Jake Thingray

I absolutely hate this dreadful series, and normally wouldn't bother to point out what a load of end-of-the-pier rubbish it is. But I had to after reading the user comments here - no wonder they're all from Americans. Comparing something which relied, week in week out, to puns on "my pussy" to Monty Python, and calling it "highbrow" - now that IS funny! Why the Yanks love this sexist, homophobic, occasionally racist and worst of all tired, laboured smut is truly one of the mysteries of mankind. (I can well believe the suggestion on one site that PBS only bought it because of the number of episodes.) CARRY ON films were full of old gags and steotypes too, but at least they moved about, while AYBS has the same set and people each week, and usually the same jokes. Considering how much in UK-US culture is shared, it really is painful to think that PBS-ers, who think this drivel is sophisticated, have probably never even heard of STEPTOE AND SON, DAD'S ARMY or ONLY FOOLS AND HORSES, all of which had, and still have, a special place in the nation's hearts, that AY never has or will: because, not only were they funny but they had real, identifiable leads, not shrill stereotypes. Plus an awareness of social class sympathy for the underdog: I suspect that AYBS fans, who use totally outdated phrases like "stiff upper-lip", probably have a patronising and unrealistic view of Britain anyway. And several of these shows won TV industry awards for their scripts, something AYBS never got or deserved. How would Americans feel if no-one in Britain had heard of CHEERS, TAXI, SEINFELD or FRASIER, but regarded the epitome of American humour as WE GOT IT MADE or THREE'S COMPANY? (I hasten to point out this is not actually the case!). "Are You Being Stereotyped", as a sketch on the satire show END OF PART ONE called it, may still get shown in the US, but over here it was forgotten about for years, and today only ever turns up on the very occasional Sunday afternoon when there's a space to fill. Also, the cast were all second-raters. While David Jason, the most popular British TV performer of the last two decades, possibly the most popular ever, takes his holidays in Florida because he knows he won't get recognised! After this and Benny Hill, maybe America's next "sophisticated Brit Wit" will be Jim Davidson...

A distinct improvement on PRESCRIPTION: MURDER, especially in the visual field: this was actually released in cinemas in Britain, in 1973, and it's easy to see why. Despite some gimmicky camera effects, dating the show as the product of the early 70's (but why the hell not), the style of the visuals, particularly the opening murder scene, and the atmospheric music lend the TV production an enjoyable air of assured professionalism more associated with the big screen. (Especially, one might add, with Hitchcock, whom Levinson and Link had previously written for.) Lee Grant is a simply superb adversary, coldly beautiful and never once descending to the "chink-in-the-armour" factor that let down some of the later COLUMBO murderesses. Falk looks no different in this second pilot (in effect a special, anticipating the series' current status) than he would in the series, and has also raised his voice above the near monotone employed in PRESCRIPTION: MURDER, although his loss of temper with Grant's obnoxious stepdaughter is quite unlike the easy-going Lieutenant we all know.

A terrific start to the series, and I'm not just saying this because of its director: he'd have done a great job on this even if his name was Joe Nobody. Spielberg's cool, clipped way of creating an air of menace, through constant anticipations (not for nothing does the opening panning shot include a skull on Ferris' table) in the opening sequences should be required viewing at film schools. He still permits the classic character conflict to evolve in the later, less firmly paced stages: even inserting a signature (reflected in E.T. and CLOSE ENCOUNTERS) of officials loudly creating fuss and sidelining the vulnerable, in the scene at the Ferris home just before Columbo appears. Jack Cassidy, unfairly only really remembered today as the father of teen idol David, is on splendid, autocratically smarmy form here, as a mystery writer who can't write, but knows how to play the media. His staring eyes and coldly composed face as he points the gun at the camera, for the second time, are unforgettable. As ever, Falk charms in his down-to-earth manner, complaining of the cold - "there's no lining on this coat" - and helping out the distressed Mrs. Ferris in the kitchen. (A shame that Rosemary Forsyth is saddled with a line like, "I know Ken, he's not a murderer", though.) The music, more than slightly reminiscent of Bernard Herrmann's score for PSYCHO, is another eerie advantage. All in all, a shame that Falk's plan to get Spielberg to direct COLUMBO's return to TV, in 1989, came to nothing........