• Part 1 Broadcast: February 23rd, 1984
• Part 2 Broadcast: February 24th, 1984
• Part 3 Broadcast: March 1st, 1984
• Part 4 Broadcast: March 2nd, 1982 

Character: Timanov

Implausible as it may sound, but the original idea for ‘Planet of Fire’ came via a postcard that dropped through the letterbox of Doctor Who producer, John Nathan-Turner, around Christmastime, 1982. The card had been sent by none other than Director, Fiona Cummings, who’d been passing time on the Mediterranean island of Lanzerote during a strike by BBC technicians, which had halted the recording of another Doctor Who episode she’d been working on.

For some time, Nathan-Turner had been toying with the idea of shooting Season 21 of the series in a more exotic location, and after making the requisite inquiries, had discovered that the volcanic island of Lanzerote was not only expedient for air travel, but was both economical and easy to reach, thereby making it an agreeable place to work for all concerned.

At the time, Cumming’s was on the verge of introducing a new Companion for the Doctor; a young woman with the improbable name of Perpugilliam Brown which, mercifully, would be shortened to just Peri. It was also around this point that regular cast member, Mark Strickson, who’d played Turlough for the previous 15 or so months, asked to be freed from his contract – saying that he felt he couldn’t take the character any further. Co-incidentally, Peter Davidson had also announced via the tabloids that he had no plans to return after series 21 came to an end, and so it was suggested that the time was ripe to bring in a completely new regular cast.

Left: Peter as Timanov at the Observation Point on Lanzerote

Having reached an amicable agreement with Strickson, Nathan-Turner turned to Script Editor, Eric Seward, who really had no wish to see Turlough depart at the same point that Peri arrived. But as fate would have it neither he, nor Scriptwriter Peter Grimwade, were given little option, especially as Davidson’s contract was due to end in May of 1984.

Nathan-Turner was especially keen that Davidson’s successor – who turned out to be Colin Baker, should appear in the very last story of Season 21. Indeed, given the number of minor characters that were also due to jump ship in the fourth serial of that year, there’d be a greater than normal roll of personnel either arriving or departing in ‘Planet of Fire’, so a number of other plots and scenarios that’d originally been considered, were put on the backburner.

A decision was also made at this point to scrap the Doctor’s robotic ally, Kamellion, given that technicians working on the show were experiencing more than their fair share of glitches when operating the contraption; most notably in keeping the computer controlled pre-recorded dialogue co-ordinated with the movement of its mouth.

Finally in May 1983, Eric Seward met with Peter Grimwade to discuss a storyline that might include all of the previously mentioned components and more. Grimwade’s association with Doctor Who had dated back to the early 1970’s when Jon Pertwee was in the lead role. Back then he’d acted as Production Manager, and it was he who’d introduced Turlogh to the series, so it couldn’t have been more fitting for him to have also overseen the departure of the character.

One of the constraints that would bind Grimwade was the shortlist of locations that would be used during filming. Astonishingly, his only aid was a set of snaps taken by Fiona Cumming’s on her holiday on Lanzerote from which he was expected to create the setting for the fictional planet of Sarn. Having never visited the island himself, much of what he wrote was based on his own travels to the Greek Islands over the years. Such was the budget for the episode, that he was forced to contact the Lanzerote Tourist Office, who kindly furnished him with the additional information he required.

Meanwhile, Fiona Cummings who, to date, had worked on three earlier Doctor Who stories, was named as Director on ‘Planet of Fire’, whilst virtual new-comer, John Peacock, was appointed as Costume Designer.

Since the original Technical Specialist responsible for programming the Kamelion robot had tragically died in an accident several months earlier, it was suggested that extra technicians would be need to control the metal companion. But that, it was quickly realised, would drain additional cash from an already overextended budget. Peter Grimwade solved the problem by using the android as little as possible in his script, and by having it taken over by The Master – therefore making it appear in human form.

Initially, the core of Grimwade’s script had been intended to accentuate the menace of religious radicalism through the character Timanov, who would be played by Peter Wyngarde. However, Script Editor, Eric Seward, was resolute in “watering down” the role of the ‘Chief Elder’, despite Grimwade’s belief that he was being “too cautious”. Nevertheless, a sequence in which Timanov was seen sacrificing himself in a volcano was lost in the final edit.

In the end, the script was amended several times to fit in with the locations – if or when they were found. This disheartened Grimwade to the point where he left all the re-writing to Seward.

Production Diary

Right: This photograph shows some of the cast and crew during a break filming ‘Planet of Fire’. Peter is fourth from the left in the background. Director, Fiona Cumming’s can be seated on the rocks to the right in the foreground.

Friday, 19th August, 1983: John Nathan-Turner appears at a news conference which had been organised to introduce Nicola Bryant (Peri) and Colin Baker (the new Doctor) to the public.

In the meantime, Peter, plus 34 other members of the cast and crew, was flown out to Lanzerote.

Thursday, 13th October: The Production Crew arrived on the island. 

Friday, 14th October, 1983: 6am. The very first scene was shot at Papagayo Bay, which featured all three members of the regular cast, plus Michael Bangereter as Curt and the late Dallas Adams, who plays Professor Howard Foster.

As it turned out, the morning proved to be considerably cooler than normal on the island, much to the consternation of Niciola Bryant, who was scripted to swim to shore from Howard’s boat, which had been hired locally. Almost all of the scenes that day are shot off-shore.

A much smaller version of the TARDIS had been flown out to the island by the crew, which was 1/3 the size of the regular prop. When in shot, it was cleverly lined up closer to the camera so as to make it appear normal size. It also explains why none of the cast were ever seen either entering or leaving the Police Box during the episode.

As a result of his character not being part of the primary days shoot, Peter spent the day at the hotel sunbathing. 

Saturday, 20th August, 1983: This turned out to be a very gruelling day for everyone involved. The cast and crew were required to take a long coach-ride out to the North-Eastern tip of the island, where several scenes involving Peter as Timanov and Edward Highmore as Malkon were committed to film for Part 1. Some additional scenes when ‘The Lookout’ spots the TARDIS for the very first time, were also shot.

Peter, Highmore and Simon Sutton, who played ‘The Lookout’, were also required for a sequence at a popular observation point on the island known as the Mirator del Rio. The exterior lighting of the café at the Point was used to complete the scene, plus a couple of interior sequences involving Timanov and Malkon.

One of the major problems that the actors and crew faced during the days shoot was the high winds for which Lanzerote is famous. Due to rapid cloud movement, one particular sequence involving Peter and Simon Sutton at ‘The Lookout Point’ had to be shot more than once, since the earlier part of the scene had begun in shadow, while it ended with both actors immersed in intense sunshine.

Left: Peter with Edward Highmore

By late afternoon, filming had fallen badly behind schedule. In an attempt to make up the time Director, Fiona Cummings, was compelled to approach Peter to ask if he might possibly say his lines a little quicker than he’d originally been asked to do (in the original script, the ‘Chief Elder’ was styled as a man who was as ‘Old as the mountain itself’, but looked much younger due to his breathing in the invigorating fumes of the volcano over many years). Peter Grimwade had actually proposed that Peter should present his lines much slower than all the other actors so as to give the impression of his advanced years. But, of course, when the story was conceived, he’d had no idea that the clock would prove to be such an enemy.

Sunday, 18th October, 1983: After Saturday’s exertions, everyone was given the day off. Peter spends his time sunbathing (again!) – one of his favourite pastimes.

Monday, 19th October, 1983: The cast and crew were taken to the National Park area of the island, as the volcanic region which surrounds it was used as a stand-in for the ‘Fire Mountain’ on the planet of Sarn. Peter was needed to work largely at the ‘Guides Caves’, where he takes part in several scenes involving Bryant, Sutton, Davidson, Strickson, the late Anthony Ainley as The Master, plus James Bate as Amyard.

Tuesday, 20th October, 1983: More scenes on the ‘Fire Mountain’ were filmed near the National Park, and at the Cave of Doves, Sheep Hill and at assorted other locations on and around the mountain.

A very steep area known to locals as Camel Path doubled as the mouth of the ‘Great Volcano’, where the Doctor and Amyard meet Peri in Part 4 of the episode. Also shot that day were Adams’ scene as M-Kamelion-H (his face was coated in silver make-up for the sequence), and Timanov’s very first encounter with the so-called ‘Outsider’.

Wednesday, 21st October, 1983: The last day of the shoot on location largely involved the three regular cast members at the ‘Yellow Area’ on ‘Fire Mountain’ and at Los Hornitos. There was one sequence, however, which featured James Bate and Jonathan Caplan as Roskal, who Timanov had sent in search of the great god, Logar.

Wednesday, 26th October, 1983: After arriving back in England, and being granted a few days off, the cast and crew reassembled at TC1 at BBC Television Centre in London for the first part of the interior recording. The first scenes put onto film were set in the ‘Bunker’ and featured James Bate, Barbara Shelley as Sorest and a rag-tag band of extras playing the “None-Believers”.

Recording continued with a number of sequences which were situated outside the ‘Hall of Fire’, which involved Peter Davidson, Bryant, Ainley and Highmore. The ‘Hall of Fire’ was made up of a series of interlocking sets with hinged walls for effortless removal and stowage. At the moment that Timanov musters ‘The Fire Lord’, the camera was simply juddered about to give the feeling that an earthquake was taking place. Fragments of polystyrene and other airborne debris was flung from an overhead gantry to give the impression of falling rubble. 

Thursday, 27th October, 1983: The entire day was dedicated to the outstanding scenes in the ‘Hall of Fire’, all of which were filmed in running order. Initially there were proposals to record some scenes in ‘The Master’s Laboratory’, but because progress had slowed to a snail’s pace by this juncture, those segments had to be delayed for several days.

In the ‘Sacrificial Chamber’, which was part of the ‘Hall of Fire’, the action was shot using a gas burner and blue filter, which was then overlaid onto film in post-production. In certain other scenes, the back wall of the ‘Cell’ was removed so that the views from behind the gate into the ‘Hall’ where Timanov was standing, were visible.

During a couple of sequences, Timanov was armed with a staff-like weapon from which a red beam was superimposed. The very same method was used during the shooting of both Zuko (Max Arthur) in Part 1 of the story, and Malkon in Part 3.

After the recoding of this group of scenes was finally completed, another fortnight of rehearsals took place for the second phase of shooting.

Above: Original listing for the four-part story in The Radio Times

Wednesday, 9th November, 1983: Shooting began on the Second Phase at TC6 at BBC Television Centre. The majority of work involved the Special Effects Team, and was set in and around the TARDIS, and on Kamelion who would change from a mechanoid into human form and back again. Some scenes set in the ‘Seismic Control Centre’ were also shot – again using filters for the Numismaton Gas sequence.

A model of an underground chamber had been especially constructed and put behind a CSO Screen to produce the illusion of a lava flow, and a rage of flames that emerged from the tunnel. Meanwhile, a series of slides showing the Lanzerote landscape were projected as a backdrop. Work involving The Master’s metamorphosis was also completed, whilst Gerald Flood made a series of audio tapes of dialogue for the Kamelion character at the BBC Radiophonic Workshop.

Thursday, 9th November, 1983: Finally the scenes in ‘The Master’s Laboratory’, which had been deferred from October 27th were recorded, plus a couple of sequences in the ‘Trion Spaceship’.

Friday, 10th November, 1983: More special effects using CSO’s were produced, and smoke boxes were added to the scenes that were set amongst Sarn’s ruins and the Master’s Black TARDIS.

Entirely for reasons of timing, some of the shorter scenes that had been shot both on location on Lanzerote, and in the studio in London, were deleted, and the sequence featuring Peter in the ‘Hall of Fire’ was held in reserve until the running order had been finalised. A scene which was cut completely from the final edit involved Peter and James Bate – the latter of whom had come to refute the reality of the great god, Logar, to Timanov.

A number of pieces of ‘stock footage’ from the BBC Library were used in Part 3 of the story. These included over 50 feet of 35mm film from Movietone, and several 16mm shots of erupting volcanoes courtesy of Visnews.

Composer, Peter Howell, recorded a 34-minute score at the BBC Radiophonic Workshop in London for the episode, which predominately featured flutes and pipes [1].

Although no Reaction Index was recorded for the four-part story, viewing figures were considered to be good, with each part of the story picking up around 7,500,000 viewers.

“Planet of Fire’ was my first TV work since ‘Jason King’, and it nearly killed me on location in Lanzerote. The place is full of volcanoes, which is ideal for scenes of an alien planet, but it played hell with a trapped nerve in my back. I was in so much pain that I couldn’t walk properly, We came up with the perfect answer – give the priest a staff. Doctor Who fans will think it’s a prop, but I really needed it!” Peter Wyngarde

Notes: [1]. In February, 1985, BBC Records released an album of music entitled ‘Doctor Who – The Music II’, which included a band devoted to Howell’s incidental tracks from ‘Planet of Fire’, and which featured the piece, ‘The Outsiders Appearance Before Timanov’ from Part 2. Other spin-offs from the episode included a novelisation of the story by Peter Grimwade, which was published in hardback by W.H. Allen in October 1984. A paperback version followed in February of 1985 as book No.93 in the Target Series. The latter was also issued as part of the Seventh Doctor Who Gift Set in 1985.

Written by Mr P.P. Wyngarde and T. Wyngarde-Hopkins

Only one aspect of the colourful, amusing and romantic crime-novelist-investigator, Jason king, was empathised in Department S. Jason came into the stories when called upon to help solve baffling crimes for INTERPOL. Seen more briefly was the other aspect of him – the successful writer with the world at his fingertips.

Tumbling headlong into adventure, whether he sought it or not, Jason was lured into danger by those who thought they could make use of him. He jet-propelled himself into situations because of his insatiable curiosity, and was tricked into all sorts of trouble because of his reputation.

Accompanied throughout his adventures by some of the world’s most intriguing characters, and seeking inspiration for his best-selling Mark Caine novels, Jason’s enquiring mind led him into everything from international intrigue to local revolutions. From tense drama to comedy-filled situations. From dire peril to the welcoming arms of a beautiful girl. This is HIS story…

Jason King was born on 25th December, 1941, in Darjeeling, India; the only son of Robert James King – President of the KingSteel International Engineering Corporation and his wife, the Countess Theresa de Jouvert. His family line can be traced back to the 11th century, since his mother was not only a direct descendent of Louis XIV of France, but his father’s connections produced not one, but two, American presidents this century.

As a young child, Jason showed none of the creative flair for the pen that he would later in life. In fact, his talents appeared to lie in the field of music, and by the age of 7, he was already proficient with the violin and had reached Grade 5 at the piano. In spite of being hailed as something of a child protégé by his tutor, Jason abandoned the keyboard at the age of 11 when he left the musical arena for the fields of Eton.

Having excelled at both rugby and boxing at his new school Jason, unfortunately, began to attract the wrong kind of attention from his schoolmasters, and was expelled for ‘unruly behaviour’ at the end of his third term. After spending the summer holidays at his mother’s ancestral home in the South of France, Jason was sent to live with his maiden aunt in Vevey, Switzerland, where he completed his education.

Dismissing his parents’ wishes for him to return to England to study law at Cambridge University, Jason took up a position with a national newspaper as a freelance journalist, but after becoming increasingly restless with the restrictions that bound him, he handed in his resignation and went to join a couple of old college chums in Morocco. It was there that he found himself on the wrong side of the law for the first time in his life when, after some high-jinx following a 24-hour drinking binge, he managed to get himself arrested for gun-running and gold-smuggling!

Fortunately for Jason, his father’s intervention succeeded in convincing the Morroccan authorities that the accusation against his wayward son were unfounded, and after a brief return to England Mr King senior, through his connections in the Colonies, insisted that Jason take a position with the Hong Kong Police Department as a Forensic Adviser.

In the summer of 1963, whilst dining out one evening at the Hong Kong Hilton with family friend and colleague, Alan Keeble, Jason was introduced to the English actress, Marion West who, at the time, was on location in the City. There was an instant attraction between the two – much to the dismay of Keeble, who was himself in love with the beautiful Ms West (although his feelings had never been reciprocated). One week later, on June 21st, the couple were married at a small church in Chelsea, west London, with Keeble acting as Jason’s Best Man.

After seeing out his obligations of his three-year contract with the Hong Kong police, during which time he’d become fluent in Chinese, Russian and Italian, Jason and his wife returned to London, where Marion resumed her career in the West End, and Jason began to realise his talent for writing short stories, many of which were published.

In October of 1966, Marion left London for the United States to star in a new Harold Pinter play in New York, whilst he husband, who was at last making a name for himself as a writer, remained in London to work on his second novel, ‘From China, Yours Sincerely’.

Having played to sell-out audiences every night on Broadway for two months, Marion was looking forward to returning home to London where she was to tell Jason that she was expecting their first child. On arriving at Kennedy Airport on the morning of December 23rd, Marion was to learn that her flight had been diverted to Chicago. She immediately called Jason and told him not to expect her home until later that evening. It was to be the last time that he would ever speak to his beautiful young wife, as the plane on which she was travelling crashed just five minutes after taking off in dense fog with the loss of 326 passengers and crew.

After Marion’s untimely death, the grieving author threw himself wholeheartedly into his work, and following on from the success of ‘From China, Most Sincerely’, Jason penned what is arguably his most famous novel, ‘Index Finger, Left Hand’, which remained on the International Best Sellers List for more than five years.

In May of 1968, at the personal recommendation of the Home Secretary himself, Jason was approached by Sir Curtis Seretse – head of the newly formed Department S; an off-shoot of INTERPOL, to assist in solving a most baffling crime which had been perpetrated in the heart of London. Having enjoyed his work with the Department a great deal, Jason was asked to lend his services on a more regular basis, and so he teamed up with two other agents – Annabelle Hurst and American, Stewart Sullivan. Together, they helped to solve some of the world’s most intriguing crimes.

In 1971, after sustaining a gunshot wound to his left leg during a mission in Spain, Jason decided it was time to leave Department S to concentrate on his writing, and found some solace at his new homes in Paris and Geneva. In July of that year, he was awarded the prestigious ‘Enzio Prize for Literature’, which was presented to him in Zurich. Thanks to the huge sales of his Mark Caine novels which, at that time had topped over 136 million, Jason King was hailed as the most popular novelist in the word.

Fame and fortune proved to have it drawbacks, however, as Jason suddenly found himself catapulted into the Super Tax bracket back home in Britain, so for the second time in his life he found himself on the wrong side of the law, after a much-publicised altercation with Her Majesties Inspector of Taxes. It resulted in the scribe exiling himself to Paris on a permanent basis.

Whilst the Inland Revenue laid siege to Jason’s bruised and battered bank account, his accountants worked tirelessly in an attempt to stem the flow of his fortune into the Treasury coffers. To this end, Jason was instructed to take on a number of staff – which, at his own insistence, consisted of women mainly under the age of 25, to run his business affairs. It was also suggested that he invest much of his cash in off-shore concerns, which included a hotel and leisure complex in the Bahamas, and a country residence in Surrey, which he claimed was run by his maiden aunt, Ms Claire Devlin… aged 21!

Jason’s plans to live a life of relaxation following his departure from Department S was, regrettably, short lived, as his reputation as a playboy-adventurer frequently preceded him. From Venice to Berlin, Moscow to Bangkok – wherever Jason went, trouble was sure to follow.

In 1972, he met and fell in love with a young French woman by the name of Toki who, at that moment in time, was involved with the notorious gangster, Jean le Grand. Jason’s own involvement with Toki was his first serious relationship since the death of his wife some eight years earlier, and in spite of Toki’s concerns for his safety, Jason insisted that they continue their affair. Over the course of several months, Toki would meet with Jason whenever she could free herself from le Grand’s clutches, but when it became apparent that the girl herself was now in danger, Jason reluctantly sent her away to what he believed was a safe haven at a chateau he rented in Neice. Two weeks after giving birth to a son, Robert Jason, Toki was found murdered at the rustic hideaway and the child, unbeknown to Jason, was taken and raised by Toki’s elder sister at her home in Nemes.

Devastated by Toki’s death, Jason returned from his jet-setting lifestyle and became a total recluse, living and working at a monastic retreat in the mountains of Tibet. In 1996, he returned to London, where it was suggested that he might once again take up a position with INTERPOL – purely in an advisory capacity.

It has also recently been reported that a 45-year old Frenchman had succeeded in tracing Jason to his country retreat in Surrey, and upon their meeting presented himself as the author’s son, Robert. Although initially Jason’s vanity would not allow him to believe that he could possibly have a son of 45, Robert’s incredible charm, devastating good-looks and rapier wit soon convinced Jason that no-one else could possibly be his father.

JASON KING PERSONAL FILE

Name: Jason King

Date of Birth: 25th December, 1941

Place of Birth: Darjeeling, India.

Mother: Countess Theresa de Jouvert

Father: Robert James King, OBE

Siblings: None

Marital Status: Widower

Colour of Eyes: Blue

Colour of Hair: Dark brown

Height: 6 feet

Weight: 161 pounds (11.5 stones)

Homes: Luxury apartments in London, Geneva and Paris. Farmhouse in Surrey, England.

Achievements: Second place in the 169 Le Mans Grand Prix. Won the Enzio Prize for Literature, 1971.

Skills: Black belt in Judo and Karate. Proficient in the use of firearms.

Cars: Two Bentley Continentals.

Vices: Beautiful women, Sobranie cigarettes, Balenciga aftershave, Stornaway Scotch Whiskey, strawberries and vintage Champagne.

Languages Spoken: English, French, Russian, Chinese and Italian 

---

 

Broadcast: Sunday, 26 January, 1958

Character: Richard Gettner

“On Sunday night the actor (Peter Wyngarde) will reach the pinnacle of his currently successful run when he appears with dame Edith Evans in the BBC television presentation of Christopher Fry’s ‘The Light is Dark Enough’’ The Radio Times

Above: Peter as Richard Gettner, with Dame Edith Evans as Countess Rosmarin and Barbara Everest as Bella.

The Story

‘The Dark is Light Enough’ is a 1954 play by Christopher Fry, that was written especially for Dame Edith Evans and which is set during the Hungarian Revolution of 1848. The drama, which Fry himself called ‘The Winter Play’, is set in an Austrian country house in Austria, and mostly concerns the impact the rebellion has on the inhabitants and visitors of the house.

The play opens as the household awaits the return of the Countess (Dame Edith) from a journey she should never have taken. With her, she brings Richard Gettner (Peter Wyngarde) – a young deserter from the Hungarian Army who also happens to be her former son-in-law. Soon, her own drawing room is the centre of a personal and military battlefield.

The Countess Rosmarin Ostenburg is a distinguished lady of wit, independence, compassion and honesty. At the bottom of the heap is the shrewd and cunning rascal, Gettner who, it turns out, has no integrity at all. Edith Evans and the cast she headed made little mistake in this story of a highly civilised Austrian countess involved, in spite of herself, in the Revolution. It’s only by her persuasiveness that the play could stand. Her actions in sheltering the dishonourable Gettner, who had formally married her daughter, and preserving him from capture by the Hungarian Army, rather than her second (and more worthy) son-in-law – are no further recommendation.

The course of the action has varied consequences – few of them pleasant, ending in the peaceful death of the Countess and a Sidney Carton-esque change of heart from Gettner that comes about for the simple reason that there is nothing else to be done.

The author was once told by a wise old colleague that characters are never all black or white, but should be drawn in grey. This Fry doesn’t do in his play, since he draws the Countess in all white, and Gettner in black. He does so, not in the cause of realism, but to present an intellectual dispute; simply to let ‘Good’ and ‘Evil’ fight it out.

Apart from several other well-drawn people, representing either amusing worldliness or sincere convictions, the play concentrates on the ordeals of the Countess’ conscience: She’s above any petty hostilities and bitterness and, overflowing with forgiveness, is grievously hurt by the callousness of Gettner’s unprincipled behaviour.

Through a last final act of self-sacrifice, in which she gives up her own life to save another, the Countess redeems Gettner, and some of her own strength and nobility becomes his.

In Retrospect

For Director Stuart Burge’s presentation, Norman James designed some wonderful settings, which accurately depicted an Austro-Hungarian country house in the middle of the19th Century. For the play itself poet, Christopher Fry, had devised three not-so- pleasing acts, which were full of twists and turns, but containing little stimulation. At one point in the drama, a character remarks, “the language is full of yes-no and no-yes.”

Ever a lover of costume drama, the BBC saw to it that everybody was richly bedecked and Peter, as the leading man, looked particularly handsome in uniform. I am not at all clear in my mind what exactly it was that Fry was driving at with his very wordy script. Indeed, he was described by one critic as ‘sounding like warmed-over Oscar Wilde, as in “It would be easier to love you than like you.”

As we already know, the Hungarians have rebelled against the Austrians, and the Countess’ home is clearly a gathering place for both sides – particularly when she has her Thursday “at-homes”. So the screen is usually filled with people, and most of those individuals stand around for the majority of the time waiting for somebody else to stop talking. This takes time, as the drama is in unrhymed verse.

When Peter is doing the speaking, the play comes alive, as he’s a striking, forceful actor who had one of the best and clearest voices on both stage and screen. But even what he says might strike the audience as being indefinite, so he didn’t offer us much guidance in leading the viewers through a plot of unspeakable complication.

In spite of certain very real difficulties in the play at hand, it did seem at one point that Fry’s words were ready to stop messing about and settling down. Until then the unforeseen lyricist who gave us ‘The Lady’s Not for Burning’ and a number of even more eccentric self-satisfactions had had enormous fun with the language. It was often white-knuckle, yet occasionally unruly to the point of recklessness. As Dame Edith, playing the Austrian Countess, chooses to risk her own life and endanger her loved ones to perform an entirely uncompromising act of mercy, she speaks with a quiet self-confidence: “I am always perfectly guilty of what I do,”, then with acerbity: “People are always ready to die for what death will take away from them”, and finally with humour “Are you military by nature or misfortune”. And each of the lines belongs, not to a whimsical flight of Mr. Fry’s more wayward creation, but to the woman who’s thinking it.

Elsewhere in this histrionic verse in praise of human kindness there are further indications of the author’s beginning assignation with reality; his initial affection for aspect in addition to deftness.

Much of the second act involves an intangible, enticing, yet completely alive relationship between the good-for-nothing deserter, Richard Gettner and Bella (Barbara Everest) – the Countess’ daughter, who has loved him, lost him, and is now jeopardising her second marriage by indulging him with a kindness he does not deserve. As Gettner and Bella move clumsily, then impulsively toward each other we, as the viewer, are never sure what this persistent love is meant to signify, or where it might lead. For that instant, it seems very real; completely fleshed, and is working out its unique purpose before our eyes, and the moment means that Fry has started to see his characters in terms of their secrets rather than just their words.

And so, toward the end of the play, when the bemused viewer, whose lives have been turned upside down by seemingly pointless silences to remark that he knows a clear truth “in the still of my mind”, it’s conceivable to believe that these individuals do still have reserves, places of rest, behind their vivid and enthusiastic word-play, and this finding of depth signifies, we presume, an incredible progress for the author.

These encouraging things apart, it’s still necessary to say that some of ‘The Dark is Light Enough’ is too intangible by far: if the characters fumble with great honesty, they often don’t get their hands on anything that is very final, or particularly secure. The play is almost always stopping in mid-act.

Nevertheless, it’s made all the more enjoyable by Peter in an immensely problematic role of a man who trusts that “good has rejected him” and who, immediately turns himself into the sort of boorish and thankless rogue who’d taunt even those who’ve saved him. The part is multifaceted. Richard Gettner wavers between longing for love and utterly destroying it, yet Peter thrived in doing much more than just reciting the play, line-by-line, and allowing the contrasting values fall where they may.

As the lady who adores him and unobtrusively winds her way through this intricate world, Barbara Everest as Bella is lovely to look at and a joy to listen to. The quantity of her elegance and ability might be witnessed by the fact that her final scenes in which, dying, she expresses her compassion to make a threadbare universe bearable, are her best.

Gerald James (Kassal) is excellent as a bearded and snappy member of the Countess’ circles; as is the superb John Philips (Count Peter Zichy ), and André Van Gyseghem (Belmann), who brought power and passion to his portrayal of the Countesses sympathetic husband; with Joseph O’Connor as Colonel Janik, Melvyn Hayes (Willi) and Daphne Slater (Gelda), adding colour to a monochrome recording.

The production as a whole, then, was both striking and effective. The play has its own sporadic ambiguities, in which there’s not really light enough. But Fry gradually and tolerantly fleshed out those dancing skeletons.

Critics Comments

 “Dame Edith Evans and Peter Wyngarde were as superb as they are always expected to be, and they were perfectly supported by the rest of the cast” The Stage

“… but the performance of Mr. Peter Wyngarde rewarded special attention” The Times

_____________________________________

The following is a personal letter which was sent to Peter by the actor, James Cairncross, after the broadcast of ‘The Dark is Light Enough’:

James Cairncross C/O Vaudeville Theatre The Strand London W.C.2. Wednesday, 29th January 1958 Dear Peter, May I please offer my sincere congratulations on your really excellent performance in ‘The Dark is Light Enough’ on Sunday evening. I saw this play twice in the theatre – once at Brighton before it came into town, and on the first night at the Aldwych – and while I love and admire Dame Edith more than any other actress, and thought hers an incomparable performance, I was so baffled on both occasions by the rest of the play that I simply couldn’t enjoy it as much as I wanted to. My clearer understanding of the piece on TV was largely due to your performance, and to Daphne Slater’s, and I am very grateful to you both. Come to think of it, you seem to have got TV acting pretty well buttoned up all round, and that is no mean feat, for it’s a ghastly medium is it not. With all good wishes, Yours Sincerely. James Cairncross

Broadcast: Monday, 11th September, 1967 (USA)

Character: George

Some Background

I, Spy was a US television series which ran for three seasons and a total of 56 episodes.

This ground-breaking series (it was the first to feature a black actor in a lead role), ran between 1965 and 1968, and followed the adventures of American intelligence agents, Kelly Robinson (Robert Culp) and Alexander Scott (Bill Cosby), who would travel the world under the guise of semi-pro tennis players; Robinson masquerading as the amateur player with Scott as his coach.

With its exotic locations, some have suggested that the show was a bid to rival the James Bond films, but whilst that might be stretching things a tad, it was unique in that it was actually filmed on location in places extending from Venice to Tokyo; Athens to Morocco.

The series was never broadcast in the UK.

The Story

The story opens on the Greek island of Hydra where, in the harbour, a group of tourists are coming ashore from a ferry.

Among the assembled sightseers emerges Alexander Scott and Kelly Robinson, who stand out from the others who are disembarking from the boat – not only for their attire, but because their business is something other than relaxation. Their mission, it transpires, is to find and kill Dennis Karlovassi (Walter Slezak) who, they’ve been informed, is the head of spy ring on the island.

It’s in this opening scene that we get our first glimpse of George (Peter Wyngarde), who arrives at the harbour with his elderly father and their horse and trap to collect the two American’s from the ferry. It’s here that Robinson and Scott meet Marie Galoney (Ruth Roman) – their contact on the island.

The two men are whisked backed to Ms Galoney’s villa, where she’s entertaining a gathering of friends in the garden. She identifies a suspected Communist agent amongst her guests, and tells the duo that five such agents who’d arrived on Hydra over recent months had disappeared – all after meeting with Karlovassi. It’s believed that each of them had been smuggled off the island to Cyprus where they were being instructed to become members of a paramilitary unit.

“George would do anything for me. Anything! Wouldn’t you, George?”

It emerges that Marie has another reason to want Karlovassi dead. George, an employee of hers, is the Agent’s second in command. He also happens to be completely besotted with her, and in a peculiar demonstration of his devotion, Maria instructs him to cut off his moustache, which in spite of some half-hearted protestations, he inevitably obeys. She believes, therefore, that if Karlovassi is eliminated, George would be made head of the unit, thereby making her party to all the intrigue and surreptitious goings on in the region.

It should be pointed out at this juncture that Robinson and Scott are not assassins by trade, and so they attempt to devise a way of seeing off Karlovassi without killing him face-to-face. Their first endeavor involves them planting an incendiary device on the Spy’s fishing boat, but as they do so, they’re knocked out by an assailant welding a wrench.

When finally they regain consciousness, the two find themselves at Karlovassi’s villa, where they quickly realise that the overweight, middle-aged man is not quite the heartless villain they’d been lead to believe. In fact, he’s just another struggling Greek fisherman who’s trying to support his wife and daughter. It also becomes clear that his spying for the Communists is common knowledge on the island and that he’s really only in the game to make a little extra money. Of course, now that Robinson and Scott know that he’s actually quite a decent sort of chap, their assignment suddenly become eminently more difficult to carry out.

On a second visit to Karlovassi’s home the following day, the two American’s witness an attack on the family, which results in the inhabitants coming under heavy automatic gunfire and the villa being destroyed by explosives. Yet in spite of a determined counter by Scott and his partner, the two are captured and taken back to Maria’s house by one of the assailants.

Ms Galoney is shocked when she learns that the attack, which was carried out under her instructions, had gone ahead in spite of Karlovassi’s wife and daughter being inside the house. Scott and Robinson reveal that the Communist agents that’d arrivied on Hydra had not been taken to Cyprus as first thought, but were deposited on deserted island a few miles from Hydra where, thereafter, Karlovassi would deliver supplies to them twice a week.

Maria and the two American’s insist upon Karlovassi takes them to the island to see for themselves. George drives the three of them down to the harbour and, giving the impression that he’ll be staying behind, allows them to get aboard the fishing boat.

Once onboard, Maria and the two men are astonished to find Karlovassi’s wife and daughter below decks. Whilst the trio are held at gunpoint by the wife, her husband shows them the body of the Communist who’d attended Maria’s party a few days earlier.

It’s at this point that George makes his entrance, and is instructed by his superior to tie the three captives up. Karlovassi finally reveals his true purpose; he is, in fact, much more important than he’d lead the two American’s to believe. He tells them that he’s in line promotion, and will soon be taking up a new position in Prague.

“What would you rather be, George – head of a silly little spy ring, or my husband?”

Once George is left in charge of holding the prisoners, Maria tries to encourage him to freeing them by promising to marry him. All three of the captives believe that her plan has worked when the young man produces a flick-knife from his trouser pocket, and appears as if he’s ready to cut the ropes binding their hands and feet. Their expectations are quickly dashed, however, when all he does is hack a lock of Maria’s hair, and departs with a promise that he’ll think about her proposal.

When they finally arrive at the island, George, Karlovassi, Maria and both Scott and Robinson disembark, leaving the wife and daughter onboard the boat. The Spy says that he has plans for the two men, and so he instructs George to wait until they’ve left and then he’s to dispense with Maria. Robinson attempts to delay the action by putting doubt into Karlovassi’s mind about George’s ability to carry out orders. It’s enough for him to insist that George shoot the woman immediately.

However, before he’s willing to follow his superiors instructions, the young man solemnly asks Maria if she meant what she’d said on the boat; that she’d marry him. “No, George”, she replies quietly. “I want to live, but I lied”

In spite of his disillusionment at Maria’s cruel invention, when Karlovassi presses for his subordinate to carry out his order, George turns the gun on the rotund little man, sending the Spy charging back in the direction of the boat.

It’s now that gunshots are heard from the direction of the vessel, which is moored several meter’s off-shore. It can only be Karlovassi’s wife and daughter. Whilst Scott and Robinson take cover amidst the rocky terrain, George saunters indifferently in Maria’s direction, and is hit in the back with a stray bullet.

As the two American’s watch Karlovassi’s boat sail away, they turn to see Maria lovingly tending to George’s wound. Perhaps there was hope for him yet…?!

Personal Observations

This is quite an unusual role for Peter, as he plays a character that’s difficult to fathom even right up to the end of the episode. Perhaps it’s seeing him portray a man who’s subordinate to a woman, given that the majority of his guest-star roles have been the strong, misogynistic types.

Nevertheless, he succeeded in creating a very likable individual in George who, although seemingly insignificant within the scheme of the story, is actually the pivotal character. If it hadn’t been for his devotion to Maria, which Kelly Robinson uses to plant a seed of doubt into Karlovassi’s mind, all three of the prisoners would’ve met their end.

This was the last of a trio of appearances that Peter made on American television in the mid-to-late 60’s; the others being ‘The Further Adventures of Gallagher’ (1965) and ‘Lucy in London’ (1966).

It’s interesting to note that Bill Cosby won an Emmy for his part in this episode, in spite of Peter stealing the show, as always!  

1. It was curious that most of the characters in the episode were given very unGreco-like names – i.e. George, Dennis, Flora etc.
2. The director managed to find a way of getting Peter to remove his shirt!

Above: A rare production shot of Peter. Note the cameraman in the back of the carriage.

 

Broadcast: Monday, April 21st, 1958

Character: Colonna

Some Background

Produced by Sapphire Films for ITC, and recorded at Alliance Studios in Twickenham, England, ‘Sword of Freedom’ ran for three series (39 x 30-minute episodes), which were broadcast from 1958 to 1960. It was set in Renaissance Florence, and followed the swashbuckling adventures of artist, Marco del Monte (Edward Purdom), and his friends Sandro, played by Rowland Bartrop, and Adrienne Corri as Angelica. The villains of the piece included semi-regulars, Derek Sydney as Captain Rodrigo and Martin Benson as the evil Duke de Medici.  The series tells the story of the trio of freedom-fighters and their campaign against the ruling Medici’s and Machiavelli’s.

The Story

When Sicilian, Colonna (Peter Wyngarde) arrives at the gates of Florence, he does so with one object: to relieve as many people of the great City of their money. The young man, we soon learn, is a hustler and confidence trickster who, armed with a marked deck of cards, seeks out a suitable dupe to scam.

Above Right: Peter as Colonna with Adrienne Corri as Angelica

A suitable mug soon appears in the form of Sandro, who has been entrusted with money raised by a group of freedom-fighters to print protest literature denouncing the ruling de Medici family. Colonna immediately homes in on the tipsy chump, and professes to know nothing about gambling for which the City of Florence is so renowned. Inviting the young stranger to join him at Niccolo – his favourite watering hole, the trusting Sandro doesn’t see that Colonna has switched the house cards for his own deck.

After just a few hands, Sandro’s friends and fellow member of the Republican Campaign, Angelica and Marco del Monte, arrive just in time to see the hapless stooge play his last coin. When reality finally bites, the brawny Sandro is too shamefaced to face his comrades, and leaves the inn under a cloud. Meanwhile Colonna, believing that no one is watching, switches the cards again – leaving the ‘good’ deck on the table. However, unbeknown to him, del Monte has spotted his deception, and instructs Angelica to use her feminine wiles to get the cards from the Stranger “by any means” she can. In the meantime, he follows Sandro outside.

Sandro, it transpires, has decided to throw himself into the River Arno. Marco leaves just in time to see his friend leap into the murky waters below, where he’s forced to follow and drag him safely to the bank.

When ­­­­­­­­­­­­­­Sebastiano (Basil Dignham) – another member of the rebel gang, learns of Sandro’s stupidity, del Monte pledges to recover the coins on his thoughtless friend’s behalf, and immediately sets about devising a plan.

The dice-makers of Florence are renowned across Europe for the great pride they take in their workmanship and honesty, so it’s no easy task for Marco to find one who’s willing to sell him a weighted set. The Craftsman tells Marco that he’s only willing help if he promises to destroy the dice the moment they’re no longer needed, to which he agrees. The next thing on the agenda is to find Colonna and to earn his trust.

Marco and Angelica manage to track down the cunning rogue, who is just about the leave the City. After first threatening to report him to the authorities – the punishment for cheating at cards being hanging or strangulation, they then make him an offer; to join them in a scam of their own. In view of the alternative, the Sicillian gladly agrees. Del Monte tells Colonna that a meeting of the city’s bankers and merchants is planned to take place at Niccola’s that evening, where the three of them could make a fortune at their expense. 

Later that evening at the inn, del Marco produces the modified dice he’d acquired earlier in the day, and challenges Colonna to a game of chance whilst they wait for the wealthy personages to arrive. He offers he young man the bagged and sealed dice to inspect, and once he’s happy with them, the game begins.

Colonna, however, is entirely bemused can’t by how his luck has changed, when Marco repeatedly throws one double-six after another. Nevertheless, he continues to lay his bet in the hope that his fortunes will improve. They don’t, and soon he’s lost every Florin he’d taken from Sandro.

In a fit of rage, Colonna accuses del Monte of cheating, but the artist is unrepentant – saying that he’s only taken back the money that Sandro had been tricked out of. The coins are immediately returned to Sebastiano, who plans to use it to print a batch of anti-de Medici pamphlets.

Of course, Colonna isn’t the type of man to let del Monte and his group get away with ‘his’ money, and so he follows Marco, Angelica and Sebastiano back to the artist’s studio on the banks of the river. Once alone Colonna – dagger drawn, confronts del Marco, and the two men contest a deadly fight, until the Sicilian card shark is inevitably disarmed and plunges to his death in the river below.

The Retrospect

As always Peter steals the episode from what is otherwise a lacklustre and mediocre cast.

It was interesting to see that he was wearing the same (red) jacket as Colonna as he did in the ‘Lucy in London’ segment during which he played Petruchio to Lucille Ball’s Kate. He also looked rather strange with one earring in his left ear.

The episode was unremarkable, yet enjoyable. It was clear from the opening scenes that crafty scoundrel would, inevitably, be beaten at his own game by the lantern-jawed hero, Robert Purdom. But, who cares! The pleasure of seeing a very young Peter in tights was worth purchasing the ‘Sword of Freedom’ DVD set for on its own.

Although Peter only makes a fleeting appearance in this film, as a completest project, I feel that it’s still necessary to include it on this ‘Site.

The Story

‘Dick Barton Strikes Back’ was the second of three films based on the radio series ‘Dick Barton Special Agent’. The trio of movies were quickly churned out by the newly-founded Hammer Films between 1948 and 1950. Directed by Godfrey Grayson, ‘…Strikes Back’ starred lantern-jawed Don Stannard as the former Commando-turned-secret-agent, with Bruce Walker as his sidekick, Snowey White, and Sebastian Cabot as the dastardly villain, Fouracada.   

Given that the film was produced in the post-war years, the story naturally reflects the issues of the day – namely a suspicion of Johnny Foreigner (the villains, unsurprisingly, have Middle-Eastern or South-American inflections), whilst the typically English characters (who have either Upper Class or Cockney accents) – are merely disgruntled at their inability to get a decent pint of beer in a Britain that was still under Rationing.

With the war now at an end, Barton finds himself at somewhat of a loose end, so when he’s approached by the powers that be to take on assignments that were deemed too sensitive for British Intelligence, he enlists the assistance of his two old Army chums, Snowey and Jock, who are only to happy to go along for the ride.

Although ‘Dick Barton Strikes Back’ was the last of a trio of films to be made, it was actually released between the other two films – ‘Dick Barton Special Agent’ (1948), and ‘Dick Barton At Bay’ (1950). There had been plans to make more films in the series, but that was until Don Satnnard died tragically in a car accident in 1949. His screen adversary, Sebastian Cabot, had been travelling in the same car, but had managed to escape virtually unscathed.

You might be forgiven for thinking that you were watching an episode of ‘Department S’ when viewing the opening few minutes of ‘…Strikes Back’, as it reveals everything in secluded English village lying in silence, and all the inhabitants dead. As might be expected, Barton and Snowey are called upon to find out what the bally hell has been going on, and they soon find themselves on the tail of a band of travellers who lead them to the door of arch-villain, Delmonte Fourcada.

Fourcada, it emerges, is the henchman of a crazed scientist, who has developed a lethal Sonic Death-Ray that’s found to be responsible for wiping out the village. Alarmingly, the Ray is now being trained on London.

Despite their best efforts, Fourcada and his hoodlums always seem to be one step ahead of Barton and his colleagues, which inexorably leads to heaps of thrilling chases and lashings of exciting incidental music to accompany them. The story ends with a thrilling pursuit up Blackpool Tower no less, where Fourcada plans to signal his diabolical Sonic Ray to destroy the Capital. The bounder!

Above: An original poster from the film

Peter’s Role

A very young Peter plays an Army Cadet, who descends a metal staircase at HQ to hand Barton and Snowey a futuristic-looking wire helmet, which proves invaluable to their solving the case. Hoo-rah! His appearance on screen last just a few seconds, and the character was unnamed in the credits. 

The Arts Theatre, London. Opening night – Wednesday, 23rd January, 1957.

Character: Gérard Barbier

The Story

Act 1

• The attic of Gérard’s house in Paris.
• Early one evening in Lens.

Act II

• A suit in a hotel on the Coté d’Azur.
• Three weeks later. Morning.

Act III

• The same. Two hours later.
• Time – The present.

The characters seemed to be such happy, successful lovers in ‘No Laughing Matter’, that when the mood changed the shock must’ve been deep. The strength of this amusing comedy lies in its basic firmness of approach; in the goal the author had in mind of showing the audience that such goings-on as he depicts so wittily and ingeniously, are not a subject for entertainment only. So as well as a bright story about love, written with enormous competence, there is a moral tale.

Purely as entertainment, it’s all the better for this. The humour had an edge of reality; the situations in which the two couples become involved were rooted in life, and not merely personal episodes with no outside connections; and individually the characters were interesting as human beings.

On the surface of things this was just another story of the eternal triangle (in duplicate), but the author was so clever with his characterisation that a whole philosophy emerged. However, audiences were encouraged to take the play as they pleased, since the author knew how to amuse on an easy level, and how to leave the lesson to those who wished to listen to it.

Translated from French into English, Armand Solacrou’s comedy (originally entitled ‘Histoire de Rire’) deals with two married women, their husbands and their lovers.

In the opening scene, Gérard Barbier (Peter Wyngarde) is absolutely delighted when his best friend, Jean-Louis (Paul Daneman) tells him that he’s been having an affair with a married woman, and is about to elope with her. In typical male fashion, Gérard brings up every conceivable moral and philosophical argument in support of his friends action; actively encouraging him to go ahead with his plan.

Below: Peter (seated) as Gérard, with Brenda Bruce as Addy and Paul Daneman as Jean-Louis.

In the meantime, Gérard’s wife Addy (Brenda Bruce), has been meeting with her lover, Lancelot Berenson (Alec McGowen) – a miserable mouse of a man – at her and Gérard’s home to make plans to elope themselves that evening. Lancelot, however, doesn’t share Addy’s heartless enjoyment of danger for its own sake, and begins to get cold feet. He tells her that he’s concerned about the effect their action will have on others.

The arguments that Gérard made earlier take on a different colour when he finds a photograph of his wife which she’d given to family friend, Jean-Louis, to pass on to her husband after she’d left with Lancelot. She’d hoped that her angry husband would tear it to pieces when he learned that she’s left him. Gérard, however, is heartbroken when he learns of his wife’s betrayal.

Meanwhile, Jean-Louis and Hélène Donaldo (Faith Brookes), who has left her husband to elope with him, feel that they can enjoy their happiness without any feelings of guilt.

With so much heartbreak and upheaval, all the couples and their lovers decided to meet at a hotel on the Coté d’Azur to work out their problems; happily for the most part, but tragically for one of the lovers, who takes romance a little too seriously.

After talking through their differences, Addy decides to return to the arms of her husband, who’s been driven crazy with grief at her running away. Now she’s back, he tries to put the nightmare behind him and indulges in light-hearted banter with her about the happy times they spent together in the early days of their marriage.

Below: Addy after she returns to Gérard.

As for Jean-Louis and Hélène –their idyllic happiness is shattered by the unexpected arrival of Hélène’s wily husband, Gilles (Anthony Ireland), who has decided to use reverse psychology when he calls on his wayward wife and Jean-Louis. He surprises both of them by talking calmly about their elopement. Cunningly, he sows seeds of doubt in their minds, knowing full well that Jean-Louis will then quarrel with Hélène and leave her with no other course but to return home to him.

The author’s brief implied comment that a lack of religion was the cause of an increase in infidelity and, consequently, unhappiness, hardly needed such a serious presentation, even if the lesson was underlined in the end by the sound of a single gunshot signifying a suicide.

In Retrospect

It was at long last that London gave some recognition to Amand Salacrou, and as with such cases at the time, it was the forward-thinking Art’s Theatre that brought the backward-looking West End bang up to date. It wasn’t as if there had to be much pioneering spirit on show, given that ‘No Laughing Matter’ had been running in Paris for almost three years by the time it hit the London stage.

On the surface, ‘No Laughing’ Matter seems like another story of the eternal triangle (in duplicate!), but the author had been so clever with his characters that a whole new viewpoint emerges. Although billed as a ‘Comedy’, there were many moving pieces as well as comic ones – all of which were played with superb polish.

Salacrou’s comedy has invariably been described by theatre-goers as a more heart-felt version of ‘Private Lives’; a bit more serious, too, as the French tend to take marital infidelity rather more seriously than we Brits. Certainly, the play started cheerful enough, but soon turned brittle and heartless. In the second half, the mood changes dramatically, and it’s now that the audience see that what previously seemed so amusing is really both tragic and heart-breaking.

By engaging the audiences’ feelings, this comedy proved to be so much deeper and interesting than any British play on marital relations. Critics at the time described Salacrou’s wit as “keen and civilised”, and his style “fluent and assured”. “He combines the wisdom of a philosopher with the inventiveness of a genuine comedy writer”, Plays and Players suggested.

If there was one criticism of the play, it was that Peter Wood’s production, although subtle and balanced, was often coy when really it should’ve been cruel. His lighting and Paul Mayo’s sets were superb by all standards, and he was able to capture the Coté d’Azur atmosphere brilliantly.

Other things, however, weren’t quite as successful. Paul Daneman, it was said, brought “polish and charm”, but there was neither “poetry nor passion in his performance”. 

Brenda Bruce was “nowhere near as cruel or heartless enough”, and Faith Brook as Hélène “was rather too matter-of-fact”.

And what about Peter. Well, he stood out for special praise from most critics. F.B.G. of Plays and Players described him thusly: “Peter Wyngarde manages to forget his Anglo-Saxon reserve and gives full life and conviction in his portrayal as the outraged husband.” 

The Sunday Times commented in their 27th January, 1957 issue: “…Mr Peter Wyngarde handles this woman’s husband of his volatile temperament…”

“Of the two young men, Peter Wyngarde succeeds in looking pretty French (with all that implies)…” The Spectator 

“Peter Wyngarde is much better as the husband who cannot believe that cuckoldry could happen to him.” Manchester Guardian

One critic at the time commented that, perhaps, ‘No Laughing Matter’ bore the imprint of having been written over twenty years earlier, and that it might not therefore command success in the West End proper. He was right, but added that the play was “both entertaining and adult.”

Above: Original flyer from The Arts Theatre – February, 1957

 

A True Story by PETER WYNGARDE

It’s over 50 years since an actor friend and I secured a part in a play in Stratford. As I remember, neither of us were particularly ‘Well off’ at the time, so instead of trying to find rooms in the town, we decided to look for alternative accommodation for the duration of the play.

Having scoured the local newspapers for what seemed like an eternity, we managed to find what appeared to be the perfect place; a large rural cottage located in a small hamlet just five miles outside of Stratford. The rent, if my memory serves me correctly, was one pound and ten shillings per week (£1.50), which even we two struggling actors could afford.

But there, it seemed, lay the catch: wasn’t this amount really a bit TOO much of a bargain to be true? I decided to make some enquires just to be sure that there hadn’t been a printing error but found, to our delight, that the figure was indeed correct. We decided to accept and moved in right away.

It was the middle of summer and the play, which was now in its third week, had proven to be a huge success. Following one of the many backstage parties that were thrown by the theatre manager, my friend and I were driving back to the cottage around 12.30am, when a young man appeared from nowhere, and sped across the road right in front of our car. I screamed out to my friend at the wheel, who immediately applied the brakes. We just managed to miss the man by mere inches.

A couple of nights later we were, again, driving back to the cottage after the evening performance when the same thing happened. Since the play was taking a break for a few days, we decided it was best if we stayed ‘home’ for the duration.

Following the end of the play’s run in July, my friend decided to audition for another production at the same theatre, and was successfully engaged in the lead role. I, on the other hand, had decided to take the remainder of the summer off, and spent much of my time sunbathing in the garden of the cottage.

One evening, however, whilst I was driving my friend to the theatre, I spotted what appeared to be the man who’d we’d almost killed on two previous occasions sitting on a fence by the side of the road. The moment he spotted us, he made a dash for the cover of the woods to our left, at which point I screeched the car to a halt and decided to go off after him. But despite that fact that I’d virtually been on his heel as he’d made off, I was unable to find him anywhere. It seemed as if he’d literally disappeared into thin air.

Later that same evening we arrived at the cottage to find that it’d been ransacked; all the furniture had been turned over, and there were paper and books strewn everywhere. I immediately made my way to the village police station, which appeared to be manned by one middle-aged officer to whom I related our tale.

Scratching the top of his head, he replied casually: “Did you know, Sir – that cottage is meant to be haunted? No one stays there for longer than a couple of days.” It suddenly occurred to me why the rent had been so low! I immediately returned to my friend who’d been left to tidy up the mess.

The following day whilst my friend was at the theatre, I decided to take a trip down to the local library to do a spot of research about this supposed “Haunted Cottage”. I found a book containing records of the family who’d lived there for many years. Among the lists of births and deaths, one entry leapt out at me: ‘Possibly Murdered’.

A few days later while I was at the cottage alone, I noticed that one of the watercolour’s on the drawing room wall was hanging lopsided, but as I walked over to fix it, it suddenly dropped from its hanger and crashed facedown onto the floor at my feet.

Noticing that the brown backing paper had begun to peel, I decided to remove it completely, and found amongst the padding of old newspapers dating back to the 1800’s, a piece of parchment containing what appeared to be a confession. Further investigation at the library revealed that the gentleman whose name appeared at the bottom of the document had been a labourer employed by the cottage owner.

At the age of only 23 years, he’d fallen in love with his Master’s wife of 17, and in a fit of jealousy, had murdered his employer who, it transpired, was over three times older than his wife.

Since I’d promised to pick up my friend from the theatre that evening, I left the ‘confession’ on the large oak table in the kitchen, and went out through the back door. Having relayed the story to my fiend as we drove back along the dark, winding country lanes which lead to the cottage, I half expected to arrive ‘home’ to find the confession missing.

I was slightly disappointed to see it still lying there on the table where I’d left it, but from that day on there wasn’t a single disturbance in the house, nor did we ever see the young man who’d twice darted across the road in front on the car.

It’s my belief that the ‘entity’ in question had been desperately searching for the confession behind the painting in order to finally put his troubled spirit to rest.

---

The Hellfire Club: The OFFICIAL PETER WYNGARDE Appreciation Society: https://www.facebook.com/groups/813997125389790/

 

Sir Lew Grade has his say!

• “How the IBA bullied me”
• “Money? I made programmes because I believed in them”
• “Why schedules used to take me ten minutes”
• “I believe in hunches not research”

In April 1972, Sir Lew Grade, the Deputy Chairman and Managing Director of the ATV networks, produced revealing evidence before the House of Commons all-party Select Committee on Nationalised Industries who were inquiring into the Independent Television Authority (ITA). Sir Lew was closely scrutinised by eight MP’s: Sir Henry d’Avigor-Goldsmid, Sir Donald Kaberry, David Crouch, Jack Dormand, John Golding, David Stoddart and Christopher Tugendhat, with Russell Kerr in the chair.

“The ITA interfered too much in the compilation of programmes,” explained Lord Grade.

 “In the early Seventies I was asked to bring back the so-called ‘Sunday Night at the London Palladium’. One of the major companies said, “We’ll take it if you include beat the clock’. I said ‘fine’. Bit the ITA said, ‘No, you can’t do the Palladium with ‘Beat the Clock’. You can do it without – but the BBC can do a version of it with Bruce Forsythe on ‘The Generation Game’. I couldn’t see the logic in that. After all, we did start it.

“What really concerned, me was that the Authority were inclined to take part in the creation and creativity of programmes such as ‘The Champions’, ‘Department S’ and ‘Jason King’, which should’ve been left to the professionals.

“Of course I fully understood the responsibility of the Authority to see that there was a balanced programming. I agreed with that. However, I would like to emphasise one thing. We (ATV) didn’t make 35% of all British programmes because we had to. We did them because we wanted to.”

It was suggested by Sir Donald Kaberry during the House of Commons meeting that the ITA may have been guilty of interfering and even altering Lord Grade’s judgment with regard to the content and scheduling of his programmes.

“This was true in many cases“, he said.

“For instance, in the Midlands on a Wednesday evening we showed ‘Jason King’. I described it to the committee as a series of 26 short films; a lighthearted adventure programme starring Peter Wyngarde. It was not networked.

 “Starting the very same week was another series called ‘Callan’ featuring Edward Woodward in the title role. It was a gritty, rough-tough programme.

“The ITA said: ‘You can’t put ‘Jason King’ on at eight O’clock, because at nine O’clock you have ‘Callan’. Fine, I could see that argument. ‘But you can put ‘Cade’s County’ on. Now that was an American programme, and about three times as rough as ‘Jason King’, but because they happened to wear Stetson hats instead of a three-piece suit and use Jeeps instead of a Bentley, that was OK. I just couldn’t see the logic in it myself. That’s where I think they ought to have left it to the professionals.”

Sir Lew was once quoted as saying that it took him just ten minutes to produce a broadcast schedule, and John Goulding asked if this were true. “Yes,” he replied.

“When someone joins the ITA, they are there for five years. It takes them three years to find out what it’s all about, and a further two years to learn about it. At the time of this inquiry, I had been in the entertainment industry for 47 years. Suddenly everything was at the recommendation of the Authority. Surely I had the qualifications to decide whether the great British viewing public was mature enough to watch both ‘Jason King’ AND ‘Callan’ in the same evening!”

In spite of Lord Grade giving the impression that he (amongst others) had occasionally been “bullied” by the ITA, he took great pride in the fact that he’d never been influence by such trivialities as profit or loss, and had made television programmes because he believed in them.

“If someone came to me and said: ‘We want to make this series called ‘Jason King’ for £8,000 an episode, what kind of thing can we produce for this amount. That’s how I did things.

“When somebody brought me and idea I would read it, and if I liked it, I’d say ‘We’ll make it’, regardless of the cost.

“I remember ‘Department S’ cost four times what some of the other series at the time cost to make, but the idea was good; it was an exciting one. That’s why when I was asked, ‘With the extra hours will you make money?’, I didn’t know, but you can’t stop progress.

“In 1971, I think we made about £800,000 profit on £15,000,000 capitalisation for our studios, and that was without the capitalisation involved in films, and yet we still went ahead and made many new series, including ‘Jason King’, because I believed that in the end it would work out right. I believe in hunches not research.”

It’s a little known that the Lew Grade was amongst a number of consortiums bidding for control of the much talked about ITV2 which, of course, eventually emerged as Channel 4. It was his hope that with it he might shake off the restraints of the ITA. It was his belief that ITV2 would complement the three existing channels, and afford him more freedom with regard to programme scheduling.

Sir Lew Grade was certainly confident in his ability to fly by the seat of his pants.

This is an on-going archive of Peter’s appearances in the press and magazines throughout the years, so do please check it out from time-to-time for new additions. 

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THE TV TIMES

Great Britain: December, 1957

Peter’s first ever cover feature! Here he is as Lionel Collins in ‘Love Her To Death’

TV Times (UK): 13th January, 1963.

Here Peter is pictured (top) in the role of Glenkin in the Associated-Redifusion production of ‘Darkness At Noon’, in which he starred alongside Albert Lieven, Ronald Adamson and Edward Rees.

On The Air (USA): January 1964

Article about the Esso World Theatre –  a showcase of British theatre and performers. Features Petera nd Anna Massey on the cover.

Look Eastwards (UK): August 1964
Local TV listings magazine for the Bristol area of England.

TV Times (Australia): August 1969

Nova Antenna Magazine (Portugal): 1969 

TV Week (Australia): September 27, 1969 

Featuring Peter as Jason King from Department S. The strange thing about this cover was that Department S was not due to start on South Australian screens until the following year, but was showing Victoria and New South Wales. Due to the bulk of the magazine being printed in Melbourne and then distributed to state agencies for listing inclusions, they had to take whatever cover was featured. No articles are inside relating to Peter or Department S. 

Flama (Portugal): January, 1970

Det Nye (Norway): March, 1970.
‘Department S’ reaches the continent and Jason captures the imagination of Europeans everywhere, as seen here on the cover of this Norwegian weekly, Det Nye. Peter  became a regular in the magazine, appearing on an almost weekly basis, either in the form of an article or centre-page pin-up.

TV Times (UK): May 22, 1970.
As the popularity of ‘Department S’ and its central character, Jason King, continues to grow, Peter is afforded the front page of this issue of the TV Times, along with a two-page interview entitled, “Love, Peter Wyngarde and an Eastern promise”.

Televizier (Holland): 1970
TV listings magazine.

Bild und Funk (West Germany): 1970.

Television and radio listings magazine.

Aktuell (Norway): June 1970.
Norway’s most popular television magazine celebrates the arrival of Peter in Oslo.
Surrounded by female bodyguards, all wearing Jason King T-Shirts, Peter goes out to meet some of the 20,000 fans who turned up to greet him in the Norwegian capital, and to visit a local hospital.

Bravo (West Germany): April 1971.
.

Na (Norway): June 1970

Featuring a four-page article on Peter’s visit to the capital, Oslo.

Bravo (West Germany): April 1971

Tele (West Germany): June 10, 1971.

Veronica (Holland): 8th December, 1971

Teenage magazine. Three page feature on Peter and Jason King.

TV Expres (Belgium): 1972

3-Page interview, accompanied by photographs from the Jason King series. 

Hor Zu (West Germany): July/August, 1971
Peter receives the star treatment with a three-page feature on the Department ‘S’ spin-off, Jason King.

Gong (West Germany): 1972

Det Nye (Norway): March 1972.
Once again Peter features on the cover of Norway’s ‘Det Nye’, along with his girlfriend, model Elisabeth Skjortekjole, both of whom are seen kissing at Peter’s luxury London apartment, and holding hands together on the South Bank of the River Thames.

Freizeit Revue (West Germany): 1972. Two-page interview with photographs.

Petticoat (UK): April 1972

Gong (West Germany): May, 1973

Tros Kompass (Holland): TV listings magazine: 15-21 January, 1972

Kurier TV Magazine (Austria): 23rd September 1973

Where (South Africa): 1978

Flash Gordon Special Issue (USA): 1980

 Action TV (UK): 2000

Five page interview with Peter, and in-depth feature on Department S.

Famous Monsters (USA): September 2016 (issue No. 283)

The Darkside (UK): March 2017

The Chap (UK): Spring 2005

The Mirror (UK): 19th January, 2018

Infinity (UK): October 2020

Camera Obscura: Issue No.23.

(USA): ‘Peter Wyngarde Special’.Published in 1996 by the Birmingham branch of the Prisoner appreciation society, ‘Six of One’. Includes articles on actors who had appeared in both The Prisoner and Department S; transcript of Peter’s 1993 appearance on Pebble Mill; biography and analysis of Peter portrayal of No.2 in Checkmate.

SUB magazine (UK): Issue 14 – March 1994

Orange Alert: Spring 2018 – Official magazine of ‘Six of One’ – The Official Prisoner Appreciation Society

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Plays and Players (UK): October 1954

The Straits Times (Singapore): September 1955

Coventry Evening Telegraph (UK): April 1957

TV Mirror (UK): December 1956

The Birmingham Post and Gazette (UK): 4th April, 1957

Radio Times (UK): 1957

TV Mirror and Disc News (UK): December 1957 

The Children’s Newspaper (UK): 1958

TV Mirror (UK): 16th November, 1958

Daily Mirror (UK): 5th January, 1958

Radio Times (UK): August 1958

Picturegoer (UK): February 1959

Birmingham Evening Dispatch (UK): April 1959

The Stage and Television Today (UK): October 1959

Daily Mirror (UK): July 1960

The Daily Express (UK): May 1961

TV Times (UK): 1961

ABC Review (UK): 1961

Kinematograph Weekly (UK): 14th December, 1961

Radio Times (UK): 28th April – 4th May 1962

Daily Mirror (UK): 5th May, 1962

TV Times (UK): 21st June,1964

Radio Times (UK): February, 1965

Daily Mirror (UK): 1966

The TV Times (UK): April 1966

TV Times (UK): 1967

TV Times: 1967

The TV Times (UK): 1969

The Canberra Times (Australia): 7th November, 1969

TV listings magazine (USA): 1970

Bravo (West Germany): 1970

Jeremy (UK): 1970

TV Times (UK): March 1970

TV Times (UK): March 1970

TV Times (UK): 1970

TV Times (UK): 1970

The Record Song Book (UK): May 1970

Catch!: 1970

An unusual magazine dating from the 1970 football season – aimed at young people around the world to help them learn English. It was published in Glasgow by MGP, and focuses on Chelsea Football Club. One of its 8 pages is devoted to the stars of Department S.

Unknown (Japan): 1970

Arbeiderbladet (Norway): June 1970

Daily Express (UK): 1970

FAB208 (UK): 1970

Look In (UK): 1970

Parade (UK): 4th July, 1970

Na (Norway): July 1970

19 (UK): December 1970

Bravo (West Germany): January 1971

De Lach (Holland): 1971

TV Ekspres (Belgium): 1972

TV Times (UK): 22-28 May, 1971

Freizeit Revue (West Germany): 1972. 

BRAVO (West Germany): 1971

BRAVO (West Germany): April 1971

TESCO (UK): In-House Newspaper – November 1971

Bravo (West Germany): 1971

The Herald Sun (Australia): 1971

Look-In (UK): December 1971

Jasmin (West German): December 1971

Bravo (West Germany): 1972

TV Times (Australia): July 1972

The Australian: 5th May, 1971

Tros Kompas (Holland): TV listings magazine: 15-21 January, 1972

Cosmopolitan (UK): April 1972

Television Annual (New Zealand): 1971

Cosmopolitan (UK): December 1972

 

Melbourne and Victoria Herald (Australia): 1972

Frau (West Germany): 31st January, 1973

Daily Mirror (UK): 21st August, 1973

Bild und Funk (West Germany): October 1973 

Bravo (West Germany): November 1973. A shortlist of film, TV and music stars in a readers poll to win the ‘Golden Otto’. 

Bild und Funk (West Germany): June 1976 

Bravo (West Germany): 1973

Hörzu (Austria): February/March 1973

Bravo (West Germany): 1973

Bravo (West Germany): 1973

Bild und Funk (West Germany): October 1973

The Stage (UK): October 1973

Television Age (Japan): 1976

Hull Daily Mail (UK): 1977

Montag Dienstag (Austria): 31st October/1st November, 1977

Wiener Zeitung (Austria): 1977

Starburst (UK): March 1984

Starburst (UK): March 1984

STARBURST: May 1985

TV Zone (UK): June 1994

Cable Guide (UK): September 1995

Video and Satellite TV Magazine (UK): 1996

Cult TV (UK): January 1998

Doctor Who Magazine (UK): September 1998

Doctor Who Magazine (UK): September 1998

Action TV (UK): Spring 2000

SFX Magazine (UK): February, 2006

Daily Mail (UK): 21st March, 2010

TV Cars: Stars Cars From The World of TV (UK): 2011

The Daily Express (UK): 29th March, 2015

Publication Unknown (UK): 14 April, 2012

Diabolique (USA): March/April 2012

The Darkside: March 2017

Daily Mail (UK): 7th June, 2017

Yours magazine (UK): July 2017

SFX Magazine (UK): October 2017

Infinity Magazine (UK): Issue No.1 April 2017

Daily Express (UK): 19th January, 2018

Unknown American Newspaper: January 2019

The Mirror (UK): 19th January, 2018

SFX (UK): February 2018

Unknown (Germany): 2018

Starburst (UK): March 2018

Record Collector (UK): September 2018

Yours Retro (UK): February 2019

Infinity Magazine (UK): June 2019

Infinity Magazine (UK): Issue 30

 

Infinity Magazine (UK): Issue 32

Bristol Post (UK): 17th March, 2020

Yours Retro (UK): 16th January, 2025

The Sensational Sixties (UK): February 2025

Yours Retro (UK): August, 2025

Infinity Magazine (UK): November 2025

Infinity Magazine (UK): January 2026

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