I watched Smiley’s People on BBC iPlayer recently because I fancied a nostalgia trip back to the days (1982) when viewers were literate and had attention spans, when even bit players could act because they’d all done rep or been voice-coached by Cicely Berry at the RSC, and where directors still had leeway to attempt to create art rather than product.
What I loved – though not quite as much as the scene where Alec Guinness as George Smiley sits imperturbably through a throbbingly percussive live show at a seedy German sex dive – was the refreshing slowness. At one point, Smiley drives into an industrial estate to look for someone in a Portakabin: Smiley studies sign outside; Smiley motors cautiously in; wide-angle shot of estate; close-up of Smiley looking thoughtful behind wheel; shot of rear of car; etc. It took what felt like five minutes, during which you were able fully to immerse yourself in the method, humdrumness and uncertainty of Smiley’s meandering quest. These days, the whole scene would have been over in one savage cut.
Anyway, there’s a new series on the BBC which captures something of those old values. Not a spy drama, but one of those family-friendly comedies of the kind that used to occupy the teatime slot on Sundays. The Reluctant Vampire is adapted from a 1982 children’s book by Eric Morecambe and not only is it well drawn, well acted, likeable and funny but it’s free of any of the wokery normally de rigueur on the BBC these days.
Partly, I suppose it’s because Morecambe is such an icon of the BBC’s golden era that scriptwriters Neil and Rob Gibbons have been given rare leeway to honour that comedic legacy rather than trample all over it. And partly – forgive my cynicism – because they’ve managed to cast an actual dwarf in the title role, relieving the show of any further obligations on the diversity, equity and inclusion front.
Seventeen-year-old Lenny Rush is perfect as Valentine the reluctant vampire. The reason he’s reluctant, you fairly quickly discover (so it’s not really a spoiler), is that he’s actually a human in disguise. He was secretly adopted by his mother who rescued him from a fire while he was a baby. ‘You were going to eat me, weren’t you?’ says Valentine. ‘Maybe a little bit, at first,’ she concedes.
That rejoinder is redolent of the gleefully macabre Roald Dahl-esque tone. These vampires may be lovable and slightly camp, but they really do go round feasting on the blood of humans, whom they treat mercilessly as lightly contemptible prey. When, in episode two, they descend on a Hallowe’en costume party, which they view as a feast, there’s an element of terrifying jeopardy amid the slapstick. Unless Valentine can come up with a solution, sharpish, those partygoers are all going to end up properly exsanguinated.
Valentine’s father Victor (Tom Davis) is oblivious to his son and heir’s true identity. He fondly imagines that Valentine’s inability to fly, his lack of relish for human blood and the fact that he still casts a reflection are merely signs that he is a late developer. Mother Valeeta (Sian Clifford) does her best to cover for her boy, replacing blood with tomato juice, and arranging for the Invisible Woman to lift him up so it looks as if he’s just beginning to learn to take flight.
But the ruse may not work for much longer. Lurking in the wings is Valentine’s resentful younger brother Vernon (Gabriel Nagy), who, being a real vampire, scores much more highly at his father’s impromptu blood-tasting sessions (‘Poor circulation… lavender… the neck of a Flemish merchant’) and is increasingly sceptical of Valentine’s provenance. Perhaps Valentine’s devoted manservant Igon (Asim Chaudhry) – who has but one eye, geddit? – will help frustrate his scheming; as may Bill Bailey and Ross Noble as gargoyles Guy and Gary, two of the funniest roles.
Meanwhile, there’s potential love interest in the form of a local girl called Gertie (Ellie-May Sheridan), whose father happens unfortunately to be the leader of the neighbourhood pitchfork mob dedicated to extirpating the vampire menace. Morecambe was no fool, clearly, when it came to constructing classic comedy set-ups, with all the right characters and plot tensions. Almost inevitably, when Valentine is invited round for tea on his first semi-date, he’s offered a snack he has never encountered before – garlic bread.
Incidentally, the versatile Lenny Rush is also playing a very different character – a repellant, foul-mouthed, rancid-bottomed orphan brat – in the sixth season of Slow Horses. This has one of the better storylines because it involves the Slough House team under mortal threat as a crack Russian his’n’hers hit duo seek to bump them off, expertly and horribly, one by one. But I’m not convinced by the rationale for this killing spree. Are we really to believe that the cool, cynical and ruthless Diana Taverner (Kristin Scott Thomas) would get so het up about Novichok that she would be willing to order (and illicitly finance with money from unknown sources) a retaliatory freelance hit job on a Russian agent in Kazan? Even by Slow Horses standards, this is ludicrously implausible. And also out-of-character – which for a series that stands or falls on character (you’d never accept the convoluted plotting otherwise) is pretty close to inexcusable.
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