Hi there and welcome to Ado's Blog. I am obsessed with nostalgia, especially 1960s & 1970s nostalgia and I enjoy nothing more than reflecting on days and times that have sadly long since gone! So join me, as I take a nostalgic gander down Memory Lane and celebrate all things past and occasional present, both good and bad! (All images used that are copyrighted are copyrighted to their respective publishers and are only used here for review purposes.)
John Wyndham came up with an original alien invasion in his novel The Midwich Cuckoos (1957); Wolf Rilla's film, from a script by the American Stirling Silliphant (who uses a few Yank expressions that should have been changed - 'general store' for 'village shop'), is a low-key dramatisation and all the better for it.
The first half covers the Midwich blackout, so the business with the children - which takes place over years of plot-time - is sometimes a little rushed. There are a lot of secondary characters to cope with and the splendid Barbara Shelley (most caring of the mothers) gets pushed into the background so her scientist husband (George Sanders) can shoulder dramatic weight.
The sleeping village set-up is classic Quatermass stuff - a tractor grinding around in a circle, an iron burning a hole in a dress, a record stuck in a groove, a cow collapsed in a field. Everyone wakes up in convincing embarrassment, which gets odder as the pregnancies are announced, delivering the sort of emotions American s-f films, pitched at kiddies, didn't do in the 1960s: the awkward joy of the Zellabys at an unexpected event, the meek terror of the teenage virgin confessing to a doctor, the mute rage of the sailor home after a year abroad to find his wife knocked up, the quiet solidarity of a pregnant mother and daughter who visit the clinic at the same time.
Once the kids are born, it becomes a monster movie in which the threat is a malign higher intelligence with no moral grounding. What works is the shape the threat comes in: the Midwich Children are the creepiest ever seen on film, with identical blonde wigs (an unsettling effect is achieved by casting real-life brunette kids whose colouring is subtly wrong for their hair) and staring eyes (in some prints, a glowing effect was added). The polite spokesman for the group mind is played by Martin Stephens (also notable as Miles in The Innocents (d. Jack Clayton, 1961)) but dubbed by a grown woman. Rilla hints at the children's human side (they all solve a puzzle box to get chocolates) as well as a malevolence that is scary from an alien but might be even scarier from a human kid (Stephens' flicker of an almost-smile after forcing a motorist to kill himself is one of the nastiest shots in British cinema).
In spread-the-unease form, it ends with one of the first it-may-not-be-over endings (later a genre cliché): the glowing eyes, superimposed over the fire, zap off into the skies, suggesting that killing the kids' bodies may not have wiped out their disembodied intelligence.
Volume 27,No.318,July 1960,page 102
When, for several hours, all life in the village of Midwich comes to a cataleptic stop, the authorities investigate. Two months pass before the implications of that eventful day become apparent, however. Six boys and six girls are born, each with the same flaxen hair and strangely powerful eyes, to women unable to account for their pregnancy. Time passes, and by the age of nine the twelve children are not only intellectual giants, but also seem to have supernatural powers. When two men oppose the children and die in mysterious circumstances, physicist Gordon Zellaby is forced to admit that the children, one of whom was born to his own wife, must in some way be responsible. Realising that there is no limit to the evil power of these children, already planning to spread out and multiply, Zellaby decides that he alone, whom they have come to trust, must be responsible for their destruction. And yet the children have long since proved themselves able to read his mind...
The solution of this excellent adaptation from John Wyndham's The Midwich Cuckoos can be recommended for its ruthless ingenuity, the story is original as these things go and has grip, the village background is pleasing and Wolf Rilla's direction (except for some irksome glimpses of George Sanders' marital bliss) both sharp and discreet. Altogether, in fact, with chillingly effective performances from the children to add to the tension, this is probably the neatest science fiction film yet to have come out of a British studio.
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.
Fawlty Towers has a new chef named Kurt who has been found for them by André, Kurt's culinary trainer and a friend of the Fawltys, just ahead of a gourmet night that Basil, ever eager to attract the upper crust of clientéle in Torquay, is intending to host at the hotel. Kurt has taken a liking to Manuel. Basil, meanwhile, is having trouble with his Austin 1100 Estate car. Despite Sybil's insistence that he take the car to be mended, the miserly Basil tries to fix the car himself. Unfortunately, when the gourmet night arrives, only four people turn up (Colonel and Mrs. Hall, both JPs and Lionel Twitchen, one of Torquay's leading rotarians, along with his wife, Lotte) due to Basil including a "no riff-raff" notice in his advertisement after a rude and pampered boy brands the hotel a "dump" simply because his chips weren't the shape he preferred and they didn't have any salad cream (to which Basil responds by "accidentally" elbowing him in the head and comparing him to "Henry Kissinger"). A party of four, the Coosters, was supposed to be in attendance, but are forced to cancel at the last minute due to one of them getting ill. When Basil learns of this, he snidely remarks "let's hope it's nothing trivial."
As the episode unfolds it is revealed that Kurt is a homosexual alcoholic and his interest in Manuel is actually on a romantic scale, but Manuel, who is straight, is not interested, so Kurt seeks solace in alcohol and ends up drunk to the point of being unable to cook, unbeknownst to Basil, as the dinner guests are arriving.
Basil displays his extreme social awkwardness as he becomes over sensitive to Colonel Hall's introduction to the other guests. The Colonel has a nervous twitch which causes his neck and head to convulse violently. When Fawlty attempts to introduce the two couples he gets hung up on the name of "Lionel Twitchen", so as not to offend the Colonel, and is unable to introduce them, thereby causing maximum embarrassment for himself. Mr Twitchen, upon seeing the Colonel's twitch, realises what has happened and gives his surname as "Twychen'.
Basil is horrified to realise that Kurt passed out, and after he vomited, now doesn't have a chef. Fortunately, André, who was aware of Kurt's alcoholism, is on hand to help Basil. However, as André's restaurant has a restricted availability, the 'gourmet' menu ends up with only three possible dishes for Basil's guests to choose from - all consisting of various forms of duck: Duck with orange, duck with cherries, or 'duck surprise' (duck without oranges or cherries). When Basil is asked what happens if they don't like duck, he responds "If you don't like duck... then you're rather stuck!" (to which Mrs. Hall responds that she loves it).
Basil's attempts to obtain the food are complicated. The first duck is ruined when Basil accidentally drops the tray and Manuel's foot gets lodged in it, so Basil ends up having to ask André for another. The second attempt is hampered by Basil's car, which finally breaks down on his way back with the food; the scene ends with what is arguably one of the most famous sequences: Basil screaming at the car and giving the vehicle fair warning, followed by a "damn good thrashing" with a tree branch after it finally completely refuses to start.
The staff try to stall for time while waiting for Basil to return with the duck: Manuel plays Flamenco tunes on his guitar, Polly sings "I Can't Say No" from the musical Oklahoma!, and Sybil drunkenly recounts an anecdote about "uncle Ted and his crate of brown ale." Basil manages to get back to the hotel on foot and the guests are finally presented with the "duck" which they have so eagerly awaited, only to discover that, due to a mix-up in Andre's kitchen, it has turned into a Bombe Surprise when Basil removes the cloche. Basil is so surprised that he searches through the trifle with his hands to see if there is a hidden duck. When asked to explain this, Basil deadpans "Duck's off, sorry."
Funeral in Berlin was a 1966 British spy film based on the spy novel by Len Deighton. It is the second of three 1960s films starring Michael Caine that followed the characters from the initial film, The IPCRESS File (1965). The third film, made in 1967 was Billion Dollar Brain.
Caine would reprise the role of Harry Palmer three decades later for Bullet to Beijing and Midnight in St Petersburg.
British secret agent Harry Palmer (Michael Caine) is summoned to a meeting with his superior Colonel Ross in London and is informed that he is to be sent to Berlin to arrange the defection of Colonel Stok (Oscar Homolka), a prominent Soviet intelligence officer. Despite his scepticism of the potential defection, Palmer heads to Berlin where he liaises with Johnny Vulkan, an old German friend of his, who runs the Berlin station for British intelligence. Vulkan arranges for Palmer to make a trip to East Berlin to meet Colonel Stok.
Palmer makes a rendezvous with Stok in the East, and finds him eccentric and likeable. Stok explains his reasons for wanting to defect he is growing old, his responsibility to guard a sector of the Berlin Wall has been a failure with a number of recent escapes, and he hopes to be rewarded for his defection with "Colonel's pay for life". He explains that he is an "Old Bolshevik" who stormed the Winter Palace in 1917. Stok calls Palmer "English" and continually tries to catch him out with trick questions. He is impressed with Palmer's answers and tells him he is "not as stupid as he looks". He asks for the defection to be managed by Otto Kreutzman, a West German criminal who has organised a number of recent escapes.
The plan, devised by Kreutzman, is to arrange a burial and bring the Colonel across the border in a coffin. Palmer agrees - meanwhile he again meets the model and unmasks her as a Mossad spy. She reveals she is in Berlin to hunt down a man named Paul Louis Broum - now operating under an alias - who she implies is linked to Palmer's current mission. He is a war criminal who stole millions of pounds of gold during the Second World War.
Kreutzman goes over to the east to supervise the defection personally, as it is such a major and difficult case. Palmer waits with Kreutzman's henchman on the western side of the border to wait for the coffin.
Betrayed by everybody he comes in contact with, Palmer manages to figure out what is going on and escape with his life.
The company was formed from the merger of the Associated Broadcasting Development Company, known as ABDC and under the control of Norman Collins, and the Incorporated Television Programme Company, known as ITC and under the control of Prince Littler and Lew Grade, two Show Business agents.
Both companies had applied for a contract to become one of the new ITV stations. ABDC won the contract but had insufficient money to operate it; ITC failed to win a contract, mainly due to a perceived conflict of interest resulting from the existing business operations of Grade and Littler. By the time of the merger ABDC were well advanced with their plans whilst ITPC planned to operate as an independent producer selling their shows to the new network contractors.
When financial problems hit ABDC the governing body of ITV, the Independent Television Authority invited Grade and Littler to join the ABDC consortium. This provided the money required and put Littler and Grade in real control of the new company, effectively sidelining Collins.
ATV (as ABC at first) began broadcasting in its own right on Saturday 24 September 1955 (after jointly presenting the network's opening night on Thursday 22 September). The name ATV was first seen in London on Saturday 8 October 1955. The company had won two ITV contracts, the weekend contract for London and the Monday–Friday contract for the Midlands. The latter service opened on 17 February 1956, with ABC providing the weekend programmes.
The new company ran into further financial difficulty due to the staggering losses of the first two years of ITV and the start-up costs. The London weekday contractor Associated - Rediffusion shouldered some of ATV's losses and further funding was achieved by selling shares in the company to the Daily Mirror newspaper. The company structure was changed several times until 1966, when ATV and ITC both became subsidiaries of the Associated Communications Corporation (ACC), formed by turning the old structure on its head. This marked the point where Lew Grade advanced from being the greatest influence over the company to taking actual control.
ATV's main impact on the early ITV service was in the field of Variety and Light Entertainment.
In the contract and region changes in 1968, ATV lost the weekend franchise in London to the new London Weekend Television, but its Midlands contract was renewed for the full seven days instead. The weekday/weekend "split-service" ended in the North and Midlands with the 1968 franchise round, continuing only in the London area. At this point the company renamed itself as ATV Network Limited.
In 1969, in readiness for colour broadcasting in the UK, a large new 'state of the art' television studio known as ATV Centre was built off Broad Street, near the centre of Birmingham, to replace the former Alpha Studios in Aston, run in partnership with ABC, the other franchise holder in the region.
The Broad Street site was in use until 1997 although two of the production studios had been 'mothballed' in the early 1990s as demand for production studios fell. The former ATV Centre is currently in the process of being demolished to be replaced by the Arena Central development. The Alpha Tower will survive as it is a listed Building.
A documentary about the Broad Street studios complex has been in production since early 2007. Entitled 'From ATVLand In Colour' (referring to the nickname used on Tiswas, and the building being purpose-built for colour broadcasting), the documentary features presenters, actors, announcers and behind-the-scenes staff talking about their time working in the studios, and the programmes that were made there. Contributors included, Chris Tarrant, Shaw Taylor, Jane Rossington and Bob Carolgees. The documentary series was released by Mace Media Archive for Central Britain on Monday 19th September 2011.
During the 1970s ATV had received much criticism over its lack of local programming, particularly for the east of its region; such critics held that any local shows had a Birmingham-centric focus.
In 1981 the Independent Broadcasting Authority (IBA) decided that ATV's lack of regional programming and production (it had a major studio centre at Elstree in Hertfordshire, a legacy of its London contract and well outside of its Midlands franchise) was hampering the region, so it insisted that the new applicant for the franchise be more clearly based in the region and have separate facilities for the East and West Midlands.
ATV Midlands Limited, a shell company created by ACC solely for the franchise process, applied successfully for the contract. As a condition of its award, ACC was forced to divest itself of 49% of the company, relinquish executive roles, sell its studios in Elstree and rename the company to demonstrate that it was effectively a new business.
ATV stopped broadcasting at 00:34 on 1 January 1982. The new company's name was registered as Central Independent Television plc and the new logo, advertised as being a UFO, appeared six hours later, on 1 January 1982. Central inherited the studios at ATV Centre, Birmingham and ATV Elstree along with land that ATV Midlands had purchased for their new Nottingham studio centre. The new company also maintained control of ATV's news archive and regional programmes, plus programming already in production or being shown at the time of changeover; the rest of the ATV archive was sold on by ACC.
The new contract stipulated an immediate start for separate East and West Midlands facilities. Planning issues delayed construction at the Nottingham site so Central purchased an independent production studio in the city (at Giltbrook) to act as its East Midlands newsroom. Industrial action prevented this centre from being used however, with the new studios ready by the time it was resolved.
In 1983 the Elstree centre was sold to the BBC for an undisclosed sum. In 1984 the East Midlands Television Centre in Lenton Lane, Nottingham was opened by Prime Minister, Margaret Thatcher.
