The Edinburgh Fringe One-Weeker 2019 – Contractions, 17th August 2019

Time for another play, and it’s Thomford Theatre’s Contractions at PQA Venues @Riddle’s Court at 20:30 on Saturday 17th. Here’s the description on the website: “’Come in. Sit down. How are you?’ Emma’s been seeing Darren. She thinks she’s in love. Her boss thinks she’s in breach of contract. The situation needs to be resolved. An ink-black comedy about work and play.”

Bit of a punt in the dark, this one, although the play is written by Mike Bartlett and he knows a thing or two about drama. Check back after 9.30 pm to see if it was any good, and by then the next preview blog should be available to read too.

Savage and brilliant. This little play gradually shows the prurient and invasive destruction of an employee’s life, and it’s absolutely gripping. Two first-rate performances; we absolutely loved it and thoroughly recommend it.

The Edinburgh Fringe One-Weeker 2019 – Singalonga Pub Quiz, 17th August 2019

Our next show sounds a little unpredictable and messy! It’s Singalonga Pub Quiz, at PBH’s Free Fringe @ Fingers Piano Bar at 18:40 on Saturday 19th. Here’s what it’s about: “Do you really need to read this blurb? Look at the title! It’s a singalong pub quiz where you can test your knowledge whilst singing your favourite hits. It’s an evening of silliness and songs with random points awarded by your quizmaster, song leader and cabaret maestro, Mister Meredith. So unwind and embrace ‘the sheer pleasure of a room united in song’ (Time Out). On Mister Meredith: ‘One of the greatest cabaret performers of his generation’ (ScotsGay.co.uk) On Singalonga Pub Quiz at The Poodle Club: ‘Would highly recommend’ ***** (Jackie O’Shea, Google review)”

I know from a friend that it was Mr Meredith who hosted a recent nudist singalonga show in London, so I do hope we’re not going to be asked to get our kit off! Should be a lot of fun though. It’s an hour long, so check back around 8.00 pm to see what it was like, and by then the next preview blog should be available to read too.

Well, that did exactly what it said on the tin! A good fun pub quiz in great atmosphere and a chance to get your vocal cords exercised. Didn’t win, but it didn’t matter. Get there early; plenty of people were turned away as it’s very popular.

The Edinburgh Fringe One-Weeker 2019 – 54 Shows in 8 Days! First Show – Apollo Take 111, 17th August 2019

Greetings, gentle reader! I hope you’re ready for this, as it’s time for me to pester you with loads of blog updates over the next week, as, if you subscribe to my blog, you will get constantly emailed telling you we’ve been to see yet another show at the Edinburgh Fringe – and I’m very sorry about that. This is our sixth visit to the Edinburgh Fringe, and we’re looking forward to it as much as ever. In 2014 (just a weekend visit) we aimed to see 20 shows and managed 19; in 2015, we planned on 52 shows and hit 50; in 2016 we set our sights slightly lower, planning to see 47 events, and managing 45, and in 2017 we aimed for 51 and achieved 49. Last year we planned on seeing 54 shows (a record) and achieved 51 (also a record!) This year I’m hoping for 53 shows… but I wouldn’t bank on us catching all those early morning ones….

As in previous years, I’m proposing to prepare a preview-type blog post in advance for each show we’re seeing and then add my instant reactions in the few minutes I have afterwards, between shows. I think it’s worked well enough in the past – because it would be impossible to write a full post about each show, there just wouldn’t be time! I’ll try to make it so that there’s always one preview blog on the go at any one time, so you always know what we’re seeing next.

So our first show for this Edinburgh week is Strickland Productions’ Apollo Take 111, at Zoo Southside Studio at 16:15 on Saturday 17th. Here’s the official promotional blurb: “’One small step for man, one giant leap for… Line!’ Its 1960s America and a small-town government employee’s life is about to change forever when he is tasked with landing men on the Moon. The only issue is that he doesn’t have a clue how to do it. With the help of an elusive director and the most difficult group of actors on the planet, watch him try to mount the largest scam in history in this hilarious modern farce exploring conspiracy theories, 1960s American pop culture and why we love believing nothing in history’s ever right.”

This sounds like it should be a complete hoot if it’s done well. I’m not prone to being a conspiracy theorist, but I can see the appeal! It’s 50 minutes long, so please check back sometime after 5.30pm to see what we thought of it, and by then the next preview blog should be available to read too.

And if you’re up in Edinburgh, have a brilliant Fringe!

This went to levels of lunatic surrealism that I wasn’t quite expecting! Some funny lines and engaging characterisations but it didn’t really gel for me.

Review – The Bridges of Madison County, Menier Chocolate Factory, 11th August 2019

It’s not often, gentle reader, that I can honestly say that I have read the book from which a musical/film/melodrama/interpretative dance/etc (delete as applicable) was taken; but, in this instance, I Have Indeed Read That Book. The Bridges of Madison County was recommended to Mrs Chrisparkle by our friend Lady Lichfield back in the day (1992) when it was all the rage; she enjoyed it, so, as it was short, I thought I’d give it a try. It would be wrong to use the pejorative term chicklit, so I won’t. Robert James Waller’s romantic novella tells the tale of Francesca, a lonely Italian-American housewife, being swept off her feet by the dashing National Geographic photographer Robert Kincaid, a brief moment of passion in an otherwise dowdy existence. It had Lady Lichfield in tears; Mrs C was audibly sobbing whilst reading it; I read it and thought it was… ok.

However, when the Menier announced that they were producing the musical version of the book, which had received the Tony award for best score for its Broadway production in 2014, I knew it was the right thing to do, so booked the tickets straight away. And then I realised an extraordinary thing: The Observer gave it a 5-star review; the Standard gave it 1 star. This is going to be nothing if not Marmite.

Life for someone like Francesca must have been extraordinary difficult. Brought up with all the metropolitan bustle and bustle of Napoli, then transplanted to the plains of Iowa, you couldn’t get a stronger contrast. With her only sister on the other side of the world, she must have felt isolated, even in a loving, committed relationship. With a farmer husband and children who are only interested in showing steers, Francesca loves her family but can’t associate herself with their interests. So when the rest of the family go off to Indianapolis for a fair, she stays behind, assuring them that she will be fine with her book and testing out new recipes. And, to be fair, you get the feeling that she’s 100% telling the truth. There’s no doubt that this Francesca loves her family and seems more contented than the version of Francesca that you find in the book. So, perhaps, when Kincaid enters her life, it’s more of a surprise to her – and to us – that she falls for him so easily.

But fall she does, and, as a romantic love affair story, which she has to hide from not only her husband, but also her children and her nosy neighbours, it’s a story as old as time, but none the less emotional as a result. Confronted with the reality of her family returning home, and expecting life to carry on the same, does Francesca leave them for Robert, or does she buckle down to her previous life? If you don’t know the answer, I’m not going to tell you, you’ll have to see the show to find out!

The score, by Jason Robert Brown, was completely new to me, and is truly impressive. With its plaintive intimacy, it reminded me to an extent of the score from The Hired Man, but doesn’t have the latter’s barely concealed savagery. Tom Murray’s terrific, unseen, orchestra play these beautiful tunes with a marvellous balance of strength and fragility. However, although it was performed with great bravado, I thought the opening number to the second Act, State Road 21, completely destroys the atmosphere that had been built up at the end of the first Act; hoe-downing around, and encouraging the audience to clap along just feels all wrong. Whether that’s a misjudgement by Mr Brown and Marsha Norman, who wrote the book, or by top director Sir Trevor Nunn, I have no idea, but I clapped along, unhappy with myself for doing so.

Tal Rosner’s video design projects constantly changing images on the back walls to suggest the prairie fields or the city lights, encroaching into Jon Bausor’s set which recreates a homely but modest kitchen; enough to keep a family fed, but not to linger over. A couple of things really bugged me; why, when we get a glimpse of Francesca’s sister Chiara swigging out of a wine bottle in her miserable home in Napoli, is she drinking Mersault? That’s far too upmarket (and French) to be believable. It should have been a cheap bottle of Chianti or something. And how come Kincaid goes into the garden to pick fresh vegetables for the evening meal, which Francesca then prepares and they eat, whilst the aforementioned vegetables are still sitting in the box on the kitchen worktop? If it was a film you’d say that was a continuity error.

Jenna Russell is a sensational Francesca. Resilient, brave, mature but childlike, you can see the character constantly daring herself to go one stage further, along a path to who knows what. Of course, her voice is superb and she delivers her songs full of expression, of hope and of love. Edward Baker-Duly is also excellent as Kincaid, treading a fine line between an innocent abroad and a roué; the character is neither of these, but Mr B-D always makes us think that Kincaid could react in any number of unexpected ways. The always reliable Dale Rapley is great as Francesca’s dullard husband Bud; a good, unadventurous man with no hint of suspicion. There’s excellent support from Gillian Kirkpatrick as the nosy – and slightly jealous – Marge, and Paul F Monaghan as the very grounded Charlie, as well as all the rest of the cast. But I must mention that I particularly liked Maddison Bulleyment’s portrayal of the rather goofy daughter Carolyn, with its nicely underplayed sense of comedy.

A very enjoyable and captivating production of a strong musical show. It’s on at the Menier until 14th September, and worth catching for its two central performances alone. I cannot comprehend under any circumstances how you could possibly award this production only one star!

P. S. We took tissues, just in case; we didn’t need them. However, you could certainly hear the sobs from all corners of the audience. The poor woman in the front row opposite us looked like she was going to explode in a sea of lachrymosity!

 

The James Bond Challenge – On Her Majesty’s Secret Service (1969)

In which James Bond falls in love with the alluring Contessa Tracy yet still finds time to plot to overthrow Blofeld at his secret Swiss hideaway, where he is organising a mass hypnotism of twelve girls to go out into the world and arrange for its destruction. Blofeld is trying to lay claim to the title ‘Count Balthazar de Bleuchamp’, so, pretending to be the genealogist Sir Hilary Bray, Bond infiltrates his lair, but his cover is quickly blown. Blofeld’s Headquarters are stormed and he is severely injured in a bobsled fight against Bond, but will he, nevertheless, achieve his aim of implanting infertility in a range of species of flora and fauna? And, above all, will Bond and Tracy live happily ever after?

Originally Cubby Broccoli and Harry Saltzman had planned to film The Man with the Golden Gun as the follow-up to You Only Live Twice, with Roger Moore lined up to play Bond; but political instability in Cambodia made it impossible to film there, and Moore signed up for a further series of the TV series The Saint, so they went back to the often-shelved Plan B to film On Her Majesty’s Secret Service. Again there was an interval of two years since the previous Bond film, and its budget of $7 million was a considerable drop on YOLT’s $10.3 million, largely as a result of the decision to replace regular production designer Ken Adam with Syd Cain, whose vision for the film required smaller sets; another financial help was the fact that George Lazenby’s fee of $100,000 was way less than Connery’s $800,000. Its box office take of $82 million – whilst still a tremendous amount – was the lowest profit for an Eon Productions Bond film since 1963’s From Russia with Love. Usual screenwriter Richard Maibaum, who had missed out on writing You Only Live Twice as he was working on Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, was re-engaged, and would keep the job till 1989. Writer Simon Raven, who had reviewed a number of Fleming’s novels for The Listener magazine, but who was better known as a novelist, and later for the TV series The Pallisers and Edward and Mrs Simpson, was hired to write additional material, specifically for those conversations between Blofeld and Tracy, and with Sir Hilary, which they wanted to be snappier and more intellectual.

Peter Hunt, who had worked with tremendous success as Editor or Second Unit Director on all the previous Eon Bond films, was promoted to director for OHMSS; and indeed, he is the first person to be seen at the beginning of the film, it’s his reflection in the brass plate on the street behind which M and Q are meeting. Hunt’s ambition for the film was to make if different from all the others; less reliant on gadgets and gimmicks, closer to the original book than its predecessors, and, above all, glamorous. This would be the last Bond film on which he worked, although his editing/directorial career would continue until the early 90s. For his editor, he chose John Glen, and as cinematographer, Michael Reed, with both of whom he had worked on Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. Glen would go on to be a successful Bond director in the 80s. John Barry was, of course, again responsible for the music, all apart from Monty Norman’s James Bond Theme. Aerial Unit Cameraman John Jordan, who had to have a leg amputated after an accident during the filming of You Only Live Twice, developed a special helicopter harness for filming the amazing aerial shots of the mountain slopes and action sequences in OHMSS, hanging eighteen feet below the helicopter from a large round metal support apparatus. However, his daredevil approach to work would literally be the death of him, as, in his next job, he died while filming Catch-22 in 1969 over the Gulf of Mexico when another plane passed close by. He was sucked out of the open doorway and fell 2,000 feet, always having refused to wear a safety harness.

On Her Majesty’s Secret Service was published in 1963 and was the tenth book in Ian Fleming’s series of James Bond novels. It’s the second of the so-called Blofeld Trilogy, coming between Goldfinger and You Only Live Twice, which explains why so much of the screenplay for that last book had to deviate from its original – the events of OHMSS (including Bond’s briefest of marriages, and the fact that Blofeld isn’t dead yet) not having yet been translated onto the screen. It was the first Bond book to be written after the film series had started, Fleming writing most of it at his Jamaica home whilst Dr No was being filmed around the corner. Fleming’s working title was The Belles of Hell, but Fleming’s friend Nicholas Henderson, who would go on to be the UK’s Ambassador to the USA, spotted the title On Her Majesty’s Secret Service on an old sailing book in Portobello Market, and the rest is history.

This was the first “proper” Bond movie that I saw at the cinema – I had seen the spoof Casino Royale, but that was just pure comedy. I would have been 9 years old when I saw it; I recall there was a lot of peer group pressure from schoolfriends to see it and then give playground reviews afterwards. I remember watching it with my mother at the Odeon in Aylesbury and really enjoying it – until the last scene, and then I bawled my eyes out all the way home. I may have omitted that fact in my playground review.

True to Peter Hunt’s vision, the book and the film tread very much the same storyline – probably a closer adaptation than any of the previous films. There are only a few very minor deviations from the original plot. The book received largely very good reviews. The Guardian said it was: “not only up to Mr. Fleming’s usual level, but perhaps even a bit above it”, whilst the Observer reckoned: “O.H.M.S.S. is certainly the best Bond for several books. It is better plotted and retains its insane grip until the end”. The Houston Chronicle described it as: “Fleming at his urbanely murderous best”, and the Washington Post wrote that Bond was: “still irresistible to women, still handsome in a menacing way, still charming. He has nerves of steel and thews of whipcord […] Fleming’s new book will not disappoint his millions of fans”. Among the few nay-sayers, the New York Times declared: “this is a silly and tedious novel.”

The majority of the contemporary film reviews concentrated on comparing the performance of George Lazenby in the role with that of Sean Connery – and by far the majority finding him lacking. For example, the Daily Mirror said he “looks uncomfortably in the part like a size four foot in a size ten gumboot.” But the film itself also received criticism, the Observer reviewer noting “I fervently trust it will be the last of the James Bond films. All the pleasing oddities and eccentricities and gadgets of the earlier films have somehow been lost, leaving a routine trail through which the new James Bond strides without noticeable signs of animation.” Today, however, the film receives a much improved response, perhaps encapsulated in filmmaker Steven Soderbergh’s assessment: “For me there’s no question that cinematically On Her Majesty’s Secret Service is the best Bond film and the only one worth watching repeatedly for reasons other than pure entertainment … Shot to shot, this movie is beautiful in a way none of the other Bond films are.” And, for my own part, I have to agree with that. This does have a very different feel from the other films to date, which really makes it stand out, and that cinematography truly has the wow factor.

The opening credits begin, as usual, with Maurice Binder’s iconic glimpse of Bond walking across the screen whilst being captured by the barrel of a gun, only for him to turn around, see us, and shoot; and then for the blood to start filling up the screen. This time, though, Bond has changed, and it’s our first glimpse of George Lazenby in the role. Unlike previous Bonds, he gets down on one knee to shoot; and for the first time, the blood fills up the entire screen. Appropriately, to ring the changes, the music has been re-recorded again, with a brand new arrangement; slower, the notes being picked out on an organ keyboard that was so popular in the Easy Listening world of the late 60s. As a result, it’s possibly a little less impactful than the one we’re used to.

We’re in London, where M, Q and Moneypenny have no idea where James Bond is. Then the scene changes to Portugal, and the opening car chase where Tracy overtakes Bond and they both drive to the beach. She runs down into the sea with the intent of taking her own life, but Bond runs after her and rescues her from the water. No sooner has he said “Good morning! My name is Bond, James Bond” then he has someone’s gun pointed at him and a big fight between the two of them takes place in the breaking waves on the beach. Tracy runs to escape, takes Bond’s car to the road, leaps into her car and runs off. Bond turns to the audience and quips “this never happened to the other fellow”.

And then we’re into the credits; and the point where traditionally we’d hear a title theme; but On Her Majesty’s Secret Service, as a word phrase, doesn’t have lyrical flexibility. Maybe it would fit in with a marching theme or a Gilbert and Sullivan pastiche, but Peter Hunt wasn’t keen on that. John Barry agreed, and instead wrote an instrumental track for the opening. There’s no question in my mind that the opening music is very dull by Bond standards and doesn’t grab your attention. Visually, however, the opening credits are very intriguing, as they show flashbacks from the previous Bond movies, again to soften the audience in preparation for a new actor as Bond – and it’s a device that works very well. Using an hourglass motif in the titles also suggests the passing of time. Very clever.

And the locations? The majority of the film was shot in Switzerland, with the revolving restaurant, Piz Gloria, on top of the Schillthorn mountain being the site of Blofeld’s headquarters. Other Alpine scenes were filmed in Bern, Grindelwald, Lauterbrunnen and Saas-Fee. Gumbold’s offices were filmed in Bern, and, as luck would have it, there was a building site opposite the building where they were filming which was a perfect fit for the script. The filming switched to Portugal for the coast and beach scenes; the hotel in the first scene was the hotel that the crew stayed at in Cascais, so the pool, the interiors and so on, are all real. The bullfight scene was filmed at Vinhas estate in Zambujal, with Bond and Tracy reuniting in Lisbon and the final scene being shot on a mountain road near Setubal. The indoor scenes were all filmed at Pinewood Studios, and M’s grand country house, Quarterdeck, was filmed in Marlow.

Bond, James Bond. Fittingly, those are (almost) the first words from George Lazenby He was born in Goulburn, Australia, in 1939; he served in the Australian army, then worked as a car salesman and mechanic, before moving to London in 1963. Still a car salesman, he was spotted by a talent scout who suggested he became a model – and in 1966 he was voted Top Model of the Year, following a hugely lucrative contract in a Fry’s Chocolate commercial.

Famously he won the role by excelling in a stunt fight scene screentest, where his combatant was the Russian wrestler Yuri Borienko; by all accounts Borienko was literally floored. Peter Hunt had a job on his hands to make us warm to the new Bond as quickly as possible. And he achieved that by deliberately not making a big thing of it, but just by showing us, in the opening credits, Bond’s cigarettes, his glasses, and other close-ups but not of his complete face. We don’t see his face in full until he introduces himself to the prostrate Tracy. By the time he gets to say his funny line at the end of the scene, we already had accepted him, and didn’t miss Connery for a second.

But it doesn’t sound like Lazenby and Bond were meant for each other. Stories abounded that he was difficult to work with, not very professional, and too big for his boots. On the other hand, he always said that he was treated like an outcast, almost sent to Coventry on set, and not given the help he felt he needed as the “new boy”. You choose who to believe. It seems certain that he and co-star Diana Rigg did not get on, with stories about her deliberately eating garlic before their intimate scenes, and her calling him self-obsessed and “bloody impossible”; although Peter Hunt was delighted at the way the two worked together. Despite all advice against the move, Lazenby decided, whilst still making the movie, that he wouldn’t play Bond again; much to his agent’s dismay. And it’s true, his career never reached the dizzying heights of such a role again, although he still appeared on film and TV.

George Lazenby AutographI have his autograph – look, here it is! My cousin Gill worked for him for a few months around the time of the film’s premiere, as what they used to call in those days his “Girl Friday”. I remember seeing a photospread of the two of them in a newspaper around the time of the film. So, for a brief time, we all thought of George as one of the family.

As mentioned earlier, most of the contemporary reviewers didn’t think he was a good fit for the role. He may have had the looks, but he lacked the gravitas and the acting ability. However, and all due credit to him, he did at least some of his own stunts (which must have worried the film accountant). It’s also been said that Lazenby’s characterisation of Bond is probably closest to Fleming’s original, getting the right level of arrogance, yet with his vulnerability. Not having read the books, I can’t comment. However, this is the first time that we’ve seen Bond take matters into his own hands, specifically working against M’s instructions. He’s informed that Operation Bedlam is dead, but does that stop him from going back to Switzerland to save Tracy? After all, she saved him. I believe this is true to the book.

Boo-boos. Not as many as in previous films – maybe this is a testament to Peter Hunt’s abilities as a director. I only noticed two; there’s a moment where Bond confronts Tracy about the henchman who was waiting for him in Tracy’s hotel room. “Who was he?” he demands of her; except his mouth doesn’t move. When acid is thrown at the glass doors during the siege of Piz Gloria, it burns a huge hole in the panel, but the next minute, it’s disappeared.

The Bond Girl. Unusually, there’s never any doubt as to who gets the honour of being the Bond Girl in the film – there’s really only one candidate, the Contessa Teresa di Vicenzo, whom Bond saves from suicide in the opening scenes, then becomes assertively headstrong and bossily obnoxious, before overwhelmingly suddenly melting into Bond’s heart.

Also unusually, she has very little to do with the case in hand. Normally the Bond Girl will accompany Bond and another local representative deep into the enemy’s lair and help overthrow them. Not this time. Countess Tracy is outside the action right up until she comes to Bond’s rescue, turning up on the ice rink – although how she knew he was there heaven only knows – and even allowing herself to be wooed by the villain.

And, of course, with the intention of being the Bond Girl for ever more, they marry at the end of the film and drive off for the life together. Apparently, had Lazenby agreed to make the next film – which would have been The Spy who Loved Me, again directed by Peter Hunt, OHMSS would have ended with them happily driving off; and the next film would have started with Blofeld and Bunt’s retaliation. However, as he made it clear that wasn’t going to happen, the decision was made to kill off poor Tracy then and there. And The Spy who Loved Me wasn’t made until 1977.

In the book, Tracy is a blonde, and Peter Hunt’s first choice for the role was Brigitte Bardot. However, she was unavailable, so Tracy was played by the one and only Dame Diana Rigg. When the film came out she had acted with the Royal Shakespeare Company for a couple of seasons and was already an established TV star because of her role as Emma Peel in The Avengers. However, On Her Majesty’s Secret Service was her first major film role. Although she has continued to make films, she is more known for her TV and stage work, and, at the age of 80, she is without question a National Treasure. The fact that it was the wonderful Diana Rigg made it perhaps even more unacceptable to see her die at the end of the film. It was like extinguishing the source of decades of talent. Absolutely shocking.

What Bond Girls Are Like. From the first four films, our list of attributes common to the Bond Girls was: sexy, exotic, unpredictable, as equally likely to attack Bond as to support him, strong and self-reliant up to a point, sometimes tragic, professional, scary and vengeful. Kissy from You Only Live Twice is a role apart because of her Japanese heritage. Does Tracy conform to the role, and add any extra traits? I’d say she does all of the above, plus additional bossiness. And she quotes poetry!

The Villain. It’s a welcome (if that’s the right word) back to Blofeld, this time played by Telly Savalas. Whilst still being mean and vindictive, Savalas’ interpretation is less of a pantomime baddie and more like a real live, believable person; less scarred, more urbane, and with a very ostentatious and effete manner of smoking a cigarette. Whilst he still likes to pay attention to his pussy, his feline accomplice plays a lesser role in this film. As is often the case with the Bond villain, he doesn’t make his appearance for some time: 52 minutes into the action. Telly Savalas, of course, was best known as TV’s Kojak, but had a very long career in films and television, as well as recording his No 1 top selling single of If in 1975. Whilst on set he met and fell in love with Dani Sheridan, who played the American Girl. She was the daughter of actress Dinah Sheridan, and they lived together for ten years, and had a son, Nicholas. Telly Savalas died in 1994 at the age of 72.

Other memorable characters? Tracy’s father Marc-Ange Draco, a distinguished and elegant gentleman (and crook) if ever there was one, was played by Gabriele Ferzetti, a very successful Italian actor who had appeared in well over a hundred films and TV programmes, predominantly in the 1950s and 1960s. He died in 2015 at the age of 90. He was, by all accounts, as charming in real life as his screen persona, and a joy to work with. His Italian accent was too strong for the role, so his voice was dubbed by actor David de Keyser, who has, in fact, dubbed many films throughout a long career.

Sir Hilary Bray – not in the film for very long as himself, but it’s a nice little character part by George Baker, a very posh chap who is looking forward to losing himself amongst the Brass Rubbings of Britanny, whilst Bond pretends to be him. Ian Fleming thought Baker would be a superb Bond back in the early days – but Broccoli and Saltzman said no. However, when George Lazenby was impersonating Bray in Switzerland, they didn’t think he got his voice quite right, so George Baker was asked to dub him – so, eventually, he did get to play Bond in his own way. This was not his only appearance in a Bond movie; he also appears in 1977’s The Spy Who Loved Me. He was a very successful actor with a long career, including several years as TV’s Inspector Wexford. He died in 2011 at the age of 80.

Irma Bunt – one of those grim-faced Germanic women who populate the James Bond stories, Irma Bunt may seem decent and polite at first, but remember she’s Blofeld’s No 2 and definitely not to be trusted – as we see in the final seconds of the film. She was played by Ilse Steppat, whose first role was Joan of Arc at the age of 15, and who had a successful film career in Germany, particularly in the German adaptations of the works of Edgar Wallace. Sadly she did not live to see international success, as she died of a heart attack only four days after the premiere at the age of only 52.

The twelve girls – some are given full identities, like Ruby Bartlett, who’s keenest on getting Bray/Bond into bed, others are just “the English Girl” or “the Scandinavian girl”, and so on. They’re all wide-eyed and innocent – on the surface – giving a humorous aspect to their role, which is, basically, to supply some eye candy as a bevy of beauties. Angela Scoular played Ruby; she appeared in a number of comedy films of the 70s and was married to the actor Leslie Phillips. Joanna Lumley is instantly recognisable as the English girl, Julie Ege, a former Miss Norway, was the Scandinavian girl, and the Irish girl was played by Jenny Hanley, whom I mainly remember in my childhood appearing on ITV’s answer to Blue Peter, Magpie.

Bernard Lee, Lois Maxwell and Desmond Llewelyn reprise their usual roles as M, Moneypenny and Q. In his attempt to make the film as glamorous as possible, Moneypenny has sharper, more elegant clothes, a stunning hairdo – and a fabulous hat for Bond and Tracy’s wedding. As well as occupying the London office, we see M at his country residence, pursuing his relaxation hobby of lepidoptery. Who knew?

nd what about the music? The film starts, as usual, with the main James Bond Theme, written by Monty Norman; after that, it’s all John Barry, until the big fight scene at the end, when the Norman theme returns. Whilst researching this film, I read that many people think this is the best Bond score of all. I must disagree. The arrangement of the opening theme is a drab and lacklustre affair. However, we hear We Have All the Time in the World (which are the last words of both the novel and the film) many times in the first half hour of the film, as a softly performed background romantic theme. It also accompanies Tracy’s arrival at the bullfight, performed with a luscious string arrangement, and that’s a particularly stunning moment. Earlier Bond themes are brought back in a tongue-in-cheek moment; and there’s a great theme to accompany the ski chases.

The full vocal performance of We Have all the Time in the World, recorded by Louis Armstrong when he himself, poignantly, had not long to live, is an absolute classic; it was Armstrong’s final recording and John Barry’s favourite Bond song. It’s the perfect accompaniment to the romantic scenes of Bond and Tracy falling in love. It’s also nice to hear Do you know how Christmas Trees are Grown, sung by Nina, who had international success in the 60s as part of Nina and Frederick. And, in the same way that the opening credits gave us a visual reminder of the previous Bond films, we hear musical reminders of the earlier themes when Bond, having tendered his resignation, starts to pack up his things; we even hear a little of the Mango Tree song from Dr No sung by Diana Coupland. There’s one other theme, called, fittingly, On Her Majesty’s Secret Service, which is repeated many times throughout the film, just with slight changes of arrangement; for the most part, it’s quite haunting. And the final arrangement of We Have All the Time in the World is desperately poignant in that last, horrendous, scene.

Car chases. The film starts with a moderately exciting and brief car chase between Bond and Tracy, driving her red Mercury Cougar XR-7 convertible. The producers wanted Bond to have a Rolls Royce Convertible – but that wasn’t an easy request in those days, so it was scrapped. Later, Tracy drives Bond with three heavies and Irma Bunt in hot pursuit behind her and it merges into a Stock Car Racing event, with our heroes and villains having to dodge the other drivers on the course, which is great fun. But where this film really impresses is with the ski action; all the ski chases, and that amazing bobsled race and fight, where Bond and Blofeld pursue each other at breakneck speed, lobbing grenades, hanging on to the back of the sled for dear life, whilst Blofeld tries to ram Bond’s head against the ice wall.

Cocktails and Casinos. There’s an early casino scene, in the hotel in Cascais, which very nicely helps us judge up the two characters of Bond and Tracy. Draco knows that Bond takes his Martini, shaken not stirred, Bond places an order for a Dom Perignon ’57 (one of his favourites) and will also consider a brandy from the rescuing St. Bernard, provided it’s a 5 Star Hennessey.

Gadgets. For the second film in a row, Bond uses a cute little safe-breaker to steal documents; this time it also copies them for him, which is very handy. The initial conversation between M and Q reveals that their current range of gadgets is obsolete, and that miniaturisation is all the rage – and Q gets out some radioactive lint. But Peter Hunt didn’t want Bond to rely on gadgets in this film – so that’s all there is!

In Memoriam. Dr No had a death count of approximately 11 as well as all those who go up in smoke in his lair at the end; From Russia with Love notched up at least 40; Goldfinger came in at a more modest 23-ish, plus everyone who died at Fort Knox; Thunderball hit a peak of around 50 people; and You Only Live Twice was going really well until a mass murder spree towards the end took about 40 lives. And now On Her Majesty’s Secret Service? Let’s briefly remember those who gave their lives so that Bond and Tracy can enjoy a few minutes of wedded bliss:

1) Campbell, an agent working alongside 007 who was hanged on the mountainside by Blofeld’s henchmen

2) Ski workman

3) Skier – ended up in a tree

4) Skier who plummets to his death

5) Skier garrotted by his own ski (by Bond) and then thrown down the mountain

6) Skier, chopped up by the snow plough

7) At least two skiers in the avalanche

8) Grunther murdered by Tracy

9) At least 10 shot during the taking of Piz Gloria

10) Tracy

That’s maybe something in the region of 20 people? That’s possibly the lowest death count in a Bond movie so far. What is the most unusual about this list of deaths in comparison to the previous films is the length of time we wait until someone dies – No 1 pegs it 1 hour and 19 minutes into the film.

Humour to off-set the death count. Following Bond’s classic asides whenever someone dies in the previous movies, some of his funny lines in this film apply to people who aren’t necessarily dead – maybe that’s because there are fewer deceased than usual. Anyway, here is some more evidence of his gallows humour:

To the henchman, who lost the fight in room 423 when he was thrown through a balustrade: “Gatecrasher… I’ll leave you to tidy up”

“Looks like we’ve hit the rush hour”, says Bond as Tracy careers all around the Stock Car circuit, hotly pursued by Bunt and her boys.

“He had lots of guts” is Bond’s epitaph to the skier caught in the snow plough.

“Maybe you should have been gift wrapped”, he says to the guard tied up in the Werkstatt office.

“He’s branched off”, says Bond as a fallen tree catches Blofeld’s head in its branches – the joke makes us assume that Blofeld is dead.

Also – “just as slight stiffness coming on”, says Bond, as Ruby writes her room number on Bray/Bond’s thigh in lipstick; followed by “it’s true!” when he confirms the old conundrum about what’s worn under the kilt.

Any less frothy elements? So once again it’s time to consider if there are any outstanding themes or elements that don’t sit well with today’s audience. As usual, I couldn’t perceive any obvious homophobic elements, and nothing came across as overtly racist.

However, as usual, there is some sexism, the majority of it turned against Tracy by her father. Whilst Bond thinks she needs a psychiatrist, Draco says that Tracy needs a man to dominate her. “Spare the rod and spoil the child” says Draco, as he knocks Tracy out with a wallop of a smack across the face. The Belles of Hell up in Blofeld’s lair are partly just sexist fodder, very much out of the Austin Powers camp; although it’s a little more complicated than that. Whilst they are obviously being manipulated overall by Blofeld and Bunt, they are nevertheless using their naïve charms for their own ends. Part of Blofeld’s plan to hypnotise the girls into doing what he wants involves attracting them with a pretty thing like a powder compact. In a sense, he’s using the compacts as a weapon against women, but which are attracted to women. Very cynical.

Bizarre other stuff that occurred to me and a few observations.

In South Africa they censored the final caption of the opening credits, where Peter Hunt’s name is given, because there were too many silhouette nipples on show. So in South Africa, it looked as though no one had directed it!

Peter Hunt wanted the character of Tracy to be associated with flowers. Flowers at the wedding, flowers on the bed….. and it’s true, you can follow Tracy’s floral motif through all her scenes.

The picture of Tracy’s mother, that holds pride of place on Draco’s side table, is actually a genuine photograph of Diana Rigg’s mother. There’s verisimilitude for you.

When Bond is packing his case following his resignation, he packs Honey Rider’s belt and knife, Red Grant’s watch in From Russia With Love, and the re-breather from Thunderball. All very nostalgic!

Bond finds a Playboy magazine in with the newspapers in Gumbold’s office; a nice nod to the fact that the original novel was first serialised in Playboy in the April, May and June issues in 1963.

The fight in the bell room was written in because Peter Hunt discovered the barn filled with cowbells when they were location hunting and it was far too good an opportunity to pass up.

The scene with the Saint Bernard dog was completely improvised by Lazenby as the dog didn’t do what was expected of him.

At the time it was the longest Bond film, at 142 minutes, a record it kept until Casino Royale; but it doesn’t feel it to me.

“Royal Beluga. North of the Caspian” is a brilliant throwaway line, when Bond carelessly smears a bit of caviar on some toast and walks on.

“You’re hurting me,” says Tracy to Bond, as he prises the gun out of her hand. “I thought that was the idea tonight” he replies, and he slaps her around a bit more. Just what kind of sex night did he have planned??

He’s uncredited, but you might recognise the actor Steve Plytas to Bond’s right at the casino table. He was best known as the somewhat unstable chef Kurt, who had a crush on Manuel, hired by Basil Fawlty in the Gourmet Night episode of Fawlty Towers. I met him at the stage door of the Ambassadors Theatre in 1971 where he was playing Mr Paravicini in The Mousetrap. Nice man!

Sensational cinematography – that avalanche! The Swiss Army had planned to create a controlled avalanche, but by the time they were ready to shoot it, all the snow had gone.So what we see is a combination of library material and clever set work with fake snow.

On the walls of Piz Gloria you often see a crest with the words Arae et foci – the Bleuchamp family motto, which means hearth and home. Orbis non sufficit – The World is not Enough – is the Bond family motto according to the Heraldry of Arms – and would of course be the name of a movie later in the series.

“Cassette No 7” says Blofeld from his hi-tech console, feeding mind-blowing pre-recorded vibes to the girls; it just seems so quaint that something so sci-fi forward looking would run on old C90s. Ruby’s allergy to chickens, on the face of it being cured by hypnosis, is all very 1960s trendy. But, of course, that’s not what Blofeld’s hypnosis is achieving….

In September 2012 it was announced that On Her Majesty’s Secret Service had topped a poll of Bond fans run by 007 Magazine to determine the greatest ever Bond film.

Awards: George Lazenby was nominated in the New Star of the Year – Actor category at the 1970 Golden Globe Award ceremony, but he lost out to Jon Voight for Midnight Cowboy.

To sum up. This is an absolute classic; certainly the most exciting of the Bond films to date, with an edgy performance by George Lazenby that works very well in retrospect. Lots of humour and comedic asides, but with a “real feel”; no wonder many 007 fans call this their favourite. Next up is a return to Sean Connery with Diamonds Are Forever; I saw this film when I was about 14 and enjoyed it very much so I am looking forward to seeing how it stands the test of time.

My rating: 5 Sparkles

4 Sparkles4 Sparkles4 Sparkles4 Sparkles 4 Sparkles

 

The Paul Berna Challenge – A Hundred Million Francs (1955)

In which Gaby and his gang enjoy playing with a broken toy horse, recklessly careering down the streets of Louvigny until one day it is stolen. They seek the help of Police Inspector Sinet to try to retrieve it. But the horse is stolen around the same time as a hundred million francs go missing from the Paris – Ventimiglia Express. A coincidence? Sinet and the gang get to the bottom of both crimes and find they are surprisingly linked….Be warned, there are spoilers, especially in the second part of this blog post where I offer you my chapter-by-chapter synopsis of the book.

A Hundred Million Francs was first published in 1955 by G. P. Rouge et Or under its original French title Le Cheval sans Tête, with illustrations by Pierre Dehay. As A Hundred Million Francs, it was first published in the UK by The Bodley Head in 1957. The literal translation, The Horse Without a Head, was its original title in the first American edition, published by Pantheon in 1958. It was translated by John Buchanan-Brown, who translated nearly all of Paul Berna’s books; and it featured illustrations by Richard Kennedy (1910-1989), who illustrated many notable children’s books and gained his apprenticeship at The Hogarth Press under Leonard and Virginia Woolf.

My own copy of the book, which you can see at the top of this page, is a Puffin edition, reprinted in 1970. As at the time Britain was nearing the change to decimal currency, the price on the back cover is shown as both 20p and 4/-. This is the only Paul Berna book in my possession that was bought new from a bookshop. I also had a new copy of The Clue of the Black Cat, but that was lost in the seas of time. All my other Bernas are second-hand (but largely in very good condition, I’m pleased to say!) The pages have gone a little brown, but pleasantly so; there’s no foxing, tears or other marks. I’ve looked after it well for the last 49 years!

This is the only book by Paul Berna to have been adapted for film; Disney made The Horse Without a Head: The 100,000,000 Franc Train Robbery in 1963, with a cast including Jean-Pierre Aumont, Herbert Lom, Leo McKern, Peter Butterworth, Lee Montague, Peter Vaughan and many other well-known actors. The script was by T. E. B. Clarke, who was responsible for many of the famous Ealing Comedies, such as Passport to Pimlico and The Lavender Hill Mob. Paul Berna hated the film! In an interview with him dated around 1984, by Roger Martin, he said (as translated by me) “I have only one regret about Le Cheval sans Tête, and that’s that it was brought to the cinema by Walt Disney. They made it into a gangster film, distorting it right from the opening scene where we see the mobsters preparing their hold-up of the train.”

The inspiration for the story came from two different sources. Firstly: Berna’s childhood. He grew up as part of a large family and he too had a headless horse that he used to play with as a child. Back to Monsieur Berna to tell us more: “There were seven of us. The three eldest were boys, the Big ones. Then came a girl and the three Little ones, including me. The Big ones used to try to steal our “headless horse” […] I was very familiar with this horse well since it was my favourite toy. I had to hide it from the cellar to prevent them from grabbing it!”

He went on to say that being part of a large family, where there were loads of arguments but nevertheless loads of fun, had a major impact on him, both personally and as a writer for young people. And you can really see the influence of having lots of people around him in his books. No one (that I’ve come across) conveys the thrills, tensions and that sense of belonging and loyalty that you get from being a member of a gang like Paul Berna does. And this is shown to superb effect in A Hundred Million Francs. But he also derived inspiration for writing the book having seen the film of Emil and the detectives, the original one, made in 1935. Although he had not read the novel, he said to himself: “Why not write crime novels for young people?”

The setting. Berna was notable for establishing very precise locations for his books. He would use places that he knew very well personally, such as Aix, Bordeaux, Marseille and Brittany, to give that personal touch, Other than that, he would pore over the most detailed maps he could find, extracting the names of tiny villages, or even street names to stimulate the imagination. Sometimes he would mix these detailed real locations with places that he made up from pure fantasy.

The setting for this book is the town of Louvigny, which exists as a suburb of Caen, in Normandy. However this Louvigny-Triage is a railway town on the route between Paris and Ventimiglia, on the northern Italian coast. We can assume that it is a suburb in to the south-west of Paris. Berna locates the story in and around the rue des Petits-Pauvres, the rue de la Vache Noire, the rue Cécile, and a ruined enclosure called the Clos Pecqueux. The roads and their connections are so intricately described that you could well imagine that this was a real location. But he confirmed in interview, “Louvigny-triage does not exist. It is not Villeneuve St Georges, as was believed, but an imaginary place that seems more real because of its disparate elements of typical working-class suburbs.”

Style. The book won the Salon de l’enfance Award for 1955. However, it also received some criticism at the time for its tone, and the use of slang. Berna defended himself against those criticisms, not believing the slang to be excessive. Personally, I think the tone is just right. Of course, there are a few slight anachronisms and moments where the book surprises you with its use of language, but much of that may be from John Buchanan-Brown’s translation. I understand that Paul Berna’s style in the original French (which I haven’t read) is actually quite adult and mature; and you never get the feeling that he is in any way talking down to his readers – this is a strength that makes it stand out against, say, the children’s crime stories of Enid Blyton, which were from a similar period.

Industrial gloom. It struck me how unsentimental Berna’s description of the railway town is, with its discarded ironwork, trucks, rails, sleepers, and so on. This is not a comfortable, middle-class setting. This is a bleak, industrial wasteland, where you have to pick your way through the machinery of the past to find a place to play. Berna recreates this harsh landscape with superb grit. When Roublot brings Fernand the toy train, the boy rejects it because “if we want trains, we’ve real ones on the tracks at the other side of the road”.

It’s not just the railway industry that has impacted the town. Marion explores Lilac Lane, near a coal-yard. “True, the coal-dust had killed off the original lilacs years ago, but their memory was preserved by the lane, a cut winding between high walls until it brought you to the disused saw-mill, whose empty and crumbling buildings backed on to the rue Cécile.” When the gang members walk home from the shed, we read that “they stumbled in the bomb-craters that five or six Allied air-raids had left in the Clos Pecqueux during the war.”

Even crime in this town is unglamorous. When Sinet is reflecting where the horse might have been hidden, he imagines it’s in “an old shed […] twenty bags of mouldy flour, a cask of rough wine, a roll of shoddy cloth, all sorts of wretched little things taken on the sly”.

But, as if to make up for all this gloom and poverty, there is humour. The slapstick comedy of the woeful crooks breaking into the building. The larking around of the gang members dressed in carnival outfits. The joking behaviour in the Magistrates’ Court. Once the crime has been solved, Inspector Sinet is frequently seen laughing along with the children. And even if those moments of comedy don’t actually make the reader laugh, we appreciate the fact that the characters are basically happy – and that makes us happy too.

Poverty. Berna was attracted to write about people in poverty. Again, from that 1980s interview, he observed: “I like these circles. When I was in military service, I discovered amazing people, peasants, workers, especially chtimis (people from the Nord – Pas de Calais areas of France), people relying on Assistance, desperately alone, who had to borrow six sous to buy tobacco. What they were looking for was a presence to break their inhuman isolation. Since then I have always had a great attraction for the poor.”

It’s obvious that the gang members themselves are from poor families. When they bring food for the gang to eat at the sawmill, it consists of eight potatoes and a stock cube; Criquet sneaks in one cigarette for the entire gang to share. When Marion invites the gang to her house for hot chocolate, before going out on an adventure, we find out that her mother “took these brigands’ visit very well, considering that she found they had eaten up her supply of bread for the weekend during the five minutes they had been there.” And Criquet cannot empty his pockets in front of the reporters, because “his mother had stitched them up to make his trousers last longer.”

Father Brissard says there are eleven in the gang – ten, plus “a boy from Nazareth”. I’m not sure to what extent that’s deadly serious or tongue in cheek. Certainly today I think it’s unlikely you’d share some religious message under those circumstances to a gang of ragamuffins. And one other totally anachronistic moment in the book comes when Marion organises the purchase of some cigars as a present for Sinet. Children allowed to purchase cigars? Only in France!

Gang mentality. What I love most about the book is its depiction of what it’s like to be a member of a gang, its subtle rules and etiquette, and the interdependent relationship between the gang members. As a rather isolated child, reading this book really made me crave being a member of a gang like Gaby’s. It’s sad how Marion and Fernand fear that the loss of the horse could lead to the break-up of the gang. They realise they need an additional purpose to meeting out of school, and not just the general reason of being friends or gang members. They have to be united through a separate reason – and playing with the horse is the perfect reason.

Berna shows several aspects of the gang mentality. The selflessness of individuals, bringing in a potato or a cigarette for everyone to share. There’s the loyalty shown by and to each individual member; for instance, when they all stand silently, intimidating Roublot at the market. They have the ability to all make each other laugh, such as when they dress up in the silly costumes and entertain each other with their inventive charades. They even take it in turns to look after the rusty key.

The gang members all have their own little qualities and traits, but the two stand-out characters are Marion, because of her incredible understanding of dogs, her calmness and practicality under pressure, and her kindness, as well as her daring; and Gaby, who, although is the leader of the gang (because he is the oldest) is only one of two children (the other being Fernand) to express his emotions through crying. So in their way both are surprisingly forward-looking role models for the two sexes – it’s ok for girls to be strong, and it’s ok for boys to be emotional. Another vital element of this particular gang is their over-riding honesty, as shown when they empty their pockets in front of the reporters.

Although the girls are just as daring as the boys – and given Marion’s special position within the gang as treasurer – the times are still traditional enough for it to be expected that the girls will do the gang’s domestic chores, like preparing food and tidying up, whilst Gaby and the boys make plans. It is perhaps a criticism that the younger female members of the gang are its least well described and least interesting characters.

At the end, they’re almost prepared to make Sinet a member of the gang; they always show generosity towards those who have been generous to them. But they don’t trust outsiders as a whole; which is why they make up silly answers to the journalists’ and reporters’ questions that they fear will expose them and give them publicity they don’t want.

Other thoughts that came to mind whilst reading this book were surprise at the genuine moment of peril when the crooks start shooting at the children through the slats in the barricade. The gang members treat the attack with contempt, but, seriously, this could have killed someone! And the sequence where Berna joyfully describes Marion’s gradual summoning of the dogs to come help fight the crooks reminded me of the twilight bark in One Hundred and One Dalmatians, written in 1956. If there’s any sense of copycat about the two scenes, note that A Hundred Million Francs came first!

Given these are all decent people, I was quite surprised at this brief exchange:

Sinet (of Roublot): Did you know he’d already been to prison?
Fernand: No, but you can tell what he’s like by his face.

Talk about judgemental!

Here’s my chapter by chapter synopsis of A Hundred Million Francs. If you haven’t read the book yet and don’t want to see any more spoilers, here’s where you have to stop reading!

Chapter One – Half Holiday. We’re instantly introduced to Gaby and the rest of his gang; ten children careering down the hill between the rue des Petits-Pauvres at the top and the rue de la Vache Noire at the bottom, on the famous Headless Horse toy. It had been bought for Fernand Douin by his father from a rag and bone man (or rather exchanged for three packets of black tobacco) but its head and legs didn’t last long – and it never even had a tail.

Other gang members we meet are Marion, the gang’s treasurer, who rescues and returns abandoned dogs to health; little Bonbon, whose job it is to stand on corners and warn passers-by that the headless horse might be racing through; Tatave, Bonbon’s older and more corpulent brother, who always brakes at the wrong moment; Juan, “the little Spanish boy”; Zidore Loche; Mélie; Berthe Gédéon; Amélie Babin, “the gang’s first-aid expert”; and Criquet Lariqué, “the little darky from the Faubourg-Bacchus”. These were different times, and I’m sure that was not meant to be offensive.

You can tell that Gaby is the leader of the gang by the heroic way in which it’s described that he holds the record for lasting longest on the horse; 35 seconds without once putting on the brakes. Gaby insists on having no one older than twelve in his gang, because “once you’re over twelve, you become a complete fool and you’re lucky if you don’t stay like that for the rest of your life.” Like any generous despot, he plans to extend the age limit to fourteen, so that he himself doesn’t fall foul of his own rules.

We’re in the town of Louvigny-Triage. Clearly a railway town, “all the men were on the tracks, in the sidings, the signal boxes, or the railway workshops, and the women were either shopping in the Quartier-Neuf or were strolling round the Thursday Market.” When Fernand thinks the horse is broken for ever, he thinks “there was nothing like it from Louvigny to Villeneuve-Saint-Georges” (a small commune in the south-eastern suburbs of Paris).

Other local residents whom we meet, largely as a result of their accidental clashes with the horse, are M. Gédéon, Berthe’s father; M. Mazurier, the coalman; César Aravant, the scrap merchant; “Old Zigon”, who gets money for old bottles; Mme Macharel, who has a bakery in the Market; Roublot, another market trader – “a nasty-looking specimen, with a heavy, sallow face that mirrored his petty dishonesty”; Inspector Sinet (of whom more later); M Joye, Gaby’s 17-stone, mechanic father; Mme Louvrier, Bonbon and Tatave’s mother; and Mme Fabert, Marion’s mother.

While the gang are at the market, observing Roublot spouting his selling patter, all eyes turn to the subtle figure of Inspector Sinet, who seems to be following a man in a blue boiler-suit through the market. Roublot appears particularly ill-at-ease seeing this, and before long he’s left all his stock and market stall equipment where it was and fled. On his way back home, Fernand notices the headless horse lying in the middle of the road, far from the safe place he had left it for his father to repair. At that point, Roublot appears, silent and menacing; but Marion, who’s with Fernand, lets out a piercing whistle; three of her biggest doggy friends came to the call, and once more Roublot flees.

Sadly, M. Douin takes a good look at the broken horse and realises he can’t fix it. The problem is a broken fork. Tears fall from Fernand’s eyes. But M. Douin has a plan – the next morning they will visit M. Rossi at the car factory who will be able to forge a new fork for them with ease. The chapter ends with father and son, happily mending other parts of the horse, whilst Mme Douin watches with amusement.

Chapter Two – Goodbye to the Horse. Not a very optimistic chapter title – is this the end of the horse? We’ll find out! But first, an explanation of the Black Cow, as in rue de la Vache Noire. Marion thinks it refers to an abandoned engine – continuing with the emphasis on this being a railway town – with Berna’s lovely phrase describing its out-of-place presence, “as unexpected as a hippopotamus in a field of daisies”. Gaby, Marion and some of the lads keep their promise to Old Zigon to replace the bottles they broke the previous day, emphasising that they’re honest and decent types. They consider going to the pictures, but it’s too expensive, especially as they have to pay for the two poorest members of the gang. Tatave suggests selling the bottles to Old Zigon, but Marion points out that they’re not theirs to sell, and that it would look bad trying to make money out of an old man. Again, that underlines both their decency and how hard-up this environment is. In the end, Marion gets the money from a lady, whose Pekinese Dog Marion had nursed back to health.

Meanwhile, at the Café Parisien, Roublot is seen deep in conversation with some other “toughs” – “deep in conversation, leaning across the table, their hats nearly touching”. Inspector Sinet also turns up at the café, a sticking plaster on his cheek, which gives the gang members something to laugh at. And on Saturday night, M. Douin comes home with the horse. M. Rossi had given it a coat of paint, greased the hubs, put back the wheels and straightened the bent spokes. It’s while the children are testing the horse to see how well it’s running that M. Douin tells his strange tale; that someone at the Café Parisien had offered him five thousand francs for the horse. When Douin refuses, he offers him ten thousand. Ten thousand!!

Whilst the gang members are playing with the horse they notice two men in fur-lined lumber jackets watching them. Somewhat spooked by this, they return home. When M. Douin looks through his window he confirms that the two men are the same two who made the ridiculously expensive offer to buy the horse. A couple of days later, the same two men try to grab the horse off some of the younger members of the gang. Things escalate as the gang continue to refuse to sell, and then the men start to get violent. “Wait till the toe of my boot gets you, my lad” says the one called Pépé; “I bet it doesn’t,” snorted Gaby, “My dad’s the only one who can lay a finger on me, and he has to catch me first.” And just as it seems like there’s going to be a big fight between them all, Marion whistles for her doggy friends, and Hugo, the boar-hound, Fritz and César all come at her command and attack the men. As soon as the one called Ugly cries for help, Marion calls them off; and the two men limp away, defeated, and with their coats ruined. But just why are they so interested in the horse?

M Douin decides to do a bit of investigating himself. He calls on Blache, the rag and bone man, from whom he originally obtained the horse. Blache remembers the unusual circumstances in which he came across the horse – clearing bomb damage in Petit-Louvigny. Whilst he was looking at it, someone told him that the horse had belonged to him before the bomb damage destroyed the house. When Blache tried to identify this man – as he knew the people who had lived in the area – the man told him to beat it, and take the horse with him. But Blache finally remembered the man’s name – Mallart – and had discovered that Inspector Sinet had arrested him last week. And – good news – Blache still owned the head that went with the body.

When Douin gets home, he discovers that Fernand hasn’t arrived home yet, and Mme Douin begins to get concerned. So he goes out to look for him, and thinks he should find Gaby’s dad to ask if he knows where his son is. M. Joye informs him that the horse had been stolen!

Chapter Three – Inspector Sinet. Next day, it’s back out with the gang on the horse, riding high through the neighbourhood. However, on his turn, Fernand loses control of the horse and is flung from the saddle, whilst the horse continues on its merry way, straight into the path of some burly men in a van – including Pépé and Ugly, who take hold of it and speed off with the gang’s prize possession. Hurt and outraged, they decide to report the theft to the police; on the way meeting Father Brissard, who sympathises with their plight.

Inspector Sinet and his colleague Lamy lament how uselessly they spend their days, never grappling with any proper criminals. They long to be allowed to work on an exciting case, like the recent robbery of a hundred million francs from the Paris-Ventimiglia Express. Nevertheless, they listen to the gang tell their story, and in return, Sinet and Lamy promise to help. Sinet is just about to screw up his notes and chuck them in the bin when he remembers that the horse had indirectly helped him to capture Mallart the other evening – so he felt more inclined to help. Then Messieurs Joye and Douin show up, apologising for the kids but explaining that the horse is really all they have. Sinet is now determined to do his best to help.

Chapter Four – A Rusty Key. Going home from school, Marion and Fernand agree they must find a replacement for the horse, or else the gang risks falling apart. Marion suggests training one of her dogs as a gift for Fernand, but he refuses because his mother doesn’t like animals. Fernand lets himself into his house but carelessly fails to close the door properly. He’s soon joined by the intimidating Roublot, foot in the door, holding a large square parcel. Inside is a brand-new train set, which he says the market folk had clubbed together to buy for the gang as a way of saying sorry that the horse had been stolen. Fernand is unimpressed. Furious, Roublot takes it back, and then does his best to search the kitchen cupboards, wardrobes and other hiding places. But Fernand threatens Roublot with the fire poker and he soon flees the scene. Shortly afterwards, Inspector Sinet arrives, wanting to know why Roublot was there. Somewhat improperly, Sinet asks if he could search the house and Fernand assents – but it is to be their secret.

The next day, Roublot sets up his stall as usual. He demonstrates his amazing potato chipper to the crowds and sells a couple. Then he realises there are ten young people still watching him – the gang. All on their best behaviour, quietly intimidating him back. At first he tries to laugh it off, but then he loses his temper and threatens to give them a “cuff around the ears”. But none of the gang breaks rank, and it’s Roublot who packs up his stall and flees.

Fernand and Marion start to set up the abandoned sawmill shed as the new gang HQ. After their meagre meal and one shared cigarette, they start to talk about the stolen horse; specifically, when and why it suddenly created such an interest. Realising that it happened on the night of the big accident, eventually they conclude it must have been something that Fernand and his father removed from inside the horse when they were working on it. Fernand remembers that, amongst the removed items was an old key. Gaby’s convinced that it’s also the key to the mystery and insists they abandon their meal and try to find the key at Fernand’s house. They find it, take it back to the shed and read that it has a label attached: “Billette Works, 224 Ponceau Road”.

Chapter Five – The Abandoned Factory. Inspector Sinet has spent some time trying to follow up the horse-theft but is currently drawing a blank. Roublot is hard to catch, no one has heard of Ugly or Pépé, and he notes that even the children go missing. But he is convinced that the children have accidentally got themselves caught up in some crime or other.

Following a tip-off from an old woman who had seen a fire burning at the gang’s shed every evening, Sinet discovers its whereabouts; and is surprised to be met by the ten children, wearing masks they had found elsewhere in the Billette factory, kicking a cardboard chicken about in some kind of frenzied football game. He doesn’t disclose that he has seen them; it’s useful to him to know where to find them if needed. For several days the gang continue to explore the old factory. It seemed to have stopped, mid-production, with partly made fancy dress clothes and accessories, shortly after the war; and the gang frequently parade around in silly wigs and costumes, making each other laugh with their inventive games.

Walking home one evening, Marion stops and insists on looking inside the Black Cow, to make sure no one is hiding in there. Everyone thinks she’s joking, but she goes in. And, although she keeps it a secret for a short while, she later reports that there were two men hiding inside. The chapter ends with Marion doing her evening walk with her dogs – and noting that they are unusually restless that night.

Chapter Six – All the Dogs in the World. After school on Saturday, all the gang members meet at Marion’s house and then go on into the Clos Pecqueux, ostensibly for a run. But Marion is keeping a look-out; and notices two men get out of the Black Cow once they have walked past. One heads back into the town, the other follows the children. In hiding, Marion and Fernand observe a car drive up in the darkness; then five men emerge and enter the Billette building where the rest of the gang were encamped. Gaby and Fernand attempt to barricade themselves in by shoving old work benches up against the door, whilst Marion remains at the entrance hall, and the younger gang members are still playing with the carnival masks – the barricade looked like the remains of a party, with all the broken boxes of festive items. Room by room, the older gang members make it as difficult as possible for the men to progress, but gradually the men power their way through, somehow or other. When they finally stumble in to the end room, one trips over a pig’s head mask and clatters through some old paint cans. When he gets up the gang all laugh at the fact that he has acquired a false black beard.

Fernand and Gaby can identify three of the men as Ugly, Pépé and Roublot; the other two are masked by the collars of their heavy overcoats. Refusing to respond to the threats of Ugly and Pépé, or the hundred francs bribe offered by one of the other men, Zidore and Juan throw some detonator bangers over the top of the boxes so that it sounds like the men are being attacked by gunshot. The arising confusion allows Gaby and Fernand to rejoin the others. But then the men really do let loose with their pistols and start shooting at the children through the slats. And whilst the gang pelt back with their bangers, Ugly and Roublot drag the bench back from the previous room and use it as a battering ram.

Meanwhile, what was Marion doing? She had whistled and called with all her might, and summoned the presence of no fewer than sixty dogs from all around the neighbourhood! They all run back to the Billette building and lay siege on the helpless crooks from behind.

Chapter Seven – A Hundred Million Francs. It’s M. Douin who first notices the noises and lights coming from the disused factory and rings the station-master’s office to warn him. As a result, Sinet and Lamy are sent to find out what’s going on. They discover Marion, with all the dogs holding guard over the crooks; on her command, the dogs all let go of the bedraggled men, leaving them for Sinet to deal with. The other gang members slowly come to light – although Bonbon keeps his hiding place just a little while longer, thereby causing a few worries – and Sinet tasks them with emptying all the cupboards on the look out for… what?

But there was no need. “There was the Inspector, standing in the middle of the room with his mouth agape and his arms dangling at this sides, up to his ankles in a carpet of banknotes that shimmered in the flickering light of the torches.” Wads of notes were falling from big grey sacks – Lamy counted eleven sacks of banknotes in all. Sinet, Lamy and the children had located the hundred million francs that had gone missing from the Paris – Ventimiglia Express. And then the bombshell – Sinet rounds on Gaby and asks if they’d not gone into the room where all the money had been stashed, and his reply is: “of course we’ve seen them”; and Marion adds “but Inspector […] there’s so much of it! We thought it was false like all the rest.” Sinet gets the children to pick up all the loose notes and pack them back into a sack whilst he watches them, which really offends Gaby. “Thieves? Us? Not likely”.

Fernand loses his temper with Ugly as he was being taken out by the policemen, “and began to pummel his face with both fists, crying at the top of his voice, “where’s the horse?” Sinet is moved by his frustration, but Fernand confirms that “without the horse we wouldn’t have been here tonight and you’d still be looking for your millions!” “How so?” asked Sinet, astonished. “The key was in the horse,” Fernand proclaimed […] “Dad and I had emptied the horse out a few days before, and Dad put the key aside without thinking.”

Chapter Eight – The Sixth Man. In the days that followed, the children were required to accompany Sinet to be questioned by the Examining Magistrate; but they were frustrated by the fact that none of the questions related to the theft of the horse. His prime concern was the identity of the sixth man. Five of the crooks have been accounted for – but who is the sixth? Little Bonbon accuses Sinet, much to the Court’s amusement and Sinet’s embarrassment. The inspector admits he was watching the children – and it was all because of the horse. But as a thank-you, the children give the Inspector five fat gold cigars. And all that matters after that is laughing about what a mockery their Court appearance was.

Sinet and the children reconstruct the time when they watched Roublot at the market a fortnight earlier, trying to work out who the man in the blue boiler-suit was. Eventually it tumbles to Sinet – it was the petty thief he’d arrested that evening, Mallart. He’s the sixth man. He had the key – and because Sinet was on his tail, he dropped into the headless horse. And Mallart was already in jail!

Then the town is besieged by reporters, trying to build up a story to get maximum newspaper sales. The children are happy to put their side of the story, but didn’t trust the reporters not to make it into something sensational. The chief reporter asks Bonbon how much of the money he took. One by one, each gang member empties his or her pockets in front of the reporter, showing how little they had. And then Gaby reports the news that the bank cashiers had counted all the money and the full hundred million francs was still intact – plus one sou, that Tatave had added in as a joke. Not to be defeated, the reporters asked if the children would pose for a photo for the newspaper with all the dogs. They set the photograph up, and when Marion calls for the dogs – they all chase the reporters and photographers who were never seen in Louvigny again.

Chapter Nine – The Horse with a Head. It’s mid-January, and the gang have met up in the club for a slap-up meal of potatoes and hot chocolate. An unexpected guest surprises them – it’s Inspector Sinet wanting to tell them the story behind the whole adventure. The gang can’t wait to hear it.

It had been a well-planned raid on the Paris-Ventimiglia Express, but the problem was that someone had fenced off the end of the road where Mallart was due to take delivery of the money. This meant that the job would take much longer than expected, which is why Mallart decided to dump the money at the Billette Factory and wait for Roublot to join him at a little house rented nearby for the purpose.

But Roublot didn’t come, because he too had had some bad luck. He thought he had received a police summons, and fled to Paris to provide himself an alibi. When he got there, he realised it was only a renewal of his street-trading licence, so he returned to Louvigny but couldn’t find Mallart. Roublot decided to go to the market as usual, and Mallart telephoned him via the local café to arrange a meeting time and place. But Sinet was hot on Mallart’s tail, so he dropped the keys into the horse which had just tripped him up – and the rest is history. However, it looks like there won’t be a reward. The bank never promised one, and the people to whom the money belonged weren’t keen to come to an agreement. The gang members look on the bright side, realising the complications of receiving a lot of money.

But there’s one last surprise. One morning, M. Douin answers the door to discover the horse has been returned. It was old Blache who had found it, miles away, on a rubbish dump. The children are, of course, delighted, and Fernand reunites it with its head. Gaby is chosen to give it its first ride. But as he’s heading down la rue de la Vache Noire, out of control, he collides with Old Zigon and his bottle cart. Sixty bottles smashed – but, good news, there are five hundred down in the Billette Factory that he can take.

However, Gaby is in tears, as he confesses he is twelve years old now and too old to be a gang member. He’s furious with himself that he’s too old even to ride the horse safely. He tells the others they will have to find a replacement for him. But, of course, none of them accepts that. Marion says: “sooner or later we’ll all be twelve, but that’s no reason why we should break away from each other. We’ll grow up together, that’s all.” Old Zigon agrees: “the world’s all right if you’ve got good friends.” The book ends with all the gang members laughing and Sinet watching them – and declining an offer to have a ride on the horse!

To sum up; Paul Berna’s first, and most successful book in terms of his reputation and sales, was and still is an escapist delight. The camaraderie between the youngsters and their willingness to be brave and do the right thing comes across as aspirational – I know that’s how I felt when I read this as a child. It’s no surprise that this is the only Paul Berna book that has never been out of print. If you’ve read the book – or are re-reading it now, I’d love to know what you think about it, so please add a comment below. Next in the Paul Berna Challenge is the book he published the following year – The Street Musician. I look forward to re-reading it and sharing my thoughts about it in a few weeks.

The Paul Berna Challenge

I’ve been humming and hahhing about this for a long time, gentle reader; do I want to give myself yet another challenge alongside the Agatha Christies, the James Bonds, plus all the usual theatre, reviewing and travel stuff? And do I really want to do it about Paul Berna, of whom I expect most of my readers won’t have a clue who he is?

But I came back to the two main reasons why I’m tempted to do this challenge. Firstly, he’s a writer who represents a small, but very happy part of my childhood memories. At the age of somewhere under ten, I read both A Hundred Million Francs and The Clue of the Black Cat and loved them both – in fact, I think The Clue of the Black Cat is still my favourite children’s book. I wanted to read more, but the school library where I borrowed those books didn’t have any other of his work; and then Agatha Christie took over my interests, and Paul Berna got slightly forgotten about. So I want to right that wrong by re-reading all his books and recording my thoughts about them.

Secondly, although A Hundred Million Francs is relatively well-known, and has only recently come back into print, there’s very little critical opinion online about his books as a whole. Many of them are listed on Goodreads but have never even received just one reader’s comment! Google his name and a random book title and, like as not, 99% plus of the hits will be a link to where you can buy second-hand copies of it. There’s the occasional reference to his works in a few random blog posts; one French reviewer has written a few words (very few) about a handful of his books. But no one has gone into any kind of detail about him. I sense that my time has come! And if I can interest just one person into discovering his books for the first time, or re-reading some childhood favourites, then I’ll be a very happy chap.

In case you don’t know, Paul Berna was a pseudonym used by Jean-Marie-Edmond Sabran. He was French, and lived from 1908 to 1994. He also used the noms-de-plume Bernard Deleuze, Paul Gerrard and Joel Audrenn, as well as writing under his own name, Jean Sabran. He used the name Paul Berna for his books for children, and that’s where he realised his greatest success; Paul was his father’s name, and Berna was the surname of his German great-grandmother. As Berna, he wrote 26 children’s novels, including a few for very young children, two science-fiction oriented (although still featuring young people) and three that were never translated into English. The other 16 I have hunted down in second-hand bookshops over the years, and more recently online. I probably should buy the two science-fiction books too!

So here’s the deal. I’m going to re-read A Hundred Million Francs, as that was not only his biggest seller, but also the first of his books that really took off – published in 1955. And then I’ll write an appreciation of it. It may be, gentle reader, that this is the one book of his that you too have read; if so, I’d love you to re-read it too, and then we can compare notes. All being well, I’ll then move on to his next book, The Street Musician, and so on. Maybe I’ll even go back to those earlier science fiction books – we’ll see. For years, all his books were out of print; so if you want to join me in this quest, you may have to spend some time in second-hand bookshops or on Amazon or Ebay. In the meantime, A Hundred Million Francs is only 170 or so pages of paperback and if I remember rightly, it’s a cracking read, so we should get through it quite quickly. Let’s give Paul Berna the online acclaim and attention he deserves!