We have lost one of the major radical voices in British film and television. I more or less grew up on a diet of the trailblazing television dramas produced by Tony Garnett; most often with writer Jim Allen and director Ken Loach. Cathy Come Home (BBC 1966) was both an emotional and political clarion call. The Wednesday Play, dramas like Rank and File (1971) coincided for me with my political education into Marxism. And I was studying Labour History when I saw Days of Hope ( 1975). Later there was a film like Kes and more impressive television work like Spongers (1978). Recently, in 2016, I had the pleasure of hearing Garnett live as he introduced his ‘Memoir – The Day the Music Died. A life behind the lens’. This a fine autobiography, interweaving the political and the personal with everything that is needed for an obituary..
Garnett was an intelligent, analytical and engaging writer and speaker. At the meeting we had a tribute to writer Barry Hines with whom Garnett worked. Garnett was passionate about working class culture, something that he and Jim Allen, Barry Hines and Ken Loach did so much to represent on the large and small screens. Garnett was also the most intelligent voice in the film Versus: The Life and Films of Ken Loach (2016), a work that really did not do justice to Loach’s radical films.
This ‘Memoir’ details both Garnett’s personal life and his professional life as a producer on British television and in both British and Hollywood cinemas.
The early chapters record his family life in Birmingham in the 1930s and 1940s. It was then that the family tragedy represented by ‘the day the music died’ occurred – the trauma of his mother’s death after a back-street abortion, followed nineteen days later when Garnett’s grief-stricken father committed suicide and Tony was sent to live with other family members. This clearly marked Garnett throughout his life. However, the portrait of life in the urban Midlands in this period is finely described and makes for fascinating reading.
When Garnett moved on to London he initially worked as an actor, with limited success. In this period he also experienced a further tragedy. He met and married Topsy Jane. She gave a memorable and sensitive portrayal as Audrey, Colin’s (Tom Courtenay’s) girlfriend in The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner (1962). She then had a nervous breakdown and suffered a severe mental illness from which she never really recovered. This tragedy too marked Garnett life.
Then, in the most significant move in his professional life, Garnet was invited by producer Sydney Newman to work on a new series of television dramas. This led to the famous partnership with Ken Loach and some of the most outstanding productions in British television history. These were watersheds in a number of ways. This was not just because of its quality and politics but because they became test cases for the conservative reaction against such work. The responses included the withholding a title from screening, BBC’s first use of a ‘’balancing’ programme and that bourgeois tribute, fulminations in a ‘Times’ editorial.
Garnett discusses some of the productions in some detail in the book;, including Cathy Come Home and his famous collaboration with Barry Hines and Ken Loach on Kes (1969) in individual chapters. He also pays tribute to the particular contribution they brought to these films along with Jim Allen. All of them would be termed left-wingers, though there are variations in their political stances.
All were formed to some degree by the heightened activities and debates of the 1960s. In one fascinating chapter, ‘Protest and Confusion’, Garnett records his experiences in this area. These were centred round the influential (at that time) Workers’ Revolutionary Party with their leader Gerry Healey. Trevor Griffith, also involved in these activities at the time, has a witty portrait of these events in his play The Party (1988).
Garnett went on to produce further work for British television and for a period worked in Hollywood, though I find this the least successful output in his career. The best known title is Handgun (1983), a film that draws parallels between US gun culture and sexual molestation. Garnett’s work on this film was re-edited by the production company, EMI. As Garnett acknowledged, the BBC, where he produced so much, became an inhospitable environment for his type of drama. Up until 2017 he ran World Productions where he produced Between the Lines (1992 – 1994).
The earlier years at the BBC, as was later the case with the young Channel Four, saw Garnett as a key protagonist in many memorable achievements. His memoir combines the story of these years with his own personal odyssey and he recounts this with a distinctive personal voice. I found the book fascinating and informative. It remains essential reading for people interested in the British media in the late twentieth century. So read the book whilst we wait for enterprising exhibitors to re–screen some of the classics.
The Day the Music Died, A Life behind the Lens – A Memoir, Tony Garnett, Constable 2016, 306 pages, (illustrations, no index). ISBN 978147212273S
Parts of this post are from a review in the Media Education Journal.
It was a strange day on Wednesday this week. We watched the last episode of The Bay on ITV only a few hours after returning from a day out in Morecambe where the ITV series was set and the final episode ended on the promenade and Stone Jetty where we had lunch. The crime serial (6×52 mins episodes) proved to be a winner for me overall, although I felt it lost its way a little around episode 3 and there were still a few loose ends flapping about at the end.
When the serial opened on UK screens it received some positive critical reviews for the first episode but then something of a backlash on social media. A common complaint was that it was just another inferior version of Broadchurch, one of the biggest crime fiction hits of recent years. It’s not difficult to see why this response might be forthcoming. Both serials feature missing children in a seaside setting with an emotionally involved police investigator. But there are major differences too. Broadchurch featured three major stars of British film and TV (Jodie Whittaker, Olivia Colman and David Tennant) as well as other well-known supporting players and in the second serial, several more notable figures. It was set in a fictitious town on a relatively unknown but beautiful part of the South Coast with London seemingly a long way away. If The Bay was more interesting for me, it was probably because of its setting.
The Bay refers to Morecambe Bay, a large geographical feature and one of the largest natural bays in Europe. The seaside resort of Morecambe is the largest settlement on the bay. As a resort, Morecambe reached its peak in the first half of the 20th century. It attracted large numbers of holidaymakers who used the direct rail route from Leeds and Bradford in West Yorkshire (and which we used on our trip – in far less comfort than travellers sixty years ago!). In its decline Morecambe has suffered like many other seaside resorts in Northern England and one of the social problems associated with that decline is an important element in this crime fiction drama.
The serial begins with the disappearance of 15 year-old twins Holly and Dylan. The officer who is assigned to Family Liaison duty is DS Lisa Armstrong who is not best pleased to be taken off a drugs investigation and asked to mentor DC ‘Med’ Kharim. She has a double burden to bear. In Episode 1 she does something that will compromise her position later on in the investigation and she is also a single parent for her own teenagers Abbie and Rob who go to the same school as Holly and Dylan. I’m not going to describe all the plot elements because the serial will be available on the ITV Hub and has been sold to several other TV broadcasters around the world.But I would like to comment on the production more generally.
Unlike Broadchurch, The Bay doesn’t have any major stars in the cast. That doesn’t mean that the cast is in any way inexperienced, but simply that the lead players are not so well-known that an entire episode is spent wondering what will happen to them based on their status. I don’t watch a lot of TV so perhaps some of the cast are more familiar to some viewers but I don’t think there are the same expectations of major acting tussles like Colman vs. Tennant etc. The star of The Bay is Morven Christie as Lisa Armstrong, who does indeed have a long list of TV credits and some interesting film roles. I must have seen her in Lilting (UK 2013). In The Bay she is excellent, managing, as a Scot, to produce an acceptable North of England accent. The cast overall are very good, drawn from across the North and as far afield as the North of Ireland (linked by ferry to Morecambe/Heysham). The Bay was written by Daragh Carville, the writer and playwright from Armagh who has written radio plays and films and the six episodes were directed by Lee Haven Jones and Robert Quinn, both of whom have experience of other UK crime fiction series.
One of the most important questions for me is how well do the creators of this serial make use of the locations offered by Morecambe and its environs? Morecambe’s claim to fame in film and television rests on three or four high profile narratives and associated stars. In 1960 it was the setting for Tony Richardson’s film The Entertainer with Laurence Olivier and in 1975 Stephen Frears’ TV film written by Alan Bennett, Sunset Across the Bay. Bennett, the Leeds boy knew Morecambe from his childhood. Thora Hird, often Alan Bennett’s go to actor is one of Morecambe’s best known celebrity figures alongside Eric Bartholomew, a.k.a Eric Morecambe, now a statue on the Promenade and immortalised in a biopic TV film by another Morecambe fan, Victoria Wood. Finally Morecambe Bay became the site of the tragedy of the Chinese cockle-pickers in 2004 represented in Nick Broomfield’s film Ghosts (UK 2006) and Isaac Julien’s installation Ten Thousand Waves (UK-China 2010). The cockle-pickers died just north of Morecambe in the bay close to Hest Bank.
Thanks to my local contact, I’m fairly sure that all the scenes in the serial were shot in the Morecambe area except for one in the closed outdoor swimming pool across the bay in Grange-over-Sands and another in a marina or fishing dock (my guess is Whitehaven or Glasson?). My impression is that the production tends to focus on the seafront and the few streets behind the promenade. There isn’t as much made of the beach and the bay as I thought might be the case and nothing of the hinterland of suburban housing which stretches inland and eventually merges with Lancaster.
The serial narrative is very complex. In terms of narrative structure it presents two families, both, in different ways, with mothers struggling through the teenage years of their children, both aided (or not) by their own mothers. I don’t want to spoil the narrative so I’ll say simply that the eventual family melodrama that becomes the dominant mode of the serial is melded with a crime fiction narrative mainly by the presence of drug dealing in the town and the access to Morecambe by sea is important. Morecambe as far as I am aware doesn’t have a fishing industry or a dock as such although it is a popular spot for amateur sea anglers. The only commercial fishery is across the bay at Flookburgh so for The Bay, a Morecambe-based fishing boat in the Irish Sea is an invention. The story does make sense though as an example of the ‘County Lines’ drugs operations whereby Manchester drugs gangs can bring drugs into a town like Morecambe and find/coerce locals into dealing.
As I’ve indicated there are some loose ends in the narrative and that might mean a sequel is a possibility. (It could also mean that I couldn’t make sense of the narrative in a single viewing or that there are mistakes in the script.) I think I would be up for another go. One last comment might be about the casting. The police force in this film seems diverse to a greater extent than might be expected in North Lancashire. I’m all in favour of diversity of gender and race in both the police and in TV drama but I wonder if it is also an indicator of how both the police and the presence of ‘organised’ crime represent urban Manchester reaching out to the ‘periphery’ of the North Lancashire coast? Morecambe is arguably a candidate for ‘left behind’ status in the current Brexit mess that has paralysed UK political action.
This film was among my top titles for the year and I would thoroughly recommend it. It is a widescreen film so it will lose significantly on television but if that is the only way to see it then it is worth watching. Unfortunately whilst it is screening tonight [April 14th] on BBC 2 [including HD] it is not being presented properly. The BBC WebPage lists the running time as ‘2 hours 1 minute’: this despite it also showing a link to IMDB where the running time is given as 128 minutes, [exactly 128m 29s S&S]. Presumably this is because the BBC is squeezing it into a two-hour slot from 9 p.m.
I sent in an enquiry to the BBC about this and the first reply I received advised that the film would be ‘cut’: in which case I reckoned this would involve about three minutes missing. So I followed up by asking what was being cut. The I received the following:
” Having looked in to this further we can clarify that there were in fact no scenes cut from the film ‘Selma’ and therefore no content was missing.
The running time for this film (including credits) is 122 minutes and we broadcast a version nearing 119 mins. We simply speed up the end credits to fit the slot allocated and this accounts for the difference in running time.”
I am not sure where the running time of ‘122 minutes’ comes from. Even if they are confusing video with film the number still seems incorrect. Film runs at 24 fps whilst video in the UK runs at 25 fps: so in this case it would be five, not six, minutes shorter.
As for ‘speeding up the end credits’! The credits of Selma commence over the final rally in Montgomery with King’s speech; there follows reprisals of the key characters in the film accompanied by the Aacademy Award winning song Glory performed by Lonnie Lynn and John Stephens.
The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences treated this film poorly. Only one award and trailing behind the inferior Birdman (2014). This is the sort of disdain that the actual Martin Luther King and the many protesters at that time suffered: [and of course, a lot worse].
The actual transmission ran 118 minutes. As threatened the BBC channel ‘speeded up the credits, but not all of them. So we had the frames with the cast and the initial rendering of ‘Glory’ at normal video speed: but then the rest of the credits, and the accompanying song, went by too fast for either the text or the music.
And then, despite the claim in their email, part of the content was cut: about three minutes of credits and the rendition of ‘This Little Light of Mine’ sung by ‘workers in Selma’. All this to ‘fit in’ the schedule which followed the video film with ‘Later… with Jools Holland’. The latter was allowed to continue till 1205 a.m.
The logic of this escapes me. What seems clear is that the film was programmed because the 14th was what is commonly called ‘Good Friday’ and the subject and characters seemed appropriate to that religious day. Presumably when we get The Passion of the Christ on BBC its protagonist will have to expire right on the hour!
This event is organised by the Northern section of the Campaign for Press and Broadcasting Freedom. The Unity + Works Hall is only two minutes walk from the Wakefield Westgate Railways Station.
This full and varied afternoon kicks off with 45 minutes of Tony Garnett talking about his newly published memoir. Garnett is a key figure in alternative television and film, and his work with Ken Loach in the 1960s and 1970s is seminal, both for television and for working class representations.
The Price of Coal were two interlinked television plays for BBC 1 filmed in 1976. They were scripted by Barry Hines, produced by Tony Garnett and directed by Ken Loach. Meet the People (1977, in colour) is broadly a comedy set round a royal visit to a colliery. The follow-up Back to Reality, is a darker more sombre play. This first play runs for 75 minutes.
And then there will be the appreciation of a key collaborator and writer Barry Hines by Ian Clayton, about 45 minutes.
So a rich three hours celebrating some of the best and most politically felt work on British Television and the filmmakers who created this.
This classic television series dramatising a left-wing Labour Prime Minister (who makes Tony Benn look wet) has turned up three times in the last few days. Chris Mullin took the opportunity of an article in the Guardian (11-08-15) on the Labour Party Leader Election to plug his original 1982 novel (Corgi Books). He re-appeared on Sunday on Radio 4 (16-08-15) suggesting how the novel’s premise might work out if Jeremy Corbyn actually won. Then again in the Guardian (14-08-15) David Stubbs proposed that ‘Your Next Box Set’ should be this drama. Picking up, like Mullin, on the zeitgeist, he suggested that the drama was probably more relevant now than in 1988. The television drama was scripted by Alan Plater and directed by Mick Jackson over three episodes. For me the series improved on the novel both in terms of drama and in terms of its political representations. The stand-out feature of the television drama is the portrayal of the protagonist Harry Perkins by Ray McAnally: who is both believable and charismatic. Among my favourite scenes were a series of Press Conferences presented by Perkins at Downing Street: in each Perkins is more outrageous than in the last. Then there is a meeting between Perkins and his Cabinet colleagues and the US Secretary of State and his henchman. But it is the resolution of drama that offers the greatest improvement: Plater’s seems to me certainly more dramatic but also more likely. This would seem to be partly explained by Mullin’s own politics: he considers Corbyn ‘unelectable’. So I would support Stubbs’ suggestion. However, Channel 4 might take the opportunity to retransmit the series. That they have not done so yet suggests they think that the series would be better saved for 2020. Note, Wikipedia lists a more recent version of the novel, Secret State (2012), which I have not seen.
Another loss for the British Film Industry. Jack Gold did not have a high profile but he directed some fine cinema and television films. My first encounter was The Bofors Gun (1968), set in the era of National Service and with compelling performances from Nicol Williamson and David Warner. His following film The Reckoning (1970) also starred Williamson returning to Liverpool on the death of his father. Both were sharply made with complex characters and powerful plots. The Sailor’s Return (1978) dealt with racial prejudice before the issue acquired a sharper focus on film. Some of his later films lacked the subtlety of his earlier work. The Medusa Touch (also 1978) had a ludicrous plot: but the climatic disaster remains a must for subversives and republicans. There were also many fine films for television. The Lump (1967) was a Wednesday Play written by Jim Allen, dealing with casualised labour with a strong social consciousness. And Mad Jack (1970) was an effective treatment of the ordeal of Siegfried Sassoon during World War I. Then there was the better known The Naked Civil Servant (1975), splendidly led by John Hurt. Later there was The Praying Mantis (1983, in two parts) with an unsettling Cherie Lunghi in the lead. And later again one of the best of and the final Inspector Morse films, The Remorseful Day (2000). Jack Gold was a fairly prolific filmmaker, look at his list of productions on IMDB. Looking back, apart from his skills in film production what is clear is that he was also a fine director of actors: and he worked with some of the finest in British film and television.