James reviews The Footage Detectives on talking pictures TV, Dogs Behaving (Very) Badly on 5* and Reach for the Sky (1957) on Film4

Hello, I’m James Brook, and welcome to the nineteenth episode of ‘I Review Freeview.’ 

There is a short intro podcast, which you can listen to if you like. But really it’s straightforward: you suggest upcoming Freeview programs and I review them. If no-one suggests anything, then I have a look and choose something myself. 

Remember: send suggestions and comments to contact@ireviewfreeview.com or go to IReviewFreeview.com. 

And don’t forget, on IReviewFreeview.com, is the page ‘What’s up next’ where you can see what I’m intending to review in the next episode. The delight is such, words fail me!

In this episode, I will review: 

The Footage Detectives on talking pictures TV

Dogs Behaving (Very) Badly on 5* and

Reach for the Sky (1957) on Film4

That’s an amiable bloke making a living sorting out dog behaviour, what looks like two old chaps discussing bits of old film and a blast from the past: bandits at 10 o’clock! Neeeooowww!! Rat-a-tat-tat! Rat-a-tat-tat! 

By the way, the image for this episode was generated by a free AI image generator with the prompt:

The silhouettes of a man with a crank handle film camera filming a jumping dog, while overhead a single engined WW2 spitfire fighter zooms high into the sky.

It took me quite a while to end up with the image used. Ending the prompt with ‘.. a spitfire zooming overhead’ caused the creation of inventive and mostly imaginary aeroplanes. But once I added more definition, it started to behave itself. Which all makes me think: am I training AI, or is AI training me? Sadly, I think it’s probably the latter.

And with that sombre thought, here we go:

The Footage Detectives (Series 2 Episode 121) on talking pictures TV, Monday 27th May, 7:00pm

This is the first cousin of all those travel programs I try so hard to avoid. You know the sort of thing, ‘Celebs by bus to Istanbul’ - or - God save me ‘Somebody I’ve never heard of wanders around Africa, trying the food.’ All full of low-grade banter and annoying people you wouldn’t want to meet on a station platform.

‘The Footage Detectives’ are two old codgers - Noel and Mike - sitting in a quirkily accessorised man cave. They don’t physically travel anywhere. Their journey starts and ends in the past, with vast bucket loads of nostalgia as currency. 

By the way, ‘man cave’ is probably a euphemism for a corner in the garage where they keep recording equipment, two chairs and assorted junk.

The first item is Googie Withers extolling Lux beauty soap, the last a small debate on who played bass guitar in a pop group. Inbetween is a beguiling smorgasbord of chat, reminiscence, viewer input, home movies and what might loosely be termed anything else old and interesting enough to add flavour to the pudding.

And if you didn’t understand either ‘Googie Withers’ or ‘Lux beauty soap’ then this is probably not the program for you, unless you’re doing research for your Nana’s 80th birthday party.

It moves swiftly, few items taking longer than a minute or two: a magazine format to keep you constantly wondering if a specific one of your own memories will be jogged. Very often items start with an email along the lines of ‘when I was a child in 1950s Greater Muckham in the Mire, a special treat on a Saturday was Bloggs fizzy lemonade. Does anyone else remember this wonderful drink? Love your program: such memories!’

All emails, by the way, end with how much they love the program.

Noel and Mike will then show an advert for Bloggs fizzy lemonade and ask other viewers to write in, so next week they’ll have a little tasty update to share.

Understandably, sweet confections and food in one form or another play a large part, from biscuit memories through wonderloaf to a chocolate quiz. Someone sent in a couple of ‘Spanish sticks’ for the presenters to try, and someone else a Valentine’s card.

There’s also amateur movie footage of the 1951 festival of Britain and still shots of limehouse. 

Pride of place is reserved for rare home movies of Elvis Presley pretending he doesn’t know he’s being filmed and Roger Moore, fatly wrapped in an overcoat and holding an umbrella, looking decidedly unimpressed at a couple of cars.

It’s all very amiable and easy: I enjoyed it very much, in the same way I enjoy an afternoon nap while watching Bargain Hunt. 

I’ve no desire to put it on series record, but if you believe the postbag, ‘The Footage Detectives’ is a must watch for many. The pull of nostalgia is strong.

But in this case, not for me. Maybe it’s because none of the items spoke to me personally, except for perhaps the footage of the festival of Britain. I went, aged 7 or so, and remember gawking at the skylon, but I’ve never felt a compulsion to share the experience, or send in grainy box-brownie photos to prove it.

This is probably my loss, but I can live with it.

Moving on:

Dogs Behaving (Very) Badly (Series 6 Episode 7) on 5*, Monday 27th May, 8:00pm

When I had a dog, I’d always watch ‘Dogs behaving (very) badly’ for hints and tips. And I still watch, as it’s a useful way of reminding you that what works for a dog often works for grandchildren.

After all, having a dog is a bit like having a permanent 4 year old around the place. Open a fridge door and there’s an immediate patter of small feet. Cheese! Sausages! Goodies dropped on the floor!

Genial Graeme Hall, aka ‘The Dogfather’ tootles around in his land rover (number plate ‘T1 DOG’) solving doggy problems. Any dog, any size, any problem and Graeme’s your man. Also, I think I caught sight of him - complete with trademark cravat - on one of those crinklies vs oldies hearing aid encrusted ‘University Challenges.’ So he’s no slouch.

He drives up to a small house, parks and knocks on the door: rat-ta-tat-tat!

Jill, retired, ushers him in. She has two collie sheepdogs (Jack and Freddy) who freak out whenever she tries to leave. And if she makes for bed, Jack becomes worryingly threatening. 

Graeme does what he always does: sniff around and observe, followed up by a friendly but probing chat before finally expounding a theory along with a plan of action. 

He discovers the dogs have never been on a lead and now get no exercise. He thinks they think Jill is a sheep that has to be kept in the house, hence the frantic reaction when she makes to leave. His solution? Well, to start, get them used to being out of the house, running around, doing what dogs normally do. Get rid of that pent-up energy. So they’re bundled into his land rover and taken to a useful fenced in field complete with some car tyres stuck in the ground.

The dogs peer out doubtfully, but with a bit of encouragement, cautiously emerge, and soon they’re sniffing around and having a run. Graeme gets out a ball gun and fires some gayly coloured balls for them to chase. They get the harnesses on and the dogs - as they did in the house - become immobile.

‘Best now to do nothing,’ says Graeme, and he and Jill go and sit on a tyre a little distance away.

In the end, the dogs can stand it no longer, and come over to join them.

By the end of the day, they’re walking pretty much on lead, and things are much improved.

Leaving them to bed down, Graeme departs to drive 135 miles to North London where Julie and son Luke have a big dog/little dog problem. Bruno (a rottweiler weighing in at perhaps 50+ kilos) is terrorising Jock (an elderly Westie of maybe 7 kilos).

It’s not really a fair fight, and Julie and Luke deploy garden chairs, umbrellas and large screens to keep the two apart. When things get too bad, Bruno is sent to the prison under the stairs, lured in with a treat.

Arms folded, Graeme observes. There’s a lot of barking and jumping around. The screens are put in place, sectioning off the house. Jock peers nervously from halfway up the stairs.

Everyone in the house, human and animal, is stressed out. Graeme asks, what do you do now? Luke, rather hopelessly, says ‘I don’t know.’

Mum Julie throws a treat into the prison, Bruno follows, and a temporary peace is gained.

In the living room, with Jock now proudly and happily nestled contentedly on a lap, Graeme launches into an explanation. The more tense and nervous you are, he tells them, the more anxious Bruno will get. It’s a vicious circle. You have to stay calm. Bin the brollies!

So the aim is to get both dogs in the same room, calmly accepting the other’s presence. To do this he’s going to teach Bruno the ‘down’ command. 

Jock is taken away and Graeme, with the help of treats and praise, gets Bruno lying on the floor. 

Over and over, the command is repeated: ‘down.’ Whenever Bruno obeys he’s rewarded: ‘good boy,’ a pat on the head, a ruffle under the chin, maybe a treat.

We are not told how long this process of re-engineering a dog’s brain takes: one imagines it’s pretty lengthy and tedious. But - like watching match of the day - we just see the highlights.

Eventually, Julie has a go. ‘Down?’ she says. Bruno remains upright. ‘Make your voice inevitable,’ says Graeme. She tries again. ‘Down.’ Bruno drops to the floor.

After a few more tries, Jock is bought in. Bruno lies down, is rewarded and everyone remains calm. “It’s brilliant!” says Julie.

Progress! Graeme, feeling victorious, drives some 205 miles to Bolton to meet Sanjay and his dachshund, Coco.

Whenever Sanjay meets someone, Coco bounces up and down on her little legs and barks, like a wind-up toy with an infinite spring.

She can keep going for 20 minutes or more. And, for so a small dog, the bark is loud. A conversation destroyer.

Graeme knows what to do. As so often with this program, regular watchers will know exactly what is going to happen. Our pleasure comes in being proved right. As expected, Graeme organises a stranger to come up and start chatting to Sanjay. Coco barks and barks and is ignored. Eventually she stops for a couple of seconds, then starts again.

“Whoops, you’ve missed it” says Graeme, “when she stops, that’s when you give praise.”

 “Sorry!” says Sanjay.

They talk on. Coco stops barking. Sanjay pats her on the head. “Good girl.” Coco resumes, but less convincingly. When she stops, praise is given, and soon, she’s stopped altogether.

They go to a cafe and meet the Bolton sausage dog club. The now familiar pattern is repeated: Coco barks. Coco stops barking. Coco is praised. After a while Coco gives up and starts sniffing noses and bums and all is good.

Job done, Graeme drives off, like the Lone Ranger, into the sunset. To round off a busy week, he returns to Jill and her two collies, Jack and Freddy. They might now be walking on a lead, but they still go mental when she leaves the house and Jack is truly threatening when she wants to go to bed.

Graeme thinks Jack is the problem. Once he’s fixed, Freddy will follow. Meantime, the commentary goes into overdrive with unnecessary and obvious Jack and Jill references. 

Graeme teaches Jack the ‘sit’ command. As always, repetition is key. Once Graeme has Jack sitting in the corner, Jill has a go. She manages to get into bed and Jack doesn’t object.

And when she wants to leave the house, the ‘sit’ command is deployed again, everyone relaxs and Jill escapes the house without a single bark of protest. 

Once more, Graeme drives off into the sunset. An excellent week for the dogfather!

OK, so most of the problems are routine and routinely solved. One wonders why, instead of paying Graeme to visit, clients don’t just watch the back catalogue and have a go themselves.

But then again, dogs, like children, can stop you thinking straight.

And, on this note: the other day my eldest daughter and I were talking on a sofa. Smallest small person, aged 2 and a half, came bossily in and said ‘stop talking!’ A command she repeated many, many times. We ignored her and went on chatting. Eventually, she stopped.

My daughter said ‘well done!’

I said ‘Good girl!’ and patted her on the head.

After a couple of repetitions, she clambered up between us and happily snuggled down.

Thank you Graeme!

And to finish, a blast from the past.

Reach for the Sky (1957) on Film4, Tuesday May 28, 3:35pm 

Being a boomer, my childhood was suffused with world war two. Spitfires, rationing and good ‘ole Winnie were woven into the fabric of society. Golden syrup! Sweets in jars! Paraffin heaters, half-burnt chestnuts, maggots in apples and, of course, in the local cinema, a steady diet of Pathe news - cocka-doodle-doo - and British war films: ‘The Colditz story’; ‘The wooden horse’; ‘The cruel sea’; ‘The dam busters.’ You get the idea. We’d just won the war and had to congratulate ourselves by reliving the triumph.

And sitting in my memory, pride of place, is ‘Reach for the sky.’

Sadly, I don’t think they make biographical films like this anymore. Heroes now need feet of clay and if they did a remake it would be with an ironic twist, masking the innocent patriotism with a veneer of cynicism. As if to say, golly gosh, here’s some insider jokes and an anachronism or two, to show we don’t really mean it.

So it is refreshing, indeed bracing, to watch something so unabashedly stiff-upper-lipped, patriotic and celebratory. 

Mind you, that hasn’t stopped me writing much of this in dialogue which, putting it mildly, is not one of my strong points.

Kenneth More, affable, crinkly-haired film star of the 1950s, plays spirited flyer Douglas Bader who crashes, loses his legs but is undaunted. He’s soon back up and attem.

Lurch lurch. “They said I’d never walk without a stick, but I can!” Lurch lurch. Clunk! “Ooooff! Thelma, I suppose this means we can get married!”

(girl) “That’s the most romantic proposal a girl’s ever had!”

Ding-dong, ding-dong, organ music, (wedding march) confetti!

(Upper class) “Sorry Douglas, you can’t fly. You’re legless!”

Doom and gloom and golf.

“Ha Ha! I see Hitler’s invaded France. I shall try to fly again.”

(Upper class) “Ok Douglas, we need pilots. You can fly again.” 

“Jolly Good! Hurrah!”

(Upper class) “Here’s a dispirited squadron of Canadians for you.”

“Hurrah! Get me into that Spitfire, I’ll show them!” Neee-wooow, loop the loop!

(Canadian) “My Gawd, he can fly!”

“Right, you scruffy lot, you’re all going to get new uniforms and smarten up!”

(Canadian) “Yes Sir!”

Rat-a-tat-tat! Bandits on your tail! Rat-a-tat-tat! Neeeeowwww, crash, boom!That’s the battle of Britain won and never was so much owed by so many to so few. Now we’ll fight them over France! Rat-a-tat-tat! Bang! Damn! Neeee-wooow! Half a plane left, a stuck foot and in a death-dive. 

(Upper class) “I’m terribly, terribly sorry, Thelma. Douglas has been shot down.” 

(girl) “Oh no!” Ring ring! “Yes? Oh! Douglas is a prisoner, can we send over another leg?”

(Upper class) “Of course we can!” 

(German) “Achtung! The flyer with no legs has escaped again! Send him to Colditz!”

Well, that’s the war won, so let’s finish with an air display over London. Hurrah!

A hugely enjoyable, sincere film of its time for its time. We all need heroes, but not every flying hero has a cape.

And that only slightly mangled quote from Michael Jordan concludes the reviews for this episode of ‘I Review Freeview.’

Don’t forget, contact me through the website Ireviewfreeview.com or email contact@ireviewfreeview.com.

And, also on IreviewFreeview.com, click on the page tagged ‘What’s up next.’ and see what programs I’ll be reviewing next time.

Thank you for listening, and goodbye for now.