BY TIM GREAVES
Between the early 1950s and mid 1980s the Children's Film
Foundation was a non-profit making establishment behind dozens of films aimed
at a young audience, most of them screening as programme constituents at
Saturday morning 'Picture Shows'. I didn't catch many of these during my own
childhood. But I do recall a couple of particularly enjoyable ones that I did get to see in the early 1970s: Cry Wolf (1969) and All at Sea (1970), both of which are conspicuously absent from the
half dozen or so collections issued on DVD to date. Many of the CFF’s films had
a run-time of around an hour, although there were also a number of serials in
their catalogue. Masters of Venus was
one such production. Comprising eight 15-minute instalments, it arrives on DVD
in the UK in a restored release from BFI.
On the day prior to mankind's first mission to Venus, chief
scientist Dr Ballantyne (No Road Back's
Norman Wooland) is being assisted with last minute preparations on the
rocketship Astarte by his two intellectual children, Jim (Robin Stewart) and
Pat (Amanda Coxell). When the base is infiltrated by a pair of sinister,
ray-gun-toting saboteurs the siblings' only route of escape is the Astarte; it blasts
off and catapults them, along with two technicians, into space. When it
transpires the Chinese are on the verge of launching their own exploratory rocket
ship, rather than guide his children home Ballantyne asks that they continue to
Venus in order to secure Great Britain's place in history. Upon their arrival the
team are made welcome by the planet’s inhabitants, but it soon becomes apparent
that a plan to invade the Earth is underway.
Shot on sets at Pinewood Studios, this sub-Flash Gordon-esque serial was directed by Ernest Morris (as prolific
a second unit director as he was an occupant of the centre seat) from an
endearingly dumbed down Michael Barnes screenplay: "They'll be on the trip
for several weeks, you know," remarks Ballantyne casually (Weeks?! More
like months!).
It takes a while to get to Venus – it's episode 4 before our heroes
arrive – but curiously enough at this point, where the fun factor ought to
escalate, things become less interesting and the plot meanders through a clichéd
few episodes of political insurrection whilst the humans collaborate with
friendly Venusians to bring down the rebel faction.
Where most of the adult characters in CFF films are inept – or at
best ineffectual to the point of comical – the very purpose of these movies was to allow the kids to shine. Both youngsters here
are likeable enough and outsmart their elders regularly. Amanda Coxell (the nom de guerre adopted by Mandy Harper)
had worked regularly as a child actor but as she got a little older her career
wound down (Masters of Venus was in
fact one of her last pieces of work). Robin Stewart on the other hand made that
tricky transition from child to adult actor very successfully, carving out a
career that found him lead roles in such films as The Legend of the 7 Golden Vampires for Hammer and The Haunted House of Horror, as well as
a lead role as Sid James' son in a 65-episode run of TV sitcom Bless This House. There’s worthy support
from The Revenge of Frankenstein's
Arnold Diamond, From Russia With Love's
George Pastell, Where Eagles Dare's
Ferdy Mayne and Zienia Merton (who later became a regular face on TV’s Space: 1999). The effects of pretty
respectable given the shoestring budget – the Astarte itself is a nicely Gerry
Anderson-esque hunk of space hardware – while Eric Rogers (best known for his
whimsical scores on a couple of dozen Carry
On entries) supplies suitably dramatic musical accompaniment to the action.
With a total running time of just over two hours, if you were to
lose the “Our story so far…†and “See next week’s exciting episode to find out…â€
bookends and a little of the loquacious padding you're probably looking at a decent
90-minute adventure. In any event, it is what it is and Masters of Venus will certainly find an appreciative audience among
those who remember it from their halcyon childhood days (which, to be fair, is
a statement applicable nowadays to all the CFF's output).
The BFI’s DVD presents the 8-part black-and-white serial in
its original 1.66:1 ratio. Transferred from the best extant elements held
at the BFI National Archive, there are occasionally patches of detritus
accumulation in evidence and a couple of episodes bear some
light vertical scratching, but overall picture quality is fine given
the age of the material. The PCM 2.0 mono sound labours under varying
degrees of crackle but seldom is it too intrusive. There are no additional
features.
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