Blonde Fist (1991)

"What're you gonna do for a face when Jabba the Hut wants his arse back?"

Kirkby housewife Ronnie O'Dowd is the kind of woman who knows only one way to solve a problem; with her fists. However, when her problems mount up and the law catches up with her, it seems even she won't be able to fight her way out of this mess. Escaping Liverpool, she heads to New York in the hope of catching up with her estranged father, but soon finds a new set of problems to contend with. Can she use her fists to make ends meet in the land of the free?

Brother and sister team Frank and Margi Clarke scored a surprise hit in 1985 with Letter to Brezhnev which they respectively wrote and starred in. However lightning failed to strike twice for this 1991 follow up which marked brother Frank's directorial debut. Unfortunately, it's clear from this offering that he'd struggle to direct traffic and its unsurprising to learn it remains his only directing credit. The biggest issue is that when given the opportunity to film in New York, he makes his scenes there so nondescript, that they may as well have filmed it on the main street mock up at Granada Studios instead. The only flavour of America we get is from some B roll footage and the accompanying synthy, sub-Equalizer score from Dalek I Love You's Alan Gill. Given the lead role, Margi hardly fares any better with this opportunity either. Never the most subtle of performers she actually forgets to act here, opting to pose instead, so it's left to Hollywood legend Carroll Baker and solid character actor Ken Hutchison (Heathcliff in the BBC's 1970s version of Wuthering Heights, as well as Straw Dogs) to liven up the proceedings on the periphery as Margi's estranged drunk of a father and his plastic surgery-loving faded glamourpuss friend. There's also Frank and Margi's sister Angela providing amusing support as a rather dim but well meaning gaolbird.

Perhaps the key problems (aside from the limp direction and preening central performance) for Blonde Fist is the fact that the script and storyline is pretty weak and when the film attempts to tug at the heartstrings it doesn't sit easily with the broad comedy around it. It occasionally threatens to catch fire, but it inevitably disappoints, and takes far too long to offer up any boxing, which is surely a cardinal sin for any boxing movie. I recall watching this as a nipper back in the early '90s and although even then I knew it was a dud, I did think it might have stood the test of time better. I was wrong. It's just hard to care about anyone or anything and the 98 minutes go by at a very plodding pace.

Peter McDougall's Just Trilogy

Across the 1970s, Scottish playwright Peter McDougall (pictured above) penned three television dramas for the BBC's celebrated Play For Today series. Each of them had two things in common; their Glaswegian setting, and the word 'Just' in their titles. The trio were Just Your Luck (1972), Just Another Saturday (1975) and Just A Boys Game (1979)

We have Colin Welland to thank for Peter McDougall, one of Scotland's best modern playwrights. The former shipyard worker cum house painter was encouraged by Welland to write about his experiences growing up in his native Glasgow and the result was Just Another Saturday, the story about the annual Orange order march in the Scottish city. The BBC and Play For Today team were greatly impressed by McDougall's talent, but scared - they deemed the material too controversial to be made and broadcast in the sensitive early 1970s.

Undeterred, McDougall went back to the drawing board and, drawing on his own sister's wedding, came up with Just Your Luck, the story of a Protestant teenager (Leslie Mackie) who ditches her footballer boyfriend Joe and falls pregnant by a Catholic sailor played by Hayman. This play went out under the Play For Today strand, directed by Mike Newell, and was immediately hailed as 'the most exciting debut since Look Back In Anger', though it's unflinching and often comic expose on the religious bigotry of Scotland saw it gain some controversial reaction at the time.

It's a really good play which, even on viewing today, feels rather groundbreaking - one imagines in 1972 this kind of story, these kind of people were not shown or represented on television. It's thanks to raw talent like McDougall, using his experiences, that the Glaswegian way of life, its religious climate, society and its poverty, received a platform nationally. I can well imagine a few 'disgusted of Tunbridge Wells' if only to complain that the dialect was so impenetrable!

Feeling they were onto something good here, the BBC subsequently went ahead with Just Another Saturday some three years later, with one of McDougall's former workmates from the shipyard, Billy Connolly, in the cast.

I first watched this 1975 John Mackenzie directed Play For Today by McDougall a few years back and was really struck by its honesty and almost documentary like approach to the story of one young man's participation in the Protestant Orange day parades of Glasgow 1975. Even on rewatches it remains a fascinating document that really does immerse you into the thick of it.

The UK of the 1970s was a real powder keg of a society with Sectarian troubles in Northern Ireland were at their height and in a Scotland which was saw the decline of industries like shipbuilding at stark odds with the riches initially and emptily promised from North Sea oil there was a rising demand for independence and/or devolution.

The authentic Glaswegian script from McDougall and the naturalistic acting of all the cast, including John Morrison as the young central character, baton twirler John, Bill Henderson and Eileen McCallum as his parents, Billy Connolly as his Catholic drinking mate and Ken Hutchison as a dangerously mercurial Orangeman all serve to give the piece a greater impact and intensity making the emotional impact of picture and dialogue all the more intense. But it's perhaps Mackenzie's documentarian style that packs the biggest punch as he captures real details in outdoor crowd scenes and in the faces of those watching the march.

A coming of age drama about innocence and the desire to escape or belong to something, Just Another Saturday depicts on the whole a genuine warmth in Glasgow that resolutely exists despite its religious divide (its telling for example that John's best friends down the pub are Connolly et al, all Catholic) and the violence that erupts as a result. Its a real eye opener to young John, who had clearly viewed the Order as a chance to be a part of something and gain an acceptance that could perhaps shape him and lead to his maturity, but its obvious violence and the heavy drinking culture that enables it on the march are not for him. Ultimately you know that although he knows all the old songs with their anti-Catholic content and says the right things and the right offensive jokes, he doesn't really mean it and is a much more inclusive person than the more devout members with real hate in their hearts.

Despite the play having a couple of bloody and dramatic highs, the play ends undramatically as befits the title of Just Another Saturday. We are left to ponder whether John will leave the Order or whether the talent he has, his faith and the buzz he gets from belonging there is his only real escape after all.

Is this the best Peter McDougall play? If it isn't it comes damn close and is undoubtedly the best depiction of the hard drinking, hard living culture of working class Glasgow, where the weekend is liberally punctuated by violent vendettas and Vat 69.

Just a Boys' Game is less Play For Today and more 'play in a day' detailing as it does one 24 hour period in the life of two weegies; hard man Jake McQuillan and joker Dancer. The latter is played by McDougall regular Ken Hutchison on fine form whilst the pivotal role of McQuillan is played with poker faced brilliance by singer/songwriter Frankie Miller. It's a really intense and authentic performance that I actually doubt a trained actor could match let alone top. We first meet the pair standing at the bar of a Greenock pub where a couple of young chancers seem determined to drag Jake McQuillan into a brawl. It's clear from his demeanour that he's a man who can handle himself and has a reputation and this is further established by the barman who advises him to keep his cool, saying "I thought you'd given up the games?"

The young gang however have only just started in the game and when they start flashing their chibs around, slashing at anyone who stands in their way, Jake is forced to intervene and give as good as he gets whilst the police, ineffectual and uncaring, sit idly by in their patrol car just waiting for the fight to end before they make their presence known.

Back home, Jake is shown to live with his grandparents and in particular in the shadow of his morose and uncommunicative grandfather (comedian Hector Nicholl) who is in ill health and on the brink of death yet who, in his day, had the same kind of rep as what Jake has now and is even rumoured to have killed Jake's father - not that Jake minds, having never known his father anyway, he clearly has only ever felt an affinity with the family he has - even if it is one way.

The following day, Friday, sees Dancer eager to carry on with the drinking and he calls round at the shipyard where Jake works the cranes to persuade him to go on a bender with him. I must admit to finding this section somewhat uneasy and sobering. I was no stranger to a 'Leo Sayer' myself in my younger days and that mix of almost childish excitement at thumbing the conventions of 9 to 5 society with the reality of rain cleared streets and the pitiable figures who have long since given up the 9 to 5 to spend their days drinking full time is palpably real and, like the rest of the film, captured with brilliant bleakness and a sense of economic and social deprivation by John Mackenzie.

The two continue on the merry(ish) way meeting up with another friend the rotund moustachioed and merry  Tanza (Gregor Fisher, long before he donned the headband and string vest of Rab C Nesbitt) for a game of snooker...but the word is out that Jake is on the town and the gang of young thugs out to make a name for themselves and you just know this won't end well for someone.

McDougall invests a sense of the gunslinging tradition in the character of Jake McQuillan and this is clear in the way that just a threat and a stare can instill bowel shattering fear and a torrent of tears in one young snitch. It's also referenced throughout and the western theme is nicely alluded to in one hilarious exchange between Tanza and a hopeless snooker player at the club. When the player laments that he "could have used a rest for that shot" Tanza replies "Aye a week in bed would've done it" Offended, the player demands "Who are you?" to which Tanza replies "I'm The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance, I hope you didnae know him?" Which is also a nice example of the fine line between humour and drama this piece invariably walks.

The film ends as the Friday night comes to a close and the grandfather is not expected to see the day out. Jake is determined to make his peace with him and explain that he has always known about what he did to his father but he has never cared, because he knows 'the game' and that he considers himself to be like his grandfather. The old man summons a last ounce of strength to respond, but not in the manner you'd expect, and instead shows you that no matter how old you are the rules of the boys game is still important to a man.

Just a Boys' Game is a strong piece of drama which never once seeks to address the issues depicted or console the audience by claiming the moral high ground, it just reports the culture warts and all without sentiment or finger wagging as befits the message of the film; "It's just the game"

To get the BBC to consider repeating some of these classic plays please sign the petition I started here

Sweeney 2 (1978)

After a rewatch of Nick Love's 2012 reboot of the much loved 70s police drama last weekend, I needed to watch some of the real thing again and its great to see John Thaw and Dennis Waterman as THE Regan and Carter - their partnership and chemistry immediately palpable in a way that Love's film, with Ray Winstone and Ben Drew, could not hope to emulate.

Sweeney 2 was the second big screen spin off from the Euston Films TV series, following 1976's Sweeney! which was helmed by David Wickes from a Ranald Graham script. This time around, the director is series veteran Tom Clegg and the script writing duties falls to Troy Kennedy Martin, creator of Z Cars and brother of The Sweeney creator Ian. For better or worse, this big screen sequel is much more like an extended bigger budget episode of the TV series than the first cinematic instalment was, which was essentially a hard edged, bitter political thriller; interestingly, when Love's update was first announced it was mooted that it would be a straight remake of Sweeney! and it's rather a shame he changed his mind really, as the themes in Ranald Graham's story are still rather relevant today.

The plot for this adventure concerns a group of armed bank robbers headed up by Ken Hutchison. Incredibly skilled and successful, the blaggers are also utterly remorseless and violent - preferring to kill their own rather than leave a man behind. A series of bank jobs mystify the Flying Squad as each occasion sees the gang getting  with an amount around the £60,000 mark, leaving behind cash in excess of this sum and a trail of bodies. All inquiries regarding the gang lead to a luxury hideaway villa in Malta, but pinning anything on them there will prove hard for our heroes. 

Unlike Sweeney!, the great thing about this sequel is that Troy Kennedy Martin truly appreciated the ability to mix humour with action and drama in his brother's series. As a result he offers up some crisp, salty and sardonic dialogue that continues to delight on repeated viewings. There's so many great moments I love in this film, here are just a few of them...

Regan's riposte to his former guvnor's barrister when asked to give evidence in the dock during his trial for corruption; "Your client is so bent that it's been impossible to hang his pictures straight on the office wall for the past twelve months" Incidentally, the guv here is played by Denholm Elliot but it was initially planned to be Garfield Morgan, returning to the role of Haskins, the guv from the TV series. Yes Minister's Nigel Hawthorne appears here as a new bureaucratic boss and thorn in Regan's side. 

Ken Hutchison getting all Dirty Harry with his gold plated sawn off Purdey shotgun "You're privileged to be looking down the barrels of a gold plated sawn off Purdey shotgun. Now as a bank manager, you'll appreciate that any man capable of cutting a gun like that in half wouldn't think twice about cutting you in half"

When Carter and a couple of officers (including the great but underused Derrick O'Connor) are called out to arrest a man attempting to put arsenic in a brewery, they inevitably come back to the station steaming drunk - obviously they tested the product to make sure!

A shout to a hotel where a telephonist overheard a guest talking about a bomb in his room sees the entire squad, the armed response and several coppers from other departments (including Hazell's Choc Minty actor Roddy McMillan and Minder's Chisholm Patrick Malahide) helping themselves to the bar whilst poor old Carter dons a waiter's uniform to face the bomber by himself! Meanwhile Regan, quaffing whisky, also takes a shot at chatting up the telephonist played by Budgie's ex missus Georgina Hale.

When Georgina Hale turns up at Regan's flat for a romantic rendezvous she finds him dead to the world with half a bottle of whisky inside of him. His murmured words before she secretes the front door key he left with her inside his undies? "George" Talk about bromance!

When Derrick O'Conner's character is berated by Regan for commenting on two incredibly well endowed young girls walking by whilst on a stakeout, he apologises and replies; "It's a combination of nerves and smoking too much. I get this hard on like a milk bottle" 

Regan's exasperation with his new driver, Robert the vegetarian chinless wonder who refuses to pack anything other than an apple for his lunch.

It's not all laughs though and when Regan is walked through the carnage from the first raid which sees several civilians dead including a bank worker held hostage and a passing lollipop man he glumly remarks "I've never seen so many dead people" to which Carter defensively and somewhat choked, replies "They were shooting at us and we were shooting at them"

That's how you do it Nick Love!

Wuthering Heights (1978)

Perhaps with Kate Bush's debut single of 1978 Wuthering Heights ringing in their ears, the BBC brought to the screen with yet another adaptation of Emily Bronte's classic novel in the autumn of that year.

Running a little over four hours across five episodes, this gains kudos for being perhaps the most faithful and accurate adaptation. Ken Hutchison is suitably rugged, brutal and cruel as the haunted Heathcliff whilst Kay Adshead depicts a histrionic, wildly unpredictable tantrum throwing Cathy. However, as a viewer, I was left more with a feeling of 'they deserve to rot with one another' than sympathy for the doomed romance and undying passions on display. 

This is one I'd recommend for the devoted lovers of the book who can overlook the quaint production values of 1970s British television. There was an old Monty Python sketch which took a self indulgent and knowing potshot at the then norm for filming interior scenes on V/T in the studio and exterior scenes on location and on film; "We're surrounded by film!" a mildly panicked Graham Chapman is heard to mutter as he peers through the window of the studio set to a real location outside. I'm reminded of this when watching this production, except its not just film that our ensemble appear surrounded by - there is also the less than special effects used to simulate the wild and windy moors; there's the primitive paintbox depictions of slanting rain shrouding the faces of actors peering through windows, or the bright blue flares which vividly linger and ghost upon the studio cameras represent the lightning. If you are comfortable with our television styles almost forty years ago then you should have no real issues with this adaptation. However, I do wish the director Peter Hammond would have given his constant habit of presenting the action by shooting through things a rest; whole scenes play out with the camera positioned behind the fireplace with its flames lapping at the characters in the distance, or through stairs, windows and beneath the shrubbery.

An extremely faithful depiction from joint scriptwriters David Snodin and Irish playwright Hugh Leonard brings to the fore the melodrama, hysteria and supernatural Gothic air of the book which the artist Dante Gabriel Rossetti referred to it as "an incredible monster. The action is laid in hell, only it seems places and people have English names there" but personally I still prefer Andrea Arnold's wonderfully earthy and bleak 2011 adaptation.