I think there’s more behind these walls than just a ghost.

The Avengers

4.14: Castle De’ath

A splendidly atmospheric episode from the pen of John Lucarrotti, his last for the show, brought to vivid life by James Hill, his first, Castle De’ath is one of the highlights of the fourth season, incorporating as it does some surefooted misdirection as Jock McSteed and Mrs Peel investigate a death in the loch.

Steed: I think there’s more behind these walls than just a ghost.

Mrs Peel: What are you going to do?

Steed: I’m going fishing.

Mrs Peel: What, in the loch?

Steed: No. In the moat.

The title might suggest Castle De’ath is broader than it is, for while there are liberal does of humour and the scheme itself (“It’s all to do with the price of fish”) doesn’t stand up to much scrutiny (the fish are scant as they’ve been driven to deeper waters by the ultrasonic waves of submarines using the loch for dodgy things), the actual dramatics are played fairly straight, and the characters, while colourful, are neither wacky nor eccentric. The deft balance of elements is emphasised by the teaser scene in which a man is being tortured – on the rack, no less – and the sound of bagpipes drowns out his cries.

Mrs Peel: How do you do, Mr McSteed?

Steed: Everyone calls me “Jock”. How do you do?

Mrs Peel: You don’t have a Scots accent.

Steed: I was carried south by marauding Sassenachs when I was a bairn. But this is my spiritual home.

The duo’s assumption of identities is always good value, on this occasion particularly so. Steed is already installed at the castle upon Emma’s arrival, posing as the aforementioned Jock McSteed, rocking a natty kilt and researching a book on the disgraced thirteenth laird, Black Jamie, who was walled up in the east tower for his treachery and whose ghost still walks the castle, “playing the lament of Glen De’ath on the bagpipes”.

Steed: Isn’t it time we dropped in on the old fella?

Ian De’ath: No.

Steed: He must be lonely.

Ian De’ath: Walled up until doomsday was his sentence and until doomsday he’ll stay there.

Steed seeks the permission of the current laird, Ian De’ath (Gordon Jackson, very much in demand at this juncture, appearing in both The Ipcress File and Those Magnificent Men in Their Flying Machines in the same year), to go fishing in the loch (“Just as long as you’re not one of those aqualung people” Ian tells him; “Water is the fish’s habitat, not mine” Steed replies).

Except that Steed does, of course, end up getting wet. Spied upon by right-hand caber tosser McNab (Jack Lambert), he gets the better of them for a while, pretending to fish behind some foliage while he dives in the moat, but is summarily descended on upon surfacing (or, at least, his stunt double is; he also earns his fee very evidently during the climactic swordplay with Robert Urquhart’s Angus De’ath).

Yes, this is one where all eyes are on the severe and traditional Ian as the instigator of the diabolical plot, but it’s actually his free-spirited brother who’s responsible (although, why Angus is inviting all and sundry to stay if he's trying to keep his scheme a secret is anyone's guess). You might suspect this in a standard story, but we’re so used to The Avengers laying it all out on a plate that the deception works quite successfully.

Steed: (appreciating the portrait of Black Jamie) Fierce looking fellow, isn’t he?

Ian De’ath: You didn’t hear him last night?

Steed: Does he give regular concerts?

One wonders what Lucarotti’s source for spook material was, given that he ascribes as suspicious its erratic activity (“Unusual for a ghost. They usually operate a regular schedule”). Perhaps Steed is an amateur parapsychologist? While the episode doesn’t enter into full-on Scooby Doo territory, there are more than sufficient funhouse trappings, including an iron maiden in the basement with a secret door (that does for Angus during the final chase when it jams) and a four-poster bed with a cement canopy that manages to crush Steed’s bowler but not its intended.

Ian De’ath: You didn’t notice anything? Nothing at all?

Steed: Only the bed. Gave me a touch of claustrophobia. I spent the night in a chair.

Steed is, of course, unstintingly cheerful about the close shave (“They’ve got a spot-on service here. Tried to press my best shirt last night – while I was still wearing it”). Once he is captured and the mechanics of the scheme are revealed, the detail is a little on the superfluous/impenetrable side; as far as I can tell, we’re left to fill in the blanks of what exactly they’re up to with these two-man submarines (as McNab says to Steed “Your guess is as good as mine”; “I should think, slightly better” comes the reply). Steed correctly surmises they can’t’ just shoot him (“But the wee hole would show when they found my corpse in the loch”) and manages to escape his shackles with a lucky ricochet causing the sub pen to flood (“Going rather well”).

Roberton: The duty engineer’s been attacked.

McNab: Attacked?

Roberton: No, not him a woman.

McNab: A woman?

Steed: Bless her.

Mrs Peel is representing ABORCASHAATA, the Advisory Bureau on Refurbishing Castles and Stately Homes as a Tourist Attraction, hired by Angus much to Ian’s disdain. She’s particularly keen on checking out the dungeon, on account of Steed’s titbit (“Did you know that frogman was four inches taller when he was dead than when he was alive? He’d been on the rack”). Which means she gets jumped by heavies the first time (“Lean on me, Mistress Peel, as much as you like” invites Steed, before asking “Was there a rack down there? In good racking order?”)

On the second occasion, she is locked in all night in her nightie, causing Steed to astutely observe “I think we’ve been rumbled”. She also, during the final fight, kills a bad guy with a crossbow bolt. I don’t know: shotguns, crossbows. Mrs Peel’s really rather violent. Talking of which, I don’t think we’re fully clear if Ian dies from taking Angus’ knife to his chest. If so, it seems a little excessive.

Angus: Ay, Ian. You certainly work hard at this canny Scots bit, don’t you?

The episode’s full of lovely little moments, be they atmospheric (Steed noticing the vibrating wine glass during dinner) or amusing. At one point, he’s doing the Highland Fling in his bedroom while Mrs Peel plays miniature bagpipes. Later, or earlier, at breakfast, he’s dubiously contemplating his porridge when Ian advises “You’re right, man. There’s not enough salt on it” before liberally applying the same and offering Steed the cellar. He quickly passes it on to Angus.

It doesn’t look as if Macnee or Rigg got within a hundred miles of Allington Castle, if their conspicuous doubles are any indication, but it makes for a very nice slice of scenery and the seams showing fails to dampen the verve of the proceedings. The “walk-off” is good fun too, in which fishing comes up again. “What, in those clothes?” asks Emma of Steed’s immaculate suit. He promptly drives his – amphibious – car into a nearby loch.

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

Your Mickey Mouse is one big stupid dope!

Enemy Mine (1985) (SPOILERS) The essential dynamic of Enemy Mine – sworn enemies overcome their differences to become firm friends – was a well-ploughed one when it was made, such that it led to TV Tropes assuming, since edited, that it took its title from an existing phrase (Barry Longyear, author of the 1979 novella, made it up, inspired by the 1961 David Niven film The Best of Enemies ). The Film Yearbook Volume 5 opined that that Wolfgang Petersen’s picture “ lacks the gritty sauciness of Hell in the Pacific”; John Boorman’s WWII film stranded Lee Marvin and Toshiro Mifune on a desert island and had them first duking it out before becoming reluctant bedfellows. Perhaps germanely, both movies were box office flops.

No one can be told what the Matrix is. You have to see it for yourself.

The Matrix (1999) (SPOILERS) Twenty years on, and the articles are on the defining nature of The Matrix are piling up, most of them touching on how its world has become a reality, or maybe always was one. At the time, its premise was engaging enough, but it was the sum total of the package that cast a spell – the bullet time, the fashions, the soundtrack, the comic book-as-live-action framing and styling – not to mention it being probably the first movie to embrace and reflect the burgeoning Internet ( Hackers doesn’t really count), and subsequently to really ride the crest of the DVD boom wave. And now? Now it’s still really, really good.

If I do nothing else, I will convince them that Herbert Stempel knows what won the goddam Academy Award for Best goddam Picture of 1955. That’s what I’m going to accomplish.

Quiz Show (1994) (SPOILERS) Quiz Show perfectly encapsulates a certain brand of Best Picture nominee: the staid, respectable, diligent historical episode, a morality tale in response to which the Academy can nod their heads approvingly and discerningly, feeding as it does their own vainglorious self-image about how times and attitudes have changed, in part thanks to their own virtuousness. Robert Redford’s film about the 1950s Twenty-One quiz show scandals is immaculately made, boasts a notable cast and is guided by a strong screenplay from Paul Attanasio (who, on television, had just created the seminal Homicide: Life on the Streets ), but it lacks that something extra that pushes it into truly memorable territory.

Say hello to the Scream Extractor.

Monsters, Inc. (2001) (SPOILERS) I was never the greatest fan of Monsters, Inc. , even before charges began to be levelled regarding its “true” subtext. I didn’t much care for the characters, and I particularly didn’t like the way Pixar’s directors injected their own parenting/ childhood nostalgia into their plots. Something that just seems to go on with their fare ad infinitum. Which means the Pixars I preferred tended to be the Brad Bird ones. You know, the alleged objectivist. Now, though, we learn Pixar has always been about the adrenochrome, so there’s no going back…

All the world will be your enemy, Prince with a Thousand Enemies.

Watership Down (1978) (SPOILERS) I only read Watership Down recently, despite having loved the film from the first, and I was immediately impressed with how faithful, albeit inevitably compacted, Martin Rosen’s adaptation is. It manages to translate the lyrical, mythic and metaphysical qualities of Richard Adams’ novel without succumbing to dumbing down or the urge to cater for a broader or younger audience. It may be true that parents are the ones who get most concerned over the more disturbing elements of the picture but, given the maturity of the content, it remains a surprise that, as with 2001: A Space Odyssey (which may on the face of it seem like an odd bedfellow), this doesn’t garner a PG certificate. As the makers noted, Watership Down is at least in part an Exodus story, but the biblical implications extend beyond Hazel merely leading his fluffle to the titular promised land. There is a prevalent spiritual dimension to this rabbit universe, one very much

Piece by piece, the camel enters the couscous.

The Forgiven (2021) (SPOILERS) By this point, the differences between filmmaker John Michael McDonagh and his younger brother, filmmaker and playwright Martin McDonagh, are fairly clearly established. Both wear badges of irreverence and provocation in their writing, and a willingness to tackle – or take pot-shots – at bigger issues, ones that may find them dangling their toes in hot water. But Martin receives the lion’s share of the critical attention, while John is generally recognised as the slightly lesser light. Sure, some might mistake Seven Psychopaths for a John movie, and Calvary for a Martin one, but there’s a more flagrant sense of attention seeking in John’s work, and concomitantly less substance. The Forgiven is clearly aiming more in the expressly substantial vein of John’s earlier Calvary, but it ultimately bears the same kind of issues in delivery.

Other monks will meet their deaths here. And they too will have blackened fingers. And blackened tongues.

The Name of the Rose (1986) (SPOILERS) Umberto Eco wasn’t awfully impressed by Jean Jacques-Annaud’s adaptation of his novel – or “ palimpsest of Umberto Eco’s novel ” as the opening titles announce – to the extent that he nixed further movie versions of his work. Later, he amended that view, calling it “ a nice movie ”. He also, for balance, labelled The Name of the Rose his worst novel – “ I hate this book and I hope you hate it too ”. Essentially, he was begrudging its renown at the expense of his later “ superior ” novels. I didn’t hate the novel, although I do prefer the movie, probably because I saw it first and it was everything I wanted from a medieval Sherlock Holmes movie set in a monastery and devoted to forbidden books, knowledge and opinions.

He tasks me. He tasks me, and I shall have him.

Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan (1982) (SPOILERS) I don’t love Star Trek , but I do love Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan . That probably isn’t just me, but a common refrain of many a non-devotee of the series. Although, it used to apply to The Voyage Home (the funny one, with the whales, the Star Trek even the target audience for Three Men and a Baby could enjoy). Unfortunately, its high regard has also become the desperate, self-destructive, song-and-verse, be-all-and-end-all of the overlords of the franchise itself, in whichever iteration, it seems. This is understandable to an extent, as Khan is that rare movie sequel made to transcendent effect on almost every level, and one that stands the test of time every bit as well (better, even) as when it was first unveiled.

You ever heard the saying, “Don’t rob the bank across from the diner that has the best donuts in three counties”?

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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.

Now In Full Color, with a Happier Ending

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