MACK THE KNIFE

 

Publicity poster for Mack the Knife (© Menahem Golan/Golan-Globus Productions/21^st Century Film Corporation – reproduced here on a strictly non-commercial Fair Use basis for educational/review purposes only)

On 10 November 2020, I watched and greatly enjoyed the 1989 movie version of the very popular Bertolt Brecht/Kurt Weill stage musical The Threepenny Opera, which debuted in 1928, and was in turn based upon the equally popular 1720s John Gay musical The Beggar's Opera.

Directed by Menahem Golan, and released in 1989, this movie version of TheThreepenny Opera is entitled Mack the Knife after (and thence in order to trade upon) the immediate recognition factor of the musical's most famous song, which serves to introduce us to the lead character at the film's beginning but has also become an absolute corker of a standard, recorded by the likes of Frank Sinatra, Bobby Darin, Louis Armstrong, and even Robbie Williams.

Oozing suave insincerity and sinister insouciance from every becloaked pore, Raul Julia heads the cast as the charming but thoroughly villainous Macheath. His co-stars include Richard Harris, Bill Nighy, and Julie Walters (who seemed to be channelling the late great Hylda Baker in places!), plus Roger Daltrey as a street singer who also serves as the narrator.

Yet what made this movie such an especial pleasure to watch for me was that although it was based upon a musical that I'd already heard of, i.e. The Threepenny Opera, their actual plot was entirely unknown to me (a rarity indeed!). So I had no idea what to expect, which is always great (but not always possible) when watching a movie.

It turns out that its lead character Macheath (Mack the Knife is his ominous nickname, for reasons that soon become obvious) is a criminal kingpin eluding justice behind a paper-thin veneer of respectability and covertly based in the shady backstreets of Victorian London (in The Beggar's Opera from two centuries earlier, he was a highwayman). In addition, he is a legendary yet wholly amoral lothario.

Over the years, Macheath's reputation on both counts has spread far and wide, but equally his daring escapades again on both counts ultimately attract the acute attention of the law, resulting in all manner of machinations as everyone strives to snare their infamously elusive quarry. My prior ignorance of the storyline to any version of this musical meant that its decidedly tricksy climactic scene came as a total surprise to me. Let's just say Deus Ex Machina In Excelsis!

Moreover, although I knew of The Threepenny Opera as a stage musical, I had no idea that this movie version of it even existed until just a few hours before watching it, when Facebook friend Hakim Colclough mentioned in another FB group how extremely rare Mack the Knife's official VHS videocassette was (and, very strangely, it has never been released on DVD at all). But when I looked on YouTube to see if there were any Mack the Knife trailers or excerpts, imagine how startled but delighted I was to find that this entire movie had been uploaded there to watch for free! So that is precisely what I did, and I enjoyed it immensely.

Consequently, I thoroughly recommend anyone else who likes watching movie musicals to click here and do the same while this fantastic but rare to chance upon film is still there, just in case – in faithful if fateful homage to its lead character's notoriously adept powers of disappearance – it suddenly vanishes, as so often happens with online movies. Also be sure to click here to view Bobby Darin's classic version of its title song 'Mack the Knife', which was a #1 smash hit for him in both the UK and the USA during 1959, the year in which he recorded his performance of it in this clip on YouTube.

And to view a complete 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! 

 

A second, rather more Jack the Ripperesque(?) publicity poster for Mack the Knife (© Menahem Golan/Golan-Globus Productions/21^st Century Film Corporation – reproduced here on a strictly non-commercial Fair Use basis for educational/review purposes only)

 

DRAGONS ON TELEVISION

 

An interpretation by fantasy artist Anthony Wallis of the soup dragon from the classic British children's TV show Clangers (© Anthony Wallis)

Several months ago here on Shuker In MovieLand, I blogged about dragons in films, lighting up the big screen with flames, fire, and fear. So today, extending the same courtesy to their small-screen counterparts, I am blogging about dragons on television.

There have been many notable small-screen dragons, but thanks to the charmed tenacity of nostalgia, perhaps those that we most readily recall are ones that featured in shows from our childhood.

One of the legendary names in British children's TV is Oliver Postgate (1925-2008), who created and wrote some of the most beloved shows of all time in this special genre of television – Bagpuss, Clangers, Noggin the Nog, Ivor the Engine, and Pogles' Wood, among others. They were all made by his company Smallfilms (founded with Peter Firman), and screened by the BBC. Some of these featured delightful dragons, remaining cherished childhood memories for generations.

 

Meet Small, my very own official clanger model who actually whistles when you squeeze him, kindly bought for me by Facebook friend Jane Cooper several years ago as a birthday present – thanks Jane! (photo © Dr Karl Shuker)

Originally screened from 1969 to 1974 but repeated numerous times thereafter, and with a new series beginning in 2015, Clangers was a stop-motion show of 27 original 10-minute episodes, narrated by Postgate (plus many new ones narrated by Michael Palin from 2015 onwards). They featured a family of small whistling aliens, the clangers, with long snouts and knitted waistcoats, who include Major and Mother Clanger, their children Small and Tiny, plus Granny, and three others. The clangers share a tiny hollow planet with a host of exotic fauna and flora, such as the iron chicken and her iron chick, the froglets, the music trees, and, most notable of all, the soup dragon. It is she who obtains from the planet's volcanic soup wells the delicious blue string pudding and green soup that the clangers adore. It was this character (and her baby dragon) who inspired the name of Scottish alternative rock band The Soup Dragons.

Consisting of 27 ten-minute episodes (six in colour) of limited stop-motion photography and first screened in 1959, 'Noggin the Nog' was a Norse-type saga about a tribe of Northmen, the Nogs, led by King Noggin, and featuring an extensive cast of characters. These include Noggin's villainous uncle Nogbad the Bad, inventor Olaf the Lofty, a giant green bird called Graculus, Arup the great walrus, and an amiable ice dragon known as Groliffe (not to mention a flying machine and a fire machine!). Befriended by Noggin, Groliffe subsequently comes to his aid when he and his friends are in trouble. Noggin the Nog proved so popular that a special touring production for the theatre, entitled Noggin the Nog: The Rings of Nudrug, was staged in the UK during the early 1970s, a performance of which I was delighted to attend, courtesy of a school trip, when it visited the Birmingham Repertory Theatre in January 1972, and I still own the official theatre programme for it today.

 

My official Birmingham Repertory Theatre programme for Noggin the Nog: The Rings of Nudrug that I attended in January 1972 (© Smallfilms/Birmingham Repertory Theatre – reproduced here on a strictly non-commercial Fair Use basis for educational/review purposes only)

Spanning 1959 to 1977 and consisting of 32 10-minute black-and-white episodes and 40 5-minute colour episodes of stop-motion photography, Ivor the Engine was famously set in "the top left-hand corner of Wales". It features a green locomotive called Ivor, his driver (Edwin) Jones the Steam, plus several supporting characters. Notable among them is Idris, a small red heraldic dragon based upon the emblem of Wales, who lives with his wife and two dragon children in an extinct volcano called Smoke Hill, and sings in the local choir.

Another company making British TV shows for children that remain as beloved today as they were when first screened during the 1960s and 1970s was Graham Clutterbuck's FilmFair. His BBC shows included such classics as Hatty Town, The Wombles, and Paddington, plus my all-time favourite show as a young child, The Herbs. Consisting of 13 15-minute episodes created and written by Michael Bond, directed by Ivor Wood, and narrated by Gordon Rollings, it was originally screened in 1968 but has been repeated countless times since then. This stop-motion animated series centres upon a magic herb garden in which all of the herbs are animals or people, such as Parsley the lion, Dill the dog, Sage the owl, Sir Basil and Lady Rosemary, Bayleaf the gardener, Constable Knapweed the policeman, elderly Aunt Mint who loves to knit, Belladonna the Witch, and a friendly lisping dragon called Tarragon who unfortunately manages to set fire to all manner of things, although never intentionally. To enter the magic herb garden, encircled by a high wall, you must stand outside its tall gate and say the magic word "Herbidacious!".

 

A official DVD of The Herbs, containing 5 original episodes and featuring Sage, Sir Basil, Parsley, and Tarragon on its front cover (© Michael Bond/Ivor Wood/Graham Clutterbuck/FilmFair/Abbey Home Media – reproduced here on a strictly non-commercial Fair Use basis for educational/review purposes only)

What I have always particularly loved about The Herbs in addition to its sweet, gentle nature, and the fact that it was thanks to this show that I learned and remembered ever afterwards the names of a fair few herbs, is that every character has their very own signature song, which they sometimes sing when they first appear in an episode but whose melody always precedes their arrival, whether they sing the words to it or not. Hence my great disappointment when its spin-off series, The Adventures of Parsley, dispensed entirely with this quaint little tradition. The latter show consisted of 32 five-minute episodes, was originally screened during 1970-1971, and focused predominantly upon the characters Parsley and Dill.

A dragon called Dennis who combined the best of both geographical types appeared in James the Cat – a cartoon series of 52 5-minute episodes screened by the BBC from 1984 to 1992. One of many animal friends of the show's title character, Dennis is a pink Chinese dragon but breathes fire and speaks with a Welsh accent!

 

The official DVD containing the complete collection of episodes for Chorlton and the Wheelies (© Chris Taylor/Cosgrove Hall Productions/FremantleMedia – reproduced here on a strictly non-commercial Fair Use basis for educational/review purposes only)

A happiness-bringing luck dragon long before Falkor debuted in the Michael Ende novel The Neverending Story (1983) and starred in the subsequent movies inspired by it, Chorlton was the friendly but somewhat slow-witted star of an enchanting British TV series entitled Chorlton and the Wheelies, directed by Chris Taylor and originally screened on ITV from 1976 to 1979. Created by Brian Cosgrove and Mark Hall, in the very first of its 40 stop-motion animated episodes Chorlton hatches from an egg and then arrives in Wheelie World. This is a strange land populated mostly by Wheelies – creatures that have wheels instead of legs, but which are burdened with sadness conjured up by a wicked witch called Fenella...until Chorlton's happiness soon dispels the gloom. In subsequent episodes, Fenella puts into practice all manner of evil schemes to rid Wheelie World of Chorlton, or cause problems for him, but he and his Wheelie friends invariably manage to foil them.

One of the most popular series from the golden age of children's TV in the USA was H.R. Pufnstuf, a live-action TV show created by Sid and Marty Krofft, featuring life-sized puppets whose 17 25-minute episodes were first screened from September 1969 to September 1971. H.R. Pufnstuf is not only a big yellow bipedal dragon but also a mayor – of a magical isle called Living Island. Here everything is alive, even the houses, and is where an 11-year-old boy called Jimmy (played by Jack Wild, the artful dodger in the 1968 film musical Oliver!) and his talking flute Freddy are taken to in a mysterious boat. The series' basic scenario is similar to that of Chorlton and the Wheelies, in that the bane of Living Island is a troublesome witch, called Witchiepoo here, but her evil plans are always thwarted by the dragon, Jimmy, and their many friends there.

 

The official DVD containing the complete collection of episodes for H.R. Pufnstuf (© Sid and Marty Krofft/CBS Television Distribution – reproduced here on a strictly non-commercial Fair Use basis for educational/review purposes only)

Originally aired in Canada and the USA from 1993 to 1997, and running to five seasons, collectively containing 65 30-minute episodes, The Adventures of Dudley the Dragon was a live-action show in which a full-costumed actor played Dudley. Befriended by two children after waking up from centuries of hibernation, Dudley finds out what the modern-day world is like, with particular emphasis upon environmental issues.

Other popular children's TV shows featuring dragons included Wacky Races, My Little Pony, The Smurfs, Pocket Dragon Adventures, Eureeka's Castle, Digimon, and, for older children and teenagers, Power Rangers, Dungeons and Dragons, and several Manga series. Moreover, countless TV cartoons have featured dragons as one-off foes or comic relief characters.

 

An official Kukla, Fran and Ollie DVD, containing the first episodes from this show (© Burr Tillstrom/Lewis Gomavitz/ Beulah Zachary – reproduced here on a strictly non-commercial Fair Use basis for educational/review purposes only)

One of the earliest but most cherished television shows to include a dragon character was Kukla, Fran and Ollie. Created by puppeteer Burr Tillstrom, directed by Lewis Gomavitz, and airing on American TV from 1947 to 1957, this puppet series was intended for children but proved more popular among adults, due to its being entirely ad-libbed. It starred comedienne Fran Allison alongside a small humanoid puppet named Kukla, plus Ollie, or, to give him his full name, Oliver J. Dragon – a one-toothed dragon puppet with a very roguish persona.

Genuine adult programmes that contained dragons in their dramatis personae have been somewhat few and far between, but the following three are among the best known examples, although very different indeed from one another.

 

A gif presentation of Merlin asking Kilgharrah for help (© Shine TV/Endemol Shine UK – reproduced here on a strictly non-commercial Fair Use basis for educational/review purposes only)

The Munsters was a very popular American sitcom of the mid-1960s, famous for its storyline of a family whose members are all bona fide monsters – a Frankensteinian head of the household, his vampire wife, another vampire as Grandpa, their young werewolf son, and – horror of horrors – a totally normal daughter! (The show's running joke was that she was the freakish member of the family!) Among their equally bizarre pets was a dragon called Spot.

Merlin was a prime-time British fantasy show set in the Arthurian age, but at a time when the magician Merlin was still a youth and his equally young friend was the headstrong and somewhat arrogant Prince (later King) Arthur. During the series, Merlin (played by Colin Morgan) learns a great deal of sorcery from Kilgharrah, the Great Dragon (voiced by John Hurt). He was an original character created specially for this show, who acts as mentor, protector, and advisor to the young wizard, nurturing and honing his developing magical skills. A deadly cockatrice also appears in one episode. The first series was screened by the BBC in 2008, and four more were subsequently produced and broadcast; the last episode of the final, fifth series was broadcast in two parts on Christmas Eve 2012.

 

One of the three dragons raised by Daenerys Targaryen in Game of Thrones (© HBO Entertainment/Television 360/Grok! Television/generator Entertainment/Startling Television/Bighead Littlehead/Warner Bros. Television Distribution – reproduced here on a strictly non-commercial Fair Use basis for educational/review purposes only)

Dominating the past decade, however, especially as far as winning multitudes of awards is concerned, was the American blockbuster fantasy TV show Game of Thrones, which prominently featured fire-breathing dragons (albeit not of the classical dragon version, i.e. two-winged, four-legged, but of the two-winged, two-legged wyvern version instead). They debuted in the dramatic climax of Season 1 and continued to appear thereafter right through to the end of the eighth, final season. Until recently, these mighty conflagrating reptiles were thought to have become extinct more than 150 years ago in the land of Westeros, but when Daenerys Targaryen walked into the flaming funeral pyre of her deceased husband while carrying three supposedly long-dead dragon eggs, not only did she miraculously survive unscathed but the eggs hatched, yielding a trio of very much alive baby dragons that would subsequently grow into three full-sized, fire-belching specimens fiercely loyal to her.

Although Westeros dragons cannot be tamed, they can be trained and mastered, and have been utilised and sometimes even ridden by humans in battle, of which there have been an inordinate number in and around Westeros down through the ages. The show was based upon the bestselling series of novels A Song of Ice and Fire, written by George R.R. Martin, and the first novel shares the TV show's title.

I now await with great anticipation the diversity of dragons that will undoubtedly arise to enthral and terrify TV viewers young and old during this present third decade of the 21^st Century!

And to view a complete 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!

This Shuker In MovieLand blog article is an expanded, updated excerpt from my book Dragons In Zoology, Cryptozoology, and Culture.

 

Dragons In Zoology, Cryptozoology, and Culture (© Dr Karl Shuker/Coachwhip Publications)

 

 

WHERE HAS POOR MICKEY GONE?

 

A publicity poster for Where Has Poor Mickey Gone? (© Gerry Levy/Compton-Cameo Films – reproduced here on a strictly non-commercial Fair Use basis for educational/review purposes only)

In 1962, Hollywood released the b/w Grand Guignolesque cinematic classic What Ever Happened To Baby Jane? starring Bette Davis and Joan Crawford, who famously hated each other just as vehemently off the screen as they did on it. Just two years later saw the release of a similar-sounding b/w British movie entitled Where Has Poor Mickey Gone? Yet whereas the former acquired cult status and has remained a familiar film, the latter swiftly sank not only into obscurity but also into near non-existence, which is why I was so delighted to be able to watch it today (6 March 2021).

Where Has Poor Mickey Gone? is one of the least-known 1960s British horror movies as far as general movie fans are concerned, but among aficionados it has attained near-legendary status due to the fact that for a considerable time only a massively edited 35-minute version seemingly existed, little more than half the length of the original 55-minute version – but a few years ago the original version unexpectedly turned up on the British Film Institute's online Player and nowadays it has very occasionally been shown on TV too here in the UK.

Indeed, this is how I discovered it today, because when flicking through my TV guide for the next 7 days I spotted that Where Has Poor Mickey Gone?  is due to be shown again next Thursday evening by Talking Pictures, a wonderful British TV channel that specializes in screening vintage British movies and TV shows that are only very rarely (if ever) screened elsewhere. This in turn inspired me to check YouTube in case it just so happened to have been uploaded there by anyone, and to my delight I found that it had been, and in its full-length format. So rather than wait another 5 days, I watched Where Has Poor Mickey Gone? online straight away, and what an unusual movie it proved to be.

SPOILER ALERT – if you don't want to know what happens in this movie and, in particular, how it ends, read no further!

Produced and directed by Gerry Levy, and released in 1964, Where Has Poor Mickey Gone? features Warren Mitchell as its principal star, who was soon to gain major fame on TV as the incorrigibly bigoted Alf Garnett in the British sitcom Till Death Us Do Part as well as in its sequel In Sickness And In Health). Here he plays Emilio Dinelli, aka former Italian stage illusionist Emilio the Magician, who now owns a backstreet London shop in which he creates and sells grotesque sideshow, circus, and carnival masks in every conceivable shape and size, as well as all manner of tricks, illusions, and other prestidigitation paraphernalia. As will be seen, however, his conjuring abilities may in reality constitute a great deal more than the typical smoke, mirrors, and misdirection variety performed by stage magicians.

This mysterious movie's storyline begins with three hooligans in their early 20s, consisting of their cocky, easily-angered leader Mickey (played by John Malcolm), the somewhat dim Ginge (Ray Armstrong), and slightly timid, gauche Tim (John Challis, later to gain considerable TV fame, and a moustache, as Boycie in the smash-hit John Sullivan TV sitcom Only Fools and Horses). After creating a disturbance in a jazz club named the Indigo, this trio of tearaways are unceremoniously ejected into the night by the bouncers, just as a similarly-aged but well-spoken, scarf-wearing toff named Kip (Christopher Robbie) is trying to enter, but in the melée he is thrown out too, so he decides to tag along with Mickey and his mates for want of anything better to do.

Looking for trouble, the feckless foursome chance upon a youth named Johnny and his girlfriend kissing in an alley, and while Ginge and Tim hold Johnny back, Mick molests the young woman. But when Johnny breaks free to protect her, Tim picks up a rock and hits him on the head with it, felling Johnny instantly and almost knocking him out cold, so they quickly scarper before his girlfriend can get help.

They find themselves down a backstreet where they discover Emilio's shop. Looking through the window, they can see him working in there before he suddenly gets up, turns off the light, and comes out of his shop – but without locking the door to it. (I'd originally thought that this was a major plot flaw – who leaves their place of work unlocked? – but it transpired that he'd only left it briefly to buy a bottle of wine close by and would be returning straight away.)

During Emilio's short absence, the four hooligans enter the shop, and begin larking around with the various unusual stage props and other gadgets there. Emilio then returns, unsuspectingly walks into his shop, and is promptly pounced upon by the yobs, who tie him to a chair and force him to watch helplessly as they steal money from his cash till and then trash various of his creations. In particular, these include a kind of pinball-cum-football machine named Ballerama, in which small balls are fired in the hope of hitting at the back of the machine a panel labeled 'Goal' but not hitting a nearby panel labeled 'Missed'. To make this task more difficult, there are three footballer figures, each sporting a tiny body but a huge flat smiling face, plus two arms, and four legs(!), who stand in a line between the players and the panels, and who move mechanically as the balls are fired in order to try and deflect the shots away from the 'Goal' panel.

To begin with, the yobs play the game properly, but after imbibing much of Emilio's newly-purchased bottle of wine, they become ever more boisterous, eventually throwing anything that they could find directly at the faces of the three players until all three are smashed. At the very same moment that the face of the third player is destroyed, however, a hideous scream suddenly echoes in the shop, unnerving the yobs.

Somewhat shaken, they untie Emilio and tell him to put on a magic show for them. Finding four chairs, they sit in front of a tall chamber, which Emilio calls his Casket of Invisibility, and after placing various objects reluctantly donated by the yobs inside the chamber, Emilio clicks his fingers, and the curtains in front of the chamber close automatically. He then makes a couple of passes in front of the curtains with his wand, clicks his fingers again, and the curtains reopen – to reveal that all of the objects are gone. He then asks for one of their chairs, and makes that vanish inside the chamber too.

Although clearly impressed, Mickey scoffs, until Emilio asks for one of them to volunteer to be a living object inside the chamber. As the newest member of their gang, Kip is coerced into stepping inside it, after which Emilio clicks his fingers, and the curtains close. But this time he calls out to the forces of silence and the powers of darkness as their servant, requesting them to make one mortal (Kip) inside the chamber disappear, whereupon a blustery chill wind inexplicably materializes, swirling inside the shop, followed by a loud clap of thunder. Emilio clicks his fingers, the chamber's curtains open – and Kip is gone. A clearly discomfited Mickey calls out to him, but there is no answer. Mickey then orders Ginge to take a turn inside the chamber, mocking him when he initially seems nervous to do so, but once he is inside it the very same series of eerie events repeats, culminating in Ginge's disappearance.

By now, Mickey is both alarmed and angry, and demands to know where his two vanished mates are, but Emilio tells him that they are gone, and that the only way for him to find them is if he enters the chamber. So he does, and, hey presto, after the chants, the wind, and the thunder, the curtains open to reveal that Mickey is gone too. Petrified, Tim races out of the shop, but shortly afterwards Emilio hears a knock on the shop door, opens it, and finds a couple of policemen there, accompanied by Tim, who vehemently claims that Emilio has made his three mates disappear. When the senior policeman, Sergeant Smart of the CID, sees the almost empty bottle of wine, however, he swiftly dismisses Tim's allegations as drunken delusions. Sgt Smart then asks Emilio if the other three had indeed come here, to which Emilio truthfully replies: "Oh yes, they came, but they went". Satisfied, Smart nods his head, bids Emilio goodnight, and the two policemen leave, taking Tim with them.

The final scene shows Emilio alone, laughing hysterically before turning off the light and leaving his shop (presumably locking it behind him this time!), whose interior is now all in darkness except for a beam of moonlight that lights up the pinball/football machine. Strangely, it no longer seems damaged – all three of its footballer figures are back in place, and their faces are no longer broken, but their features do seem oddly familiar…

Overall, Where Has Poor Mickey Gone? plays very much like an extended episode of Roald Dahl's 30-minute TV show Tales of the Unexpected from the 1980s, complete with a macabre sting in the tail. Indeed, the 35-minute edited version could have slotted into such a series very readily. Showing how attitudes have changed down through the decades, when originally released in Britain during the mid-1960s this movie sported an X certificate (equivalent to today's 18), but it is nowadays rated merely as a 12-certificate film when shown on TV here. Having said that, its horror content, such that it is, actually arises far more from the yobs' violent treatment of Johnny and his girlfriend, and especially of the ostensibly helpless, defenceless Emilio, than from its apparent supernatural aspects.

Last but definitely not least is this movie's very distinctive title song (albeit with lyrics that bear no relation to the movie's plot). It was written and performed at the beginning (visually) and again at the end (aurally), over the credits, by Northern Irish blues singer Ottilie Paterson, backed by the Chris Barber Jazz Band (she was married to Barber for over 20 years), plus Sonny Boy Williamson on harmonica. Click here to watch these segments.

All in all, Where Has Poor Mickey Gone? is a strange but memorable little movie, and if you'd like to watch it on YouTube as I did today, please click here to access it while it is still available there.

And to view a complete 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!