Track 29 (1988)

Track 29 (1988)

Dir. Nicolas Roeg

A remake of Dennis Potter's Schmoedipus (1974) episode of Play for Today (S4, Ep 20) that falls under a weight of clashing styles; i.e. besides a few successful explosive moments Roeg's dramatic beat clashes with Potter's lyrical approach to the same subject matter.

The film is nicely assembled, but the moments that should be deeply felt are staged more as moments to be viewed when put through Roeg's lens. The emotional strain just isn't presented well enough to make the overplayed characters fully engage our sympathies, even though at least one of them is fully deserving.

Personally, I feel that Potter's 'visitation dramas' work best when made on a smaller scale with a more stage-like presence.

Dennis Potter's Lipstick on Your Collar (1993)

Lipstick on Your Collar (1993)

Dir. Renny Rye | 6 episodes, approx 60 mins each.

You've maybe already guessed by the cover art (pictured right) that Lipstick is set in the 1950s, which means music plays an important role.

Potter has a peculiar knack for making existing music and lyrics fit his narrative in unusual ways. He plays with them, opens them up and in doing so changes the intent in an often playfully ironic way. It's so successful that in the future when I hear many of the tracks used in the production I'll be smiling while thinking of the scenes they're attached to.

Of all the Potter TV Plays/Miniseries I've reviewed so far, Lipstick is my favourite for a number of reasons, the first of which is mentioned above.

There's also the top-class characterisation to consider, and the way some of the principals drift into their own fantasy realm when life bores or distresses them. In a few of the author's other works the fiction spills over into the reality, but here the reality becomes a part of the fiction; boring old farts who would rather be dead than caught dancing in their underwear are launched into spotlights to spin and twirl their stuffy stuff in an often ridiculous but hilarious manner.

Dennis Potter's Visitors (1987)

Dennis Potter's Visitors (1987)

Dir. Piers Haggard

One of only two standalone TV Plays written by Potter for the BBC's Screen Two programme (see NOTE at bottom of page for additional info on Screen Two). Visitors was an adaptation by Potter of his own stage play, titled Sufficient Carbohydrate. There are reportedly a number of changes, such as the setting having been moved from an island of Greece to a place in Italy.

The story revolves around two couples, one of which has a son in his late teens. The couples are Jack and Elizabeth Barker (John Standing, Nicola Pagett) from Britain, and Eddie and Lucy Vosper (Michael Brandon, Glynis Barber) from the United States. It's the US couple who have a son, Clayton Vosper (Robert McNaughton). Eddie is Clayton's father, Lucy is his stepmother.

Dennis Potter's Brimstone and Treacle (1976 / 1982)

Brimstone and Treacle (1976)

Dir. Barry Davis

Barry Davis's Play for Today version of Dennis Potter’s controversial B+T was banned by a fearful and controlling BBC before it was even broadcast. The institution eventually relented in 1987 and it’s currently available to purchase on DVD.

Michael Kitchen stars as a wicked confidence trickster named Martin Taylor who worms his way into the home of an older couple, Tom and Amy Bates (Denholm Elliott and Patricia Lawrence).

With an angelic smile on his face Martin causes chaos, all the while pretending to care for Pattie (Michelle Newell), the old couple's sick daughter.

There’s more to the goings on than that but it‘s best if the viewer discovers it by themselves. If you know Potter’s work then you’ll know to prepare for strong views and shocking turns as the layers of consequence are gradually revealed.

Dennis Potter: Three Television Plays (1980)

Cream in My Coffee (1980)
Dir. Gavin Millar

If the traditional British ‘summer holiday’ ever really existed outside of postcards and creative nostalgia, then by the year 1980 it was long into retirement.
Nevertheless, the hotels endured and it’s to one of them that an ageing married couple return, having spent time there together in 1934.

Past and present weave together to form a bigger picture, and through extrapolation we can write the forty-six summers that fell in-between.

Potter's venomous wit lightens some scenes, but mostly it’s a serious study of the destructive nature of secrets, the ennui that often follows marriage and the promises that love makes to please itself.

Lionel Jeffries is good as the old man who wants to live in the here and now but can’t help referencing the past. Peggy Ashcroft is hand on heart amazing as the sympathetic wife who fears to ruffle feathers.

Dennis Potter's Cold Lazarus (1996)

Cold Lazarus (1996)

Dir. Renny Rye | 4 episodes, approx 50 minutes each.

The second part of the final work requires you to have seen all four episodes of the first part. I won’t drop ruinous spoilers about CL’s plot but I'll need to refer to Karaoke, so please think carefully before reading anything beyond this point if you've any interest in watching Karaoke and have yet to do so.

As we saw previously, armed with the knowledge of his failing heath, Daniel Feeld prepared for the future of the people he felt close to. In contrast, the author was unprepared for what awaited him in his own future, 374 years after his death.

The introduction of cryogenics into Karaoke’s plot may have seemed odd in isolation, but it makes sense when you consider CL. Scientists unearth the frozen remains of Daniel and plug him into a machine that translates the activity in his brain into visual images that can be recorded and analysed by a people who've lost sight of what it means to be human. Their society is in chaos and, for reasons that aren't fully explained, their historical records are inadequate. They believe that memories of a person from the past may help them better understand their present.

Dennis Potter's Karaoke (1996)

Karaoke (1996)

Dir. Renny Rye | 4 episodes, approx 50 minutes each.

The first part of Potter’s final work was broadcast two years after his death. He wrote it with the full knowledge that he was dying, which makes viewing it a deeply poignant experience.

You might expect the situation to have pushed him towards tapping into the bleaker side of his talent, but there’s a huge amount of darkly wry humour in the script. There’s also a feeling that inevitability can’t be conquered, so it should instead be thoroughly mocked as best we can.

The main protagonist is a screenwriter named Daniel Feeld. Daniel, played with intensity by Albert Finney, is diagnosed with the same painful medical condition that killed Potter in real life, so it’s fair to assume that it’s at least partly autobiographical in nature. His most recent work is causing grief for both himself and the director of the TV adaptation (Richard E. Grant). It’s fiction but, as is already established, fiction often has a modicum of reality in it.

Dennis Potter's Blackeyes (1989)

Blackeyes (1989)

Dir. Dennis Potter | 4 episodes, approx 50 minutes each.

Apologies for the blurry picture, but in some ways it emphasises a point about the availability of Dennis Potter’s 'Blackeyes' miniseries: no proper box art exists because it's been denied a commercial release. It's been hidden away in the BBC vaults for twenty-six years. An image search returns precious little other than a bootleg dvd and the covers of Potter’s original novel (1987) to work with, hence my crude cut-n-paste job from an old VHS copy.

The story's typical of the author's work, which is to say it's a complex arrangement of layers presented in an unconventional, creative manner; a non-linear narrative that ebbs and flows; a sensual tide that takes as much as it gives.

The titular character is a representation of a writer’s fascination with his niece’s past profession, unattainable except in fiction. He takes parts from her time as a fashion model and creates a tragic, self-reflective, male fantasy that walks off the page. She's a sullied depiction of reality whose very existence taunts.