The Black Panther (1977)/Revenge (1971)

Two films that, perhaps surprisingly, seem to be filed under British Horror rather than British Crime. One based upon truth, the other fictional. Both featuring kidnaps, the kidnap victim being kept underground, and characters lives unravelling as a result of things going wrong.

The Black Panther is a low-budget British film, made shortly after the trial and imprisonment of its real-life protagonist Donald Neilson, which led to accusations of bad taste and sensationalism from the unhypocritical press. A petty thief who gradually escalated criminally to robbing sub-post offices, which tragically end in murder, owing to Neilson’s incompetence and the selfless bravery of those responsible for these places. That ever-present symbol of British crime, the sawn-off shotgun is the culprit here.

In an effort to get that one big payoff, Neilson kidnaps an heiress, imprisons her in a storm drain, and attempts to get a £50,000 ransom. Although her brother is willing to pay, police ineffectuality, press interference and the inevitable consequences of chance thwarting his carefully-laid plans leads to the death of the heiress and, seemingly by chance again, Neilson is captured.

Considering the circumstances in which it was made, the film is quite remarkable. Its proximity to the actual events now lends it a verisimilitude that any amount of later painstaking period detail reconstruction could not provide.

Watch out for the opening and closing shots.

Revenge however, is a bit more bearable because of its roots in fiction, recognisable actors and the almost over-the-top events. Bizarrely a product of Peter Rogers, with music by Eric Rogers, one could be forgiven for perhaps expecting Carry On Vigilante.

A sombre opening as a grief-stricken family attend the funeral of one of its members, a young girl murdered by a suspect now in the hands of the police. Another funeral attendee (Ray Barratt) has also lost his daughter the same way, and bears the bad news that the Old Bill have released the suspect for lack of evidence. Ray has been keeping an eye on this perve (Kenneth Griffith with coke-bottle-bottom glasses, ill-fiitting clothes and a habit of going out of his way on his daily shopping trips to go past a local school where he can offer young girls some sweets – how could the killer not be him?)

The two dads (the other being James Booth) along with a grown up son, decide to kidnap Griffith and batter the truth out of him – and if he confesses, administer their own form of final justice.

As in The Black Panther, things don’t always go their way. After eventually successfully grabbing their man (although a woman saw events from a nearby window) and incarcerating him in the cellar of The Crown (Booth’s pub), they can’t prevent fate from conspiring against them.

The moral compass keeps swinging every which way. Have they accidently beaten Griffith to death? Is he the right man? What if he escapes?

Primarily seen as a sleazy pot-boiler nowadays, the film offers up some surprising twists, and thoughts on taking the law into your own hands, and/or events spiralling out of control.

Bela Lugosi's Dead

Wanted to watch Dark Eyes Of London last night. Of Bela Lugosi’s films made in Britain, this one is far and away the best. The Mystery Of The Mary (sic) Celeste (I’ve only seen the shortened Phantom Ship version in a mega crackle edition) is pretty intriguing, but, Bela aside, a little lacking in horror. Mother Riley Meets The Vampire (My version masquerades as Vampire Over London) is a riot and well worth watching, although it’s a crime comedy. Hordes of familiar (to people of a certain age) Brit actors (such as Dandy Nichols, Hattie Jacques, Richard Wattis and Dora Bryan) and Bela having a good time. Before chucking on “The Human Monster” (as my disc is named – so that’s all three under alternate titles – Blimey!) I dug out a DVD discovered in a charity shop – Bauhaus – Archive, a compilation of two videotapes (which I owned back in the day) – Shadow Of Light and..er..Archive, and thrilled to Goth pioneers the ‘Haus morosely dirging through their first single Bela Lugosi’s Dead. Terrific stuff. Peter Murphy sends shivers down my spine. (As does Bela Lugosi himself. We start with a view of London’s famous Tower Bridge. The title The Human Monster. And a pair of dark eyes flying towards us. The film halts. The British Board Of Film Censorship’s H (For Horror) certificate appears, and we then gey exactly the same credits except with The Dark Eyes Of London replacing The Human Monster. The original Brit titles. Huzzah! Mind you, the H certificate is a lovely piece of film and horror history. Brought in by a concerned BBFC, ironically as the initial horror boom of the 1930s faded, doubly ironically as such fading was allegedly a result of British flapping about these terrible examples of celluloid, it’s a joy to actually see the thing in all its glory. As an adolescent of the late 1970s I always got a charge from the blood-red X certificate preceding an adults only film. The film itself is based upon an Edgar Wallace novel, and mainly concerns insurance fraud through murder. Fortunately we’re treated to the bodies being fished out of the Thames or washed up on mudflats by eerie fog-shrouded wharfs, a hideous stooge called Jake who’s very frightening, Bela as oily, smarmy insurance agent Dr Orloff (cue Jess Franco) who’s outward appearance as a benevolent philanthropist conceals dark motives (and eyes). There’s also ghastly goings on at a home for the blind (remarkably the real National Society for the Blind assisted in the making of this picture) that (again for people of a certain age and genre predilection) foresees (sorry) the final story in the 1972 big-screen adaptation of Tales From The Crypt.. Most of the investigation is carried out in an almost light-hearted manner by a suave CID man, ably assisted by an American import, snd distracted then assisted by the obligatory love interest. Short, sinister, sparkling and great fun. As does Bela Lugosi himself. We start with a view of London’s famous Tower Bridge. The title The Human Monster. And a pair of dark eyes flying towards us. The film halts. The British Board Of Film Censorship’s H (For Horror) certificate appears, and we then gey exactly the same credits except with The Dark Eyes Of London replacing The Human Monster. The original Brit titles. Huzzah! Mind you, the H certificate is a lovely piece of film and horror history. Brought in by a concerned BBFC, ironically as the initial horror boom of the 1930s faded, doubly ironically as such fading was allegedly a result of British flapping about these terrible examples of celluloid, it’s a joy to actually see the thing in all its glory. As an adolescent of the late 1970s I always got a charge from the blood-red X certificate preceding an adults only film. The film itself is based upon an Edgar Wallace novel, and mainly concerns insurance fraud through murder. Fortunately we’re treated to the bodies being fished out of the Thames or washed up on mudflats by eerie fog-shrouded wharfs, a hideous stooge called Jake who’s very frightening, Bela as oily, smarmy insurance agent Dr Orloff (cue Jess Franco) who’s outward appearance as a benevolent philanthropist conceals dark motives (and eyes). There’s also ghastly goings on at a home for the blind (remarkably the real National Society for the Blind assisted in the making of this picture) that (again for people of a certain age and genre predilection) foresees (sorry) the final story in the 1972 big-screen adaptation of Tales From The Crypt.. Most of the investigation is carried out in an almost light-hearted manner by a suave CID man, ably assisted by an American import, snd distracted then assisted by the obligatory love interest. Short, sinister, sparkling and great fun.

Understanding “Punk” through compilation discs. #1 – Punk!

‘Punk’ is a rather nebulous entity and subject to many varied theories. I bought many ‘punk’ records and saw some of the bands (well after the event if you believe those who were there in 1977 and before) so, what’s it all about? I’ve obtained quite a few ‘punk’ compilations and have decided to try and see if I can put something together.
First out of the gate is the latest CD I’ve turned up. Saddled with the title Punk! It seems as good a place as any to start. Although the recordings here seem to date from 1977 -1980, there’s a Mohican on the front cover. I’m sure they didn’t really start to sprout until The Exploited became massive, but have now become a convenient shorthand for ‘punk’. Oh well, here goes…
Punk! Cd – 2000
1, Generation X - Ready Steady Go
What a great start! Pulse pounding opening, an adrenalin rush of a song. Generation X featured Billy Idol, a member of the Bromley Contingent and Tony James, a member of the London SS. They played the Roxy and became pop stars .Their early songs featured stories about life as a punk, albeit hilariously glamourised.The lyrics of this particular song are perhaps a sell-out as they hark back to the 1960s, specifically a pop programme fronted by mod bird Kathy McGowan. This tune was featured in the British tosh film Party Party (along with The Rezillos Flying Saucer Attack and The Clash’s cover of Brand New Cadillac). Who could forget those brilliant opening chords being played over the vision of a young lady in a leopard-skin mini-skirt bending over to rummage in a fridge whilst Daniel Peacock looked on? Probably everyone. Name checking The Beatles, The Stones and ‘Bobby’ Dylan doesn’t help but Ready Steady Who can lead us to…
2, The Jam - In the City
Good follow up. The Jam may not have looked like stereotypical punks (like, say, early Generation X) but their first album was 30 minutes of anger, aggression and bile – but with a positive message. In The City is their calling card and has some great statements, even if ‘at least we can say we tried’ sounds unfortunately a bit Ed Miliband at present.
3, The Undertones - Jimmy Jimmy
 I can’t hack The Undertones. I did listen to this but they make my toes curl. I don’t know if it’s Fergal Sharkey’s voice but …no…..
4, Buzzcocks – Promises
 A love song, delivered with the ‘Cocks usual panache.
5, The Stranglers - 5 Minutes
 Huzzah! One of my faves from back in the day. The Stranglers got a lot of stick back in the day re pub rock, age, keyboards etc, and were perhaps fortunate that they put out songs with titles like Something Better Change and No More Heroes at exactly the right time to catch the zeitgeist. 5 Minutes is a blast. According to The Stranglers – Song By Song Huge points out that this was about the proximity of well-to-do areas with dangerous places (presumably in London). The line ‘they killed his cat and they raped his wife’ always suggests Sam Peckinpah’s Straw Dogs.
6, Sham 69 - Hurry Up Harry
 Oh dear. Sham’s early stuff was terrific voice of the people punk protest, but here the rot’s setting in. The chorus “We’re going dahn the pub” seems designed to appeal to the sort of people who used to beat up punks. I know Pursey had a downer on punk fashions (I loved those Seditionaries t-shirts) but this is a far cry from What Have We Got?, Red London, Ulster, I Don’t Wanna and the like.
7, Dead Kennedys - Holiday in Cambodia
The Clash may have sung I’m So Bored With The USA and then embraced it, but here’s a group of Americans who mean business. It shows what a sheltered life I’d led when I recall being a little shocked by their name, listening to John Peel play California Uber Alles. After Sham’s good time pub singalong (complete with joanna in the middle), here’s a vicious, discordant howl of protest at smug, middle class America. We’re back on track.
 8, Eddie And The Hot Rods - Teenage Depression
 More pub rock jeers, but this is fast rock’n’ roll with marvellous teenage rebellion lyrics. Ironically first heard this when a friend of my brother turned up one Christmas with an armful of his older sibling’s records – Slade, T-Rex, Mott The Hoople – this one stood out.
9, 999 – Homicide
999 never quite fit the punk mould (which some might say is a good thing). Nick Cash had previous form with Kilburn & The High Roads. They always sounded clean and overproduced, but I liked that. Seems weird to recall seeing them on Cheggers Plays Pop.
10, The Boomtown Rats - She's So Modern
 More oh dear. Like The Police, the Rats first couple of singles were fast ‘n’ furious rock’n’roll which fit in well with what was going on. Good name too, even if it was from Woody Guthrie’s autobiography. Not sure they’d have got as far as they did had they remained the Nightlife Thugs. And this sounds like a demo version, it’s certainly not the single.
11, The Damned - Neat Neat Neat
Classic. I always preferred this to New Rose. It’s odd. Apart from the speed, it doesn’t sound trad arr punk, but that’s good. Some almost psychedelic flourishes.
12, The Adverts - Gary Gilmore's Eyes
Can’t go wrong here , neither. 1977 revisited via contemporary news reports. Utterly bizarre.Small time crim commits murder and gets sentenced to the death penalty. He calls America’s bluff by demanding they carry it out, and he gets the choice of his execution method – a firing squad – and donates his eyes to medical science. TV Smith’s lyrics are incredible and witty. And it’s all true! Read Norman Mailer’s The Executioner’s Song (or watch the TV movie with Tommy Lee Jones as Gilmore.)
13, The Nosebleeds - Ain't Bin to No Music School
Absolutely brilliant – and uncliched. Classical music intro. Mention of the dole. Completely outside what you’d expect. Viva Manchester, Vini Reilly and Eddie Garritty.
14, Stiff Little Fingers - At the Edge
 I like SLF but this is a bit embarrassing. Good music but the words don’t speak to me anymore – hopefully they will speak to youngsters somewhere.
15, Anti-Nowhere League - Streets of London
 We sang the boring Ralph McTell folkie version at school, so when the ANWL cranked it up, I roared with laughter.
 16, Sex Pistols - Anarchy In The UK (Alternate Version)
“Words Of Wisdom – Biblical Quotation”. The official recordings do become overfamiliar so it’s good to hear the alternate versions. Still brimming with power and rebellion.
17, The Lurkers - Ain't got a Clue
 Another absolute corker. I only saw the Mark Fincham fronted version of The Lurkers (although Pete Stride did give me a light at the 100 Club once). The original single came with a free gold flexidisc (Chaos Bros?) and this ramalama good time knees up is rendered priceless by Howard Wall talking to himself in the middle. “You’re not having a good time? What’s the matter with you?” “I dunno. I dunno. I just dunno any more.”
 18, Bow Wow Wow - I Want Candy
 I ended up seeing Bow Wow Wow when they reformed recently. They were much better live. My brother had a version of this song by The Count Bishops which was infinitely superior.
19, Spizz Energi - Where's Captain Kirk?
 Although not social protest, Spizz’s oddball world was a good one to inhabit. He was always approachable too, and eccentrically funny. Hard not to like this, although I’m sure the original single had a speed-up Smurf style playout including “Frankly Scotty I find this whole thing (bleep) irrational.”
20, Toy Dolls - Nellie the Elephant No way. I like the Toy Dolls but not this.
 So, to sum up. Punk? The Sex Pistols definitely. Unutterably. Irrevocably. The Dead Kennedys – yes, especially if you’re American. Of the rest, I’d give it to The Jam and Stranglers for attitude, The Nosebleeds for content, and the Adverts and Lurkers for nostalgia. Of course they’re all punks in their own way. But I'd have taken out The Undertones and The Toy Dolls.

Chariddy Shop Cinema #6 - A Bigger Splash

Chariddy Shop Cinema #6 : A Bigger Splash Not strictly speaking a charridy shop purchase, as I obtained this (the Salvation version) from Farnborough library, but it was only a pound, and I’d been provided with that money so technically it cost me nowt. I’d seen Hazan and Mingaye’s Rude Boy a number of times in my youth, and was aware of this. I’d never been fussed about David Hockney’s paintings, they always struck me as being of what Galton and Simpson would no doubt refer to as the Infantile school. IMDB moans about excessive homosexuality and abject boredom involving (horror!) fast-forwarding had me girding my loins, so to speak. A literal art film, a fascinating glimpse into Hockney’s world and working practices (nice work if you can get it – I don’t know how all these 60s-70s bohos funded their lifestyles but Dave’s biggest worry seemed to be whether he should stay in London or go to Paris/New York/California to work). The best form of escapism – a completely different world to the one you’re in. Crits jeering DH’s associates for being dull? These were non-actors and presumably unused to being in front of the camera. Hazan artfully (sorry) restages some Hockney canvasses (such as Beverley Hills Housewife), there’s mucho weirdness, many swimming pools and a lot of male nudity, but I came away with a different outlook on what it takes to be that kind of artist. I can’t get the scene where Dave just seems to march into Patrick Procter’s flat, and examine his own portrait of PP up close via Zippolight. Hazan tracks back to reveal PP in the same pose as the portrait, out of my mind. It’s just odd.

Chariddy Shop Cinema #5 : The Enforcer (1976)

Chariddy Shop Cinema #5 : The Enforcer (1976) The only one of the five Dirty Harry movies that I failed to see at the cinema, hence the one that kind of leaves me a tad non-plussed. The original took the crowd pleasing, Nixon’s silent majority pandering view that, with all these lawyers, pen-pushers and do-gooders favouring the perpetrators of crime rather than victims, we needed an anti-hero who could descend to the crims level whilst just barely remaining behind the line of acceptability. He might be as vicious, violent and contemptuous of the rules as his opposite numbers, but he could get the job done with justice prevailing (albeit at a price.) That didn’t stop some critics crying ‘Fascist’! and with Dirty Harry being a box-office success, it was time to forget the ambivalent ending of that first feature and have Harry superseded by a new generation of cops (played by soon to be famous young actors) who also decided to forget the rules (such as they are) and take things a step further by executing criminals without trial in Magnum Force. Harry’s unimpressed. “Pretty soon you’ll be executing your neighbour because his dog pisses on your lawn.” That put things into perspective. So where to go with the third film? Women! Women’s lib! The ‘Frisco mayor is vote-catching via introducing the politically-correct method of quotas. Neanderthal Harry’s ended up on the Personnel Review Board as a result of destroying a restaurant, the villains within and sending innocent bystanders to hospital or the psychiatrist’s couch at great cost to the city. Even perky Tyne Daly fails to raise his enthusiasm. Once a group of nutty psychopaths, masquerading as the People’s Revolutionary Strike Force but actually only really interested in blackmailing San Francisco for millions of dollars, manage to steal a host of weapons and murder Harry’s partner DiGeorgio, he’s whisked back to homicide but has a new sidekick in newly-promoted Ms Daly. The counter-culture lefty loons have kidnapped Mr Mayor and bunked off to Alcatraz for a showdown with Callahan, our lone hope against this kind of ersatz terrorism. Although the film feels a bit second hand (and it takes you a while to dial in to that 1970s sensibility) once you’re there it’s a passable 98 minutes. Clint ambles through it all, but manages to show a softer side in his scenes with Tyne, who also manages to keep her character afloat, not quite the bumbling idiot she might be taken for. There’s a couple of odd swipes at religion, Harry gets on well with the blacks, even if his boss sees them as troublemakers. It’s a stacked deck, but worth a hand or two.

Chariddy Shop Cinema #4 - Rising Damp "The Movie"

Chariddy Shop Cinema #4 - Rising Damp “The Movie” Good Lord. I did actually see this one at t’cinema. Roundly dissed by so-called fans as a lazy re-cycling of TV scripts, sans the late Richard Beckinsale, leaving a no-win Christopher Strauli to be called in off the subs bench via writer Eric Chappell’s other sit-com Only When I Laugh, dodgily unpolitically correct and limping in at the fag-end of the initial British Sit-com big screen fad, Rising Damp wouldn’t seem to have a great deal going for it. Don’t you believe it. Like the Carry Ons, James Bond and Hammer Horror, like every other Sit-Com film (which with the likes of The Inbetweeners and Mrs Brown is still ongoing despite occasional lulls) this is a quintessential look into the lives of the British. Class obsessed, sex obsessed, race obsessed, constantly bemoaning their lot, given to jumping to conclusions, it’s all here. Leonard Rossiter (who I was fortunate enough to see on stage as Inspector Truscott in a production of Joe Orton’s Loot) and Frances De La Tour carry the thing with ease, and (especially if you’re not over familiar with the set bound TV series) the opening out of the claustrophobic seediness is like a breath of (almost) fresh air. There are laughs. The great tragedy is the direction of Joe McGrath, who excelled at lunatic surrealism, and only gets a couple of very brief dream sequences, one with Rossiter Noel Cowarding with Miss Jones in a 1920s ballroom, and another a flash of Grease. Nostalgia supreme, if you’re in the right mood.

Charridy Shop Cinema #3 - Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (1990)

Chariddy Shop Cinema #3: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (1990) Saddled with the epithet “The Movie”, this live-action evocation of a comic book phenomenon is actually quite a hoot. I’m glad I waited until now to see it, because, back in the day, apparently it suffered from Head Brit Censor James Ferman’s nanchuk-phobia and had a lot of cuts. Allegedly he even removed a few frames from the 1980s big-screen version of Dragnet because there was a poster for Enter The Dragon displaying the offending martial arts weapons visible in the background of a scene. Mr Strict! So I got to see the ETD homage, and poor old Splinter being tortured. The whole thing is quite violent for a kids film, I thought, and then remembered the bits of Home Alone I’d seen, or even rolling around, helpless with laughter at Laurel and Hardy suffering all manner of undignified injuries when I was a pre-teen. This farrago includes all kinds of weirdness - nods to film noir, Humphrey Bogart, kung-fu cinema (I was a bit stunned to see Golden Harvest films logo come up at the start), there’s loads. The New York being a hotbed of crime at the start suggests not only Batman but also Death Wish, there’s a jeer at Critters, but what’s with the negative image of punks? Huh! Utterly ridiculous but a whole lot of fun. Anything that celebrates junk culture is fine by me.

Chariddy Shop Cinema #2 : Assault On Precinct 13 (1976)

Chariddy Shop Cinema #2 : Assault On Precinct 13 (1976) What a result! Thank you Age Concern (nee Help The Aged) of Fleet High Street. I didn’t expect to pick up John Carpenter’s second corker, but I’m so glad I was able to. My brother had been to stay with a school pal of his and came back raving about an oddball sci-fi comedy they’d seen called Dark Star. I got a call from one of my school pals who’d obtained a dodge vid copy of a smash hit horror called Hallowe’en. And then our local electrical shop turned itself into a video library and allowed me to rent a top-loading piano-key VCR (via my dad’s signature) and we could actually watch films on our front-room telly years before they’d be shown, and then they’d be cut - and the library had The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Straw Dogs and The Exorcist and they’d never, ever be shown on the television. Fired up by Dark Star and Hallowe’en it was time to rent the middle one, the one that had got away - Assault On Precinct 13. What a wonderful, strange, violent film it was. And so odd to be able to watch it on a Sunday morning, even if we had to suffer my dad tutting behind his News Of The World at the bloodletting. Cops gunning down gang members in a welter of gore. Los Angeles - palm trees. Black people acting and being treated the same as whites. Silenced rifles. Pump action shotguns. A gurl who could shoot and didn’t go into hysterics when the action started. Convicted murderers joining forces with the cops. A character called Napoleon Wilson who didn’t look all that be seemed to have a fearsome rep. Utter madness. I’m delighted to say it still holds up today. Perhaps I’ll check out the remake. Had to smirk at an interview I found with JC in which he said he wouldn’t do something like having the little girl gunned down now, but he was young then (John Waters’ excuse for the ending of Pink Flamingos). That sequence (an ice-cream van!) was (pardon the pun) the killer bit of the film for us (we were young!) - it was so unexpected. The outrage we experienced when ITV screened the film and cut that bit out. Thank goodness the Beeb restored it for Moviedrome, and thanks to Alex Cox for pointing out the homages. I’m still not over fussed about Howard Hawks, but I must admit I’d watch some of his stuff to see where Carpenter got it from.

Chariddy Shop Cinema #1 - Out Of Sight

Chariddy Shop Cinema #1 : Out Of Sight It’s great that all the up to date hipsters are now downloading or streaming their fillums ‘cos that means that hordes of unbelievable stuff on DVD turns up in charity shops which make up around half of Britain’s high streets, the other half being coffee shops or restaurants. Of course it’s a bit of a lottery, you can’t really go out shopping for anything specific, but you never know... I first became interested in seeing Steven Soderbergh’s Out Of Sight when I was reading up about Quentin Tarantino’s Jackie Brown, and there’s a little bit of trivia that tells you Michael Keaton plays a character called Ray Nicolet in both films. Both films are based upon novels by Elmore Leonard. I first came across Leonard’s writing when pal at school lent me a paperback copy of Valdez Is Coming, a western. Later I obtained Mr Majestyk. I’ve always believed in the power of imagination, and I’ve seen both film versions (once) and they came up short compared to the books. When I used to go out, I always read Time Out as I was less than an hour from London, and that seemed to be the place to be. Their book section used to rave about Leonard, and I ended up reading quite a few of his novels. They were excellent entertainment, but I never could figure out just why some people thought they were something more. Most of the reviews would rave about how cinematic his writing was and why oh why would no-one film his stories? Or if they did, why did they get it wrong? The only film I can remember from after his 70s film screenplay heyday was a Burt Reynolds vehicle called Stick which I enjoyed but the intelligentsia was not happy with. Anyways, it seems the late 90s proved fertile for decent Leonard adaptations with Barry Sonnenfeld’s Get Shorty proving successful, and then Quent following up Reservoir Dogs and Pulp Fiction with Jackie Brown. Soderbergh had, after boffo indie success with sex, lies & videotape, retreated to low budget experimental stuff, and surprisingly got the call to do Out Of Sight. (Sonnenfeld and Danny De Vito from Get Shorty were involved in the producing) Soderbergh got gorgeous George Clooney who, despite ER popularity, was not making the best big screen choices (Batman & Robin - oh dear). They would go on to work several times together. George always seems a good guy (even when playing a villain) and can segue effortlessly between suave and tough. The rest of the cast are spot on too. J-Lo as the cop, Dennis Farina as her dad, the brilliant brilliant Ving Rhames - my grandfather used to cheer every time he saw Trevor Howard in a film as he swore that TH meant he knew the film would be good - I feel the same way about Ving. Sure the film is full of coincidences (what are the odds of a bank robber and an FBI agent falling in love, eh?) but it’s so much fun - and it’s not just brainless entertainment either - there’s a strange twisting of time, which means you have to concentrate. The actors bring out the quirky believability of Elmore’s odd characters, and there’s a lot of laughs thrown in too.

Oi For England

As the 1970s bled into the 1980s Britain was a strange and exciting place to be. The far right had risen, principally through the National Front hiding their overtly Nazi past and aims, adopting the Union Jack as their flag and appealing to the Little Englander mentality. This propelled them to the fourth most popular political party in Great Britain by the mid-1970s. Youth culture had received a bizarre kick up the backside with a huge 1950s/Rock And Roll revival in the early ‘70s – Bill Haley topped the charts, and Wembley Stadium hosted its first ever concert featuring Bill, Chuck Berry, Jerry Lee Lewis and Little Richard. Further down the bill were Screamin’ Lord Sutch, Heinz (backed by a Brilleauxless Dr Feelgood) and the MC5. (Check out the film The London Rock And Roll Show – as amazing a time capsule as The Stones In The Park but three years on – make sure you get the long version for Sutch and Heinz – unfortunately the Motor City 5 didn’t make the cut. There’s a t-shirt/cothing stand from Kings Road Teddy Boy couteriers Let It Rock – owned by Malcolm MacLaren and Vivienne Westwood – the times they are about to change) As punk waxed and waned during the decade crossover, skinheads were back with a bang. I went to my first gig proper on bonfire night (November 5th) 1978 – The Salford Jets and Chelsea at the Lyceum Ballroom in the Strand. The NME would have you believe punk was dead but there were hundreds of ‘em around that night, and a small group of skins – who would flaunt their backward-looking outlook with a cheeky “Got two bob, mate?” rather than the punks ubiquitous 10p. Two-tone bounced up the following year and skins were everywhere, the cheerful music and smart clothing appealing to even the very young. The original punk bands had imploded or joined the rock establishment, and the future seemed to point in two directions – Crass or The Cockney Rejects. Crass lived in a commune in Epping Forest and were defiantly anti-war. Nuclear war was still a very real possibility then. Thatcher had usurped the NFs immigration line to get elected and would soon be looking for a small war to unite the country. Crass seemed a bit like hippies. And they seemed to want to tell you how to think despite preaching anarchy. (I know they didn’t but I was young, and anti-hippy despite retaining my pre-punk Pink Floyd lps). The Rejects were all about fighting at football and getting nicked which was the short term view compared to Crass’ world destruction fears, and they were slightly more tuneful. Garry Bushell, who wrote for Sounds at the time, loved them. (Although I used to own a pro-Crass fanzine that actually reprinted one of his early reviews of the anarchists, and it was very positive). There was also post-punk, which could be interesting but wasn’t very melodic or adrenalin rushing. This movement coalesced around Joy Division, against whom either Crass or the Rejects seemed very upbeat. In a rather odd move, Bushell attempted to gather together “punks, skins and herberts” in a loose coalition he dubbed Oi! A working-class, street-level protest movement that championed drinking, fighting and having a laugh as methods of dealing with poverty, unemployment and Government oppression – which, under Thatcher, was coming down very heavy. (Incidentally, Herberts, according to GB were ‘scruffy little tykes who liked a bit of punk and a bit of metal’. Many of the older punk bands co-opted into Oi! Were the ones who dressed down – Sham 69, Menace, Slaughter And The Dogs, The Angelic Upstarts – ie not in Sex/Seditionaries finery – there’s a couple of hilarious live recordings of Sham performing Rip Off which start with an absolute tirade by Pursey against punk threads. Curiously, some Oi bands would lean towards metal later in their lives…) As we move through 1981 and 1982, serious rioting hits Britain. There had been outbreaks of street violence via strikes like Grunwick, and opposition to NF marches through sensitive areas such as Lewisham and Southall the previous decade , and it was Southall that would prove critical for the nascent Oi! Movement. On a Saturday in July 1981, my brother and I were attending an Apocalypse Today gig at Bracknell Sports Centre to thrill to the likes of Chron-Gen, Anti-Pasti, The Exploited and Discharge. We met the Windsor punks and one remarked “Guess where the 4-Skins are playing tonight? Southall!” (Elsewhere on the internet I’ve erroneously reported that we were attending an SLF gig at Bracknell – I only went there twice and originally got the wrong gig – doh!) I forgot about this until the next day when I saw my mother who growled “I hope you weren’t at that concert where there was all that trouble”. Huh? Yipes. It made the nationals, although most were reluctant to use the name 4-Skins, sanitising it to ‘a skinhead disco’ or “The Skins” group. And the NME printed a mostly white (the irony!) cover with a small b&w picture of the aftermath with the sobering headline ‘The gig that sparked a race riot.’ The startling element to this was the Asian community rising up to take on what it saw as a fascistic invasion, as Asians were mostly seen as passive. And (get on with it!) it’s this factor that is referred to in Trevor Griffith’s play Oi For England! That set me to thinking about my past. An internet colleague had sent me a couple of DVD-rs labelled Oi! The History Lesson, which were a home done compilation of Oi related TV programmes. Disc 1 included the Arena documentary on Sham 69, TOTP performances, a programme following Chris ‘Chubby’ Henderson of Combat 84 around London (at one point he visits nightclub Gossips and in the background one of my fave non-Oi, non-Crass punk groups The Satellites are playing. Result! Eeyore!) and odd stuff like a Nationwide report on the aftermath of Southall. Disc 2 featured a programme about pulp author Richard Allen (the reason I received this kind gift), a documentary about skins and Oi For England. Left-winger Griffiths penned it as a result of concern over rioting, right-wing corruption of youth and the way Britain was going under Thatcher. Although intended to be presented at youth clubs, community halls etc in an attempt to engage kids who were subject to the pressures depicted in the play, ITV took a rather brave step in filming it and putting it out. Three young skins are rehearsing in the basement of a place owned by a black man. They are Oi band Ammunition, and are channelling their frustrations through angry white-boy rock. The fourth band member eventually shows up, unusually flush. He’s been subbed by The Man who wants their band to play at an upcoming local Skinfest (as White Ammunition). It soon becomes apparent that The Man has fascist tendencies. The band are torn. It’s a gig. They’ll get paid. But it’s going to be the equivalent of a small scale local Nuremberg rally. There’s rioting going on outside. Their landlord’s daughter talks in an excitedly amazed fashion about the local Asians rising up – and trapping some skinheads in the Union Jack club. One of the lads, the least enthusiastic about the gig on political grounds, has Irish blood in him. Questions about unemployment, race and environment abound. There’s even a copy of Sounds, and the cover of Oi! The Album in the background (Although it did go on sale it was originally obtainable by collecting vouchers in the weekly music mag). What are the boys to do?

Airport '79 - The Concorde

Still not seen the original Airport, but did see '75 and '77 at the cinema (having to queue for the former and liking the latter so much - mainly due to the presence of childhood hero Christopher Lee - I saw it three times. Franco-Brit aviation marvel the Concorde made a few film appearances, providing what UK critics thought was the only good joke in Carry On Emmannuelle, pushing Cubby Broccoli's product placement into Mac And Me territory in Moonraker and adding a million or so to the budget of Brian DePalma's rather wayward production of Tom Wolfe's Bonfire Of The Vanities for one (rather spectacular) shot. Via the magic of stock footage, the supersonic bird even popped up in mad auteur and VAT fraudster Richard Driscoll's Kannibal. However, Airport '79 is America's love letter to the rich and famous's airborne limo. The US initially objected to its presence on their shores and I was delighted to see Jennings Lang open the film with some krazy Yankee kidz protesting about the 'plane arriving in America by taking to a hot air balloon and drifting into Concorde's flight path. They represent environmental protest organisation 'Airpeace' (ahem).

Fortunately Europilot Alain Delon avoids them and lands safely, in time to pick up the inevitable weird mix of passengers. He's joined by the Aiport series Mr Consistency, Joe Patroni (George Kennedy - on MAD magazine's spoof of '75, they dubbed him Joe Baloney). This time Joe gets to fly alongside Delon, and the pair get to expel industrial strength testosterone together. Britain's addition to this man's world is aloof David Warner, more concerned with his diet than slobbering over past conquests. The reason for Delon's macho posturing could be the return of his ex as Chief Stewardess, played by international sex symbol Sylvia Kristel. Baloney's mid-life masculine crisis may have been brought on by the death of his wife and his son bunking off to college. Delon will assist him in sowing his wild oats during a stay in Paris (the essence of which may have been filched in True Romance) In a fantastic piece of hindsight-assisted boy-did-they-get-it-wrong prophecy, the Russian Olympic team have been on a goodwill visit to the US to advertise the forthcoming Moscow Olympiad (what part did this film play in America's boycott?) which includes the world's most unfit coach (accompanied by a pathos-inducing deaf and dumb daughter) and an aging gymnast being romanced by American reporter Robert Palmer (who's obviously addicted to love - arf!) Apart from super-cliche dope-smoking jazz saxophonist, over-the-hill scat singer and airline owner Eddie Albert who possesses enough testosterone to have a trophy wife approximately a third of his age. Best of all, there's an ace TV anchorwoman who used to be involved with munitions manufacturer Robert Wagner currently testing a prototype missile called the Buzzard. Our heroine is getting ready to join Concorde when she's visited by a shady man in a shady mac who claims to be an employee of the munitions company, and he's discovered Bob Wagner has made his fortune by selling arms to America's enemies - the swine! Enter an even shadier man in a just as shady mac who eliminates the grass with a silenced pistol, but not before our heroine knows that certain documents proving Bob's guilt are to be delivered to her. Anchorwoman survives this encounter but then has to fend off Bob who's at face value trying to rekindle their previous romance, but is really attempting to suss out just how much she knows. She successfully keeps him at arms length, and as he sees her on to her flight he's smugly sure she knows nothing, but as she steps through the door a wheelchair bound woman scoots up to her, hands her 'the documents' and swerves around to scream 'MURDERER!' at a gobsmacked Wagner. This is where things become what an internet colleague of mine described as 'a gargantuan explosion of Whathefuckery' as Wagner gets a minion to reprogramme the Buzzard to shoot down Concorde and, as back up, enrols a French fixer to make sure a fighter 'plane is on hand in case the Buzzard fails. And that's not the half of it. Thrills, spills and some of the worst process work since Diamonds Are Forever make this unmissable. Sure it may have set up Airplane! as the only way forward but, in its own way its a fitting tribute to the ultimate aircraft (of my youth anyway).