It Always Rains on Sunday (1947)

Robert Hamer's third Ealing film as director is a bleak, claustrophobic melodrama, showing a seamy side of life. Beautifully shot, with film noir-ish touches and a final pursuit sequence up there with the best. What we see is a morally bankrupt microcosm of post-WWII society, where most characters grab what they can, with no regard for anyone else. Lighter moments can be found, mostly surfacing as sarcastic asides.

Very early in the film, and reprised at the end, the locked grilles of Whitechapel Underground station stand indicative of enclosure, of being trapped; whether it be by prison (Swann), domesticity (the Sandigates), the rain (everyone). Escape, even by suicide, is (perhaps) impossible - even the parallel but entirely separate attempts by the two leading characters are doomed to failure.

Tensions between notions of decency, and of family (mainly the Sandigates and the Hyams) permeate the film. There are few 'decent' characters: George (Edward Chapman) is one, as is daughter Doris (Patricia Plunkett), and Ted (Nigel Stock). The Sandigates act like a family, but one which may be on shakey ground once we know that Rose (Googie Withers) isn't the mother of the two daughters, particularly as Rose is the one who, in choosing between George and Tommy Swann (John McCallum), could tear the family to shreds. While it is perhaps too fanciful to suggest the ripping of Vi's (Susan Shaw) smart dress by Rose as they struggle for control of the bedroom door could serve as a metaphor for the tearing apart of the family unit, the skirmish emphasises the problems beneath the surface. The Hyams family, meanwhile, is tested by Morry's (Sydney Tafler) womanising, with its older generation scandalised by Lou's (John Slater) apparent wheeling and dealing.

Apparently, Bethnal Green residents of the time protested at their portrayal (many of the characters are crooks or chancers, and at least one kills), and there were censorship problems. The Cinematograph Exhibitors Association's reviewer declared it "an unsavoury film... with appeal only to those with very broad minds". Despite this it was Ealing's box office hit of the year.

THE

MONTHLY FILM BULLETIN

Published by

THE BRITISH FILM INSTITUTE

Volume 14, No.168, December 1947, page 171

IT ALWAYS RAINS ON SUNDAY (1947)

Drama of an escaped convict. Tommy Swann, who has escaped from Dartmoor, makes his way on a wet Sunday to the Bethnal Green home of Rose Sandigate, with whom he had a love affair some years before, and whom he feels he can trust to help him. Rose has been married for some time to the respectable middle-aged George Sandigate. She naturally cannot take her husband or her two stepdaughters, with whom she is on bad terms, into her confidence, and spends a wretched Sunday of suspense, hiding Tommy in her bedroom. Eventually the convict's presence in the house is discovered by a newspaper reporter; but Tommy escapes, and Rose, in her fear of the results of her complicity, attempts to gas herself, but fails. Tommy is caught eventually after a long chase which culminates in a railway yard.

Though the background of this film is carefully done, and direction and acting good, it is a sordid and dreary affair. Those people who are not spivs or minor crooks have little else to commend them, and the only decent and likable character - apart from the Detective Sergeant, played by Jack Warner - is George Sandigate, who is well portrayed by Edward Chapman. The suspense which one is meant to feel about Tommy Swann is vitiated by the fact that, as played by John McCallum, he is so unpleasant that it would obviously be better to have him back in prison; and the sympathy which might be felt for Googie Withers as Rose is weakened by the bad temper and ill will which she shows to her husband and stepdaughters. It is, perhaps, a pity that thousands of honest cheerful citizens of Bethnal Green could not have had a stronger representation, but for those who like serious portrayals of a section - a very minor section - of East End life it can be recommended. The music is, in places, self-sufficing. But far from harming the musical support of the visual, this circumstance actually contributes to the significance of the film as a whole.

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The Monthly Film Bulletin was published by the British Film Institute between 1934 and 1991. Initially aimed at distributors and exhibitors as well as filmgoers, it carried reviews and details of all UK film releases. In 1991, the Bulletin was absorbed by Sight and Sound magazine.

Rolling Stone Magazine - 1st Edition (1967)

This was the very first edition of Rolling Stone Magazine and was published in November 1967. Having the dubious pleasure of gracing the front cover is John Lennon.

Action Man ( Part Ten) The Boxed Sets

A selection of Action Man Boxed Sets and accessories that date back to the 1960s through to the 1980s.

The 1980s Armoured Jeep

The 1970s Scorpion Tank

The 1970s Pursuit Craft

The 1970s Operations Tent

1970s Escape From Colditz

The Servant (1963)

Adapted from a short story by Robin Maugham, The Servant (1963) was the first of three collaborations between Joseph Losey and Harold Pinter. It was followed by two further quintessentially English films Accident(1967) and The Go-Between (1971).

The Servant is a savage indictment of the English class system, and its waning hold over all aspects of the working and cultural life of Britain. Set almost entirely within the smart new townhouse of foppish aristocrat Tony (James Fox), the film plays out the struggle for power and dominance ignited by his duplicitous manservant Barrett - an energetic and genuinely ominous Dirk Bogarde.

The opening sequence of stark, leafless trees outlined against a cold English sky suggests the clinical austerity of 1960s Britain and hints at the cold manipulations that follow. The first shot of Barrett, leaving Thomas Crapper Sanitary Engineers (presumably his previous workplace), slyly insinuates the theme of the film as the 'flushing away' of the old order. His clipped appearance and punctuality tells us he means business, while the first shot of Tony (a 'businessman') finds him vulnerable, asleep in a chair.

The drama revolves around issues of both class and gender, and the relationship between the two. While Barrett slowly insinuates himself in the house and manipulates his master by slyly rearranging the decor, it is through sex (in the shape of his alluring and sexually permissive 'sister', Vera (Sarah Miles)) that he finally brings about Tony's downfall. The calculating allure of Vera, in contrast to the stuffy, over-bred Susan (Wendy Craig), cuts through the class barriers and brings Tony down to the same level as his servant. Soon the boundaries between master and servant break down, as Tony succumbs to the will of his stronger adversary.

Belonging to an era of filmmaking which for the first time dealt explicitly with issues never before seen on screen, The Servant (in common with many of the contemporary British New Wave) is also artistically ambitious. Several scenes (particularly those between Tony, Barrett and Susan) are seen through the distortion of the big, round, convex mirror which sits on the living room wall, reflecting the unnatural, misformed relationships between the people in the room. Each shot is directed with precision, often framing Susan or Vera between Tony and Barrett, or positioning one of the two men close to the camera while his rival lingers in the background.

THE

MONTHLY FILM BULLETIN

Published by

THE BRITISH FILM INSTITUTE

Volume 30,No.359,December 1963,page 169

SERVANT, THE (1963)

Tony, a rich young man engaged to Susan, takes on a manservant, Barrett. Barrett seizes the opportunity to make Tony's Georgian ruin of a home as elegant inside as out. He becomes indispensable, running not only the house but his spineless employer. Meanwhile Susan's instinctive antagonism to him flares into open war. Barrett deals with the threat by moving in his girl-friend, Vera, as a temporary maid, and passing her off as his sister. Tony is seduced by her. When the truth comes out, Susan leaves, and Tony dismisses Barrett and Vera. The house, and Tony, rapidly deteriorate, so that a "chance" meeting between ex-servant and master in a pub leads quite smoothly to Barrett's reinstatement. But the relationship undergoes a subtle and rapid switch, with Barrett in deliberate and destructive command of a corruptible employer, Susan defeated, Vera hovering in the background, and drugs and orgies a nightly commonplace.

Though by no means perfect, The Servant is Joseph Losey's most impressive film since The Prowler. Significantly, it has the same concentration and economy (Reginald Mills's editing is smoothly elliptical), much the same themes of power, corruption and personality change. Set mostly in a London Georgian house, it is an ambitiously planned comédie noire about class and sex, written by Harold Pinter from a standpoint reminiscent of, though more detached than, Hugh Walpole at his most satanic. The relationship between servant and master, and the double threat of fiancée and maid, occupy the first half, with some brilliantly tart asides involving two aristocratic fossils (Catherine Lacey and Richard Vernon) and the various odd customers, including a bloody-minded Bishop, in an expensive restaurant. Then stealthily, if not always so effectively, the narrative takes on a Faustian dimension. Awkwardly staged seduction and confrontation lead on to sinister farce, with the two men playing hide-and-seek and smashing the staircase ornaments, then to a bloodless orgy rather too unconvincing, too abrupt and posed, to support the atmosphere of a Black Mass which one suspects is being intimated.

One can appreciate what Pinter intends and applaud a great deal of Losey's execution. The writing confirms Pinter as a vivid stylist with a flair for tensely ambiguous dialogue ("I've been keeping an eye on the workmen", Barrett assures Tony; "Have you?" Tony replies, with an air of loaded interest). Losey, for his part, reveals a command of rhythm, visual description and actors which he has never before equalled. Dirk Bogarde gives the performance of his career as the equivocal, catlike Barrett, and James Fox is perfect as the vulnerable golden boy sapped by inbred fatuity. By comparison the two girls are faintly unbelievable (though Wendy Craig is excellent), partly because they have an unjustly large part to play in bridging the gap between the film's two halves.

What is missing, in fact, is the cohesive control, the sure-footed development, of Walpole's multi-layer explorations into sadomasochism together with the more metaphysical elements of satanic destruction. It is perfectly credible that Tony should be reduced to a puppet; less credible when a whole roomful of orgiasts file out sheeplike through the door at Barrett's cursory order. And there are one or two other examples of the higher silliness. One senses a certain arbitrary schematism about the denouement which gives The Servant the air more of artifice than organic growth. Even so, it remains consistently gripping in its imagination and overall tact, and there is less evidence of straining after a tour de force than Losey has ever shown before.

---

The Monthly Film Bulletin was published by the British Film Institute between 1934 and 1991. Initially aimed at distributors and exhibitors as well as filmgoers, it carried reviews and details of all UK film releases. In 1991, the Bulletin was absorbed by Sight and Sound magazine.

Look-In - Space 1999 (1975)

This edition of Look-In was printed back in September 1975 and carried terrific features and picture strips of all your ITV favourites. The Cover and articles below originate from Space 1999.

Basil, a Branch and an Austin 1100!

The limited edition Corgi Austin 1100 Estate Fawlty Towers car was exclusively released by PBS stations in conjunction with the 30th anniversary of Fawlty Towers actually is the correct replica of the car Basil loved to hate.

These highly collectible cars are only available through PBS stations, and the set (pictured above) includes the car, Basil Fawlty figurine, complete with branch, and a numbered Certificate of Authenticity.

The Beatles: With The Beatles (1969)

THE BEATLES With The Beatles (Rare 1969 UK fourth pressing 14-track LP on the black & yellow Parlophone label with 'The Gramophone Co' text but without 'Sold In The UK'. This was one of the last pressings to use the black & yellow label design & is now very hard to find indeed. 1. It Won't Be Long 2. All I've Got To Do 3. All My Loving 4. Don't Bother Me 5. Little Child 6. Till There Was You 7. Please Mr. Postman 8. Roll Over Beethoven 9. Hold Me Tight 10. You Really Got A Hold On Me 11. I Wanna Be Your Man 12. Devil In Her Heart 13. Not A Second Time 14. Money

People Weekly - Sonny & Susie (1975)

This edition of People Weekly published in the US was published back in 1975 and features an interview with Pop Icon, Sonny Bono. You can read the full interview below.

When Cher says I taught her everything she knows, it's true," says Sonny Bono in his 20-room Bel Air mansion. The house is strangely austere and quiet now that Cher has moved a few blocks away into a larger but similar mansion (which, like Bono's, once belonged to Tony Curtis). "But," adds Sonny, her ex-husband and packager, "I did not teach her everything I know."

Curiously, since Cher's ricochet romances post-Bono, America is taking Sonny virtually as seriously and sympathetically as he does himself. He is no longer to be confused with the goofball goombah, the leaning tower of pizza, of the act that once made the Bonos the first family of prime time. Simultaneously, too, Sonny and Cher have helped restore the thrill of marital misadventure to Hollywood where it belongs. So much for Lee Salk, Christina Onassis and Ann Landers.

For months it seemed Sonny was on the skids after Cher walked out of their 10-year union in favor of record executive David Geffen. Worse, perhaps, Sonny got the first crack at a solo flight on the airwaves—and promptly nosedived, only to be put down by the Geffen-orchestrated revival of Cher's own highly successful TV show.

Now, Cher's amorous experiments have revived the dormant Hollywood sport of tag-team marriage. Immediately after their divorce became final, Cher married laid-back rock star Gregg Allman. Nine days later, it was all a "mistake," and she filed for divorce. Then she rushed off to Buffalo to rejoin Allman, who was, according to some accounts, in a "wasted condition." Sonny suspects she will give it one more try. Meanwhile, Cher was a week late reporting back for the season's tapings, and her producer George Schlatter said, "Working with her is just like it used to be with Judy Garland."

Bono meanwhile had been an adoring if moping part-time father to their 6-year-old Chastity. His love life was ultra-dim. Then two months ago along came a stunning 21-year-old model named Susie Coelho whose parents were born in India. Suddenly, it was Bono, the son of a factory worker and a beautician from lower middle-class Inglewood, Calif., and not Cher, whose act was truly together.

Exuberantly affectionate with both his lady and his daughter, Sonny has also maintained a close friendship with Cher, who has relied on him throughout their breakup for counsel and support ($32,000 a month). It is a familiar role for Sonny, 40, who over the years has been father, husband and brother to Cher, now 29. "People don't understand our relationship," he says. "I talk to her all the time. We're closer than anyone will suspect."

Bono has not only helped keep Cher's faculties intact since the breakup, but also worked himself out of his own depression. Last week he shared the bill with Dionne Warwick at the Westbury Music Fair outside New York City, and is now developing a TV sitcom starring himself for ABC. Then, there is Susie. "I feel real good about her. She's the first girl since Cher who contributes to my emotional being. I've been lonely until Susie. Now, I feel strong. I've got some things in the emotional bank."

There was a parental (and at first, Platonic) thread with Cher from the beginning. "Cher was more mature at 16 than she is now. She is getting to do a lot of things that she didn't get to do then," he says. That was in the mid-'60s when Sonny, father of a 5-year-old girl, met Cher, the pouty, but worldly-wise waif who had been perfecting her autograph for stardom since she was 12. After Cher moved in, they developed a complicated arrangement to fool her mother when she visited: "She would take all my clothes and throw them out the window, onto her friend's patio. It was really a bore, collecting them," he says.

Soon they were ooh-ing and ah-ing in producer Phil Spector's studios as backup vocalists, the prelude to their monstrously lucrative string of hits written by Sonny on shirt cardboards and beginning in 1965 with I Got You, Babe. But by the late '60s acid rock had drowned out their two-part harmonic whine, and Sonny guided them into two trite movies—and massive debt. ("I never let Cher know we were in trouble. I took out a loan on our furniture. I was borrowing money from our chauffeur.") He was "sure she was a star" and convinced her to go on the road with him, developing the rapid-fire put-down repartee that led to Las Vegas and, then, to their TV hegemony in 1971.

"Cher wants me to do her show now, but it would have to be part of an overall settlement," he says. One obstacle is the $24-million suit Sonny has brought against Cher and her ex-Svengali, Geffen, whom he charges with inducing an impressionable Cher to break her contract with Sonny. "I can't fight with her on one front and perform with her on the other."

Yet Sonny adds, "I wish her well, I really do. Our 10 years were the happiest of my life. I don't regret a moment of it. I love her. I ate, lived, breathed the three of us. But I understand when something is over, it's over." The phone rings through the empty house in Bel Air. Chastity races from Sonny's lap and picks up the phone. It is Cher in New York. "She always calls when she's in trouble," he says, hitching up his pants before answering. "She always calls."

It's a Knockout - 1976

It's a Knockout returned to screens in 1976 and this edition of the Radio Times, 14th - 21st May carried the above article.

The above article is taken from the Radio Times, 7th - 13th August.

This article is taken from the Radio Times, 25th September - 1st October.

1967 General Electric

1967 General Electric Soft White Light Bulbs original vintage advertisement. With celebrity endorsement by Mr. Magoo. Illustrated in vivid color.

Randall & Hopkirk (Deceased) - Episode Thirteen: But What A Sweet Little Room

"But What a Sweet Little Room" is the thirteenth episode of the classic ITC series, Randall & Hopkirk (Deceased) that starred Mike Pratt, Kenneth Cope and Annette Andre. The episode was first broadcast on 14 December 1969 on ITV and was Directed by Roy Ward Baker.

Jeff investigates the disappearance of a wealthy young woman's aunt. When she too is killed he is led to the regular meetings of a medium, Madame Hanska, and uses Jeannie as a decoy to foil a thieving operation in which a gang of three middle class men murder and rob rich middle aged widows by taking them on an apparently innocent excursion to a cottage in the county.

In this episode Marty contacts a phony psychic medium who claims to be able to contact the dead husbands and wives of well heeled middle aged widows and widowers. To the fake medium's extreme surprise he is then able to materialise as a ghost in front of her (the first real ghost she has ever seen in her long career) and gets her to confess to receiving money from the gang of three middle class men in return for setting up seances at which they target wealthy widows and lure them to their deaths. She shows a genuine sense of fear and remorse over her wrong-doing when confronted by Marty the ghost.

This is a particularly macabre episode (very different from the almost slapstick comedic atmosphere of The Ghost of Monte Carlo) with the sudden unexpected grisly death of the widow in and air-tight toom, initially masquerading as a delightful cottage drawing room or study (the room that gives its name to the episode title), shown in graphic detail at the start of the program. Only later on in the episode does it become clear why such a bizarre and elaborate means of murdering the widows has been constructed by the script writers when Jeff is also nearly gassed to death in the same room only to be saved at the last moment with Marty's usual spiritual assistance.

Elvis at the Cow Palace, San Fransisco: November 28th 1976

Cow Palace (originally California State Livestock Pavilion) is an indoor arena, in Daly City, California, situated on the city's border with neighboring San Fransisco. The 28th November 1976 and the King of Rock himself, Elvis, played to a sell out crowd.