was

Now In Full Color, with a Happier Ending

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