Voodoo kudos: 40 years of Live And Let Die
Harlem shufflers: Roger Moore with tarot-card-dependent dastardlies – l to r – Julius W Harris (Tee Hee), Geoffrey Holder (Baron Samedi), Yaphet Kotto (Dr Kananga) and Earl Jolly Brown (Whisper), plus Jane Seymour (Solitaire), of course, in a rare cast-group publicity shot
A few days ago on this blog it was Octopussy‘s (1983) turn, of course, but, on the occasion of its 40th birthday, what do you get the movie that really has everything (Sir Rog making his Bondian bow; speedboat chases on the bayou; London buses losing their roofs; claw-armed hoodlums; supernatural foes rising from their sepulchres; a classic rocking theme tune; and, yes, Jane Seymour)? What, indeed. But how about this – a musical, behind-the-scenes picture- and clip-toting, fact- and dialogue-quoting tribute of a blog post? Well, that sounds just the (San Moniquian bus) ticket to me.
In which case, here it is, peeps, George’s Journal‘s nod (while wearing the hat belonging to a short man of limited means who lost a fight with a chicken, er, yes) to the one, the only Live And Let Die – or ‘The ‘Die’, as this most unique, enduringly popular and eternally terrific of Eon efforts tends to be called around these parts. For, yes, it was 40 years ago this month when the funk-tastic eighth Bond flick hit British cinema screens and brought all things 007 crashing into the ’70s. Cue Macca and his Wings then…
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CLICK on the images for full-size/ description
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Did you know?
The owner of the Louisiana crocodile farm that was used as a location in the film was one Ross Kananga, whom with great disregard for his own safety, attempted take-after-take of Bond’s crocodile-jump stunt (see clip below) before the perfect effort – involving the crocs being tied down beneath the water – was captured. For his efforts, producers Albert R ‘Cubby’ Broccoli and Harry Saltzman named the villain after him (Dr Kananga)
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Cab Driver: “You know where you’re going?”
Bond: “Uptown, I believe”
Cab Driver: “Uptown? You headed into Harlem, man!”
Bond: “Well, you just keep on the tail of that jukebox and there’s an extra twenty in it for you”
Cab Driver: “Hey, man, for twenty bucks, I’ll take you to a Ku Klux Klan cook-out!”
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Did you know?
On first hearing it, producer Harry Saltzman assumed the final cut of Paul McCartney and Wings’ rocking title theme was a rough demo; unsurprisingly then, he hated it. His intuitions were all wrong though, as the tune went on to hit #2 in the US charts and earned both Oscar and Grammy nominations
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Solitaire: “Is there any time before we go, for [lovers’] lesson number three?”
Bond: “Absolutely. There’s no sense in going off half-cocked”
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Did you know?
Broccoli and Saltzman originally toyed with the idea of casting Diana Ross as tarot-card-reading totty Solitaire, before they reverted back to the character’s model in the book, an elegant white English beauty, in casting Jane Seymour in the role. Also, owing to M actor Bernard Lee suffering from ill-health, Reach For The Sky (1956) screen-star Kenneth More was being lined-up as a stand-in; since he made his debut in From Russia With Love (1963) this is the only Bond film in which Desmond Llewellyn (Q) didn’t appear until his death in early 2000
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Further reading:
See George’s Journal’s further behind-the-scenes and other images from Live And Let Die here
Read George’s Journal’s review of Live And Let Die here
Read George’s Journal’s take on why Live And Let Die is one of the ultimate movies of the ’70s here
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Lost in La-la-land? a mid-’70s Rod Stewart poses with then squeeze and movie star Britt Ekland (plus an obligatory football) on the diving board of his Los Angeles home’s swimming pool
The trouble with Rod Stewart, and has been for decades now, is that he comes with baggage. All right, all major pop/ rock artists come with baggage, but Rod’s is so large it’d fill the baggage hold of a Boeing 747 all on its own. For more than 30 years now, he has in too many critical circles and with too many music listeners been a byword for ill-judged on- and off-stage excess; seemingly a bloated parody of himself, whose dating of and marriages to a string of beautiful, leggy blondes and siring a brood of sprogs (a veritable transatlantic Stewart clan of his own) has overshadowed the talent he possesses. But, as Rod Stewart: Can’t Stop Me Now (the latest in the Alan Yentob-fronted imagine… strand of arts films for BBC1) highlights, and reminded me, that obfuscates the truth about old Rod.
Indeed, it’s very easy to dislike and dismiss Stewart. An almost Cliff Richard-like ‘Peter Pan of rock’ he’s played up to a laddish persona ever since he properly established it in the early ’70s as the Faces frontman, alongside several-year partner-in-crime guitarist Ronnie Wood, having alienated too many casual fans when he jet-set off to Los Angeles in the mid-’70s after the Faces’ demise and set up house with one of the most glamorous girls on the planet Britt Ekland, losing his cheeky, charming wag tag overnight as he became rock’s enfant terrible releasing MOR-tastic mediocre pop tat.
It wasn’t always that way, of course. Sensibly, Can’t Stop Me Now starts at the beginning, detailing at first Rod’s rise from the youngest sibling of a shopkeeper in post-war North London to a member of jazz/ blues scene pioneer Long John Baldry’s band. Before this early breakthrough, though, the green Rod dabbled with football (a mainstay past-time for life, much like his highly unfashionable love of model railways and much more fashionable love of appealing fillies), then being a Beatnik – he attended CND marches, but that seems to be where any active interest in politics ended – before he made the move to Mod-dom and was discovered by Baldry while busking on a Tube train; the latter almost mistaking him for a tramp.
Although, thanks to impressively copious archive Beeb footage, presumably gleaned from a mid-’60s docu of which he was the subject, Rod ploughed all his modest earnings of this period in to a post office savings account, because he mum told him to. And, like a good boy, he always did what his mum told him to – Yentob happily returns time and again to the theme of family’s perpetual importance to Rod, despite his subject’s departure for LA pretty early on in the story, where he still lives for nine months of the year today.
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Yentob’s film’s unquestionably at its best when interesting itself in Stewart’s actual talent. It first does so when addressing his time with Baldry’s evolving jazz/ blues outfit, with whom he achieved small-time notoriety as a red-hot singer obsessed with late ’50s/ early ’60s black soul as he impressively belted out the blues for Baldry’s band (and cutting 1964’s non-charting Good Morning Little Schoolgirl). Here it focuses on the excitement first generated by Rod’s genuine gift – that voice. To listen to a young Rod is to be instantly reminded of contemporary late ’60s talent Joe Cocker; both their blues-applied vocals being full of power, passion and brilliance.
This is most obvious, of course, on the acclaimed Truth (1968), the debut LP of Stewart’s next band, the legendary Jeff Beck Group; Beck’s immediate post-Yardbirds project that saw Rod team up with mate Ronnie Wood for the first time. Truth is an awesome album, Beck’s and Wood’s guitar work at times innovative genius and Rod’s voice absolutely never better than on tracks such as You Shook Me, Morning Dew, Blues Deluxe and Shapes Of Things (listen to the latter in the clip above).
However, Stewart and Wood – the latter joining the former for a combo-interview with Yentob – reveal that the group, despite acknowledging they cut a swathe across the US on a Stateside tour (of which their opening gig was a daunting date at New York’s notorious Filmore East hippie stronghold) and pre-empted heavy metal by massively inspiring the soon-to-be-formed Led Zeppelin, was undermined by poor management. A foreshadow of the band’s demise surely being that they half-inched food from London greasy spoons as they were only occasionally paid.
Wood was the first to leave the band and Stewart soon followed his pal – to the entity that grew out of the embers of Mod leaders The Small Faces (following singer Steve Marriott’s tragic death from a house fire owing to smoking in bed), namely the Faces. By Rod’s own admission, this band was a bunch of yobs, suiting him down to the ground. But while their forever affectionate place in rock fans’ hearts is deserved for their off-stage antics mirroring those on-stage (audiences were invited both on to the stage during gigs and back to their hotel rooms afterwards), their legendary status is deserved for their taking the early ’70s rock scene by the scruff of the neck and, in an era of singer-songwriter and prog-rock navel-gazing, ensuring it rocked again in garish outfits and with marvellous tunes such as Cindy Incidentally (1973) and their anthem Stay With Me (1971) – the latter supposedly written by Wood (music) and Stewart (lyrics) backstage one night.
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Forever Faces: Ronnie Wood strums and Stewart plays along before a Chez Rod interview
Despite what may have been said and written over the years, here (from the horse’s mouth himself) we learn it was Wood once again who jumped first, replacing Mick Taylor at short notice in The Rolling Stones and leading every Face (including Rod himself, reluctantly apparently; he’d have remained in the Faces ‘forever’) to conclude that Stewart’s trajectory was ultimately as a solo artist. After all, by ’75 he’d released three hugely successful albums, which had spawned all-time classics Maggie May (1971’s chart-topping sensation on both sides of the pond) and You Wear It Well and Handbags And Gladrags (both 1972).
From here, of course, it arguably went tits-up – at least quality-wise. Rod may now have been on his way to becoming the richest Celtic fan in the world, but his LA-based alienation from his Faces-fed adoring Brit fans and pairing off with Britt not only saw him take on the guise he’s stubbornly, nay self-satisfyingly, filled for 30-odd years, but also release some truly crap music. The two surely can’t be a coincidence. He may have learnt a great deal from the switched-on, experienced Ekland (as he thoughtfully admits in the film), but output such as the rightly derided Sailing (1975) and Tonight’s The Night (Gonna Be Alright) (1976) really shouldn’t be allowed to be excused by a cheeky grin or a cheap mug at the documentary’s camera.
While this period of his career could be said to be saved by the rare quality of the self-penned likes of The Killing Of Georgie (Part I and II) (1976) – revealed to be about the sad early death of a Faces-era friend – and I Don’t Wanna Talk About It (1976), it did lead for better or worse into Rod’s truly-don’t-give-a-sh*t late ’70s/ early ’80s period that spewed out the admittedly far from serious, but irritatingly half-arsed Hot Legs (1977) and Da Ya Think I’m Sexy (1978) (see video clip below).
The latter hit, as Yentob points out, proved to be the effort that broke the camel’s back, or to be more precise pushed the camp self-parody too far, its video’s over-featuring of Rod’s leather-trousered-posterior being unforgettably lampooned, as it was, by Kenny Everett on primetime TV. As Stewart fan ‘Whispering’ Bob Harris (oddly then) delightfully recalls, Stewart’s reputation would never be the same again.
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Much of the rest of the film focuses on Rod’s post-millennial career – a resurgence sales-wise certainly, with his ‘American Songbook’ series of albums pulling in the moolah big-time, of course, even if they’ve received a (rightly) lukewarm response from the critics, while his latest album Time, his first self-penned record in decades and from one of whose songs the film takes its title, is his first chart-topper since the ’70s. Rod’s a very happy bunny nowadays, it seems; selling music, having kids again with current leggy blonde wife, the smart, beautiful photographer Penny Lancaster, and holding soccer matches for extended family and friends whenever he returns to his Essex pile with its full-sized football pitch.
One must surely ask then, why does Yentob not probe a little more into Rod’s darker or less revered moments? It’s interesting to learn his separation and eventual divorce from New Zealand model Rachel Hunter in the early ’00s after several years of marriage sent him into a genuine depression; out of discretion the host doesn’t go further on the subject. Fair enough. But then, this time out of courtesy to his interviewee, he doesn’t ask more about the mutually agreed ‘lost period’ of Stewart’s career – the ’80s.
Adrift with banal pop tunes and videos of models in bikinis around swimming pools, this was clearly his creative nadir (even though it did produce 1981’s marvellous Young Turks), but why? What was the deal? Was he simply focusing too much on marrying, dating and cheating on women? Or was anything else going on? We don’t find out. Instead, we learn everything recovered nicely by ’89 in the shape of the covering of Tom Waites’ Downtown Train – the hits and, thus, Rod was back for good.
Criticisms aside, though, this film works because it gives us two significant reasons why Rod Stewart still matters; why anyone should still give two hoots about him. First, he once had an amazing voice amazingly applied with Long John Baldry, The Jeff Beck Group and the Faces, playing a pivotal role then in rock music’s development at a critical time, and second, like it or not, after 50-ish years he’s still here, properly doing his thing. Da ya still think he’s sexy? Probably not , but like The Stones, he’s still hanging around and is thus hard to ignore – and surely shouldn’t be.
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For a short time, you can watch imagine… Rod Stewart: Can’t Stop Me Now on the BBC iPlayer here (UK and Northern Ireland only)
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From Surrey with love ~ Catching Bullets: Memoirs Of A Bond Fan/ Mark O’Connell (Review)
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Author: Mark O’Connell
Year: 2012
Publisher: Splendid Books
ISBN-10: 0956950574/ ISBN-13: 978-0956950574
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Ah yes, those Bond fans of you out there (of which I know there’s one or two), will be only too aware that a certain 007 opus, 1983’s Octopussy, no less – the India-cum-circus-cum-Cold-War-cornucopia – has just celebrated it’s 30th anniversary. In which case, George’s Journal is marking the occasion by putting up yours truly’s review of this most excellent book, which this scribe first had published on foremost 007 website mi6-hq.com last year. Why post it on one’s own blog right now in the name of Octopussy, though? Well, that flick is undoubtedly the Bond movie that started it all for the book’s author Mark O’Connell, as if you read his terrific tome, you’d only too happily discover…
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Many James Bond fans like to make claims about genuine connections they have with their cinematic idol – for instance, I got enormously excited around the age of 10 when rumour had it Roger Moore was moving into a house in the posh country lane down the road from me. As it goes, this claim of mine is rather rubbish, as Sir Rog never moved in. Mark O’Connell’s, however, is much better; in fact, it’s a king of such claims, as his grandfather Jimmy was for several decades chauffer to the man behind the cinematic Bond himself, Albert R ‘Cubby’ Broccoli.
It’s this happy coincidence for O’Connell the enormous Bond fan that’s the spur to his writing Catching Bullets: Memoirs of a Bond Fan (in addition to him being an enormous Bond fan, of course). Principally a memoir of his first encounters with each of the official 22 Bond films – each of them being a ‘bullet’ he originally ‘caught’ at different ages either at the cinema, on video or on TV – this book ends up being much more. It’s almost a pseudo-autobiography filtered through different aspects of his life, as an ‘80s Surrey schoolboy through to becoming a successful TV comedy writer, that coincided with and are related to those important Bond experiences (every Bond fan knows their interest/ obsession tends to affect almost every other aspect of their life at some point, whether they like it or not).
Extremely witty, nicely dry but also very warm when it comes to the world of Bond (especially that of Roger Moore and, in particular, 1985’s A View To A Kill and 1983’s Octopussy), this is a nostalgia-fest of a fess-up to 007 fandom. It’s chock-full of anecdotes of Bond-esque-themed children’s parties, visits to the local petrol station to get a Bond fix on VHS when that Bank Holiday’s just too far away to wait for telly’s next Moore or Connery offering, and the despair of not being able to purchase the latest TV Times magazine while on Cubs camp just to marvel at its coverage of ITV’s next Bond film.
It’s a tale then of a life as a Bond fan lived, with all its glorious highs and (semi-)disastrous lows, with which any and every 007 enthusiast will surely identify – from making a childhood pilgrimage to an abandoned Sussex mine just because it was a Bond location for five minutes to delicate negotiations with a partner to mount a framed Bond film poster in pride of place in the lounge; from naughtily getting in to see the ‘15’-rated Licence To Kill as a mere 13-year-old to ripping an adored, ruined-forever A View To A Kill t-shirt passed along by a kindly grandfather employed by Eon Productions themselves.
Indeed, the presence of grandfather Jimmy throughout makes for an intriguing link between O’Connell’s fanboy existence and the fantasy factory that was the Pinewood Studios-ensconced Cubby and his fellow filmmakers. Something that at times has afforded the lucky but very humble O’Connell more than just passed-on Bond memorabilia. But what exactly? Well, why not let Mark O’Connell tell you himself by catching Catching Bullets – the tale of being a Bond fan by a Bond fan that surely no Bond fan should be without.
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You can purchase Catching Bullets: Memoirs Of A Bond Fan here
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Further reading:
Read George’s Journal‘s review of Octopussy here
See George’s Journal‘s Octopussy image collection (including behind-the-scenes pictures) here
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Playlist: Listen, my friends! ~ July 2013
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In the words of Moby Grape… listen, my friends! Yes, it’s the (hopefully) monthly playlist presented by George’s Journal just for you good people.
There may be one or two classics to be found here dotted in among different tunes you’re unfamiliar with or have never heard before – or, of course, you may’ve heard them all before. All the same, why not sit back, listen away and enjoy…
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CLICK on the song titles to hear them
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Kathy Kirby ~ Secret Love (1963)
Strawberry Alarm Clock ~ Incense And Peppermints (1967)1
The Byrds ~ Jesus Is Just Alright (1970)2
Seals & Croft ~ Summer Breeze (1972)
Eumir Deodato ~ Also Sprach Zarathustra (1972)3
Lou Reed ~ Satellite Of Love (1972)4
Alfred Bradley ~ Theme from Paddington (1975)5
The Bellamy Brothers ~ Let Your Love Flow (1976)
Clare Torry ~ Love Is Like A Butterfly (1978)6
Ed Welch ~ Quiz Wizzard – theme from Blockbusters (1983-93)
Glenn & Chris (aka Glenn Hoddle and Chris Waddle) ~ Diamond Lights (1987)7
Go West ~ The King Of Wishful Thinking (1990)8
Enya ~ Book Of Days (1992)9
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1 A US #1 back in the day and featuring (along with two other songs from the album with which it shares its name) in the film Psych-Out (1968), it was also performed by the band themselves in the cult classic flick Beyond The Valley Of The Dolls (1970) and more recently featured in Austin Powers: International Man Of Mystery (1997)
2 As performed live at Manhattan’s legendary Fillmore East venue on September 23 1970
3 Legendary Brazilian jazz crossover artist Deodata’s take on Richard Strauss’s 1896 symphonic poem which is, of course, synonymous with Stanley Kubrick’s sci-fi epic 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968)
4 As memorably referenced by characters in the film Adventureland (2007); David Bowie, whom along with his regular ’70s collaborator Mick Ronson, produced the album Transformer on which this tune appeared, performed backing vocals
5 This is actually the first episode (featuring the intro theme) of Ivor Wood’s much loved stop-motion animated series adapted from Michael Bond’s Paddington Bear books and narrated by Michael Hordern
6 The opening and closing theme (originally a hit written and performed by Dolly Parton) from the classic middle-class existential angst-ridden BBC sitcom Butterflies (1978-83) starring Wendy Craig, Geoffrey Palmer and Nicholas Lyndhurst; a few years before she recorded this effort, Torry provided soaring (wordless) backing vocals on The Great Gig In The Sky, track five on Pink Floyd’s seminal album The Dark Side Of The Moon (1973)
7 The infamous Top Of The Pops performance by then England and Tottenham Hotspur midfield maestros Hoddle and Waddle of their highly improbable UK #12 charter
8 As featured on the soundtrack of the Julia Roberts-starmaking blockbuster romcom Pretty Woman (1990)
9 The song that plays over the end credits of the Tom Cruise/ Nicole Kidman-headlined Far And Away (1992), clips from which appear in this rather impressive video
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A switch in time: The Doctor desperately attempts to change history by destroying genius scientist Davros’s horrific creation the Daleks before they’ve been unleashed on the universe
There are few things more synonymous with Doctor Who than Daleks and in early spring ’75 the show gave its avid fans what would become its – and their – ultimate Dalek serial. Many reasons explain why Genesis Of The Daleks is one of the essential stories in the show’s thus far 50-year-run (they’re detailed below), but as far as Dalek stories go, it’s got to be, and thus is, the one to be selected here as the latest in this blog’s selection of posts that peer at, closely examine, poke at and find any weaknesses (if any) in single great Who serials of old. Davros would be so proud…
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Doctor: Tom Baker (The Fourth Doctor)
Companions: Elisabeth Sladen (Sarah Jane Smith); Ian Marter (Dr Harry Sullivan)
Villains: Michael Wisher (Davros); Peter Miles (Nyder); John Scott Martin, Cy Town and Keith Ashley (Daleks – voices: Roy Skelton and Michael Wisher)
Allies: Harriet Philpin (Bettan); Stephen Yardley (Sevrin); James Garbutt (Ronson); Dennis Chinnery (Gharman)
Writer: Terry Nation
Producer: Philip Hinchcliffe
Script Editor: Robert Holmes
Director: David Maloney
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Season: 12 (fourth of five serials – six 25-minute-long episodes)
Total average viewers: 9.6 million
Original broadcast dates: March 8-April 12 1975 (weekly)
Previous serial: The Sontaran Experiment
Next serial: Revenge Of The Cybermen
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Following a confrontation with a scouting Sontaran on a thousands-of-years-in-the-future Earth, The Doctor and his companions Sarah Jane Smith and Dr Harry Sullivan attempt to return to Nerva Beacon, the spacestation from whence they’ve come, but soon discover they’re mysteriously on an alien planet. In fact, before he vanishes from view, a senior Time Lord informs The Doctor that his people have effectively kidnapped the trio so they might put an end to the Daleks once and for all by preventing the giant pepper-pots’ creation in the first place. For, diverted by the Time Lords, The Doc, Sarah and Harry are actually on the war-ravaged, desolate planet Skaro – the home-world-to-be of the Daleks; presently the scene of a centuries-long conflict between its two humanoid races, the Kaleds and the Thals.
Swiftly, after just about preventing the setting-off of a land-mine, the three take refuge from the wasteland in a bunker, where they endure a gas attack that leaves Sarah unconscious and sees The Doc and Harry dragged by black-uniformed soldiers down into an underground hideout. Brought before a General Ravon, the duo learn they are in the subterranean military HQ of the Kaleds and they themselves are mistaken by Ravon (an easily excitable polemicist) for ‘Mutos’, semi-humans whom are descendants of Kaleds mutated by chemical weapons early on in the war and cast out by the Kaleds to preserve their racial purity. The Time Lord and the human attempt to escape, despite the confiscation of the Time Ring (the time-travelling device afforded The Doctor so he and his companions can leave Skaro and return to the TARDIS), but are quickly recaptured by Nyder, the Kaleds’ security commander (whom seems even more unyielding than Ravon); the latter taking them away for interrogation.
Meanwhile, on regaining consciousness, Sarah wanders through the wasteland and into ruins where she spies a grotesquely mutated-looking humanoid, whose bottom half is encased in a mobile-chair that resembles the unmistakable encasing of a Dalek – this is Davros, the genius but utterly fanatical Kaled scientist, inventor of the Daleks. Presently, one of his creations appears and, on Davros’s orders, fires (we assume for the first time) its death-ray at a marked target. Davros is satisfied; Sarah looks on in horror.
As Davros and his Dalek depart, Sarah is kidnapped by a group of further mutated-looking humans; these appear to be Mutos. They argue over whether to kill Sarah as she is a ‘Norm’ humanoid not a Muto, but one of their number named Sevrin reasons ‘a thing of beauty’ like her should be allowed to live; why does everything that’s different have to be rejected or killed? Sevrin’s patronage of Sarah leads them both to being captured by Thal soldiers and taken away to the domed Thal civilisation as slave labour. Here they are forced to load radioactive ammunition into a rocket to be launched at the Kaled domed HQ, in order to wipe out the latter race and bring an end to the war. Sarah and Sevrin try to escape by climbing the rocket’s silo and out through the dome’s roof, but are ultimately unsuccessful.
Time Lord: You, Doctor, are a special case. You enjoy the freedom we allow you. In return, occasionally, not continually, we ask you to do something for us
The Doctor: I won’t do it. Whatever it is, I refuse
Time Lord: Daleks
The Doctor: Daleks? Tell me more
Beneath the Kaled HQ, a scientist named Ronson is tasked with questioning The Doctor and Harry and, after tests, is surprised to discover they’re aliens. As such, when Davros enters the scientific division with a ‘Mark III travel machine’ (his euphemism at present for ‘Dalek’), the latter iinstantly attempts to kill the duo when given independent control, having identified they’re non-Kaleds and must be ‘exterminated’. Ronson prevents this by switching off the Dalek, though, and away from the others asks The Doctor how he knew the Dalek would be named as such before Davros monikered the thing exactly that just moments before, confiding in him he and others believes Davros’s experiments in mutation have gone too far – Davros’s ‘ultimate creature’, the Dalek, is surely immoral and evil.
With Ronson’s help, The Doc and Harry escape the bunker and make for the Kaled dome and, specifically, for its command to turn them against Davros and his plans. The Doctor informs them of how Daleks will terrorise the universe for centuries to come. The leadership assure him then that an investigation will take place into Davros’s activities and all his work will be ordered suspended until its end (this, thanks to Nyder’s spies, Davros learns about and decides to deal with Ronson for his treachery). Ravon adds that reports suggest a girl has led an attempted breakout of prisoners in the Thal dome, whence The Doc and Harry now head, knowing only too well the girl will be Sarah.
Once there, they spy Davros and Nyder meeting with a group that must be the Thal command; Davros informing the latter that unless they add a chemical formula to the ammunition being loading into the rocket, it will be incapable of penetrating the Kaled dome. When asked why on earth he would betray his own race, Davros claims he wishes only to end the conflict and play a role in reconstructing a peaceful Skaro. The Doc and Harry hurry to the rocket and, overpowering guards and dressing in their radiation suits, manage to free Sarah, Sevrin and the other slave labour, whom set off to warn the Kaleds of their destruction unless they stage an all-out offensive on the Thals.
Meanwhile, The Doctor alone attempts to prevent the rocket from launching, only to be almost electrocuted to death by a guard regaining consciousness. His efforts in vain, he watches along with the Thal command a video-link of the rocket striking the Kaled dome and wiping out all its race apart from those in the bunker below. Believing Sarah and Harry must have been killed too, he despondently accepts the Thal command’s assurance – via a young female soldier named Bettan – that as a sign of grace all the Thals’ prisoners are now free as peace has at last has befallen Skaro.
The Doctor: Do I have the right? Simply touch one wire against the other and that’s it. The Daleks cease to exist. Hundreds of millions of people, thousands of generations can live without fear, in peace, and never even know the word Dalek
Sarah Jane: Then why wait? If it was a disease or some sort of bacteria you were destroying, you wouldn’t hesitate
The Doctor: But if I kill, wipe out a whole intelligent lifeform, then I become like them. I’d be no better than the Daleks
Unexpectedly, but not to The Doctor’s surprise, Daleks suddenly enter the Thal dome (clearly on Davros’s orders – he obviously intended the Thals to destroy much of the Kaleds’ home to prevent his Dalek project being halted) and murder the Thal population. The Doc and Bettan manage to escape and, having made it back to the bunker and finding Sarah, Harry and Sevrin have survived the rocket strike, he suggests Bettan joins Sevrin to bring the survivors together in a concerted effort against Davros and the Daleks. He, Sarah and Harry are swiftly captured by Davros and Nyder, however, and the humans tortured until he spills the beans on all the Daleks’ failures to come, so Davros might address these weaknesses and ensure they’re invincible.
Afterwards, Harry and Sarah are taken away to the bunker’s cells and The Doctor ordered to remain so Davros might speak with him – scientist-to-scientist. The former pleads with the latter to halt his experiments, especially a change to the Daleks’ genetics he’s instigated that will remove their capacity for conscience; the latter replies he won’t and the latest ‘improvements’ he’s made will ensure his creations become the universe’s ‘dominant species’ and suppress all others, bringing peace everywhere. Trying a different tact, The Doc offers a scenario; if Davros had created a virus that could wipe out all other life, would he proceed to develop it? Considering this would effectively ‘elevate’ him to a god, Davros works himself up into a tumult and hysterically cries that, yes, he would. Realising now that Davros is insane, The Doc takes his opportunity and catches hold of the former’s one free hand and demands him order his acolytes to destroy the Daleks or he’ll flick a switch on his travel-chair and stop his life-support systems. Davros does as demanded, but reverses his order as Nyder appears, sneaks up on The Doctor and knocks him out.
Taken to the cells, The Doctor recovers and there meets Sarah and Harry, as well as a chief scientist named Gharman whom, among others, has turned against Davros. Escaping, Gharman and his supporters go off to organise Kaled resistance against the mad genius, as The Doc and the two humans set out to recover the Time Ring and the audio tapes containing his recorded revelations about the Daleks’ future failures. Gharman builds support and confronts Davros; the latter curiously concedes he will cease his work as long as a meeting is held so he can make his case and then the Kaled elite can vote on the issue. Believing Davros will inevitably lose such a vote, Gharman agrees. Recovering the tapes and the Time Ring, the Doc, Sarah and Harry also discover explosives and set out to prime them so the Dalek experiments will be destroyed once and for all, yet The Doctor struggles with the morality of what he’s about to do (see above quote) and ultimately can’t bring himself to wipe out an entire species.
As the meeting is in progress, the encased Daleks, which have completed the killing of the Thals, return from the Thal dome and enter the science division of the Kaled bunker and kill Gharman and his associates – clearly Davros had only called for the meeting and vote as a stalling tactic to give his creations the time to return to the bunker. Bettan, Sevrin and the other rebels also reach the bunker and set up their own explosives to seal it off forever with Davros and the Daleks inside. The TARDIS trio escape before the bombs go off and watch on a video monitor as, to Davros’s great surprise, the chief Dalek itself re-starts the bunker’s assembly line. The Dalek proclaims they are programmed not to recognise any other species as superior to themselves, so any being attempting to control them must be killed – thus it exterminates both the remaining Kaled leaders and, as it claims not to recognise the word ‘pity’ that its creator calls for, seemingly exterminates Davros himself. Outside, The Doctor shrugs that they’ve only managed to slow down the Daleks’ development and reign of terror, before he wishes Bettan and the survivors luck and he, Sarah and Harry activate the Time Ring to return to Nerva Beacon. Yet, finally, he brightens and exclaims that at least out of such evil he knows some good must come…
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Once watched, it’s pretty obvious why Genesis is one of the most significant and well regarded serials of Who – it both crucially and brilliantly gives back-story to The Doctor’s ultimate foes and weaves the hero himself into that back-story, ensuring it’s not just an essential serial, but also one of the show’s best.
However, owing to it all being about the creation of the Daleks, the roundel-coated trundlers actually feature less than in many other ‘Dalek stories’, the chief baddie this time out being their creator Davros. And what a creation he himself is. A mutilated, semi-paralysed, Dalek-esque-voiced being of fantastic intellect but fanatical evil, Michael Wisher’s villain is unquestionably one of the all-time great Doctor Who villains. Proof of this beyond his definitive Genesis appearance being his cropping up again in 1979’s Destiny Of The Daleks (David Gooderson), 1984’s Resurrection Of The Daleks, 1985’s Revelation Of The Daleks and 1988’s Remembrance Of The Daleks (Terry Molloy), as well as 2008’s The Stolen Earth/ Journey’s End (Julian Bleach).
And yet, although Davros is Genesis‘s main menace, the race to which he belongs (and ultimately is responsible for wiping out/ ‘upgrading’ to Daleks – delete as appropriate) are also undeniably villainous. Now, the idea of presenting fascism in science-fiction was nothing new by the time of the mid-’70s (George Orwell’s 1948-published 1984, anyone?), but far-right totalitarianism, nay Nazism, had surely never quite been translated to the screen as patently as it is in Genesis. It’s all there – the dogma, the fanaticism, the salutes, the black uniforms, the jackboots, the dynamic logo and, yes, the preoccupation with racial purity.
Indeed, it’s easy perhaps to throw fascism into a fantasy drama as a villainous presence that will engage the audience because they’ll understand what it’s all about, but thanks to the intelligence of serial writer Terry Nation’s script and the quality of the production (much credit thus must go to director David Maloney), the fascism here allows for questions of morality to come up; not just whether one race (the Kaleds) becoming utterly ruthless to defeat another in the name of peace is right, but also whether that other race (the Thals) obliterating the first out of sheer desperation can be justified either. There’s a complexity at work here; Genesis certainly doesn’t present the Thals as blameless victims – at times they’re just as ruthless as the Kaleds, at times it’s hard to tell them apart. Who are the good guys? The Doctor himself, of course, struggles with that question when he has the chance to wipe out the Daleks for good – and is hugely relieved when events ensure he doesn’t have to make that decision.
With its unremittingly bleak tone, stark, grey production design and locations, clutch of irredeemable and/ or flawed characters and positive ending with a caveat, Genesis is (at least, as Doctor Who goes) far from always an easy watch; it could be argued, sometimes it’s not exactly that enjoyable. But it’s always absorbing, essential viewing for any enthusiast of Who – and unquestionably the show at the peak of its powers.
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The genesis of Genesis goes back to before the Hinchcliffe/ Holmes axis gained the reins of the thoroughbred that is Who, but it had the makings of a stallion of a story itself as soon as it got out of the stables. Originally, the Daleks’ real-world creator Terry Nation was tasked with coming up with another Dalek serial for the show (to follow up his six previous pepper-pot-toting efforts) by previous producer Barry Letts and script editor Terrance Dicks, whom both stepped down at the end of the previous Jon Pertwee-bowing-out season; this new Dalek story inevitably then would be likely to feature in Tom Baker’s introductory season. To start off with, though, Letts and Dicks observed the script Nation came up with bore a striking resemblance to one or two (if not more) previous Dalek-featuring ones he’d written, so suggested a different storyline hook – how about building the serial around the Daleks’ genesis? Inspired, Nation got to work and, pretty much, came up with the serial’s script as filmed.
And yet, going before the cameras in the new Hinchcliffe/ Holmes era, as it did, Genesis surely ended up a darker beast than it would have been in the old Letts/ Dicks days. Hinchcliffe specifically called for more radical techniques in filming the Daleks than the show had experienced before, including low camera angles and use of close-ups, to bring back a genuine menace and fright-factor to what were (and surely forever will be) The Doctor’s greatest foes. He also encouraged lighting designer Duncan Brown to, well, turn down the studio lights to create a darker, more disturbing and arguably more claustrophobic tone (this was rather a revolutionary move for studio filming of Who, given the tight schedules every serial had and, thus, often compromises in filming artistry foisted on them).
Moreover, to set up (and fit with) the darker tone than had been envisaged for the story, its opening scene of the Time Lord outlining The Doc’s mission – originally set in a serene garden – was rewritten by David Maloney and deliberately drew on the work of legendary Swedish filmmaker Ingmar Bergman (most likely 1955’s The Seventh Seal; the mists over a wasteland and the Time Lord’s outfit’s resemblance to Death’s in said film are uncanny). Yet Nation and, less surprisingly, tub-thumping ‘TV standards’ campaigner (and long-time loather of Doctor Who) Mary Whitehouse both claimed this scene’s violence – gas mask-sporting Thals and Kaleds being ‘mowed down’ by machine guns – were too heavy for Saturday teatime viewing. Ah well.
As to those in front of the camera, Davros actor Michael Wisher (whom had appeared in the show several times before, often contributing Dalek voices, as he also did in Genesis) had an unusual approach to thesping during rehearsals. Reasoning that when he was wearing Davros’s mask on set his performance would be constricted unless he prepared effectively (i.e. he wouldn’t be able to act with his face or eyes at all; pretty much only with his voice and his right hand), he took to rehearsing sat in a wheelchair with a brown paper bag over his head. As he was a chain-smoker, tobacco smoke would often billow out of the top of the bag, amusing his fellow actors immensely, but unbeknownst to him, of course, as he couldn’t see their reactions.
Elsewhere, Guy Siner (Ravon), and Hilary Minster, whom played a Thal soldier, would go on to achieve fame as Lieutenant Gruber and Major-General von Klinkerhoffen respectively in the much-loved WWII-set sitcom ‘Allo ‘Allo (1982-92), while Harriet Philpin (Bettan) achieved similar, if uncredited, immortality as the wife of the ‘Secret Lemonade Drinker’ in the unforgettable R. White’s Lemonade commercial (1973) – the lemonade drinker himself, incidentally, was played by Ross McManus, father of one Elvis Costello.
Finally, given its excellence and popularity, Genesis holds the record for the most repeated serial of Who on the Beeb’s analogue service, having enjoyed re-runs in ’75, ’82, ’93 and 2000. A perennial top-10-hitter in polls for the show’s best ever stories, it topped the lot in a prestigious one held by Doctor Who Magazine in 1998 and is apparently Tenth Doc (and Who fan extraordinaire) David Tennant’s favourite of the ‘classic series’. Seems The Doctor was right, some good did come out of Davros’s evil efforts, after all..
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Further reading:
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Next time: Pyramids Of Mars (Season 13/ 1975)
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Previous close-ups/ reviews:
The Ark In Space (Season 12/ 1975/ Doctor: Tom Baker)
The Dæmons (Season 8/ 1971/ Doctor: Jon Pertwee)
Inferno (Season 7/ 1970/ Doctor: Jon Pertwee)
The War Games (Season 6/ 1969/ Doctor: Patrick Troughton)
An Unearthly Child (Season 1/ 1963/ Doctor: William Hartnell)
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‘Ich bin ein Berliner’: 50 years on from that JFK speech
It’s only words? Glamorous US President John F Kennedy took a hard-line on the Soviet Union and its building the Berlin Wall, but with outstanding eloquence, in his unforgettable speech
All right, peeps, here’s a scenario for you. Imagine a beautiful, bustling village, famous and popular for miles around. Now imagine two factions of that village falling out with each other and, under the auspices of two separate councils, that spat leading to the village splitting in two. And now imagine that split intensifying to such a degree that a concrete wall is erected by one half of the village so its people won’t – because they won’t be able to – move freely into the other half; splitting up friends and families in the process. And, finally, imagine the situation getting so out of control that those who try to go over the wall are shot on sight by the village’s half that built it. Now, meine freunde, expand that little scenario to an entire city; indeed a fascinating, brilliant, major capital city of around 3.5 million people. For this was exactly the reality faced by Berlin for 28 long years from when the infamous Berlin Wall was erected on August 13 1961 until it finally started to ‘fall’ on November 9 1989.
The Berlin Wall is undoubtedly one of the most obvious and potent icons of the Cold War – after all, it was effectively a physical manifestation of that espionage- and nuclear arms race-fueled four-and-a-bit-decades of tension between the Soviet Union and the West (led by the United States). Built by the USSR-overseen East German authorities to prevent the mass exodus that was threatening to deplete not just East Berlin’s but East Germany’s population (especially intelligent, well educated young people; i.e. the ‘Brain Drain’), it ensured that the West and East halves of the city were properly cut off. Berlin – already loosely split into four sectors controlled by the four major allied victors of World War Two, the US, UK, France (West) and the USSR (East), following the surrender of the Nazis at the war’s end in 1945 – was itself already cut off from the rest of the ‘Western allies-controlled’ West Germany, lying as it did in the heart of the ‘USSR-controlled’ East Germany.
This then is the background to the one of the greatest speeches of the 20th Century, nay, of all time, delivered 50 years ago today by US President of the day, the King Arthur of the Camelot that was his White House, John F Kennedy. Kennedy was a Democrat; a genuine progressive, reforming Democrat at that, at least when it came to domestic policy. And when it came to foreign policy, he had his detractors (mostly on the Right), whom believed after the ‘reds under the beds’ era of the Eisenhower/ McCarthyism ’50s, he was soft on Communism; soft on the Soviet Union. Just two weeks before this speech he’d suggested that ‘improving relations with the Soviet Union’ ought to be made, so the strong, steadfast, if you will, intellectually combative content and tone of the speech he made on June 26 1963 was something of a surprise. He was manning-up when it came to the Soviets and the Communism; he was making a stand and showing where he stood – where the vast majority of Americans and peeps across the Western world stood – when it came to the ever worsening Cold War.
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The right to (hear) free speech: Kennedy delivering the speech as shot from behind, an angle that ably displays the thousands of West Berliners whom turned out to hear his words
What made the speech so significant is arguably two-fold. First, its quality. Unequivocably, but utterly eloquently, it outlined how as unofficial ‘leader of the free world’ he and his administration were committed not just to opposing the values and actions of the Communist regime of the USSR, but also were committed to supporting, defending and standing by the isolated West Berliners (owing to its unique situation, Berlin was obviously the ‘frontline’ of the Cold War). Its theme of the inexorable desire for and necessity to defend liberty can simply never be dismissed and, not least because of the quality of the speech, is utterly laudable; it’s not twee, because history teaches us of freedom’s fragility. Its phraseology, though, is what makes it unforgettable and brilliant. The utterance of ‘Ich bin ein Berliner‘ coming from the mouth of the US President is an impossible-to-misunderstand exclamation of solidarity (not to be misconceived as Kennedy claiming he’s a jelly doughnut; although admittedly that’s always been amusing) and it’s four-times repeated suggestion that those who doubt the threat of Communism ought to ‘come to Berlin’ (Lass’ sic nach Berlin kommen) to observe the stark reality are the stuff of genius speech-writing from the great Ted Sorenson, author (in part) of the thing and chief scribe of most of Kennedy’s speeches.
The second point of the speech that made it so significant was where it was delivered – West Berlin itself. In fact, in front of the Rathaus Schöneberg, the de facto city hall of West Berlin. Making such utterances in the speech as he did and delivering them in the heart of the city itself had a profound effect, don’t doubt it; not least because a staggering 45,000 citizens turned out to witness the visit of this megastar of world politics and hear what he might say in support of them and their city.
As you may well know, to mark the speech’s 50th anniversary, present US President Barack Obama travelled to Berlin and made another well attended speech (if one with quite a different theme) and the historians among you will be only too aware then American Prez Ronald Reagan almost repeated Kennedy’s feat when he delivered a powerful message in a speech outside the Brandenburg Gate on June 12 1987 (‘Mr Gorbachev, tear down this wall‘). Yet, for its geo-political, historical context, its brilliance and the fact it got there first, Kennedy’s speech of June 26 1953 is the daddy. Curiously, his National Security Adviser George McBundy actually felt he’d gone too far, been too provocative, so the speech’s language was slightly toned down when Kennedy repeated it at Berlin’s Free University the same day. Certainly few others in the Western world felt that way – and surely very few around the world today do either.
Here it is then, peeps, the speech’s transcript, followed by a video clip of it in all its glory…
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I am proud to come to this city as the guest of your distinguished Mayor, who has symbolised throughout the world the fighting spirit of West Berlin. And I am proud to visit the Federal Republic with your distinguished Chancellor who for so many years has committed Germany to democracy and freedom and progress, and to come here in the company of my fellow American, General Clay, who has been in this city during its great moments of crisis and will come again if ever needed.
Two thousand years ago the proudest boast was ‘civis Romanus sum’. Today, in the world of freedom, the proudest boast is ‘Ich bin ein Berliner’.
I appreciate my interpreter translating my German!
There are many people in the world who really don’t understand – or say they don’t – want is the great issue between the free world and the Communist world. Let them come to Berlin. There are some who say that communism is the wave of the future. Let them come to Berlin. And there are some who say in Europe and elsewhere we can work with the Communists. Let them come to Berlin. And there are even a few who say that it is true that communism is an evil system, but it permits us to make economic progress. Lass’ sic nach Berlin kommen. Let them come to Berlin.
Freedom has many difficulties and democracy is not perfect, but we have never had to put a wall up to keep our people in, to prevent them from leaving us. I want to say, on behalf of my countrymen, who live many miles away on the other side of the Atlantic, who are far distant from you, that they take the greatest pride that they have been able to share with you, even from a distance, the story of the last 18 years. I know of no town, no city, that has been besieged for 18 years that still lives with the vitality and the force, and the hope and the determination of the city of West Berlin. While the wall is the most obvious and vivid demonstration of the failures of the Communist system, for all the world to see, we take no satisfaction in it, for it is, as your Mayor has said, an offense not only against history but an offence against humanity, separating families, dividing husbands and wives and brothers and sisters, and dividing a people who wish to be joined together.
What is true of this city is true of Germany—real, lasting peace in Europe can never be assured as long as one German out of four is denied the elementary right of free men, and that is to make a free choice. In 18 years of peace and good faith, this generation of Germans has earned the right to be free, including the right to unite their families and their nation in lasting peace, with good will to all people. You live in a defended island of freedom, but your life is part of the main. So let me ask you, as I close, to lift your eyes beyond the dangers of today, to the hopes of tomorrow, beyond the freedom merely of this city of Berlin, or your country of Germany, to the advance of freedom everywhere, beyond the wall to the day of peace with justice, beyond yourselves and ourselves to all mankind.
Freedom is indivisible, and when one man is enslaved, all are not free. When all are free, then we can look forward to that day when this city will be joined as one and this country and this great continent of Europe in a peaceful and hopeful globe. When that day finally comes, as it will, the people of West Berlin can take sober satisfaction in the fact that they were in the front lines for almost two decades.
All free men, wherever they may live, are citizens of Berlin, and, therefore, as a free man, I take pride in the words ‘Ich bin ein Berliner!’.
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Talent…
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… These are the lovely ladies and gorgeous girls of eras gone by whose beauty, ability, electricity and all-round x-appeal deserve celebration and – ahem – salivation here at George’s Journal…
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So, observant visitors to this little corner of the Internet will be only too aware it likes its golden anniversary celebrations (last year James Bond; this year Doctor Who), yet little trumpeted it may be, but this 12 months also marks the 50th anniversary of arguably the most esteemed and best-loved comedy film series of all-time (and its various spin-offs), namely The Pink Panther flicks. To kick-off a season dedicated to those Sellers-toting movies then, what more fitting – and better – pair of perfect specimens to usher into this blog’s Talent hall of fame than the glorious duo that graced the original Pink Panther flick, specifically that dynamite Italian Claudia Cardinale and that French fancy Capucine? What better, indeed…
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Profiles
Names: Claude Joséphine Rose Cardinale (Claudia Cardinale)/ Germaine Hélène Irène Lefebvre (Capucine)
Nationalities: Italian (Tunisian)/ French
Professions: Actress, model, UNESCO goodwill ambassador and activist/ Actress and model
Born: April 15 1938, Tunis, Tunisia/ January 6 1928, Saint-Raphaël, Var (Died: March 17 1990, Lausanne, Switzerland)
Height: 5′ 8″/ 5′ 7″
Known for: Claudia – kicking off her Hollywood career by playing the Arabian Princess Dala in the original Pink Panther film (1963), she went on to grace with her loveliness and not inconsiderable acting chops the westerns that are the Burt Lancaster/ Lee Marvin-starrer The Professionals (1966) and Sergio Leone’s operatically epic Once Upon A Time In The West (1968). Just months before her Pink Panther appearance, she starred in the Luchino Visconti classic The Leopard (1963) and the greatest-movie-of-all-time-contender, Federico Fellini’s 8½ (1963). In later life, she’s found a role for herself as a UNESCO goodwill ambassador for the Defence of Women’s Rights and is also an outspoken supporter of gay rights.
Capucine – lending her beauty, glamour and grace to several Hollywood flicks including Song Without End (1960), for which she received a Golden Globe award nomination, western North To Alaska (1960), frank drama Walk On The Wild Side (1962), wartime adventure The 7th Dawn (1964) and opposite Peter Sellers in both The Pink Panther (1963) and the Swinging Sixties caper What’s New Pussycat? (1965). Before moving into the movies, she was a famous, highly successful fashion model for the likes of Givenchy and Christian Dior, through which she met Audrey Hepburn and with whom she became friends for life. Tragically, owing to long-term depression she committed suicide at the age of 62. Her nom de scène ‘Capucine’ is the French translation of the word nasturtium.
Strange but true: Born in Tunisia to Sicilian parents, Claudia grew up speaking fluent Arabic and didn’t learn Italian until her late teens as she began auditioning as a film actress; the name of Capucine’s character in What’s New Pussycat? is Renée Lefebvre, which containing her actual surname as it does is clearly a nod to her real name.
Peak of fitness: Claudia – coated in soap suds as she has a scrub in the tub in Once Upon A Time In The West/ Capucine – in her nightie and bare-footed, as she slips and slides about on the bed trying to evade the advances of Peter Sellers, David Niven and Robert Wagner in the The Pink Panther‘s bedroom-farce scene.
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official-claudiacardinale.com/english
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CLICK on images for full-size
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Looking a vermilion dollars: the 1966 World Cup-winning England team show off the Jules Rimet trophy (held by captain Bobby Moore, centre) in the national side’s best recalled kit
Yes, that’s right, folks, if you weren’t already aware (admittedly, if you’re from these isles and at all follow the national game, it’d be pretty darn unlikely you weren’t), this summer marks the 150th anniversary of the English Football Association – and, ergo, the England football team. In which case, because it likes to, this sunny season this very blog will be celebrating this jumpers-and-goalposts-related milestone by devoting the odd post to some true highs (as opposed to, yes, the many lows) there’s been for England’s international side over the decades, starting with this offering you’ve just started reading.
Yes, again, surely only if you make it your business to ignore everything football-esque, would you be unaware that England have – for the umpteenth time – just changed their kits (home and away) and specially so for this their anniversary year; for what it’s worth, while methinks the new ‘home’ effort is flawed, it’s not as bad as all that, while the ‘away’ one ain’t bad at all. And, fittingly enough then, well, depending on your view, this blog focuses on the 15 – as it’s the 15oth anniversary – best kits our chaps have performed and, erm, not performed in. There may’ve always been three lions on the chest, but the rest of their togs have been through several different incarnations, colours and styles – so eat your heart out Gok, because here it is, England’s sartorial soccer rundown…
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CLICK on the titles for video clips and on the images for full-size
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Tournament: World Cup 1982 (Spain)
Manufacturer: Admiral
The good: Easily distinguishable from every other England kit, this better-of-the-two Admiral efforts boasted a shirt with a dynamic and bold, above-the-chest big blue, smaller red and thin blue tri-bar colour-splash.
The bad: Those unmissable red and blue bars were inspired by the UK’s Union Flag. But wait a tick, isn’t England’s flag that of St. George, er, featuring a red cross on a white background? In the early ’80s when unfurling Union Jacks was sadly even more sensitive than today, this design maybe wasn’t the smartest move.
The ugly: Again, that tri-bar broken by that v-neck is an acquired taste (the font used for the red numbers on the back’s a bit cack too). Unquestionably, this is the Marmite of England kits.
That was when: Kevin Keegan’s perm (and Kevin Keegan) always seemed to play for England (unless it was World Cup ’82, that is) – the David Beckham-esque shouldn’t-he-have-actually-been-better-than-he-was? superstar of England lore. Ouch!
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14. Home goalkeeper kit (1990-91)
Tournament: World Cup 1990 (Italy)
Manufacturer: Umbro
The good: The only kit worn by an England numero uno to grace this list, this one’s inclusion may have as much to do with my ever nostalgic recollection of Italia ’90 and England’s post-1966 high showing therein as anything else. Still, as ’80s/ ’90s man-between-the-sticks outfits go, it’s a simple, dignified effort in classic England goalkeeper yellow and black (cf. this psychedelic monstrosity from ’95-’96 and this even crazier ‘away’ alternative from the same era – “Matron, take them away!”).
The bad: The black collar sticking out over the top of the hoop-neck’s not fantastic, admittedly.
The ugly: Some may suggest the rubber pads on the shoulders here (why are they there? There aren’t even any on the elbows? Weird). Me, though, I just think they add a little eccentric, if appealingly naff, charm to the shirt.
That was when: The legend that was Shilts was called on to try and keep England in the World Cup when he faced Matthäus, Brehme and co. in our first ever penalty shootout; he didn’t save one, but guessing right each time, impressively got damn close to all four that beat him.
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Tournament: World Cup 2006 (Germany)
Manufacturer: Umbro
The good: Seeming to reflect the swaggering (but eventually doomed) Beckham-brand-driven England of the 2006 World Cup in Germany, this was the shirt with that ‘look at me!’ pointy-ending red cross (referencing St. George’s flag) on the right shoulder. It’s maybe not the most fondly recalled of England efforts, but cuts a bit of a dash in the fashion stakes, while also boasting not a little elegance.
The bad: Call me a purist, but unless the colour co-ordination of an England kit is genuinely excellent, I always like a white shirt, navy blue shorts, white socks and red numbering and lettering on the back of the shirt. This one continued the unconventional early to mid-’00s habit of making the numbers black or navy blue (which we’ve unnecessarily gone back to with the present Nike curtain-raiser). It may occur here because a red font would detract from the red shoulder-cross, I suppose, but it’s something that always niggles…
The ugly: Never been crazy about that collar, if I’m being honest. The red-striped-shoulder is what this kit’s all about; it doesn’t need a collared neck to over-busy the shirt (even just a little bit). A simple v- or hoop-neck would’ve been fine.
That was when: Peter Crouch scored by pulling a Trinidad and Tobagon’s dreadlocks and Frank Lampard totted up more shots on goal than anyone else in the entire tournament (without hitting the back of the net once) – at least the WAGs got some shopping done in Baden-Baden though, eh?
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Tournament: Euro 2004 (Portugal)
Manufacturer: Umbro
The good: Another bold effort this one, when all’s said and done. And that’s because of that wide (although ending in a point) red stripe running down either sleeve from the neck. It’s actually a hint of the St. George’s flag again, given it begins as a bar across the back of the shirt (above the player’s name), from the centre of which a short, narrow red line runs up and under the collar. Clever. And the similar red piping down the neck running into the top of the centrally located England badge is a nice sartorial touch indeed, to my mind.
The bad: Again, there are collar issues (a recurring theme among England shirts) – while the red piping at the neck is nice stuff, the white collar itself against the red piping, that’s also down the arms of course, doesn’t altogether look right. Far from a disaster at all, but maybe a navy blue collar may have been a better bet?
The ugly: The first kit on which a star denoting the nation’s sole World Cup triumph appeared, this one may be, but where was it plonked? Two thirds of the way down the shirt sleeve. Er, right.
That was when: Rooney terrorised the French, then ran like a whippet before unleashing two crackers against a decent Croatia to send England hurtling into the quarter finals of Euro 2004. Who knows, he may well be a world beater one day, but never has he looked more like one than he did that balmy Portuguese summer.
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Tournament: World Cup 1986 (Mexico)
Manufacturer: Umbro
The good: England kits are rarely better than when they’re unfussy things. And this mid-’80s offering is a fine example. With its quiet v-neck made up of two navy blue ‘v’s either side of a thin reddish ‘v’ and that slight pin stripe, its shirt is reminiscent of many English football shirts of its era (think the Dalglish-associated, pin-striped, Candy sponsored Liverpool one), but it’s damned elegant too. The Umbro diamond is unusually small as well, which, don’t doubt it, is also credit-column-worthy.
The bad: Compared to others, one may say this kit’s a bit bland. And a tiny quibble – the squad numbers on the shorts are not in the same font as the squad numbers on the back of the shirt. Yup, said it was a tiny quibble. The shirt numbers are in big, bold, bright red, though. Another tick there then.
The ugly: As implied above, this kit doesn’t really do ‘ugly’.
That was when: Gary The Lineker banged in a hat-trick against Poland and six in total for the tournament (which made him Mexico ’86‘s Golden Boot winner, despite having only netted in three matches), before it all came crashing down against Maradona in that fateful quarter final.
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Tournament: World Cup 1998 (France)
Manufacturer: Umbro
The good: Some England kits are just cool. They have that usually oh-so elusive ‘x-factor’. This one, for me at least, is a prime example. Actually rarely worn in the era of the memorable late ’90s white-red-and-blue-rainbow-like home kit, it seemingly appeared out of nowhere to star alongside Beckham bending in the (second?) most important free-kick of his career against the admittedly unmighty Colombia in a win-at-all-costs France ’98 group game. That St. George’s flag inflection on the deliciously burgundy-toned shirt and that slanting font for the numbers and letters… together they’re just cool as hell.
The bad: The collar. Again. It’d be fine if it just ended in a point, but that crossover-material effect ending in a flat take on a v-neck is unnecessary and doesn’t really work. Shame.
The ugly: Excusing the v-neck-ish eyesore, there’s nothing ugly about this kit.
That was when: Beckham announced himself on the World Cup stage (see above)… before getting sent off against the Argies in the next game. Silly boy.
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Tournament: N/A
Manufacturer: Umbro
The good: In hindsight, time can be cruel to good football kits (work with me here), for had this number featured in a tournament, nay, one in which England had actually performed well, then it would probably be recalled better and, admittedly, higher up this list. All the same, it’s fine a looking effort, fusing the radical (no red whatsoever, while the shorts, numbers and letters are in one of the lightest blues ever to star on England garb) with the old-school (the v-neck-esque collar ends in a would-be buttoned-up-halfway-down-shirt front – but without the buttons – that echoes pre-’60s England shirts). And the whole thing works well and looks very nice and tidy.
The bad: Design-wise, there’s little to criticise; otherwise? Well, it’s hard actually to recall a specific match when our nation’s footballers wore it. Hmmm.
The ugly: The shoulder area on the shirt’s back features a multitude of multi-coloured crosses (supposedly symbolising both the St. George’s flag and the fact that today’s England is a very multi-racial place). A nice idea, which was apparently the brainchild of one-time Factory Records in-house album cover designer Peter Saville – if an idea that may have better remained just that.
That was when: Er, yes, when exactly was that again?
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Tournament: World Cup 1998 (France)
Manufacturer: Umbro
The good: The white-red-and-blue-rainbow kit mentioned above, this one was quite radical back in the day (unlike nowadays when ‘radical’ England kits seem to tumble one after another off the Umbro/ Nike production line), for it was the first to feature just as much – if not more – red as blue since the early ’80s home kit (no. 15 on this list). Not only pleasing on the eye (the curved red and blue bars down the shirt’s sides and echoing red and white bars on the shorts – although bold as brass – are well designed), it also seemed to mirror the confident, colourful era the national team enjoyed during its run (post-Euro ’96 and up to the end of France ’98, which saw the dying embers of Gazza’s international career, the consolidation of Shearer, Sheringham and Ince’s and the start for Beckham, Owen and Scholes). Happy days, indeed then.
The bad: This shirt may wisely continue the use of the ‘American football style’ number and letters font that Umbro employed on many of its ’90s soccer shirts, but annoyingly the numbers are strangely narrow. Why? For such a bold shirt design, just go with a full bold font, surely.
The ugly: Oh yes, we’re back to collar issues. And it’s a weird one this time; like this kit’s away offering, the neck doesn’t end in a ‘v-point’ as it would be expected to, but in a flat horizontal line, ensuring the shirt unnaturally crumples up a little around it. Plus, the neck features a square St. George’s flag label and a round St. George’s flag button – both unnecessary and a bit naff.
That was when: Yup, when England mastered a World Cup qualifying campaign for the first time in nearly a decade by claiming a terrific away draw against Italy (in which they outplayed them), then won a (sort of) trophy by besting France, Brazil and Italy again in a year-before-warm-up friendly tournament, only not to scale such dizzy heights in the World Cup itself. Ah well.
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Tournament: World Cup 2010 (South Africa)
Manufacturer: Umbro
The good: Make no mistake, this effort is by far and away the most radical England home kit of modern times. Really? Yes, because for the first time ever, the shorts were chosen to match the same colour as the shirt. Sure, England had worn an all-white home kit before (often in tournaments too; against Brazil in Mexico ’70 and Argentina in France ’98), but those occasions featured ‘changed’ shorts to avoid colour clashes with the opposition. In the run-up to this kit’s introduction though, when wearing their home kits, the national side seemed to have flirted fairly often with wearing white shorts, as opposed to the usual navy blue ones, so presumably Umbro and The FA eventually just decided to go the whole hog. And, quite frankly, it worked extremely well. The overall design with the red numbers and letters (in a beautiful, old-school font) is so simple, elegant, smart and retro that, dare I say it, it’s rather gorgeous.
The bad: To buy the shirt on its own without the shorts, as most fans would have done, would have required forking out an astronomical amount for a garment that’s little more than a white polo shirt.
The ugly: There is nothing ugly about this kit. Period.
That was when: England qualified in fine style for the 2010 World Cup and then, wearing this kit twice in their four games that tournament (they inexplicably wore an all-red alternative for the other two fixtures), were insufferably awful.
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Tournament: World Cup 2002 (Japan/ South Korea)
Manufacturer: Umbro
The good: The 2002 World Cup in Japan/ South Korea was an odd beast. I’ve nothing against South East Asia at all (never been there, so wouldn’t dream of being so presumptious), but compared to other WCs, there seemed to be something clinical, above-it-all, almost cold about this one – and it did feel like its setting, with all those clean, futuristic stadia, monorails and underground train systems constantly on show had a lot to do with it. Oddly too, this was a tournament where almost all the usual suspects either weren’t there (Holland) or conspired to totally mess up their shot at success relatively early on (France, Argentina, Italy and, as ever back then, Spain). Collectively, this had two consequences: for once England looked a good bet for at least a semi-final place and, in such a ‘stylish’ football environment, their stylish football kits looked eccerin’ brilliant. First up is their away effort. Making marvellous use of burgundy again, it was a simple, subtle thing of beauty, with its understated v-neck (and a smart St. George’s flag reference on back of the neck) and an elegant font for the numbers and letters, it shone all too briefly, just as England ultimately did this tourney.
The bad: Not a criticism of the kit design per se, but it never really seemed to catch fire with the great unwashed England fans – maybe it just looked too good?
The ugly: Tell me I’m wrong, but I can’t spot one ugly thing about this effort.
That was when: A mohican-sporting Beckham banged in his redeeming penalty against Argentina, ‘inspiring’ the rest of the team to defend their way to victory and (following a win against Denmark in the opening knockout match) cruised through to the quarters where they went out with a whimper against a no-need-to-get-out-of-second-gear Brazil. Ho-hum.
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Tournament: World Cup 2002 (Japan/ South Korea)
Manufacturer: Umbro
The good: The second of the two excellent kits England wore at the 2002 World Cup (and throughout the qualifying campaign that led up to it) was of course this little number, the unforgettable home kit that opened the Beckham/ Owen/ Gerrard-driven era ‘masterminded’ by super-cool Swede Sven-Goran Erikssen. Just like its away alternative, it was simple, subtle and elegant to a tee, with that St. Georg’e flag-suggesting vertical stripe down the left side of the front and passing behind the ‘Three Lions’ badge a highly effective nod to unquestionable, yet perfectly realised style on an England shirt. Make no mistake, dressed in this effort, England were easily the best looking side at the 2002 World Cup – even with lumbering lofty Emile Heskey up front.
The bad: As noted above, never been crazy about the ’00s England shirt trend that was numbers and names in navy blue/ black instead of the classic red. And, given this is an otherwise ‘classic’ looking kit (and because it started this trend), maybe this has to be a mark against it. Maybe.
The ugly: The ‘torso-defining’ piping that separates the rest of the shirt front from the shoulders and the arms is, if you’re being (hyper-) critical a bit ugly – the away kit also boasts this feature, but given that shirt’s in red it’s less noticeable. But we’re really clutching at straws here.
That was when: Owen grabbed a hat-trick, catapulting England to an unprecedented, nay surreal 5-1 counter-attack-tastic demolition of Germany in Munich. Pity then he and the rest of the ‘Young Lions’ didn’t have a ‘Plan B’ when it came to the real crunch against Brazil.
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Tournaments: World Cup 1990 (Italy), Euro ’92 (Sweden)
Manufacturer: Umbro
The good: As I inferred above, one tends to recall an England kit rather positively when the fellers actually do well in a tournament while wearing it. And, for many England fans out there, this effort probably is the epitome of that statement; it’ll be forever identified with Gazza’s brilliance, Lineker’s penalties against Cameroon, Platt’s swivelling volley and Waddle’s awful mullet – in short, with that glorious footballing summer that was Italia ’90 and England’s (near) world-beating exploits therein. But, truth be told, even as a mere 10-year-old as I was at the time, I loved this kit from the moment I first saw it. With its featuring that (with hindsight, perhaps rather shameless) Umbro diamond-toting design, not least in terms of the water-marking on the shirt, smart collar and red, bold ‘American football style’ numbers on the back, it was more dynamic and somehow more serious and thus more grown-up than England’s immediately previous kit; almost a statement of intent of the side this time round – their last possible chance under the tutelage of Uncle Bobby Robson to (more or less) go the distance in a tournament and really fulfil the potential, individually speaking, they’d possessed for years. and – maybe not at all because they were wearing this cracking kit, but hey – they only went and actually did it.
The bad: Sadly, England also wore this one for the inexcusable awfulness that was their disastrous Euro ’92 campaign, for which admittedly player names on the back of the shirt and little squad numbers in the middle of the shirt’s front didn’t look that great (maybe not surprising as the shirt had been designed without ever intending to feature these additions – Euro ’92 was the first time in football that these accoutrements were added to a shirt).
The ugly: As with the mid-’80s kit (no. 11 on the list), the font of the small squad numbers on the shorts doesn’t match that of the numbers on the shirt’s back. But, really, who cares?
That was when: Gazza cried, Lineker motioned the bench should have a word with him, Platt’s face lit up like a Christmas tree and Pearce and Waddle established a new form of tortuous, if glorious so-close-yet-so-far national failure of which to be oddly proud. Ah, memories…
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Tournament: Euro ’96 (England)
Manufacturer: Umbro
The good: Inevitably, as the fortunes of elite football in mid-’90s England suddenly soared thanks to the runaway success of the Premier League, its iconography seemed to be everywhere – not least the once humble football shirt. And the best and most recognisable shirts were produced by Mancunian-based sportswear powerhouse Umbro, in particular the fetching, stylish efforts worn by team-of-the-era Manchester United and (on and off) Liverpool, Chelsea, Aston Villa and even – and most illustriously – the 1994-crowned World Champions Brazil. Umbro too, of course, was still making England’s kits, even if the national side (in dramatic contrast to the glamorous Premier League) had been on an embarassing slide since the highs of Italia ’90. Come 1996, though, suddenly the Three Lions got their mojo back as they, yes, roared once more at the fabulous Euro ’96 tournament – and unforgettably they did so in a confident, terrific kit that was as good, nay better, as anything Umbro was producing for anyone else. For, like no. 9 on this list, this kit’s bold use of blue – navy blue numbers and names on the shirt outlined by sky blue – and lack of any red at all ensured it was the biggest departure of any England garment for years, yet so finely designed was it (even the exaggerated v-neck fits and complements the whole) the overall effect of white accompanied by two blue hues was practically perfect. In short, this is a gorgeous, gorgeous kit – there’s only two England shirts I own and this kit’s is one of them.
The bad: Maybe fairly, there was criticism at the time that Umbro ensured its name (used on its kits during this period instead of its diamond logo) was enormous; its certainly wider than the England badge beneath it. Yet so glorious is the kit it pulled off here, I can overlook the hubris.
The ugly: I suppose you could say Gazza’s bleached-blonde bonce wasn’t a great look to go along with this effort (see image above), but it’s hardly the kit’s fault – plus, the Geordie wunderkind truly was a wonder once more, albeit all too briefly.
That was when: Football came home for three weeks as England stuttered against the Swiss, then stunned the Scots, hammered the Dutch and squeezed past the Spanish (by, yes, actually winning a penalty shoot-out), before it all came to a stuttering halt once more against the Germans (but, hey, the boys had switched to wearing grey by then, so maybe not a surprise).
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Tournaments: World Cup 1966 (England), World Cup 1970 (Mexico)
Manufacturer: Umbro
The good: Surely the most iconic – specific – football kit of all-time (while the yellow shirts, blue shorts and white socks of Brazil are recognised by, well, everyone, how many peeps can identify a specific Brazil kit from another?), this is of course the one in which England won the World Cup on that glorious day in late July 1966. Away from being rightly and forever associated with such an outstanding and (in terms of what happened in the match itself) dramatic occasion, its greatness lies in two unarguable facts – its combination of bold scarlet (the shirts and socks) and snow white (the shorts and numbers on the back of the shirt) is simply gorgeous and the sheer simplicity and beauty of its design (no pretensions whatsoever; merely a hooped collar, an England badge over the left breast and a classic, perfectly clear font for the shirt numbers) is impossible to ignore, dismiss and, frankly, dislike. For many, this is the England kit – and it’s very hard to argue with that.
The bad: While England won the World Cup in this kit, they also rather memorably and not a little ignominiously went out of the next one in 1970 (against the Germans) wearing it. A tad careless you might say, given it was these awesome togs there were sporting.
The ugly: Find something and tell me, I dare you.
That was when: Er, like, when we won the World Cup.
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Tournaments: World Cup 1966 (England), Euro ’68 (Italy), World Cup 1970 (Mexico)
Manufacturer: Umbro
The good: Like I said above, for many the red-and-white ’66 World Cup final outfit is the England kit and it’s very hard to argue with that – well, suck it up, folks, I’m going to. For, in spite of posterity taking it upon itself to intervene and convince millions it’s otherwise, this effort (the home version of the aforementioned classic) is actually the England kit. The evidence? It’s exactly the same design as the away version (hooped collar, England badge over the left breast and the same perfectly rendered shirt numbers), but in the bona fide England home colours – pristine white shirt and socks, stark navy blue shorts and unarguably brilliant bright red numbers on the back of the shirt. As I’ve mentioned already in this post, I’m something of a purist when it comes to England kits and it’s simply impossible to point to a purer England kit than this one; the colours are absolutely perfect, the hooped collar design (adopted for the ’66 World Cup by Umbro after a v-neck affectation following their winning back the manufacturing rights in the early ’60s from Bukta) is indefatigably elegant and the Three Lions walked out in these togs for a full nine years straight for the vast majority of their matches until unwisely the FA decided to go with Admiral’s replica-kit-promising deal in the mid-’70s. Any surprise this change coincided with England’s inability to get anywhere near qualifying for a tournament until the ’80s? What do you think?
The bad: I can’t think of anything ‘bad’ you can associate with this kit – watch the corresponding clip (by clicking on the ‘Home kit (1965-74)’ title above and tell me wrong.
The unlikely: As there’s absolutely nothing ugly about it, here’s an unlikely fact about the kit: as the 1970 World Cup was held at the sweltering height of summer in the high-altitude Mexico, manager Alf Ramsey ordered a ‘light-weight’ version of the kit for his players. The one-off result was a kit produced from the cellular, hot-climate-appropriate material Aertex (see ‘Click for World Cups’ image of Bobby Moore in the page’s right-hand side-panel).
That was when: England won the World Cup, finished third in the first ever European Championships, faced Pelé in the next World Cup and then cocked up a qualifying campaign (unforgettably against Poland) for the very first time – in short, the most iconic era of the England football team.
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And, yes, the five worst…
CLICK on the titles for images
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5. Home kit (1993-95)
Looks like it was designed by a 12-year-old with an oddly enormous England badge and a repeated, why-bother miniature badge in the collar
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4. Home kit (1999-2001)
An ill-conceived effort presumably designed to appeal to retro enthusiasts that fails miserably thanks to its poor double-hooped collar and ugly horizontal-line-imprints across the shirt front
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3. Away kit (1995-97)
The legendary one that those Euro ’96 heroes wore against the Germans in that tournament’s semi-final, its makers claimed it was ‘indigo blue’, but everyone immediately saw through the transparent marketing b*llocks – never again have England got close to wearing grey (and hopefully they never will)
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2. Home kit (2007-09)
A horrid concoction this, to my mind. Returning to an ‘8os-esque over-preponderance of their diamond logo, Umbro featured the damn thing on the shirt’s right shoulder and then scrawled a horrible non-symmetrical red line across the shirt front’s shoulders. There’s also that ‘partial reveal’ of the England badge under the arms, which makes it look like the shirt’s split at the sides and there’s another one underneath. Or something.
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1. Alternative away kit (1976)
So bad it’s laughably bad (and thus rather gloriously so), this effort is bizarrely not the only instance that saw England dressed in yellow – our fellers actually inexplicably played in a Sweden-style yellow-shirts-and-blue-shorts outfit for three matches in 1973. But even that kit was better than this God-awful pale yellow thing. I mean, it’s truly terrible; it’s in the hooped collar style of the classic Umbro kit, which given it was produced by Admiral after the era of those kits is just odd, and even the England badge looks tatty. Even better/ worse (delete as appropriate), our boys wore it in a non-FIFA-recognised match against an ‘all-star’ USA team featuring Pelé and skippered by, yes, Bobby Moore. Oh, and who was our captain? Gerry Francis. Yup, you couldn’t make it up (here’s the filmed evidence). A true kit-astrophe.
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Further reading:
historicalkits.co.uk/international/england/england-1960-1984
historicalkits.co.uk/international/england/england-1984-1997
historicalkits.co.uk/international/england/england-1997-2010
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The (Un)Wide Awake Club: The Fourth Doctor and UNIT’s Dr Harry Sullivan discover a cryogenic chamber containing hundreds of dormant humans aboard spaceship Nerva Beacon
So, because time waits for no man (unless you’re The Doctor, for whom time can wait as long he likes it to, given he has a time machine and all that), after a couple or so weeks off, it’s back to the 50th-anniversary-year celebrations of the Brit TV sci-fi giant with this post, the latest in the (admittedly long) line of scribblings by yours truly on the best and most essential serials of Who lore.
And it’s a real doozy of a one at that, focusing as it does on the first great story of the unforgettable, unmistakable and maybe unmatchable Tom Baker era, The Ark In Space. Yes, strange, suspicious goings-on in an eerily empty (or is it?) spacestation are the order of the day for The Doc, Sarah Jane Smith and Dr Harry Sullivan. So, without further ado, let’s join them, shall we…?
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Doctor: Tom Baker (The Fourth Doctor)
Companions: Elisabeth Sladen (Sarah Jane Smith); Ian Marter (Dr Harry Sullivan)
Monsters/ Villains: The Wirrn; Kenton Moore (Noah – transformed into a wirrn)
Allies: Wendy Williams (Vira); Richardson Morgan (Rogin)
Writers: Robert Holmes and (uncredited) John Lucarotti
Producer: Philip Hinchcliffe
Director: Rodney Bennett
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Season: 12 (second of five serials – four 25-minute-long episodes)
Total average viewers: 11.1 million
Original broadcast dates: January 25-February 15 1975 (weekly)
Previous serial: Robot
Next serial: The Sontaran Experiment
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Following his latest regeneration, The Doctor takes to his TARDIS for his first trip with regular companion Sarah Jane Smith and newbie Dr Harry Sullivan of UNIT (the United Nations Intelligence Taskforce), the latter being the one actually responsible for sending them to their destination – as he accidentally knocks a switch on the TARDIS’s console, ensuring they land inside an Earth-derived spacestation and, The Doc estimates, thousands of years into our planet’s future.
As the trio look around, they quickly discover they’re devoid of enough oxygen to breathe and Sarah, having been separated from the other two, passes out on a couch and promptly vanishes. The Doctor, though, does his stuff and repairs the ship’s air system, allowing him and Harry to search further. They quickly discover a restricted section that, Aliens (1986)-like, holds hundreds upon hundreds of cryogenically frozen humans. Just as The Doc is marvelling at the human race’s desire and capacity to venture into the unknown (and in this case journey beyond the Earth in a big way), Harry finds Sarah in a cubicle seemingly frozen – and dressed in uniform – like all the others… and then, opening a cupboard door, a giant alien insect.
Fortunately, the insect is dead – and has been for some time, The Doctor deduces. One of the frozen humans wakes and, being the crew’s medical chief, uses an electronic gadget on her forehead to ensure she does so properly with no ill effects. Warily, she introduces herself as Vira to The Doctor and Harry, whom she reasonably concludes could be dangerous interlopers, but agrees to wake Sarah with her gadget when urged by the other two to do so, as she recognises Sarah shouldn’t be on the ship either. Her crew were sent into space aboard the ship (named Nerva Beacon, but nicknamed ‘The Ark’) because it was feared solar flares would destroy Earth’s ecosystems, so five thousand years later they could return to a once more placid Earth and repopulate the planet. As she revives the crew’s commander Lazar (nicknamed ‘Noah’), The Doc informs her the crew has somehow overslept for several thousands of years more than intended – and it quickly becomes apparent why…
As soon as Noah is revived, the ship’s power cuts out, so The Doc sets off to make repairs and immediately comes face-to-face with a giant green grub in its solar collector. Following him there is the non-trusting Noah, whom suspects the three ‘new arrivals’ are responsible for the power outage and, accidentally, he comes into contact with the grub (unknown to the others) and thereafter starts to behave erratically, ordering Vira to halt the reawakening of the rest of the crew. For her part, Vira has now discovered that the crew’s chief technician is missing; The Doctor notes that the berth that had contained him in the cryogenic chamber instead holds the remains of a membrane, which he assumes must have come from an egg sac produced by the enormous insect – an insect queen, it seems.
Another technician is revived, Libri, whom the others convince must go after Noah, as The Doc now believes he may turn into a green grub and eventually into a fully formed insect (he accounts for the missing chief technician by explaining the queen had laid eggs in his body before she died and as they hatched they absorbed him and his technical knowledge of the ship). Libri finds Noah, whom draws his laser gun, but the young technician can’t force himself to kill his superior; Noah has no such qualms and shoots him dead, before discovering his left hand and lower arm has horrifically metamorphosed into green grub – clearly he won’t be human for much longer.
“Madame Nostradamus made it for me – a witty little knitter. Never get another one like it” ~ The Doctor on the origin of his trademark scarf
Contacting Vira, a now half-transformed Noah hands over control of the crew and its mission to her, claiming she must revive all the humans and ‘transmat’ them (effectively beam them down) to the Earth below as fast as possible before he and all the other grubs quickly transform into adult insects – or, to give the species their proper name (which he does), the Wirrn – and kill the humans. The Doctor tells her she must delay, though, while he works out a way to fight the Wirrn. He quickly settles on the risky manoeuvre of linking his mind to the dead queen’s neural cortex, so he might learn more about the aliens.
Having gleaned little from this dangerous exercise apart from how the queen died, the fact her arrival ensured the ship’s humans overslept and that every grub/ growing insect shares the same ingrained knowledge about the ship’s inner workings, he, Sarah, Harry, Vira and two more revived crew members fight off a grub from their part of the ship, during which one of the two crew members is killed before the other (named Rogin) and Harry see it off with laser guns. The power fails once more, so The Doctor travels down to the solar collector, having decided the only way to destroy the Wirrn and save the humans on the ship is to electrocute the swarm.
Encountering and escaping from a now nearly fully metamorphosed Noah, he learns from him the Wirrn’s aim – to absorb all the humans and their accumulated knowledge, thus becoming a technologically advanced race. This is only fair, the Wirrn-Noah argues, as the space-borne insect race was displaced from its original homeworld by human pioneers thousands of years before, hence why the queen ended up entering The Ark. He adds that as a compromise he’ll let The Doctor and his friends escape.
The Doc rejects the proposal and concocts a plan to try and electrocute the Wirrn swarm, which is hellbent on getting to the rest of the humans in the cryogenic chamber. Having by now fled from there, Sarah bravely takes an electric cord from the ship’s shuttle (which still has power) through a conduit pipe to the chamber. The plan works to some extent, but only one or two Wirrn are killed. The Doctor then tries to appeal to any vestiges of humanity remaining in Noah and reasons he should lead the swarm into space where it belongs, but the swarm is now heading for the shuttle and the humans therein. Before they escape the shuttle, Vira triggers its automatic take-off, so it will take the Wirrn with it out into space, while Rogin sacrifices himself by manually unlocking the shuttle’s exhausts. The Doc wonders whether Noah led his fellow swarm to the shuttle on purpose and his suspicions are proved right when the latter explodes the shuttle seconds later – in the end, Noah’s humanity somehow won out over his barbaric, sadistic Wirrn side of his consciousness.
Without the shuttle, though, Vira will now have to ‘transmat’ the rest of the ship’s revived-to-be humans down to Earth, so The Doctor, Sarah and Harry volunteer to check the system is functioning all right, the Time Lord throwing Vira a bag of jelly babies before he and his companions vanish, bound for Earth below…
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Tom Baker would, of course, quickly become (certainly pre-‘NuWho’) the most popular and most iconic Doctor. And to say he hit the ground running in The Ark In Space, just his second serial, is putting it mildly. This story has everything any self-respecting Who story should – and it has it in spades. An engaging but taut plot with suspense and action (director Rodney Bennett deserves much credit for its realisation); strong, believable characterisation (the lead trio, Vira and Noah); great dialogue that’s both crisp, witty and memorable; an interesting and memorable setting (‘The Ark’ looks great, both futuristic and light yet claustrophobic); a truly disagreeable, rather horrible monster (the Wirrn); and a thoroughly satisfying conclusion. Fair dues, it’s not exactly Alien (1979), but at times it’s getting there. In a witty way with a protagonist wearing a ludicrously long scarf, that is.
And, significantly, the presence and fast blossoming of Baker as Gallifrey’s most notorious son isn’t the only marker of a changing of the guard this serial sets down. As they would be quite brilliantly for the rest of this series and the next two (the 13th and 14th), the hands of both young, ambitious new show producer Philip Hinchcliffe and seasoned, masterful but new script editor Robert Holmes are all over Ark.
Together, they’d take Who in an exciting, darker, never-more-watched direction, with stories feeling monster-of-the-week-horror-film-esque, their storylines often inspired by and usually very effective pastiches of classic literature and film. The whole thing would really catch fire later (arguably in two serials’ time with Genesis Of The Daleks), but after this season’s first – and still very Barry Letts/ Terrance Dicks, UNIT-focused – serial Robot (and ostensibly the first story for which Hinchcliffe and Holmes were responsible), it definitely all started here with its second.
Another reason for me – really an affectation – why Ark is so damn good is the Nerva Beacon crew outfits (see image below). Never have spacestation staff looked smarter or cooler than in those all white togs with their modernist collars-cum-zips ending in piped upward curves at the chest, slightly flared trousers and coloured bars on the shoulders (which presumably denote rank). And arguably never sexier has Sarah Jane Smith looked than when she’s sports one from the end of the first episode onwards. Indeed, no prizes for guessing why the spaceship crew in ‘NuWho’ festive special A Christmas Carol (2010) are fitted-out in very similar outfits – answer: they look bloody brilliant in them.
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Although Holmes is credited as the serial’s only writer, previous scribe for Who and The Avengers (1961-69) John Lucarotti came up with the original storyline and the script’s first draft. Unfortunately, because at this time Lucarotti lived on a boat anchored in the Mediterranean (decades before today’s era of mobile phones and emails), a postal strike in Corsica ensured it was practically impossible for script editor Holmes to contact him for rewrites, thus Holmes had to take on all rewriting duties himself. Lucarotti was paid in full for his efforts, mind.
The character of Vira was intended to be played by a black actress, ideally a Haitian, presumably to give Ark a multiracial air and reflect the fact Nerva Beacon’s crew had been drawn from the best of the entire human race. No doubt due to the makers being unable to find an appropriate actress, Crossroads (1964-88) thesp Wendy Williams won the part. Far more intentionally, Ark is the first story in which Ian Marter’s Harry Sullivan can be said to be a bona fide companion (as it’s his first trip in the TARDIS).
He’d continue in that role for the rest of Season 12 and until the end of Terror Of The Zygons (1975), Season 13’s opener – his final appearance came as an android copy of himself in that season’s fourth story The Android Invasion (also 1975), which also saw the final appearance of Jon Levene’s much liked UNIT soldier Sergeant Benton. Marter’s association with Who would continue beyond the series, though, as in the late ’70s and early ’80s he penned nine official Target novelisations based on series serials. He died from a heart attack in 1986, aged just 42.
Ark fits near the beginning of a long, unbroken story arc (detailing Sullivan’s travels with The Doc and Sarah Jane) running right from the beginning of Season 12 opener Robot – or even Season 11 closer Planet Of The Spiders (1974), as that one’s final few seconds sees Jon Pertwee’s Doc regenerate into Baker’s, which is repeated as Robot opens – through to the end of Terror Of The Zygons. Indeed, so tight an arc is it that Nerva Beacon itself is the setting again for Season 12’s final serial Revenge Of The Cybermen (1975), which sees The Doctor, Sarah Jane and Harry return to the spacestation after encountering a Sontaran (The Sontaran Experiment) and Daleks (Genesis Of The Daleks), but accidentally thousands of years before the craft’s human occupants have woken up in the earlier story.
So revered in fan circles is Ark that its biggest enthusiasts aren’t merely among the great unwashed Whovians, but among the most famous and important of them – the first showrunner of ‘NuWho’ Russel T Davies once claimed it’s his favourite serial of the original series, while present showrunner Steven Moffat has said it’s the best story made during the Tom Baker era. And what of Baker himself? Well, he apparently cites that of all the serials he filmed (that’s a staggering 41 in total) it was his favourite too. High praise for the Wirrn-toting wonder story, indeed.
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Next time: Genesis Of The Daleks (Season 12/ 1975)
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Previous close-ups/ reviews:
The Dæmons (Season 8/ 1971/ Doctor: Jon Pertwee)
Inferno (Season 7/ 1970/ Doctor: Jon Pertwee)
The War Games (Season 6/ 1969/ Doctor: Patrick Troughton)
An Unearthly Child (Season 1/ 1963/ Doctor: William Hartnell)
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Playlist: Listen, my friends! ~ June 2013
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In the words of Moby Grape… listen, my friends! Yes, it’s the (hopefully) monthly playlist presented by George’s Journal just for you good people.
There may be one or two classics to be found here dotted in among different tunes you’re unfamiliar with or have never heard before – or, of course, you may’ve heard them all before. All the same, why not sit back, listen away and enjoy…
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CLICK on the song titles to hear them
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The Left Banke ~ Walk Away Renee (1966)1
Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell ~ Ain’t No Mountain High Enough (1967)2
The Doors ~ Summertime (1967)3
Mama Cass, Mary Tyler and Joni Mitchell ~ I Shall Be Released (1969)4
Miles Davis ~ Bitches Brew (1970)
Bette Midler ~ Superstar (1972)
Cast of Bugsy Malone ~ So You Wanna Be A Boxer (1976)
ABBA ~ Rock Me (1977)5
CJ & Co ~ Devil’s Gun (1977)6
Tina Turner ~ We Don’t Need Another Hero (Thunderdome) (1985)7
Denis King ~ Theme from Lovejoy (1986-93)
Peter Gabriel ~ In Your Eyes (1986)8
The Divinyls ~ I Touch Myself (1991)9
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1 This original version of the tune that would become a huge hit for the Motown giants The Four Tops just months later was written by Left Banke member Michael Brown of his bandmate’s (bassist Tom Finn) then girlfriend Renee Fladen-Kamm. The song’s muse was actually in attendance when it was recorded, which was such an uncomfortable experience for Brown he had to return to the studio to finish off the record hours later
2 A promotional film-version (seemingly filmed in front of a funky, urban ‘6os telephone booth) of Gaye and Terrell’s original crossover Motown hit. Terrell would tragically die three years later from brain cancer, aged just 24 years-old. It’s said Gaye never properly recovered from her passing and his downbeat, introspective classic 1971 album What’s Going On was a reaction to her loss
3 An idiosyncratic Doors take on the George Gershwin classic, captured during a performance at San Francisco’s Matrix Club on March 7 1967; founding band member and keyboardist Ray Manzarek died last month aged 74
4 Performed on a Mama Cass TV special broadcast in 1969
5 This, well, truly rocking version of the ABBA hit was recorded live in Australia and is taken from ABBA: The Movie (1977)
6 This was the first track ever to be played at the legendary Manhattan disco venue Studio 54 (1977-81)
7 As featured in the Antipodean post-apocalyptic adventure sequel Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome (1985), starring Mel Gibson and, of course, La Turner as Aunty Entity. The song hit #3 in the UK, #2 in the States and #1 in Canada; it was also nominated for Golden Globe and Grammy awards. Curiously, English World Cup winning rugby player Lawrence Dallaglio provided his voice for the song – as a member of King’s House School choir, to be heard towards its end
8 The tune that blares out of John Cusack’s lovelorn hero’s boombox he holds above his head to win back his sweetheart Ione Skye in the iconic scene from Cameron Crowe’s Say Anything (1989). Peter Gabriel stipulated he’d only agree to his song’s use if he was sent a cut of the movie to view first; his response was that the flick was fine, but he didn’t go on the protagonist’s drug overdose at the end – bizarrely, the film studio had sent him a cut of 1989’s Wired (a biopic of John Belushi) by mistake
9 The deliciously risqué Australian #1, US #4 and UK #10 hit that featured in the fembots-face-off scene from Austin Powers: International Man Of Mystery (1997); its co-writer and The Divinyls’ lead singer Christina Amphlett sadly passed away in April this year, aged just 53
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