Adventures of a Taxi Driver

The first in a series of abysmal Confessions-wannabes, the Adventures trilogy are sterile, desperately unfunny sex comedies, with horrendous direction and dire production values.

The first starred a miscast Barry Evans, trying hard to be laddish but drawing somewhat short. He's a sensitive chap, the sort that can tell "whether a bird's had a right good seeing-to the night before" and cheers himself up by "picking up a bit of crumpet." Evans's constant talking straight to camera is supposed to be endearing, but it's really just irritating. Christopher Neil's Bob West made this a more likeable trait in Adventures of a Private Eye, though it was toned down and notably dropped altogether for the third film in the franchise.

The series always goes farther than Confessions ever did, too. So that while Timmy Lea's escapades were really the next generation of Carry Ons with a few more boobs, the Adventures have a slightly nasty edge. After four weeks of watching Robin Askwith's rear end it's a shock to see Evans's and Neil's willy flapping all over the place, and the sex scenes are notably more graphic. In particular, a scene intimating a woman being penetrated by a snake lurches the film towards X-rated territory. Sex with animals seemed to be a particular preoccupation of the series, with the second sequel, Plumber's Mate, featuring a coupling with a mouse. Look out too for pathetically staged "squashed cat" scenario (cue man off camera making unconvincing "cat" noises), the nadir of Plumber's Mate, one of the most amateurish films I've ever seen.

On the subject of the sequels, Private Eye surprises by being halfway decent, though still cries out for incidental music to perk up the somewhat lifeless atmosphere. Even performing the theme song, Christopher Neil gives a zippy, amiable performance, something he was unable to do with the obnoxious character of Sid South in Plumber's Mate. One thing the series did bring to the proceedings was plots, so much so that Private Eye even largely forgets to put the sex into sex comedy. It takes away the nasty edge for once, and is more traditionally humorous. (Basically, it's got some jokes in it.)

But back to Taxi Driver, a picture that never gets started. The irksome theme tune is sung twice during the movie in a flagging bid to pep up proceedings, and five times as an instrumental. David Brierley (One of the K-9s from Doctor Who, no less!) provides an opening monologue, juxtaposing images of cab life with an upbeat narration. So then when he talks about the "gallant knights of the road", we see a cabbie flicking the v-sign, and so on. And on. And on. Like the rest of the films pace, it's a joke that wears thin after the first three seconds, and positively aches by being extended past its natural lifespan.

Transvestites, prostitutes and oral sex references, the weirdest thing about all this is that this sexist tripe was written by a woman.

There is a video game from Sega called Crazy Taxi, in which you drove a taxi all over a city in a haphazard matter to earn bigger money and tips from your fares. But that game pales in comparision to this movie, the true "Crazy Taxi".

Barry Evans (who would ironically live his last years driving taxis after a succesful career as a British-sitcom star) plays Joe North, a taxi driver in London who is the subject of the adventure. There's no real plot, just him getting into all sorts of sexual situations with women of varying degrees of beauty. We see him talking into the camera to the audience about his plans to woo the women he meets into having sexual encounters with him.

Evans is pretty good, about the same as Christopher Neil would be in the next two films. Stephen Lewis (Inspector Blakey of "On The Buses" fame) has a small role as a doorman in a strip club. The aging Diana Dors plays Joe's mother. An O.K. timewatcher, but it's quite titalating at times (talky too). Bravo (The Canadian version) loves showing these 70's British sex comedies; they've shown three "Adventures" movies.

For some reason, they borrowed a bit of Sesame Street's theme song's music to create theirs.

I could not recommend this film, unless you are a fan of similarly-themed films of this period, such as 'Percy's Progress' and 'No Sex Please, We're British', and of course the 'Carry On' films, although this is on a par with the worst of them, not the best. It consisted mainly of Barry Evans (who had previously starred in 'Doctor in the House' and 'Doctor at Large') having meaningless sexual encounters with a number of women, and walking around with his tackle out.

It is generally believed that Barry Evans appeared in this film to rid himself of his wholesome 'Doctor' image. He never really succeeded (he was later cast as the straight-laced English teacher in 'Mind Your Language'). This film would not appeal to his mainstream fans, and its appeal as a tits-and-bums English film (if you like that sort of thing) is pretty low. It was dismal.

There's a reason why when you think of British sex comedies of the '70s, you think of Robin Askwith and a whole bunch of movies with "Confessions of" in the title:

Askwith was the only decent lead any of these movies had. He was charismatic and somewhat believable as a hapless boy-next-door type who couldn't believe his luck. This world of easy sex wasn't yours, but nor was it his. You rooted for him.

Hard as it may be to believe, Barry Evans in the "Adventures of..." series is probably the second best lead, which should give you an idea of the gulf between Askwith and all the others. Evans just isn't a lead. He seems untrustworthy and sleazy. When he goes into a nudie booth early in the movie, you can't help thinking that he looks like someone employed by the establishment to entice wandering gentlemen. It *is* his world.

Aside from its lacklustre hero, the movie is pretty much what you'd expect from this sort of thing: Evans plays a taxi driver who meets a bunch of strange women, generally ends up getting naked with them, and is then surprised before, during or after the act of coitus when the husband comes home, or Evans' fiancée, or whoever else. It's basically the set-up for a zillion cheap pornos: guy meets woman, they engage in mundane chit-chat, they have sex. But it's not a porno, so the sex is interrupted somehow. Rinse, repeat.

The only thing to set it apart from the "Confessions" series is how boring it is. They were no great shakes themselves, but they were at least entertaining. They also had some kind of a narrative. This is an episodic movie simply by virtue of having no story.

It also pulls the oldest trick in the book: the old "hero falls for a woman who is really a man" trick. Am I in the minority in never, ever finding the sight of a man dressed in women's clothes to be funny?

Oh, and I may as well say something about the casting, aside from Evans. Diana Dors, Britain's answer to Marilyn Monroe, appears as Evans' mother, making you wonder why they didn't cast her as one of the women he has it off with instead. She's not that much older than him, and is much more fetching than most of the other ladies. Why reduce a famous sex symbol to a frumpy housewife before her time?

The only other actress who makes a positive impression is the whimsical Jane Hayden, sister of the more famous b-movie sexpot Linda Hayden. Evans saves Hayden from jumping off a bridge, the weather looking so grey and overcast and depressing that you wonder why she didn't do it sooner.

What is to be said in the favour of Adventures of a Taxi Driver? Very little, it's sad to say. The film gives new meaning to the term second hand: it's a rip-off of the Robin Askwith Confessions series of sex comedies, which themselves were already sub-Carry On crossed with continental saucy fare. Taxi Driver also mixes in elements of Alfie (the direct to camera narration of the Lothario protagonist), On the Buses (the bickering family arguments) and British B movies of the early 60s involving petty crime. This wholesale appropriation of other people's ideas might be acceptable if they were used here with any skill or aplomb; as it is, the film is tedious, plot less, poorly directed and almost aggressively unfunny. It's attitude to women is dismissive and offensive, and even the usually charming Barry Evans - who made the infantile and racist sitcom Mind Your Language palatable - is heavy handed and dislikeable here.

The few pluses include good comic turns from Adrienne Posta and Diana Dors, a winsome performance from Marc Harrison as Evans' thieving brother and the chance to see, briefly, Stephan Lewis doing Blakey as a strip-show doorman. There's also some intriguing footage of mid-70s Soho which might be of value to social historians.

I suppose that the film does capture a certain mood of cultural desperation which clearly reigned in the UK at the time. Evans' sexual shennanigans seem like the last resort of a man with nothing else to do; the sexual revolution has failed to make life interesting, as people are just as boorish and neurotic and dumb as they ever were. Whether this is a real reflection of the times or merely the projection of the filmmakers' own limited intelligence and wit is a matter of conjecture, although the huge box office success of the film suggests that it did offer the film-going population something they could respond to.

Although the film is about sexual adventures, the sex scenes themselves are as sexy as bromide, with not a single moment of chemistry between Evans (who was gay in reality) and the various women he disrobes.