Review - Skyjacked.

Skyjacked (1972) - James Brolin holds a plane full of Walter Pidgeon (as an old coot who goes "boating" with the POTUS), NFL legend/needlepointist/actor/Rev. Rosey Grier, Yvette Mimieux and Susan Dey hostage and only captain Chuck Heston can stop him. Rather slipshod, TV movie-alike semi-disaster plodder, a sort of bastard cousin of the Airport series - but John Guillermin adds some touches e.g. Brolin constantly having fantasies of being a hero to the Soviets, hallucinating medal ceremonies.  The end - set in a convincingly freezing-looking Soviet wasteland (supposedly Moscow Airport, actually Mojave, convincingly doubled via tons of realistically sludgy fake snow).

Another game I had - Rum and Raisin'

I wanted to write a videogame set in an English village, a sleazy Northern town with one foot in clubland gothic. It'll probably never be made, so here it is.

STORY

Begins in the seaside town of Rumchester, a grotty little town somewhere in Northern England. We see a seaside scene, it's getting dark and windy and a family, a grandfather in a knotted handkerchief and rimmed spectacles and his twenty-odd daughter, her thirty-something cravatted husband and their five year old son, Freddie. Freddie bathes in the sand with a sandcastle around him, a bucket on his head. Suddenly, a wave swathes over him and he rises out, screaming - covered in scars. A ghostly vision appears over the town and declares that "Bertie Breslin rises again".

You are Phipps, a ghost hunter based in a room above a pub, and you have to find the whereabouts of Bertie Breslin, who as the landlord, Huw Egg informs you, was a legendary music hall entertainer who was forced out of the town by landlords, and to become popular again, tried to add magic to his resume, made a pact with a warlock only to literally turn to stone on stage, as the myth goes, now his ghost - without a soul declares revenge on the town. You have to use a signaller device to find signs of his ghost to stop more events and have to lead his ghost into the music hall where he died, and along the way you need to find a person for Bertie to possess. In the end, once the possessed is in the music hall, you have to trick him into falling off the stage, so he can die a natural death. Once he is defeated, the possessed is freed.

EXT. BEACH, RUMCHESTER, NORTHERN ENGLAND - DAY, C.1979.

We see a beach, of a seaside town, a promenade, with a big grand redbrick hotel, and a theatre, "The Palace Theatre" and ice cream parlours (with names like Jaconelli's, Fulci's, De Leo's), amusement arcades etc.

THE CAMERA PANS DOWN TO:

The beach, where we see a young MUM, long-haired, blonde, hippyish, in a flowery maxi-dress, cradling her little blond son FREDDIE. In the background is a GRANDAD in a flat cap, knotted handkerchief, little grey tache, string vest and wire-framed spectacles. 

Freddie lies down in the sand, and jumps a bucket on his head. A wave of water splashes over him, and he rises up, screaming covered in red scars.

CLOSE-UP ON:

Mum screaming, hands on face.

MUM

(panicking)

Freddie!

Freddie is wailing, arms flailing.

FREDDIE

(screaming)

Mummy!

A huge image of a ghostly music hall entertainer, BERTIE BRESLIN appears above in the sky, which goes from blue to grey, emblazoned with lightning. He is a fat man in a pinstripe suit and straw hat, and cane, with a big fat face and shining metal teeth.

BERTIE BRESLIN

(deep Northern English voice, chuckle)

It's showtime for Rumchester!

Thunder strikes down and obliterates Bertie Breslin's ghost. An echoing laugh echoes as he is obliterated.

FADE TO BLACK.

EXT. TRAIN STATION, RUMCHESTER MAIN STREET, NORTHERN ENGLAND - EARLY EVENING. C.1979.

We see the exterior of a rubbish-looking train station, with a shuttered-up shop. Punk graffiti covers the walls. It is beside a bookie's and a hairdresser's called "Cut!". It is a cul-de-sac looking out to a rail-yard. Out of the station walks Phipps, an attractive young woman in her early twenties, in a black and pink dress and leather jacket. From now on, the player controls her.

PHIPPS

(enthusiastic)

I have to find this pub, "the Golden Rendezvous".

Arrows direct you, the player around the town, where we see a launderette, a corner shop, a greasy spoon café, all shut. As you reach the end of the road, A bald man in a trench-coat, fifties, horn-rimmed glasses, not unlike John Reginald Christie appears. This is HUW EGG.

HUW EGG

(Welsh, bluff, gruff)

You Phipps?

PHIPPS

(nods)

Yes.

HUW EGG

(quizzical)

The ghost hunter?

PHIPPS

(relieved)

Yes. I've come about the Bertie Breslin incident.

HUW EGG

(sinister but genial)

First thing to know is locals don't like to talk about that. Luckily, I am not from around here.

PHIPPS

(catches on)

You're the landlord, right...

HUW EGG

(smiling)

Yes, Huw Egg, of the Golden Rendezvous.

PHIPPS

Ah yes, I have a reservation in the rooms above.

HUW EGG

(sinister)

Good, but you have to know. Bertie Breslin was once this town's biggest export - comedian, singer, all-round entertainer. But the Palace theatre management didn't like him, and conspired against him. His popularity waned, so he made a deal with a warlock, in order to learn real magic, only to turn to stone on his next performance. The management took to the calcified Bertie with a pick-axe and splattered his remains into the road you stand on now.

PHIPPS

(unsure)

And now...

HUW EGG

(sinister, doomsayer)

His spirit will cause terror for this town, unless you can help. Luckily, I have some goods.

Huw Egg hands you a bag. You empty it out, a crossbow, a hose, a magnifying glass, a net and an ice-box, which immediately goes into your inventory.

PHIPPS

(grateful)

Thank you,  but...

HUW EGG

(knowledgeable)

Go on. Once you see something weird, try to use the crossbow to lock on a target that you can trick Breslin into possessing, then lead the possessed into the Palace Theatre, where you can defeat him.

PHIPPS

(unsure)

Okay.

HUW EGG

(worrying)

But be careful. Everyone is staying in. There may only be one or two people out.

You walk along, passing various shops. The street divulges in two ways, one leading to a shut-up school, "St. Clabbert's RC", itself a cul-de-sac, the other down to the seaside. We see an open takeaway that you enter.

INT. TAKEAWAY, - NIGHT. C.1979.

Inside the takeaway is JUDEE, a bored looking peroxide blonde with a ring in her nose in a silly blue Thunderbirds-type fast food worker uniform.

JUDEE

(bored, Brummie)

Do you want chips with that?

Suddenly, Judee's skin turns grey and her eyes a glowing red.

JUDEE

(deep, electronic Northern accent)

My wife likes onions. I like cheese. We're like a packet of crisps.

Judee is now possessed by Bertie Breslin.

You must take out the crossbow, the hose and smoke machine wrapped around it. There, we see a POV shot, you have to aim at Judee and press down from where a streak of lightning emanates. It hits Judee, who is freed from Bertie.

However, Bertie's ghost shoots out and escapes down the street.

EXT. STREET, RUMCHESTER - NIGHT, C.1979.

You must immediately immediately run down the street, down past more closed shops. There, you see a nerdy duffel-coated cyclist, DARREN PETHIG. You must catch the ghost of Bertie by freezing it, and then as Darren cycles past the theatre, a big grand Romanesque building facing the promenade, fire the frozen ghost at Darren. If you miss, Darren will cycle past again. Once you manage to get Darren possessed, he will turn sort of green-skinned with a shock of white hair, run into the theatre, it doors swinging open.

INT. PALACE THEATRE, RUMCHESTER - NIGHT, C.1979.

Inside the grand Victorian theatre, various porches and arches surround the grand stage. It is closed. 

An elderly, white-haired ARTHUR ENGLISH-type CARETAKER in brown overalls brushes around, whistling. You must chase Darren down to the stage, to the edge, where there is a white line. On the white line, as he walks on, you must aim the crossbow and fire smoke.

Suddenly, Darren turns normal again, runs out of the theatre in fear while the giant Bertie Breslin manifests himself and laughs.

BERTIE BRESLIN

(Northern English, mock-genial)

And you thought I were dead!

As you try to freeze Bertie once more, this time for good, he will cry more phrases and weak jokes.

BERTIE BRESLIN

(jokey)

My mother in law says that if I die first, she'll dance on my grave. I'm getting buried at sea.

BERTIE BRESLIN

(jokey, doesn't realise his jokes are sometimes brutal)

What do you call a cross between an English theatrical lord and an explorer. Lawrence of Olivier!

When you manage to finally give him a big enough freeze, he will fall off the stage and break into a million pieces - screaming.

Huw Egg will run in with the Roy Kinnear-esque LORD MAYOR in full Lord Mayor's regalia and give you a medal.

HUW EGG

(relieved)

Thank Christ you saved Rumchester!

CLOSE-UP ON:

Phipps smiles.

THE END.

The idea may have originated in an earlier short script I wrote.

EXT. ISOLATED COUNTRY ROAD, IRISH COUNTRYSIDE -EARLY MORNING.

We see a FUNERAL PROCESSION heading deep along an ISOLATED COUNTRY ROAD. MEN IN FLAT CAPS AND PRIMITIVE TWEED CLOTHING and WOMEN IN FLORAL DRESSES AND HEADSCARVES, wheeling a HORSE-DRAWN CART on which lies a crudely-put together WOODEN COFFIN. THE PROCESSION is captained by A PRIEST, FATHER DYER, pale, tall, in thick milk-bottle glass spectacles, with a huge tower of grey hair, a BANDOLIER OF SHARPENED PENCILS AND VIRGIN MARY-SHAPED HOLY WATER BOTTLES clung tightly around his CASSOCK. CHILDREN, BOYS in COMMUNION SUITS and GIRLS in WHITE DRESSES holding FLORAL BOUQUETS join THE PROCESSION on the FRONT.

THE PROCESSION reaches a HOLE in THE CRUX OF A CROSSROADS. THEY DROP THE COFFIN FROM THE CART into THE HOLE. THE COFFIN LID slides off. INSIDE is BIG JOE BARLOW, a skeletal ruin of a man, patches of torn skin hanging off his skeleton, a brown wig clinging onto the top.

FATHER DYER

(shrill, arch)

May with eternal rest shall Big Joe Barlow be punished for his innumerable sins!

FATHER DYER rips the various BOTTLES OF HOLY WATER from his BANDOLIER and empties all of them onto the corpse of BIG JOE BARLOW.

LAP-DISSOLVE - BIG JOE BARLOW's CORPSE sizzles with the HOLY WATER into piles of smoking ash, hissing maggots writhing out of the mounds.

THE ASH AND MAGGOTS drop into THE HOLE, and THE COFFIN is then dropped over them.

CUT - FATHER DYER looks determined.

FATHER DYER

(cold)

May the scum of the vampires be erased from the Earth!

FATHER DYER hisses and reveals he has FANGS.

EXT. SANTA MIRA HOTEL, SEASIDE TOWN, IRELAND, MORNING.

We see THE SANTA MIRA HOTEL, a crumbling little seaside BED AND BREAKFAST on the edge of a CORNER, in white plaster-cladding that is starting to fall off. It looks as if it was once a busy place, clearly has seen better days. However, it is now forgotten, and derelict, dilapidated, crumbling and clearly not in season. The tiny DRIVEWAY built in front of it is occupied by a battered old tangerine-coloured HATCHBACK, perhaps a FIAT PANDA or VOLKSWAGEN GOLF GTI. The weather is damp, WALLS OF FOG in the BACKGROUND.

INT. LOBBY, SANTA MIRA HOTEL - MORNING.

THE LOBBY is small, cramped and mostly beige. The dried paint is beginning to crumble and peel away, the brickwork being revealed underneath. Unrelated foreign holiday posters cover the walls, dated 1970s advertisements for THE SWISS ALPS, BENIDORM, AMSTERDAM. Bits of awful piped muzak, for example, "Un Homme et Une Femme", some GEOFF LOVE/JAMES LAST COMPILATIONS play overheard. ALICE, a young nervous girl, fun-loving, who can handle problems with handle and care, pretty, nineteen, dressed in jeans and check shirt is waiting. A MIDDLE-AGED COUPLE - MR. AND MRS. DAWLISH, dressed in tweeds and raincoats appear.

ALICE

(friendly, approachable)

  Oh, MR. AND MRS. DAWLISH? You're leaving?

MR. DAWLISH

(English)

Yes, we've decided to go on a hike up to the Head.

MRS. DAWLISH

We'll be camping.

ALICE

Oh, I hope you enjoyed your visit.

MRS. DAWLISH

Yes, we loved it.

MR. DAWLISH

We'll be back.

ALICE

You always are. As we say here, the season only ends when MR. AND MRS. DAWLISH leave.

MRS. DAWLISH

That's sweet.

MR. DAWLISH

Let's go, dear.

MR. AND MRS. DAWLISH leave. ALICE looks through some big LEATHER-BOUND BOOKS. Suddenly, BOBBY VELCRO comes in, a fantastically camp figure. He is dressed in a strange kind of adult communion suit, with indigo flares and jacket and a purple roll-neck jumper with rosette.

BOBBY VELCRO

(camp, Yorkshire accent)

Oh Calcutta, ALICE!

ALICE

(suspicious)

What's happened next?

BOBBY VELCRO

Your Uncle Andre's cousins are coming over.

ALICE

I thought all my father's cousins were dead.

BOBBY VELCRO

So did I. Ingrid never talked about them. Does the name Shackleton mean anything?

ALICE

That was my paternal grandmother's maiden name. Her nieces and nephews?

BOBBY VELCRO

I think so. His name is CURT. German, I believe.

ALICE

German cousins? Are you sure they're not trying to get a free room?

BOBBY VELCRO

Actually, I think I made a mistake. It is a wedding party. CURT is the father in law. The cousin in question is the father in law. He's from that London.

ALICE

Oh, do you mean Forrest? Yes, he came over for Uncle Andre's funeral when I was small. Owned a joke shop.

BOBBY VELCRO

That's the bugger. Yes, I know him. Annoying little twerp.

ALICE

So, what's the party?

BOBBY VELCRO

Well, it's small. CURT's wife, one Denise Mortlock...

ALICE

(raises an eyebrow)

Mortlock! That's an unusual name.

BOBBY VELCRO

They're minor aristocrats, whatever the Kraut equivalent of a baronet is.

ALICE

And...

BOBBY VELCRO

Well, she was murdered, apparently, found beheaded in Dusseldorf.

ALICE

Oh, that's a pity.

BOBBY VELCRO

Don't feel remorse. She was a prison warder in Spandau. They only have a daughter in her teens.

ALICE

Is she the bride?

BOBBY VELCRO

She's one of them.

ALICE

(surprised)

They're lesbians...

BOBBY VELCRO

Yes, and for some reason, Forrest is not bothered about it at all. Or CURT.

ALICE

Does CURT have a job?

BOBBY VELCRO

He restores mirrors.

ALICE

Right. Did they make any arrangements?

BOBBY VELCRO

Yes, I had to invite them.

ALICE

But they called up.

BOBBY VELCRO

They wanted me to send invites, to give some Germanic stamp of approval. In return, they sent two bags of soil back, and ordered me to sprinkle them on the lawn. Some German custom, apparently. I've never heard of that, though, and I lived there!

ALICE

When you were in your disco band?

BOBBY VELCRO

Yes, very fishy.

ALICE

I thought they were called "Pomegranate".

BOBBY VELCRO

(agitated)

Yes, I'm talking about the soil sprinkling and the invitations!

ALICE

How is Aunt Ingrid?

BOBBY VELCRO

Dead. Well, almost. As my good friend Nicky Mitch once said, he was married to his wife fifteen years, and then the marriage died, and what he divorced was a corpse waiting for God...

ALICE rolls her eyes. We hear a CAR pull up outside.

ALICE

(looking through the window)

There's someone outside.

Suddenly, FORREST SHACKLETON shuffles in, in flat cap and camel hair coat, gold chain around his neck. There is something sleazily working class about him. His wife EDNA is plain as day, short black hair, big glasses and wearing dumpy trousers - a kind of ROSE WEST figure.

FORREST SHACKLETON

(refined Cockney)

Is this the Santa Mira?

EDNA SHACKLETON

(throaty, Yorkshire accent)

Yes, it is. Didn't you see the sign?

FORREST SHACKLETON

Shut up, Edna! You've been eating Chicken Kiev!

EDNA SHACKLETON

No, I haven't, Forrest!

ALICE

Excuse me! You must be the Shackletons!

FORREST SHACKLETON

Indeed, I'm Forrest, this is my wife Edna, my daughter Bernadette is in the party with the others.

ALICE

Oh, I see. I am sorry to say Aunt Ingrid is ill.

FORREST SHACKLETON

The cow!

EDNA SHACKLETON

Don't be rude!

FORREST SHACKLETON

I'm not!

ALICE

Which room are you in?

BOBBY VELCRO

(calling)

The Golden Rendezvous.

EDNA SHACKLETON

(surprised)

The what?

BOBBY VELCRO

The Golden Rendezvous. Your cousin Andre named each suite or room after an Alistair MacLean novel. One of his little quirks.

FORREST SHACKLETON

Weren't you in telly?

BOBBY VELCRO

(smiling, pleased)

Yes, New Faces.

FORREST SHACKLETON

Weren't you in a band?

BOBBY VELCRO

Yes, we were called Pomegranate. Our big hit was "Jim Jones (No Heart, Just Stones)", a touching tribute to the Jonestown massacre.

EDNA SHACKLETON

(ignorant, admiring her face in a pocket mirror)

Right!

CUT - We see Edna's face reflected in the mirror, Forrest elbowing in.

ALICE

May I take you to the bedroom?

EDNA SHACKLETON

Yes, please!

ALICE

Now we have an all-inclusive breakfast and supper!

FORREST SHACKLETON

I thought this was a bed and breakfast!

BOBBY VELCRO

(catty, snobbish)

We prefer the term "guest house".

ALICE

Where's Rollo?

EDNA SHACKLETON

Rollo?

BOBBY VELCRO

(almost but not quite sarcastic)

Our bellboy, he's on leave.

FADE-OUT.

INT. DINING ROOM, SANTA MIRA HOTEL, SEASIDE TOWN, IRELAND - NIGHT.

We see ALICE and Bobby Velcro, in a floridly orange wallpapered, cheesy very 1970s DINING ROOM, a SODA STREAM in the corner, in front of THE WINDOW, VIRGIN MARY-SHAPED BOTTLES OF HOLY WATER, A HOLY WATER FONT beside the DINING HATCH. We see a GLASS CABINET full of unused "GOOD CROCKERY" and "GOOD" CHINA CUPS, PLATES, GLASSES AND DECANTERS that are never used. We also see paintings of JOHN F KENNEDY, POPE JOHN PAUL II and JESUS CHRIST with THE SACRED HEART aglow in his chest hung on the wall, PLASTIC SPANISH SOUVENIR BULL ORNAMENTS on THE MANTEL-PIECE (lined with TWO CHINA DOGS).

ALICE

How is it?

BOBBY VELCRO

Good, fine, perfect for the others.

Suddenly, the WINDOWS OPEN - "SALEM'S LOT" style, and MURIEL and BERNIE, two teenage girl VAMPIRES in white nighties, typical HAMMER-type VAMPIRE GIRLS crawl out.

BOBBY VELCRO

Look, it's the girls, they must be here for a fancy dress party!

Edna and Forrest Shackleton walk in.

FORREST SHACKLETON

Wot, them? No, they always dress like that.

Forrest and Edna show their fangs. BOBBY VELCRO flashes a glass decanter at them.

BOBBY VELCRO

(shocked)

But you have reflections!

FORREST SHACKLETON

We're human-born, therefore we have reflections. We can walk in the sun. We don't need to be invited into houses. That's why there were only two bags of soil.

BOBBY VELCRO

What did you do to Rollo?

EDNA SHACKLETON

(laughing, camp)

We drank him!

BOBBY VELCRO

Why are you here?

FORREST SHACKLETON

(laughing)

For Ingrid!

ALICE

(defensive)

Ingrid's lost most of her blood.

FORREST SHACKLETON

(smiling, sinister)

It's not her blood, silly. It's her parasite!

BOBBY VELCRO

What parasite?

FORREST SHACKLETON

Ask CURT. He knows. He and his kid are the ones who need it. They say it will give them reflections and the power to walk in daylight, allow them to blend into society without bleeding when they go to places uninvited!

Bernie and Muriel jump out and prepare to bite ALICE, who shoves a mirror in front of them.

We see in the mirror - Bernie is there, but not Muriel.

ALICE grabs a pencil and stabs it in Bernie's back. Bernie collapses. Muriel sweeps in towards ALICE's neck in revenge, but ALICE pushes her away, and Muriel falls onto Bernie's neck, accidentally biting her. The two girls turn white and then lose all distinctive features, as they melt into each other. They sink out of their dresses, the gloop bubbling outward onto the carpet.

Bobby Velcro drops THE HOLY WATER FONT and the BOTTLES OF HOLY WATER on Forrest and Edna Shackleton.

Edna Shackleton screams in horror, the holy water steaming on her body. Her jaw drops and she bends down. Her body contorts as it melts into a giant dough ball, made out of skin and liquidized bone. Her clothes are wrapped around the blob.

Forrest melts into his wife, enrobed in a yellow glow. He sizzles, like bacon in the pan, steam burning through his face. He collapses, his body falling into ash.

BOBBY VELCRO

(worried)

Oh no, we'll be considered murderers!

ALICE

(helpful)

Not unless we call the Vatican! They know this thing!

BOBBY VELCRO

(relieved)

You're right!

Suddenly, CURT appears, a NOSFERATU-type, bald, sinister, tall, large ears, dressed in a black cloak, the skinned bat-meets-scarab-like PARASITE clinging to his neck.

CURT

(Germanic, cloaked in shadow)

I've been expecting you! What a lovely (brief pause) treat!

ALICE rips the PARASITE from CURT's neck and stamps her foot on it. She then rams a pencil through CURT's neck. Bobby Velcro stuffs some garlic in the wound and douses holy water on the garlic. ALICE and Bobby Velcro run to the edge of the room, and lie down, expecting carnage.

CURT melts. His face runs like snot, his waxen visage dripping on the floor, what little he had of his hair sliding downward. The rest of his head, all red and bloody, devoid of skin, plops onto the floor. The skeletal remnants sticking out of his neck break like fragile glass, as his arms melt into his headless torso. His legs drip downward. Within seconds, he is now a gloopy mess. His skeleton is now white liquid, oozing, leaking all over. The blobby melted remains of the six vampires crawl and slide into one big multicolored pile of gloop. ALICE slams the last of THE HOLY WATER on the pile of gloop, which simmers. Smoke rises upward.

BOBBY VELCRO

(getting up alongside ALICE)

Well, we need to call the cleaners, not just the Vatican!

ALICE grabs the telephone.

ALICE

Is that the Vatican? Yes, there were vampires. Mortlock? Yes. Dead? He's melted. And the others, too. And the parasite. Thanks.

ALICE slams the phone down.

BOBBY VELCRO

Who was it?

ALICE

(matter of fact)

Cardinal Van Helsing. Said to blame a Father Dyer for it.

ROLL CREDITS.

A weird videogame idea I had - British Intelligence.

I am trying to think of things to do. I wrote a videogame, but because the video game industry is a closed shop to non-coders, pretty much. I wanted to do a sort of John Le Carré-esque video game, a sort of affectionate spoof of that Cold War "tea drinking and discussing traitors in metaphor" genre.

Hope you enjoy.

PLOT

Rostov, Soviet Union, 1979 - Jerry Craven, a British agent is staying at a hotel when he is given a phone call by an English-accented voice. He is told to leave Rostov immediately. He escapes through a forest, and is chased by dogs. He finds a cabin and meets a young woman, only to be released back and savaged by dogs.

Cut to London, 1979 - at a railway station, outside a café, Alec Calder, an ageing British spy eats his lunch from a plastic lunchbox, he unwraps an apple core in tinfoil. Inside the core is a radio. He speaks into it. On the other side of the radio is his boss, Nimrod who urges him to get to MI5.

Calder gets out on a train, and lands at Wyldwych Station. In the station key cutter and shoe repair unit, he meets Jacobs, a man in overalls who leads him at the back of the keycutter's, and we found ourselves in an underground bunker - MI5, there we meet Nimrod. He tells us Craven is missing, possibly dead but his body needs to be recovered, for he had the contents of a microfilm tattooed on his side.

The plot of the game is to find the body of Craven, begins with an arrival at a ferry in Rostov, you walk through the quiet village, where you attempt to avoid a checkpost - by either sneaking onto a bus, stealing a passport, or by climbing through and avoiding being shot. Once you get past the checkpoint, you reach Craven's hotel, then at the hotel, you meet Svetlana. You attempt to kill her, but she instead arrests you. While being driven in her van, you escape, and then scour the forests, where you have to avoid the dogs. As you look around, you find Craven's gun, and you can shoot the dogs, and the guards, while you come across Craven's body. Now, you must find a way to get the contents of the tattoo off his body. The safest bet is taking a photo, as carrying his body would arouse suspicion, even wearing a stolen guard's uniform. Once you get past the checkpoint, you meet Craven who informs you that the body isn't his but a Soviet guard he disguises as himself so he could defect. Now, you have the choice - either reveal to MI5 that Craven  is alive and that the Russians have the contents of the microfilm, kill Craven, claim the corpse of the dead man was Craven and hope the Russians weren't told or keep it secret.

When you return to London, Nimrod will (A.) be apologetic and say there's nothing you could do and tells you that he knew Craven was too clever to be killed, or (B.) tell that you are lying and force you to immediately inform him the truth, where you must tell him that Craven is alive. In this case, you are fired.

PROLOGUE.

SUBTITLE/SUPERIMPOSITION:

"Rostov, Czechoslovakia, 1979".

EXT. ROSTOV, CZECHOSLOVAKIA - EARLY EVENING, 1979.

We see a rainy brutalist Eastern Bloc city in the 70s, a grand old 19th Century hotel at the centre of a crumbling plaza of ageing, once beautiful, now battered buildings and horrible Erno Goldfinger-esque flats. This is not a realistic Eastern Bloc, but the stuff of Le Carré. For all we know, it could be Glasgow.

Rains pours down. The CAMERA swoops in and CLOSE-UPS on a window.

INT. HOTEL BEDROOM, ROSTOV, CZECHOSLOVAKIA - EARLY EVENING, 1979.

In a basic, minimalist hotel room, rain noisily pitter-pattering against the window with horrid brown wallpaper, and equally horrid orange carpet, we see a pained-looking figure sitting on a bed, in a cream roll-neck sweater and blue jacket. This is JERRY CRAVEN. He is about fifty, lived-in, close-cropped black hair, panicky-looking.

The phone rings. Jerry picks it up, quick but cautious.

JERRY CRAVEN

(whispery, quite high voice, Edinburgh aristocrat)

Er, yes?

A deep, soothing voice echoes from the other side.

LIONEL NIMROD

(OOV, suave, friendly, with a slight edge of the sinister)

Is that Jerry Craven?

JERRY CRAVEN

(relieved, still panicky)

Er, yes, er, yes of course. Nimrod?

LIONEL NIMROD

(OOV, friendly)

Yes.

JERRY CRAVEN

(worried)

What is it?

LIONEL NIMROD

(OOV, stern)

Where there is sea, there is sun.

JERRY CRAVEN

(confused)

Er...

LIONEL NIMROD

(OOV, mock-polite)

We have arranged a holiday for you, Mr. Craven.

JERRY CRAVEN

(smiling, realising)

Right, I see.

EXT. FOREST, OUTSIDE ROSTOV - NIGHT, 1979.

SUPERIMPOSITION:

"Forest, outside Rostov, Czech-Austrian border."

We see a desolate forest of dead leaf-less trees, and a 1950s BUS arrives. Jerry gets off, looking scared, accompanied by an OLD LADY in a mink coat and cat-eye spectacles. The old lady walks off in the other direction, while Jerry goes towards into the forest.

CUT TO:

Jerry is in the midst of the forest, covered in glass. Suddenly, we hear a howling dog. Jerry looks scared. The CAMERA follows him as he runs, shaky-cam style.

SUDDENLY, THE CAMERA PANS ACROSS TO:

Packs of dogs hiding in the forest, growling, ready to pounce on Jerry. Jerry runs quicker, and quicker. He can't stop now. He's too near the border.

GUARDS IN UNIFORM appear - holding dogs. The CAPTAIN OF THE GUARD, a gruff, rough, grey-bearded man in his late forties stops Jerry. Jerry gives him a passport. Then, a dog jumps onto and claws Jerry.

CUT TO:

A WIDE SHOT of the silhouetted forest at night, with Jerry's screams placed over.

CHAPTER ONE.

SUBTITLE/SUPERIMPOSITION:

"Moribund and Excreta."

INT. "ST. HILDA" underground train station, london - morning, 1979.

We see a dirty 1970s Underground Train Station. A greasy spoon café is in the station, behind a row of benches where sits ALEC CALDER, a red-haired, pudgy spy in thick black-rimmed spectacles, wearing a trenchcoat. He holds a plastic lunch box. It is empty. Alec breathes a sigh of relief.

CLOSE-UP ON:

The lunchbox as it opened up. Inside is an apple core wrapped up in tin foil and a few bread crusts from already eaten sandwiches. Alec unwraps the tinfoil. We see a transistor radio wedged into the apple core.

Alec presses the transistor and speaks into this.

ALEC CALDER

(precise, slow, educated English accent with a hint of working class rough)

Borneo calling Nimrod. Nimrod, can you hear me?

Nimrod's voice comes out of the radio.

LIONEL NIMROD

(OOV)

Yes, quick. You're late. Report to Wyldwych at once.

ALEC CALDER

(whispery)

Yes, boss.

The player controls Nimrod from this point on. You can walk towards the café, but as you near it, it shuts for lunch.

A CHEF's big bald Brian Glover-esque head pops out through the café window.

CHEF

(angry)

Spack off! We're closed!

You then walk towards the rail platform. As you reach the end, a carriage arrives and you get on board.

FADE-OUT.

INT. "WYLDWYCH" UNDERGROUND TRAIN STATION, LONDON - DAY, 1979.

FADE-IN.

You, as Alec Calder walk off the tube carriage onto Wyldwych, a similar train station but with a key-cutters and shoe-repair cubicle and a newsstand. As you walk out, the key-cutter, a small Cockney man in his sixties, in green overalls approaches. This is JACOBS.

JACOBS

(trying to be gentlemanly)

May the gentleman enquire into if his shoes are correct?

ALEC CALDER

(smiling)

Jacobs, how thoughtful.

JACOBS

(whispery, cautious)

Nimrod wants you, Alec. Follow me.

You follow Jacobs, as you walk into the back of the key-cutters, which opens up, and through a door.

FADE TO BLACK.

INT. NIMROD'S OFFICE, UNDER "WYLDWYCH" UNDERGROUND TRAIN STATION, LONDON - DAY, 1979.

We see Jacobs and Calder walking through a grey tunnel, down some steps into a large, concrete modernist office, housed in some former train sheds, a disused carriage in the background. In the office, in a traditional wooden desk and chair, is an old man in a wheelchair, hunched over to one side. This is NIMROD.

LIONEL NIMROD

(tired, old, weak)

Morning, gentlemen.

Jacobs and Calder nod.

ALEC CALDER

Good morning.

LIONEL NIMROD

Jerry Craven is missing, possibly dead, shot down by guards in Rostov, along the Austrian-Czech border. It was his mission to bring home the microfilm of plans relating to the design of a Soviet spyship. These plans need to be found before these ships are sent along the channel.

ALEC CALDER

(salutes)

Yes, sir.

LIONEL NIMROD

(stern)

We'll arrange a private flight tonight from Chadspear Airfield to the Rostov river ferry service in Austria. Smithers will give you papers.

ALEC CALDER

(smiling)

Thank you.

FADE TO BLACK.

EXT. DOCKS, ROSTOV, CZECHOSLOVAKIA - MORNING, 1979.

We see a primitive, ramshackle ferry docked at horrid-looking cold docks, by a dirty beaching. There is a car park of Ladas, Skodas, Yugos, etc. Calder walks out, in a trenchcoat and fedora hat, and dark sunglasses. The player controls him as he walks towards

Calder's inventory is activated, where his passport and papers, cameras and his guns are. You, the player then goes up to the checkpoint, a wire fence with some portakabins where some gruff looking PASS GUARDS take them.

The gates open. Beyond the gates is a horrid Eastern European version of Llandudno. You shuffle through and a bus will collect you.

VARIANT:

If you shoot the guards, they will chase you and perhaps shoot you down, and you will immediately be returned to the point you get off the ferry,and if you escape, you will go beyond.

FADE TO BLACK.

EXT. ROSTOV, CZECHOSLOVAKIA - EARLY EVENING, 1979.

We see a tramline running through a busy 1970s town square. It looks more the 1940s though, with  a few 70s cars. You, as Calder walk through a shopping arcade at the side of the large hotel where Craven was staying, down a stairway, the back entrance of the hotel.

FADE TO BLACK.

INT. HOTEL BEDROOM, ROSTOV, CZECHOSLOVAKIA - EARLY EVENING, 1979.

We see Calder walk into the hotel bedroom, where is confronted by Svetlana, a tall, icy sexy blonde woman in a black catsuit.

ALEC CALDER

(curious, quizzical)

Are you supposed to be here?

SVETLANA

(thick Czech accent)

You are Craven's friend, aren't you?

ALEC CALDER

(confused)

Yes, and you are...

SVETLANA

(friendly, cold)

Svetlana Kondolska, I was "helping" Craven.

ALEC CALDER

(angry, grinding teeth)

Where is he?

SVETLANA

(cold)

It was his choice.

ALEC CALDER

(angry)

Stop!

You then activate your inventory, and take your gun out. Before you can shoot, Svetlana stops you.

SVETLANA

(pleading)

Wait! You don't understand.

ALEC CALDER

(steely)

Where is the microfilm?

SVETLANA

(serious)

Craven had it tattooed.

ALEC CALDER

(shocked)

Tattooed?

SVETLANA

(cold)

On his backside. The contents are written on his backside.

ALEC CALDER

(angry)

Where is he?

SVETLANA

(sinister)

Where you are going.

Suddenly, SECRET POLICE burst in with guns and drag you out.

FADE TO BLACK.

INT. VAN - early evening, 1979.

You, the player/Calder is in a van, the driver in the back. You must activate the inventory, get your gun and shoot the lock on the door. The doors swing open, and you jump out into the forest below. You look around for the corpse, as guards and dogs come towards from the guard barracks/checkpoint at the point.

EXT. ROAD, FOREST, OUTSIDE ROSTOV - EARLY EVENING, 1979.

You are now lying in the forest, as the van crashes into some trees behind you. You scour around the forest, looking for the corpse, on your way towards the barracks/checkpoint. Then you come around, near a pylon, the ravaged corpse of Craven, his face torn apart, but his back in perfect condition.

You activate your inventory and take out your camera.

In a POV-style through the lens scene, you zoom in and take a photo of the back of Craven. Now, you must run about and avoid the dogs and guards in a sort of PacMan-type maze, as you go through the checkpoint.

Once you reach the checkpoint, you meet Craven, smiling, in a nice suit.

ALEC CALDER

(shocked)

It's you!

JERRY CRAVEN

(smiling, aristocratic Scottish)

You thought I was dead!

ALEC CALDER

(shocked)

But how?

JERRY CRAVEN

(smiling, light-hearted)

No, that was a guard I dressed up.

ALEC CALDER

(tough)

Why?

JERRY CRAVEN

(pleading)

I have a wife and child here. I have chosen to defect. The microfilm, well, they're only spyships. Very primitive by our standards.

VARIANT:

You now have the choice to either kill Craven with the gun from the inventory and pretend he was dead all the time, let him go and pretend he was dead, or let him go and tell MI5.

INT. NIMROD'S OFFICE, UNDER "WYLDWYCH" UNDERGROUND TRAIN STATION, LONDON - DAY, 1979.

You, as Calder are in the office.

The correct outcome is having let Craven go, and Nimrod will tell you the truth.

ALEC CALDER

(smooth)

He's alive. I let him go. He has a family and child. But I got the microfilm. They are primitive ships, though, I was told, but I'm no technocrat, so I can't tell if he was lying or not.

LIONEL NIMROD

(genial, avuncular)

Good, well, now we have the microfilm, we can now how primitive these spyships they really are. He may be alive, but he won't be any harm to us.

You/Calder walk out and smile.

VARIANT:

If you pretended Craven was dead and let him go or pretended he was dead and killed him, Nimrod will tell.

ALEC CALDER

(smooth)

He's dead. I got the microfilm.

LIONEL NIMROD

(senses you are lying)

You are lying! No matter what the outcome is, you pose a threat to security. You shall give us the microfilm, inform us of the truth and then be forced to resign immediately. 

FADE TO BLACK.

THE END.

And I'm Back! I'm Back, I'm Back, I'm Definitely Back!

Why am I back?
Because I've nothing else to do.

I'm now showcasing various spoof bits of writing here. When my podcast isn't on - soundcloud.com/george-white-70.

A short film wot I wrote.

INT. RADIO RECORDING STUDIO, BASEMENT, LONDON, NIGHT, C.1960.

In a darkened, shadowy, EXPRESSIONIST, NOIRISH RECORDING STUDIO, we see ERIC SHACKLETON, a figure coated in shadow, dressed in a slouch hat, his face obscured, speaking into a large BBC MICROPHONE the size of A MILK CARTON. He is coming to the end of the NEWS BULLETIN that he is recording.

ERIC SHACKLETON

(smooth, silken voice, posh, Received Pronunciation/BBC English, the best newsreader you can imagine)

And finally, in other news, a young boy was badly burnt while playing with fireworks in Crouch End.

CUT - STOCK FOOTAGE of THE BLITZ, LONDON being BOMBED in WORLD WAR TWO, THE BATTLE OF BRITAIN, LUFTWAFFE.

CUT - We see ERIC's face, flames superimposed over it.

FADE-OUT - We see that ERIC SHACKLETON is now scarred, his face misshapen like melted clay, scar-marks all around it. His face moves out of the darkness, or to be more accurate, the darkness moves out of his face, light filling in the gaps.

ERIC breaks down.

ERIC SHACKLETON

(sobbing, melodramatic)

That boy, he know nothing, he knows nothing of the world. I was scarred, burnt in a theatre. My first big role, in the Christmas panto. I was Prince Charming. Then a  Luftwaffe bomb struck through the ceiling and went off in my face. My skin was melted, melted! I empathise for you, boy.

ERIC SHACKLETON presses THE TAPE DECK, stopping the RECORDING.

INT. BBC OFFICE, BBC BROADCASTING HOUSE, day, c.1960.

CUT - We see in a tidy 1960s OFFICE, sitting in a large ARMCHAIR, PATRICK SOUTAR, a huge fat man, with smooth skin bar that of his head. He has bags under his eyes, a wrinkled face, tufts of grey hair on the sides of his otherwise bald pate. He holds the tape up and throws it in the bin. ALF RIDDINGTON, bearded, forty, with unruly, greying hair, relatively handsome but asexual, a bit stiff, an intellectual and a former boxer, comes in.

ALF RIDDINGTON

(genial, Northern English)

What was that, Pat?

PATRICK SOUTAR

(posh)

Nothing, Alf, just the melodramatic ramblings of Eric Shackleton.

ALF RIDDINGTON

(curious, rolls his eyes)

What's he doing now?

PATRICK SOUTAR

(laughing, hands on his shoulders, not taking it seriously)

The latest news bulletin I had him record in his music studio involved a young boy who had been burnt, and he went on again about his wartime injury, and how it ruined his career.

ALF RIDDINGTON

(slightly more serious)

So, you need me then?

PATRICK SOUTAR

(nods)

Yes, I need his address.

ALF RIDDINGTON

(surprised)

What, Shackleton's?

PATRICK SOUTAR

Yes.

ALF RIDDINGTON

Well, his studio, a girl I have as a reader on the Children's Hour that I produce, Tina, she works as a session singer for him on a series of records.

PATRICK SOUTAR

What kind of records?

ALF RIDDINGTON

(easygoing)

Sound-alike records, compilations of covers of hit songs by unknown session bands. That's what he does to keep himself sane.

PATRICK SOUTAR

(deadpan)

Sane? He fails miserably in that capacity.

ALF RIDDINGTON

(laughing)

Indeed.

PATRICK SOUTAR

So, you know?

ALF RIDDINGTON

Yes, 4233 Grice Avenue.

PATRICK SOUTAR

Thank you.

PATRICK SOUTAR nods, and leaves.

fade-out.

EXT. ENTRANCE, GATED COURTYARD, BACK STREET, LONDON, EARLY EVENING, C.1960.

CUT - We see PATRICK SOUTAR, enveloped in a too-small TRENCH-COAT and FEDORA, walking down a PROVINCIAL BACK STREET past a LARGE GATED COURTYARD.

INT. RADIO RECORDING STUDIO, BASEMENT, LONDON, NIGHT, C.1960.

CUT - We see CAROL OTTERBOURNE, an overweight peroxide blonde in her thirties, tightly packed into a leather mini-dress, her cleavage showing, in the RECORDING STUDIO chatting to ERIC SHACKLETON, wearing a sinister featureless black leather mask.

CAROL OTTERBOURNE

(vulgar, Cockney)

Oh, Eric, what is wrong with me?

ERIC SHACKLETON

(smooth)

Carol Otterbourne, you make me laugh.

CAROL OTTERBOURNE

What is it?

ERIC SHACKLETON

(cruel, rude)

I'm sorry but it is your skin.

CAROL OTTERBOURNE

(outraged)

My skin? My skin? Your skin is rotten. What's wrong with mine? It's perfect, compared to yours. This is music, not visual.

ERIC SHACKLETON

(sinister)

You see, it is a little experiment. I need smoothness.

CAROL OTTERBOURNE

(confused)

Why?

ERIC SHACKLETON

(sinister)

Nothing, just some accompanying visuals, that is all.

CAROL OTTERBOURNE

(eager)

But you want me for the recording.

ERIC SHACKLETON

(smooth)

Yes, of course.

CAROL OTTERBOURNE

(proud of herself)

See, no matter, what the Windmill might say, I never lost it.

ERIC SHACKLETON

(sinister)

You still have it.

CAROL OTTERBOURNE

(stiffly waves goodbye)

Ta-ra!

CAROL OTTERBOURNE leaves. Soon after, PATRICK SOUTAR enters.

PATRICK SOUTAR

(cold, tough)

Behave yourself, Shackleton!

ERIC SHACKLETON

(laughing, rough lines of a smile visible behind the leather mask)

Why should I?

PATRICK SOUTAR

(tough)

Your career is ruined.

ERIC SHACKLETON

(laughing)

My career? My career? My career is in its prime! It was already ruined! I recovered, didn't I?

PATRICK SOUTAR

(trying to be friendly)

Yes, but now we can't use your recording because the people who listen the news want the news not some tragic monologue of a former actor's spotlight literally being the impact of a bomb hitting on the stage!

ERIC SHACKLETON

(smoothly sinister)

Actually, to correct you, your career is ruined!

PATRICK SOUTAR

(confused, stuttering)

Mine, mine, mine?

ERIC SHACKLETON

(aiming a DART-GUN at PATRICK SOUTAR)

Yes, yours!

ERIC SHACKLETON shoots a POISONED DART from the DART-GUN and into PATRICK SOUTAR'S FORE-HEAD. SHACKLETON grabs a KNIFE, and then picks up a BLOB of pinkish-orange CLAY, and moves the clay all over the dead PATRICK SOUTAR.

ERIC SHACKLETON

(smiling)

Checkmate!

CUT - We see ERIC SHACKLETON, carefully pull the CLAY away from PATRICK SOUTAR'S CORPSE to reveal trails of SKIN hanging off it. He rips his mask off, and pushes some clay onto it, making a thin mask over his disfigured face. He then places patches of skin that form a jigsaw-face, at first rudimentary with his lips, eyes and nose visible through the tears of clay. He puts the LEATHER MASK back on. THE CORPSE is still visibly on THE FLOOR.

CUT - TINA, a nice attractive girl of nineteen, dark reddish hair in a bun, dressed in a floral dress and dirtied boots enters. She is friendly and enthusiastic.

TINA

(unsure)

Mr. Shackleton?

ERIC pushes the corpse of PATRICK SOUTAR under a table.

ERIC SHACKLETON

(taken by surprise)

Oh, Tina, we recorded.

TINA

I know, but I left my keys here.

ERIC hands TINA the keys.

ERIC SHACKLETON

Here they are!

TINA

Thanks.

ERIC bends under the TABLE, and takes his MASK OFF. He rises up, and we see that his face is perfectly restored to its normal self.

TINA

(confused)

Why were you wearing the mask?

ERIC SHACKLETON

What's wrong with the mask?

TINA

Nothing, it is just a little odd, a little creepy, you know.

ERIC SHACKLETON

It helps me focused on music.

TINA

(worried)

What's that under the table?

ERIC SHACKLETON

A dummy!

TINA

(suspicious)

It looks quite realistic.

ERIC SHACKLETON

It's for an album cover. Now go, I'm busy!

TINA rolls her eyes and leaves.

int. BBC OFFICE, BBC BROADCASTING HOUSE, day, c.1960.

CUT - NEXT MORNING. TINA rushes into ALF RIDDINGTON'S OFFICE, pretty much the same as THE OFFICE USED BY PATRICK SOUTAR.

ALF RIDDINGTON

(worried)

Tina, what is it? Is it about Pat Soutar? He's missing, you know! Did they find the body?

TINA

(sobbing, hugging ALF)

Yes, they found his body outside Shackleton's studio! Badly skinned! Oh, that Eric Shackleton is horrible!

ALF RIDDINGTON

I know!

TINA

Why does he wear a mask sometimes even though his face is perfect?

ALF RIDDINGTON

Perfect? He was horribly scarred in the war while doing panto. It ruined his career. Everyone knows that. Really?

TINA

(confused)

Really? Because he looked perfect to me.

ALF RIDDINGTON

(realizes in horror)

Oh God!

TINA

(confused)

What is it?

ALF RIDDINGTON

All the ladies used to say that he had smooth skin, and only the face was wrong! He must be using skin to  restore his handsome features, to revive his career!

TINA

Why?

ALF RIDDINGTON

A couple of years ago, there was a BBC producer named Harry Bland, who wanted to do an adaptation of the Phantom of the Opera, and he wanted Eric to play it to save makeup. He flew into a rage and Harry went missing a year later, while boating in the Isle of Man, and I think his disappearance is connected.

Suddenly, on the RADIO, we hear BREAKING GLASS and ERIC's laughter. ALF presses EJECT on his TAPE DECK in THE OFFICE. It stops. He finds in THE TAPE DECK, a CASSETTE TAPE, marked "THE CHANDELIER".

ALF RIDDINGTON

Blast, it is Eric after all!

CAROL OTTERBOURNE runs in.

ALF RIDDINGTON

(pleased to see CAROL)

What is it, Carol?

CAROL OTTERBOURNE

(worried)

I have to work full-time as a secretary here!

ALF RIDDINGTON

I know. Did that nutter Shackleton fire you?

CAROL OTTERBOURNE

He said it was because of my skin!

TINA

Thank god! He's trying to mend his face!

CAROL OTTERBOURNE

(horrified)

He's in Studio 1!

TINA and ALF RIDDINGTON are speechless.

INT. TV STUDIO, BBC BROADCASTING HOUSE, C.1960.

CUT - We see an INDOOR SET, representing a BUS STOP. There are a COUPLE of EXTRAS. In the back, we see ERIC SHACKLETON in a TRENCHCOAT and HAT, his face beginning to loosen. He looks nervous. THE DIRECTOR (a deathly-looking man with grey skin and hair, prematurely aged, smoking a pipe) clearly does not recognize him.

TINA and ALF enter.

ALF RIDDINGTON

Stop! Is Eric Shackleton here?

There is HUSHED, SHOCKED SILENCE. SHACKLETON rises from the BACKGROUND, sweating. His MASK falls to the GROUND, his disfigured features fully in view, lit by the STAGE LIGHTS.

ERIC SHACKLETON

(melodramatic, screaming)

I admit it! I can't perform! I have stage fright! You cretins, you ignored me! I hate the BBC! Tina! My love!

TINA

(offended)

Get away, you cretin!

ERIC rises to THE CENTRE OF THE STAGE. He puts his hands up.

CUT - A STAGE LIGHT LOOSENS.

CUT - THE LIGHTING RIG collapses, crushing ERIC and burning his skin.

ALF RIDDINGTON

(wry)

The stage killed him!

TINA

No!

TINA looks horrified, and puts her hand out. ALF pushes her back to stop her from going too far. ALF comforts TINA.

FADE-OUT.

THE END. 

Me and Where I Have Been

I have been back, because I have finally left school, graduated with my A-LEVELS/Leaving Cert. In the past year since I have been absent, a lot has happened. There's been the British Rubbish-changing Operation Yewtree, the stuff about Savile, Hall, Harris and other once-major luminaries in the sphere of British Rubbish that has rendered them unspeakable taboo. Matt Smith has left Doctor Who, and more revelations about JN-T have come out, about his habit of luring young Dr. Who fanboys, all in their late teens into bed, creating a sort of Homosexual Swingers Aside to the Dr. Who Appreciation Society. Richard Matheson, RIP, Richard Griffiths RIP.

Now, I am planning to either get rid of this blog, because I am too busy. Like my predecessor Matthew Coniam, I am going to be very sporadic.

Have a good summer.

Black Beauty, Towers' Masterpiece and Tenser's Too

The Tigon/Towers Black Beauty has been shown uncut in a children’s TV slot on RTE. Even the mentions of the word ‘bastard’ are left intact. It is despite its reputation as a children’s film, an exploitation movie. Produced by two titans of the genre of Wardour Street, Harry Alan Towers and Tigon’s Tony Tenser, there’s scenes of a young and slightly OTT Patrick Mower sadistically laughing as he whips horses, and German import (thanks to Towers) Uschi Glas (credited in typical euro-Anglicisation style as Ursula Glass) in bondage, having been taken from the horse by a rope looping around her and hanging her in the air before being kidnapped by rival circus men and horse-nappers, fighting fat ladies who are told to lose weight for the circus and a brief Mondo-like scene where a monkey fights a dog at a circus. Thanks to Towers, there are anachronisms. Bearded hippy-ish men with ponytails which date the film to 1971, a graveyard scene features 20^th century graves and one of those stylised Victorian funeral carriages that you only see at funerals of old people and in Eastenders. Some of the outfits seem slightly out of place, especially in an odd interlude where Beauty is abducted by the Muldoons, a band of Irish gypsies in caravans who seem to exist in 1970s’ Ireland, and results in a slapstick horse chase full of jumping over burning logs and gates and name-calling ‘blithering idiots’ to the reuse of cheering scenes of Irish travellers cheering, before the horse suddenly wanders into  what is clearly the dustbowls of Spain, where is he then shipped from Spain doubling as the English countryside to Spain doubling as Spain,  morphing into a bad Spaghetti western with ill-handled dubbing and a circus that too seems modern, before it is sold to John Nettleton from Yes, Prime Minister and Doctor Who: Ghost Light who lives in Ireland/England and has as a bratty daughter, Maria ‘Mad Mrs. Towers’ Rohm herself, who apparently broke her leg while riding, and is I think dubbed (I must ask Maria herself) and then her lover (spurned by the racist frog-hating father) brings the horse into battle, makes it a war hero in a violent but bloodless scene, then sold to one of the soldiers, then taken to a coal yard where it encounters the story’s writer Anna Sewell played by Margaret ‘Mrs. Whistler in Diamonds are Forever’ Lacey.

There seems to be about two different films being made, one by Tenser and one by Towers. Mower comes across as a slightly crazed posh hippie with his long hair and top hat, while Lester is just adequate. He’s little to do than plead to keep his horse and ride horses. I hope that the children who do catch this film will realise the charms of Towers and Tenser. I hope that they will also show other Towers family films such as White Fang, Treasure Island and Call of the Wild. They have already aired the anodyne Towers anti-seal hunting vehicle Sandy the Seal and the slow giallo exploits of And Then There Were None ’74.

Apparently, this film was directed by Born Free/A Study in Terror director James Hill, once in line to do a Doctor Who film, but I wouldn’t be surprised to think that Jess Franco (who with fellow euro-exploitation man Antonio Margheriti did ghost-directing duties on Treasure Island) helped along, with the casting of Blood of Fu Manchu’s Ricardo Palacios as a vicious Russian General.

On the whole, it is an enjoyable and yet flawed film. It seems to go from one segment to another, the only link being the horse. It takes us from the story of a boy in an English farm to a race among gypsies to a circus in Spain to an English mansion and the tale of two doomed lovers, the man who dies in battle in Spain, before the horse is forced to work in a coal yard and found by Anna Sewell. It is segmented and plot strands are forgotten. For example, it is said that Lester will see the horse again yet he never does only in the end titles, where he rides around as the credits roll to his riding. Although not the period Masterpiece it aspires to, it is fun!

Harry Alan Towers Month:: Harry's Versions

It is now Harry Alan Towers Month to commemorate the 3rd Anniversary of his death on 31st July. So, we are going to celebrate him by theorising his love of classic novels, and what would happen if he made today's bestseller adaptations.

Edgar Allan Poe’s Phantom of the Opera

Erique, a gifted opera singer and composer goes insane when a rival, Gaston Leroux steals his idea for an opera based on the story of Jekyll and Hyde, ‘The Mysterious Case of the Man and the Internal Beast’, which is a major success in Paris, and is preparing to be taken to London. He storms into Gaston’s chateau, and steals Gaston’s script, only to find chateau in flames, tricked by Gaston. Erique kills Gaston and escapes, to return to his love, Christine, but Erique is unaware that his face has been melted and has repulsed Christine into leaving him, so he is left to wander the streets for eternity, running an Edgar Allan Poe-themed grand guignol show until one day tormented by Gaston’s ghost, a raven on the ghost’s shoulder, he sinks into insanity, and finds himself tormented into reclaiming Christine. He discovers she has been reincarnated into the daughter of a theatre producer who is setting out to restage The Mysterious Case of the Man and the Internal Beast. Erique travels to London to find Christine, on holiday from New York. She hopes to perform the role of Christine, written for her previous self. Erique is love-starved and hops off Tower Bridge onto a double-decker bus to see her face, but repulses the bus driver, causing the bus to crash into the Thames. Christine, the one survivor finds herself in a London hospital, sung to by a hospital-masked Erique, disguised as a surgeon, but she knows that he has lost his singing voice. He claims only love can return it, while he cuts up various doctors and male patients in order to find a suitable male face. Gaston reappears, giving Erique the Masque of the Red Death from Poe legend to hide his deformed features. But Gaston is also tricksy, as he knows if he does not carry out his heart's desire of becoming flesh again, he will perish. He decides to possess Erique, but is grossed out by the fact his great-grandson, Raoul, a half-Latino French dance student at Julliard is dating Christine.

Erique traps Gaston in a bottle that is put in the freezing River Thames. He soon attacks a London opera house, downing the chandelier on an entire audience, resulting in splatter, but Christine is not there. He soon becomes known as the Phantom of the Opera. Raoul tells Christine that her father has planned to relocate the show to the Sydney Opera House. On the plane, Christine meets Erique, who confesses his passion and why he loves her, as he sits on the wing of a plane, staring through an open window. She thinks about it,  but ultimately cannot decide. At the Sydney Opera House, Erique slides down the roof and gives Christine some flowers.. Raoul is not happy, and tries to attack, but Erique flies out on some mechanical wings, taking down soldiers who are machine-gunning him. Christine tells her father that she can’t do the performance at Carnegie Hall, and he brings in the fat, faded Carlotta, but Christine decides maybe that Erique does love her, so she throws herself in at the last minute, whereupon Erique comes in, kills Carlotta and Raoul and grabs Christine, as he flies down. She realises that although Erique loves her, his love for her has driven him into insanity, and when they reach London to collect the bottle of Gaston, at a London dock,  where he dies, revealing his love tattoo. Christine opens the bottle and Gaston turns out to be Gaston Leroux, who goes back somehow to 1909, Paris, where he tells his new love, Christine about the Phantom and what happened to him. She says he should write a book.