The Beiderbecke Collection (Box Set) > Reviews > It's Average Sized Trevor Chaplin...

Author's product rating:   

Did you enjoy it?	Loved it
Story	Outstanding
Characters / Performances	Outstanding
Special Effects	Standard
How does it compare to similar films?	Outstanding

Advantages:	Intelligent, witty, charming, relentlessly entertaining .  .  . and lots of jazz
Disadvantages:	Sequelitis

Recommend to potential buyers:

yes

Full review

There is, despite rumours to the contrary, still alot of good television about. Admittedly most is secreted away at silly o'clock, but it's there if you look hard enough. There is, however, a distinct lack of great television about, and rewatching Alan Plater's Beiderbecke trilogy only strengthens that argument.

Available as a box set, 'The Beiderbecke Affair', '...Tapes' and '...Connection' is a marathon watch, but a complete joy from beginning to end. If the second and third instalments seem a little disappointing in comparison to 'Affair' then it's no bad thing, it only illustrates how very strong the original outing was.

Adapted for television from his own novels, Plater charts the story of average sized Trevor Chaplin (James Bolam) as he sails unfazed through a series of increasingly bizarre adventures. He is accompanied throughout by Jill Swinburne (Barbara Flynn) with whom he occasionally co-habits in sin. He is a woodwork teacher, forever battling a lack of materials, forced to teach his students how to make a bookend - school finances will not stretch to 'ends'. Mrs Swinburne is an English teacher, with one book between 8 in a class, and political ambitions leaning towards green, saving the whales, and bio-degradeable toilet paper.

Trevor likes jazz, while Jill just waits for the tune to start, and it is Trevor's adoration of Bix Beiderbecke, the first great white jazz musician, that launches them headlong into their first 6 part serial.

A visitor to Trevor's flat, a beautiful platinum blonde no less, attempts to sell him hedge trimmers, portable black and white televisions and other such rubbish from a mail order catalogue. Reluctant to help raise funds for the local scouts football team, Trevor eventually relents when told that he can also order jazz LPs, and in particular Beiderbecke recordings.

Parting with his cash, he awaits delivery. A package arrives, stuffed with records. Unfortunately the music is that of marching bands and Trevor is less than amused.

Long suffering work colleague Mr Carter (Dudley Sutton) has also fallen foul of the mail order blonde, and while he actually gets what he ordered, his hedge trimmers explode and he escapes with singed fingers.

The hunt is on for the platinum bombshell, the missing records, and the scouts football team.

Investigations draw Trevor into a world of intrigue, headed by Big Al (Terence Rigby) and Little Norm (Danny Schiller) and all the time he is being observed from the shadows by an elderly gentleman and his dog....Jason. To complicate matters further, an enthusiastic young detective sergeant (Dominic Jephcott) is eager to further his career, and is determined to break the secret of the mail order business.

That things are not as straightforward as they seem is no surprise, and certainly nobody is who they appear to be. One will turn supergrass, while another will turn enforcer, and someone is definitely out to sabotage Jill's attempts to run for local government, and all the time all Trevor really wants to do is listen to some cool jazz.

Characters don't come this well drawn anymore, and lines don't come as sharp or as funny these days. Yes the 80s fashions and politics have dated the shows, but the people within are timeless. Alan Plater serves up a delightful collection of oddballs, and refuses to let any of them become cliched or superfluous to the proceedings. Everyone has their part to play, and each is as loveable and as memorable as the next. Over the course of 6 episodes the gentle pace never sags, and it is a delight to stumble from one revelation to another.

James Bolam and Barbara Flynn are simply superb in the lead roles, and Dudley Sutton's brief commentaries on their daily lives are priceless. Terence Rigby is the most likeable shady character to ever grace the small screen, while Jephcott is a smug, irritatingly ineffectual halfwit that you can't help but admire. His boss is a cameoing Colin Blakely, and he is armed with some sparkling put-downs, but that's just the problem with the show, every line of dialogue sparkles, and there is a sheen and polish to the script that you don't even see on the big screen these days.

David Reynolds and Frank W Smith share directing duties throughout the run and both stretch the small screen format as much as they can, neither content to just let the action happen, they often embellish scenes with neat little touches, which is admirable for what was afterall just a comedy series.

Topping off the confection is the work of Frank Ricotti, who freely adapts the sounds of Bix Beiderbecke and constucts a freewheeling effortlessly enjoyable soundtrack. My love for jazz was kindled by this show, and I have much to thank Mr Ricotti for.

'The Beiderbecke Tapes' arrived in 1987, three years after the original series, and was shown as a two part 'movie', running to 151 minutes. The format doesn't help what is easily the weakest link in the trilogy. The story does feel padded, and is less coherent than 'Affair'. The characters are less well rounded, and the plot just about hangs together. It is though, despite all of that, an enjoyable romp, filled with enough nice moments to make one forgive the repititve nature of this instalment.

It does struggle for effect, and its storyline of tapes about nasty government business falling into the hands of Trevor and Jill is more than a little contrived. Some pointless globe trotting pads out the running time, but hey, why fight it, it's still better than any Sunday night fayre you'll endure these days. Director Brian Parker seems less at ease with the material than his predecessors and it lacks characters of the depth of the original, but it paves the way nicely for 'Connection'.

'Connection' is a step up in gear, and restores alot, if not all of the first serials characters. Big Al, Little Norm, Hobson and the strange Mr Pitt, who crops up in all three, return for a rousing finale.

Jill and Trevor now have a child, named for the moment at least 'Firstborn'. Trevor reads him stories about Charlie Parker, while Jill tells him all about the blue whale. Big Al and Little Norm provide him with a baby intercom, and provide the parents with a mysterious Russian refugee, Ivan.

Ivan doesn't speak English, but he does speak jazz, and Trevor seems happy to shelter him before driving him to the Yorkshire border at the behest of Big Al. Ivan keeps coming back though, and regardless of which county boundary they deliver him to, he'll be on their doorstep the next day. The comings and goings at the Swinburne residence alert a local curtain twitcher, who in turn alerts the ladder climbing Detective Inspector Hobson who despatches his two most bone-idle officers to tail Trevor and Jill.

Things take a turn for the more interesting when Jill's ex-husband turns up unannounced, and when Ivan suddenly embraces the English language, a little too perfectly.

'Connection' was shown in 1988, and broadcast as a three part serial. The return to the original format helps greatly, and everything is alot more lively. It has a real spring in its step, feeling far more sharp than instalment number two.

George Costigan and Sean Scanlan threaten to steal the show as the worlds most lazy detective constables, but as ever Bolam and Flynn grab the acting honours, effortlessly stepping back into the shoes of Trevor and Jill. Alan Bell directs with a steady hand, and it is a fitting conclusion to the trilogy.

I breezed through the entire collection in a week, and barely noticed the time drift by. The picture and sound quality are hardly amazing, and this a threadbare DVD release by Granada Television. Every expense has been spared which is a shame, but then again £24.99 for over 11 hours of witty and intelligent television prevents one from grumbling too much. It's nice to have Trevor and Jill back in my life, and I know these discs will withstand repeated viewings, because there is always going to be something new to admire with this trilogy.

Sweet.