robert-connor

After two weeks of knowing each other, a witless young New Zealander with a dodgy English accent agrees to go to a music festival in Cornwall... er, Ireland with a witless young Scottish guy. They take the ferry to Cornwall... er, Ireland and stop at a pub where the New Zealander sits on the toilet waiting for something to happen. Later, they get into their car and the Scottish guy announces that instead of going to the festival, they are going to a hotel and need to wait for someone to come and show them the way. A Land Rover pulls up behind them and then drives past with a hotel sign on the tailgate so the witless couple follow. Eventually the Land Rover stops and the driver points to the road ahead before taking a right turn and disappearing. The witless couple continue on and get lost. The Scottish guy is driving and starts to drink, while the New Zealander looks increasingly anxious. It gets dark and they car begins to run low on fuel. The New Zealander tries to follow a map but the Scottish guy keeps on drinking and tries to follow a confusing set of signs for the hotel. Then the Scottish guy decides to pull over and wander off into the forest for no apparent reason. The New Zealander gets even more anxious but the Scot returns and they both decide to wander off into the forest, leaving the keys in the car. They don't get far before the car alarm goes off so they return and can't find the keys, until they find they keys on the ground. They drive off and go around in circles until eventually someone tries to attack them and they flee, only to knock a guy over and then all hell breaks loose, but not in a logical way.

Given that the couple are utterly lacking in common sense, and spend most of the time shouting at each other and making stupid decisions, the viewer is left not really caring what happens as the story spirals down one plot hole after another. One day someone will make a movie about sensible folk who despite their best efforts journey into a nightmare. Sadly, this isn't it.

At least Downton Abbey's Allen Leech get's to chew some scenery!

A young man struggles to find purpose and meaning as he pulled in different directions by best friends, ex-partner and new man in his life.

Rule number one: in order to take the audience on an 'in simpatico' journey with the troubled young protagonist, a film/script/level of character development must allow the audience to care. Trevor's problems are well telegraphed - dead-end job, ambivalent support from his friends, cyclical torments caused by junkie ex-lover, estrangement from family etc., but as Trevor is so unappealing, we find it hard to care. All the primary characters are so self-serving - Trevor's life is all about the aforementioned miseries, Jake is sour and one-note sarcastic, Andi is utterly self-absorbed (I want a man/I don't want a man), Daryl's addiction behaviour patterns and Ephraim's need for commitment and reassurance. Everyone looks at their lives and events with such a total lack of empathy that when Andi finally explodes and delivers her drunken tirade at Trevor for being so self-obsessed I actually had to laugh. Holding Trevor isn't about relationships with others, it's about relationships with 'self', and the eventual choice made by Trevor (start afresh or replace one needy and suffering friend with another) seems to reinforce this - Jake, Andi and Ephraim all put themselves first ('you can't go/stay; we need you') and for all the suggestion of positive change (Trevor's quitting from his job), the reality is just more of the same for poor, poor Trevor... his choice.

Jo and Peter have moved to the country to allow Peter to pursue a career as a rural vet. Jo is pregnant, and is having to contend with ongoing construction in the house and a cat that has been spooked by their new home. However, when something nasty is discovered inside a wall in the kitchen, things take a ghoulish turn for the worse.

Fairly unimaginative take on themes of birth, death and centuries old curses is rendered practically unwatchable by pedestrian direction and awful acting. The entire production is shot like a bad stage play, with the actors telegraphing everything to the back row, even when in close up. Wymark is best of the bunch as the unsettled mum-to-be, struggling with increasing unease, insensitive builders, wayward cat and unsympathetic husband-from-hell, although it's astounding Jo doesn't just crack Peter over the head with the mystery pot they find bricked up in the wall. McKenna is a little OTT as Peter's boss, booming his lack of subtlety all over the set without a thought for the poor viewer, but what makes this so awful is MacCorkindale. His Peter begins as cross and deeply unsympathetic and has nowhere to go but angrier, shoutier, more uncaring and more patronizing as things progress. Nelson mustn't have heard of 'less is more', sadly, and by the end of the piece it's MacCorkindale you'd like to see shoved in a pot and walled up in the kitchen! Fraser offers a wee bit of light relief as McKenna's 'stuff and nonsense' wife, barking advice and retorts to poor Jo, but it's nowhere near enough.

Watch this for one of the worst TV performances of 1976, but otherwise avoid!