THE NEW AVENGERS: 'THE MIDAS TOUCH'

 

A photo-still depicting Midas in his 'Masque of the Red Death'-lookalike costume from The Midas Touch episode of The New Avengers (© Brian Clemens/Albert Fennell/Robert Fuest/The Avengers (Film and TV) Enterprises Ltd/London Weekend – reproduced here on a strictly non-commercial Fair Use basis for educational/review purposes only)

Imagine a young man inoculated with every deadly disease known to humanity in a manner ensuring that he himself is immune to all of them and shows no outward sign of being such a horrific carrier, but also ensuring that anyone who touches or is touched by his bare skin is fated to die within minutes – of everything, suffering from and killed by all of the countless diseases with which the young man has been inoculated.

Imagine, still further, that the diabolical germ-warfare scientist responsible for this heinous feat, a Professor Turner (played by David Swift), is hiring the young man out to the highest bidder, to use him for whatever dreadful, murderous purpose the bidder chooses. In return, Turner is paid in gold – lots and lots of gold, to which he is totally addicted, like a small-screen Auric Goldfinger. The young man therefore serves not only as a veritable Grim Reaper, with his touch of death, but also as a veritable King Midas, with his deadly touch creating gold, literally, for Turner.

Little wonder, then, that Turner has dubbed the young man Midas. And now a princess is about to become the next unsuspecting victim of Midas and Turner – unless Steed, Gambit, and Purdy can stop them!

Yes indeed, this episode – 'The Midas Touch', directed by Robert Fuest – is my all-time favourite from the mid-1970s, 2-series British secret agent TV show The New Avengers, created by Brian Clemens and Albert Fennell, constituting an official direct sequel to the very popular 1960s show The Avengers, creatwd by Sydney Newman, with Patrick MacNee starring as the archetypal super-suave British secret agent John Steed in both of them, but ably assisted in this new incarnation by Purdy (Joanna Lumley) and Gambit (Gareth Hunt).

I watched 'The Midas Touch' on 28 August 2023, for the first time since it was originally screened almost 50 years ago, and it was just as good as I'd remembered. Here's Midas (played by Gilles Millinaire) in his usual form (below) and in his 'Masque of the Red Death'-lookalike costume (above). Vincent Price would have approved, I'm sure.

Click here to watch an excerpt from this episode's opening scene in which Midas makes his deadly debut at a costume party, dressed as the Red Death (inspred by the famous Edgar Allan Poe short story), to plunge his hands into the punch bowl from which all of the guests are innocently imbibing its now-lethal contents.

Finally: to view a complete chronological listing of all of my Shuker In MovieLand blog's other film reviews and articles (each one instantly accessible via a direct clickable link), please click HERE, and please click HERE to view a complete fully-clickable alphabetical listing of them.

 

Midas in his usual form ((© Brian Clemens/Albert Fennell/The Avengers (Film and TV) Enterprises Ltd/London Weekend – reproduced here on a strictly non-commercial Fair Use basis for educational/review purposes only)

 

 

BLACK LEATHER JACKET

 

Astride my first Honda CX500 motorbike during the early 1990s and  wearing my self-customised black leather jacket (BLJ) that was officially displayed at the Walsall Leather Museum's BLJ Exhibition in autumn 1993, and which was also featured in Mike Phillips's article 'Black Art', on the subject of the BLJ, published by the British monthly motorbike magazine Bike in its October 1993 issue (© Dr Karl Shuker)

 

It's been quite a while since this blog last journeyed there from MovieLand, so it's high time that I crossed the border once again to pay another of my occasional visits to TV Land – and for what better reason than to indulge my lifelong passion for all things appertaining to motorbikes, via my recalling here today a very memorable 1980s TV docu-movie that led to one of my very own motorbike jackets becoming both a star exhibit and a media star!

 

  

Full cover of my official sell-thru VHS video of Black Leather Jacket (© Nick Mead/Paul Cowan/Mick Farren/Channel 4 Television Corporation/Polygram Music Video – reproduced here on a strictly non-commercial Fair Use basis for educational/review purposes only)

As a biker ever since my late teens in the 1970s, my habitual and favourite garment of choice to wear has always been the classic black leather jacket, of the motorbike style beloved by bona fide, would-be, and on-screen bikers alike, not to mention rock stars, fashion models, punks, and rebels of every shape, size, and description.

So when while browsing in a bookshop one Sunday afternoon during the mid-1980s in the Warwickshire, England, town of Stratford-upon-Avon, world-famous as the birthplace of one William Shakespeare, I chanced upon a fairly large brand-new hardback book entitled The Black Leather Jacket, sporting an embossed, textured front cover designed to look and even feel like the real thing, and documenting the fascinating history of this truly iconic item of clothing, I lost no time whatsoever in purchasing it and reading it from cover to cover as soon as I arrived back home.

Written by English journalist Mick Farren and first published in 1985, this engrossing book reveals and extensively illustrates via a comprehensive selection of very distinctive glossy b/w photographs how its titular subject, the black leather jacket (or the BLJ, as I'll refer to it hereafter for convenience), has evolved and diversified since its origin during the early years of the 20^th Century.

The BLJ's progress is succinctly chronicled from the standard unadorned predecessors worn by the likes of WW1 fighter pilots and the Gestapo of WW2, through the classic 1950s Brando/Dean rebel styles, plus all manner of self-customised be-studded and badged-to-the-hilt individualized versions worn by outlaw bikers and 1960s rockers/greasers, to the slashed and safety-pinned punk gear of the 1970s, and the somewhat emasculated 1980s fashionista formats more at home on the catwalk than the highway, as well as every conceivable variation in between. So too is its enduring intrinsic appeal, traditionally daring, dark, even dangerous, regardless of its ever-changing external form. But that's not all.

 

The front cover of the original hardback First Edition of Mick Farren's book The Black Leather Jacket that I still own today (© Mick Farren/Plexus Publishing – reproduced here on a strictly non-commercial Fair Use basis for educational/review purposes only)

In 1988, Channel 4, a terrestrial TV station in the UK, produced and screened a 60-minute docu-movie directly inspired by Mick Farren's book but simply entitled Black Leather Jacket (i.e. no The). It was directed by Nick Mead, co-written by him with Farren, and produced by Paul Cowan. Narrated by big-screen bad boy Dennis Hopper of Easy Rider fame, Black Leather Jacket stayed faithful to the contents of Farren's book but also featured clips from a number of classic movies relating in some way to the BLJ and motorbikes (such as the cult 1970s British biker/horror movie Psychomania, which I've reviewed here).

Moreover, it contained an excellent rock soundtrack too, including contributions from famous BLJ-wearing performers such as Elvis Presley, The Clash, Gun, L.A. Guns, Zodiac Mindwarp (remember them?), Velvet Underground, Kiss, and Motorhead – whose song 'Black Leather Jacket' was used as this documentary movie's title song, accompanying clips of a teenage BLJ/Levis-wearing Michael Vartan (in his on-screen debut) riding a Harley through a neon-lit city centre at night and duly dubbed Motorcycle Boy in the credits.

Knowing full well that I would definitely enjoy Black Leather Jacket just as much as I'd done with the original book, I had the foresight to video-record it for future re-watchings at home, which was just as well, because I never remember it being re-screened. Tragically, however, as was so often the case with all but the highest-quality recordable blank videocassettes available back then, the picture quality of my precious recording of it diminished with repeated viewings down through the years.

Imagine my surprise but delight, then, when just over a year ago I discovered not only that Black Leather Jacket had actually been released as an official sell-thru video but also that there was a single example of it listed at that very same time on ebay, on a Buy It Now basis. So that's what I did, and just a few days later I was able to watch and enjoy it in its original top-quality viewing state all over again. But that's still not all.

Just a few miles from where I live in the West Midlands, England, is the prestigious Walsall Leather Museum, devoted to the history of the town of Walsall's long-established leather trade and manufacturing, and during summer 1993 I learnt from a friend who worked there that they were planning to stage a temporary public exhibition devoted exclusively to the BLJ!

 

Mini-poster produced by the Walsall Leather Museum advertising its BLJ Exhibition (© Walsall Leather Museum – reproduced here on a strictly non-commercial Fair Use basis for educational/review purposes only)

As a local biker who had painstakingly customized several of my motorbike BLJs in the classic 1960s rocker/greaser style (having been inspired to do so after seeing and admiring original examples worn by various bikers featured in clips from Black Leather Jacket of London's famous biker/rocker-associated Ace Cafe and 59 Club during that decade), it occurred to me that the Museum may perhaps be interested in including one of them in their exhibition as a representation of that particular BLJ genre. So one afternoon shortly after learning about their plans, I rode there on my motorbike wearing one of them – and was delighted when they were indeed very keen to exhibit it!

 

My official invitation to the preview of the Walsall Leather Museum's BLJ Exhibition in autumn 1993 (© Dr Karl Shuker/Walsall Leather Museum – reproduced here on a strictly non-commercial Fair Use basis for educational/review purposes only)

The Walsall Leather Museum's 'The Black Leather Jacket' Exhibition ran from 4 September to 14 November 1993 inclusive, but I was invited with other contributors to an exclusive preview, and when I turned up on my motorbike (wearing a different BLJ), there on display in a tall glass showcase was my very own jacket, fully labeled and fully visible from all angles. If pride is a sin, then I sinned very extensively that day!

 

The official b/w photograph of me wearing my exhibited BLJ that appeared alongside my jacket's showcase in the Walsall Leather Museum's BLJ Exhibition, and which also appeared in Mike Phillips's article 'Black Art', on the subject of the BLJ, published by the British monthly motorbike magazine Bike in its October 1993 issue (© Walsall Leather Museum (photographer unknown to me) – reproduced here on a strictly non-commercial Fair Use basis for educational/review purposes only)

Moreover, perhaps because of how eyecatching it was, bristling all over with badges, studs, chains, and above all else its full official Easyriders back patch, it was my BLJ that attracted much of the media attention relating to the Museum's BLJ Exhibition.

 

Report from The Observer (London) for 5 September 1993 re the Walsall Leather Museum's BLJ Exhibition, and including a close-up photo of my exhibited BLJ – please click to enlarge for reading purposes (© The Observer/Guardian Media Group – reproduced here on a strictly non-commercial Fair Use basis for educational/review purposes only)

It was pictured in a number of newspaper reports (including one by none other than London's eminent weekly broadsheet The Observer, the world's oldest Sunday newspaper, founded in 1791, and in which I am referred to as "a local biker with a vivid sense of design" - love it!), as well as in a special BLJ article entitled 'Black Art' authored by motorbike journalist Mike Phillips and published in the October 1993 issue of Bike, Britain's best-selling motorbike magazine.

 

Birmingham Post newspaper's 2-page magazine supplement report for 29 September 1993 re the Walsall Leather Museum's BLJ Exhibition, which includes a name-check and quote from me (arrowed in red) on p.4 and a picture of a model wearing my exhibited BLJ on p. 5 – please click to enlarge for reading purposes (© Birmingham Post/Reach plc – reproduced here on a strictly non-commercial Fair Use basis for educational/review purposes only)

My exhibited BLJ also featured in two local TV news reports, and in one of them it was even worn by Midlands Today presenter Richard Ulridge while sitting astride a motorbike and then riding off on it, with my BLJ's Easyrider back patch fully displayed (click here to view both of these TV news reports – and my BLJ! – on YouTube).

 

Photo-still from the Midlands Today news report re the Walsall Leather Museum's BLJ Exhibition depicting presenter Richard Ulridge wearing my exhibited BLJ (© Dr Karl Shuker/Midlands Today – reproduced here on a strictly non-commercial Fair Use basis for educational/review purposes only)

If you'd like to watch Black Leather Jacket, most of it can currently be viewed free of charge on YouTube, where it has been uploaded in nine parts (but, oddly, Part 3 is seemingly missing), though the resolution quality is not great. Click here to begin viewing with Part 1.

Finally: To view a complete chronological listing of all of my Shuker In MovieLand blog's other film/TV reviews and articles (each one instantly accessible via a direct clickable link), please click HERE, and please click HERE to view a complete fully-clickable alphabetical listing of them.

 

Photo-still from the Midlands Today news report re the Walsall Leather Museum's BLJ Exhibition depicting the back of my exhibited BLJ as worn by presenter Richard Ulridge (© Dr Karl Shuker/Midlands Today – reproduced here on a strictly non-commercial Fair Use basis for educational/review purposes only)

 

THE PRISONER (1967)

Publicity poster for The Prisoner (© Patrick McGoohan/Pat Jackson/Don Chaffrey/David Tomblin/ITC Entertainment/Everyman Films/Carlton Communications plc/ITV Studios Global Entertainment – reproduced here on a strictly non-commercial Fair Use basis for educational/review purposes only)

Time for another brief migration from MovieLand to TVLand, this time to review a truly classic cult British sci fi/psychological thriller show that has taken me more than 50 years to view in its entirety. For although I did watch a few episodes and excerpts way back in the late 1960s when it was first broadcast, I'd never viewed the full 17-episode series – nor any episode of it in colour, because we only had a b/w TV set back then. So on 1 October 2021, after having promised myself to do so for ages, I finally embarked upon what turned out to be a marathon multi-evening viewing session by way of my complete VHS video box set (which I'd owned for over 25 years but had never even unwrapped until now), watching that most iconic and idiosyncratic of UK TV series – The Prisoner.

Produced by ITC Entertainment and originally screened in Britain by ITV during 1967-1968, The Prisoner stars (as well as being co-directed and co-written by) its creator, American-Irish English actor Patrick McGoohan, in the title role. He plays a newly-resigned British secret agent who is abducted from his London home after being covertly rendered unconscious there. When he wakes up, he discovers to his alarm that he is now in a mysterious, self-sufficient coastal hamlet of entirely-unrevealed geographical location but enclosed on all non-coastal sides by high mountains, thereby rendering it totally isolated.

This cryptic hamlet is known only as The Village, sports a canopied penny-farthing bicycle design as its logo, and everyone there (it has a population of several hundred persons) is referred to not by a name but instead by a number – Number Six in The Prisoner's case (his real name is never revealed). He spends the entire series trying to escape from The Village, while the baffled viewers of this bewildering show spend it trying to work out what on earth is happening!

Having said that, the central, incessantly emphasized theme of The Prisoner is the importance of individuality, hence Number Six's constant refusal to acquiesce to The Village's rigid demands for conformity (as exemplified by its labeling everyone with numbers rather than names). This is best summed up by Number Six's most famous line, repeated by him in the opening to every episode: "I am not a number. I am a free man!"

 

The canopied penny-farthing bicycle logo of The Village in The Prisoner (© Patrick McGoohan/Pat Jackson/Don Chaffrey/David Tomblin/ITC Entertainment/Everyman Films/Carlton Communications plc/ITV Studios Global Entertainment – reproduced here on a strictly non-commercial Fair Use basis for educational/review purposes only)

As for Number Six's numerous attempts to escape his invidious imprisonment within The Village: as he is soon to discover, anyone attempting to do so is inevitably confronted by one of the most extraordinary but menacing jailers ever seen in a TV show – a gigantic translucent white sphere incongruously dubbed Rover, which rises up from the sea to chase after and, if need be, lethally envelop the would-be absconder, whether in the sea or on land. Suffocation via spherical smothering – not a pretty sight!

Number Six's human nemesis is The Village's ever-changing but usually pompous, self-important administrator, Number Two, played by a different actor or actress almost each week (including such luminaries as Leo McKern, Patrick Cargill, Peter Wyngarde, Anton Rodgers, Eric Portman, George Baker, and Mary Morris). Number Two's onerous task, as appointed by the perpetually unseen Number One, is to discover why Number Six tendered his resignation (which he did so in a very acrimonious manner) – only for Number Six to thwart his/her intrusive monitoring of him plus all manner of mind-bending manipulations at every turn, however, in surreal storylines that are often as bizarre as they are bedazzling.

Filmed in the real but preternaturally-exquisite resort village of Portmeirion in Gwynedd, North Wales, and featuring a veritable cavalcade of notable British stars of the day, this seriously strange TV show is extraordinarily beautiful and stylish when viewed at last in colour, far more so than I'd expected from my hazy b/w 1960s memories of it. On 1 October, I watched Episode 1 (entitled 'Arrival'), which set the scene for the entire series very effectively, and looked forward very much to viewing the next 16. On 21 December, I finally accomplished this long-held goal of mine by viewing the much-anticipated final installment, Episode 17 ('Fall Out'), in which I assumed that all of this show's many mysteries would at last be explained. Yeah, right! And my verdict?

The Prisoner is unquestionably a thoroughly fascinating show, although McGoohan's Number Six is so objectionably smug, with such an insufferably arrogant smirk fixed seemingly permanently across his face, that I often found myself siding with Number Two and the sinister Village where he is being held captive, which I feel sure was not the intention of the writers! (One of these was McGoohan himself.)

Portmeirion, conversely, looks absolutely stunning. Indeed, now that I've viewed the entire series of The Prisoner, I may well pay a visit there at some stage, to observe at first hand some of the iconic settings that feature in this show and with which I have become very familiar, albeit only vicariously at present.

 

The piazza at Portmeirion; this spectacular Welsh village was designed and built by architect Sir Clough Williams-Ellis in the style of an Italian village (© Mike McBey/Wikipedia – CC BY 2.0 licence)

However, and without giving away spoilers to those who haven't seen it but may wish to do so, I must say that at least as far as I'm concerned, the concluding, climactic episode of The Prisoner is very disappointing – inasmuch as it makes no sense whatsoever. In fact, it seems imho to have been thought up by McGoohan (who wrote that episode) during a period of severe sleep deprivation!

Bearing in mind how adept most of the previous episodes had been (although the last four veered off into some decidedly abstruse, self-indulgent flights of fancy), it was a shame to have ended the show in such an unfulfilling, unsatisfactory manner, I felt, especially with regard to the long-awaited, literal unmasking of Number One's hitherto-cryptic identity. My guess had been Number Two's butler, played by Angelo Muscat, in an actual instance of "The butler did it", by virtue of his being not only small in stature and silent in nature but also ubiquitous in appearance throughout the series, thereby cleverly hiding in plain sight – or so I'd thought, incorrectly as it turned out.

However, I did read that McGoohan was given only a week to write this final, crucial episode, and with no prior notice, so that may explain its shortcomings. Nevertheless, so much was left wholly unexplained or at best open-ended that what was at times a decidedly farcical denouement to such a hitherto-engrossing, superbly scripted series inevitably engendered a not-inconsiderable degree of anger and controversy among some viewers – and still does today among TV historians and aficionados.

There are a fair few intriguing characters amidst all the curiosity and craziness in this archetypal '60s show, but none more so than the two seemingly different ones (Number Eight and Number Forty-Eight respectively) played by the ever-enigmatic Alexis Kanner. In Episode 14 ('Living in Harmony'), Number Eight is transformed via hallucinogenic drugs surreptitiously given to Number Six into a psychotic mute Wild West sharp-shooter nicknamed The Kid, but dressed incongruously in circus gear and a top hat. In contrast, Number Forty-Eight looks like a 1960s Mod, and persists in singing the Bible-inspired spiritual song 'Dem Bones' throughout his interrogation by a kangaroo court ensconced within a cave deep below The Village in Episode 17. It's all totally mad of course, but undeniably entertaining.

(Incidentally, just for the sake of completeness I should mention that in The Prisoner Kanner also plays a photographer and voices in an uncredited role a character referred to only as Chief; both of them appear in Episode 15, 'The Girl Who Was Death'.)

 

Alexis Kanner as The Kid in Episode 14 of The Prisoner (© Patrick McGoohan/Pat Jackson/Don Chaffrey/David Tomblin/ITC Entertainment/Everyman Films/Carlton Communications plc/ITV Studios Global Entertainment – reproduced here on a strictly non-commercial Fair Use basis for educational/review purposes only)

There are endless storyline twists and turns in The Prisoner. However, my own particular favourite involves hints that the reason why Number Six had resigned as a secret agent was that he'd discovered to his horror that an idea he'd submitted many years earlier to his superiors but which he'd subsequently rejected as being too restrictive not only had been secretly implemented by them but also had been made even more restrictive. And that idea? The creation of a secluded, closely-guarded location where ex-agents who had been privy to significant information would be confined for the remainder of their lives to ensure that their secrets could never be leaked to the enemy – or, to give it the name that it was given after being covertly established, The Village!

There has long been speculation that The Prisoner aka Number Six is actually one and the same fictional character as NATO secret agent John Drake, the title character in the earlier 1960s UK TV series Danger Man, who was also played by McGoohan. However, McGoohan always denied this. Curiously, there is a character appearing briefly in Episode 15 of The Prisoner who is played by an English actor named…John Drake!

In 2009, a six-part mini-series remake of The Prisoner was screened in the United States by the cable TV channel AMC, who had co-produced it with the British TV channel company ITV. Directed by Nick Hurran and written by Bill Gallagher, it stars Jim Caviezel as Number Six and Ian McKellen as Number Two (there is only one Number Two in this version, and at one stage there were thoughts about this character being played by none other than Patrick McGoohan, which would certainly have been intriguing!). I recently purchased this mini-series on DVD, so it will be interesting to watch it and see how it compares with the original. In addition, there are ongoing plans to create a movie version of The Prisoner, with Ridley Scott as its possible director.

Notwithstanding what for me personally was its less than satisfying finale, I thoroughly enjoyed The Prisoner, and rank it among the best TV shows that I have ever seen. So if you'd like to watch an official trailer for this classic series, be sure to click here to view one on YouTube. And if you'd like to watch an official trailer for the 2009 American mini-series remake, please click here to view one on YouTube. Be seeing you!

To view a complete chronological listing of all of my Shuker In MovieLand blog's other film/TV reviews and articles (each one instantly accessible via a direct clickable link), please click HERE, and please click HERE to view a complete fully-clickable alphabetical listing of them.

My official UK DVD of The Prisoner 2009 American mini-series (© Nick Hurran/AMC – reproduced here on a strictly non-commercial Fair Use basis for educational/review purposes only)