"The Goon Show" on radio in Britain in the 1950s starred several young comedy-legends-to-be. Megastar Peter Sellers, Spike Milligan and Harry Secombe. In its infancy, it also starred comic Michael Bentine, who went on to his own shows.
Before "The Goon Show" found its groove, its stars made the movie "Down Among the Z (Zed) Men." While "The Goon Show" was written by Milligan and Bentine in those days (and later, Milligan almost exclusively), the movie was penned by comedy writer and publican Jimmy Grafton, with some bloke named Francis Charles.
The plot itself, not much worse than many more early cold war plots, concerns a silly scientist, a secret formula and spies. It's full of holes, but it's supposed to be a zany comedy. The script itself isn't particularly funny; and what is funny is typically undercut by poor direction.
The actors are another problem. All the four Goon stars are music hall comics and musicians who recently hit it big on the radio. Even Peter Sellers hadn't quite gotten the hang of film acting at the time. Andrew Timothy, the Goon's first announcer (preceding the legendary Wallace Greenslade) gives the best vocal performance, due to his well-honed radio voice.
But the best performances in the movie are by the Toppers. They were beautiful, even by today's standards and they danced with amazing precision. It's too bad the Goons' performances weren't so well-rehearsed.
One problem with the script are the roles doled out to the Goons. Michael Bentine, as I understand it, is in his typical stand-up role -- he even gets a chance to preserve on film the famous bit he did with a broken chair back, making this film a valuable historical document.
Sellers, who did many voices on the radio, is reduced to one role: a pale Major Bloodnok. On the radio, Bloodnok was venal, thieving, lecherous, traitorous, cowardly and flatulent. The flaccid Bloodnok of this film might have been played by any number of lesser talents than Peter Sellers. And suddenly, near the end, Bloodnok shows a trace of talent in an incongruous stand-up routine that allows Sellers two more voices from his arsenal, but which, unfortunately, isn't very funny. Even if this is a routine Sellers used to play in the Windmill (and I don't know that it is), it's pretty rotten.
Spike Milligan is stuck in the role of the famous Eccles, but he seems not to have had a visual idea of how to portray Eccles (he did much better in the later "Case of the Mukkinese Battle Horn"). Eccles comes off as stupid, but without the redeeming qualities he had on radio.
Then there's Harry Secombe. He would turn in far better film performances in coming years ("Oliver!"). As "The Goon Show" progressed, Secombe's character, Neddy Seagoon, became the lead. Seagoon was brash, arrogant, confident and dumb as a rock. Secombe's character "Harry Jones" (how much sleep did Grafton and Charles lose before coming up with that name?) is like some of the dumber characters portrayed by Bob Hope and Danny Kaye, while lacking their talent, timing and charm. "Harry Jones" does nothing to show why Secombe deserved to be on a show with three men who showed unquestioned genius. He doesn't hold this misbegotten movie together the way Neddie Seagoon anchored the disparate elements of "The Goon Show." The moment where he breaks a record over his head is probably the lowest of the film's low points.
After the dance routines (which involve the Goons only tangentially), the best part of the movie is the big climax, where one of the spies (Graham Stark) tries to eliminate the professor -- but Mike, Spike and Harry are all dressed just alike. The director killed this routine by cutting back and forth. Perhaps the set wasn't big enough to pull back on, but it would have been drolly amusing to see three professors going up and down stairs, in and out of doors, in one long shot. At least the background music is good.
Despite the horror of it all, these are the Goons and any Goon fan must see this flick at least once. And IF that is the Grafton Arms in the pub sequence, "Down Among the Z Men" becomes an even more valuable historical document. Jimmy Grafton's pub was a watering-hole for much of the comedy talent trying to find its niche after World War II. Not only the Goons, but the likes of Tony Hancock were frequenters. The pub still exists, but it's nice to see it as they saw it.
Before "The Goon Show" found its groove, its stars made the movie "Down Among the Z (Zed) Men." While "The Goon Show" was written by Milligan and Bentine in those days (and later, Milligan almost exclusively), the movie was penned by comedy writer and publican Jimmy Grafton, with some bloke named Francis Charles.
The plot itself, not much worse than many more early cold war plots, concerns a silly scientist, a secret formula and spies. It's full of holes, but it's supposed to be a zany comedy. The script itself isn't particularly funny; and what is funny is typically undercut by poor direction.
The actors are another problem. All the four Goon stars are music hall comics and musicians who recently hit it big on the radio. Even Peter Sellers hadn't quite gotten the hang of film acting at the time. Andrew Timothy, the Goon's first announcer (preceding the legendary Wallace Greenslade) gives the best vocal performance, due to his well-honed radio voice.
But the best performances in the movie are by the Toppers. They were beautiful, even by today's standards and they danced with amazing precision. It's too bad the Goons' performances weren't so well-rehearsed.
One problem with the script are the roles doled out to the Goons. Michael Bentine, as I understand it, is in his typical stand-up role -- he even gets a chance to preserve on film the famous bit he did with a broken chair back, making this film a valuable historical document.
Sellers, who did many voices on the radio, is reduced to one role: a pale Major Bloodnok. On the radio, Bloodnok was venal, thieving, lecherous, traitorous, cowardly and flatulent. The flaccid Bloodnok of this film might have been played by any number of lesser talents than Peter Sellers. And suddenly, near the end, Bloodnok shows a trace of talent in an incongruous stand-up routine that allows Sellers two more voices from his arsenal, but which, unfortunately, isn't very funny. Even if this is a routine Sellers used to play in the Windmill (and I don't know that it is), it's pretty rotten.
Spike Milligan is stuck in the role of the famous Eccles, but he seems not to have had a visual idea of how to portray Eccles (he did much better in the later "Case of the Mukkinese Battle Horn"). Eccles comes off as stupid, but without the redeeming qualities he had on radio.
Then there's Harry Secombe. He would turn in far better film performances in coming years ("Oliver!"). As "The Goon Show" progressed, Secombe's character, Neddy Seagoon, became the lead. Seagoon was brash, arrogant, confident and dumb as a rock. Secombe's character "Harry Jones" (how much sleep did Grafton and Charles lose before coming up with that name?) is like some of the dumber characters portrayed by Bob Hope and Danny Kaye, while lacking their talent, timing and charm. "Harry Jones" does nothing to show why Secombe deserved to be on a show with three men who showed unquestioned genius. He doesn't hold this misbegotten movie together the way Neddie Seagoon anchored the disparate elements of "The Goon Show." The moment where he breaks a record over his head is probably the lowest of the film's low points.
After the dance routines (which involve the Goons only tangentially), the best part of the movie is the big climax, where one of the spies (Graham Stark) tries to eliminate the professor -- but Mike, Spike and Harry are all dressed just alike. The director killed this routine by cutting back and forth. Perhaps the set wasn't big enough to pull back on, but it would have been drolly amusing to see three professors going up and down stairs, in and out of doors, in one long shot. At least the background music is good.
Despite the horror of it all, these are the Goons and any Goon fan must see this flick at least once. And IF that is the Grafton Arms in the pub sequence, "Down Among the Z Men" becomes an even more valuable historical document. Jimmy Grafton's pub was a watering-hole for much of the comedy talent trying to find its niche after World War II. Not only the Goons, but the likes of Tony Hancock were frequenters. The pub still exists, but it's nice to see it as they saw it.