In 1971 when Carry On at Your Convenience hit our screens, the series had long since become part of the fabric of British popular entertainment. Never mind the situation, the characters were essentially the same, film after film. The jokes were all as old as the hills, but nobody cared, they were still funny. But it's just too easy to treat them as a job lot of postcard humour and music hall innuendo. This tale of revolt at a sanitary ware factory--Boggs and Son, what else?--certainly chimed in with the state of the nation in the early 1970s when strikes were called at the drop of a hat. Here, tea urns, demarcation and the company's decision to branch out into bidets all wreak havoc. Kenneth Williams as the company's besieged managing director, Sidney James and Joan Sims give their all as usual, but it's the lesser roles that really add some lustre. Hattie Jacques as Sid's budgerigar-obsessed, sluggish put-upon wife and Renee Houston as a superbly domineering battleaxe with a penchant for strip poker remind us that in the hands of fine actors, even the laziest of caricatures become real human beings. --Piers Ford
Setting a Carry On film in a marriage bureau has a certain self-serving obviousness, so it's hardly surprising that Carry On Loving milks the idea for all it's worth. The Wedded Bliss Agency is of course a pretty dubious outfit, being run by Sid (James) and Sophie Bliss (Hattie Jacques), who together are the worst possible example for both marriage and their own profession: they constantly snipe at each other, they aren't actually married and their sophisticated computer matching system is in fact a complete fake. The remainder of the team are mostly cast as hapless clients, with predictable but often very funny situations arising from the various mismatches engineered by the agency, such as the inevitable misunderstanding over one client's interest in modelling. Yes, the humour is about as subtle as a flatulent elephant, but you can't help entering into the spirit of the thing. If there's an outstanding performance it has to be that of Imogen Hassall, who handles her transformation from round-shouldered frump to well-bred love goddess with considerable expertise and a genuine sense of fun. --Roger Thomas
In 1971 when Carry On at Your Convenience hit the screen, the series had long since become part of the fabric of British popular entertainment. Never mind the situation, the characters were essentially the same, film after film. The jokes were all as old as the hills, but nobody cared, they were still funny. But it's just too easy to treat them as a job lot of postcard humour and music hall innuendo. This tale of revolt at a sanitary ware factory--Boggs and Son, what else?--certainly chimed in with the state of the nation in the early 1970s when strikes were called at the drop of a hat. Here, tea urns, demarcation and the company's decision to branch out into bidets all wreak havoc. Kenneth Williams as the company's besieged managing director, Sidney James and Joan Sims give their all as usual, but it's the lesser roles that really add some lustre. Hattie Jacques as Sid's budgerigar-obsessed, sluggish put-upon wife and Renee Houston as a superbly domineering battleaxe with a penchant for strip poker remind us that in the hands of fine actors, even the laziest of caricatures becomes a real human being. On the DVD: Presented in 4:3 format with a good clean print and standard mono soundtrack, Carry On at Your Convenience feels as comfortable as an old pair of shoes. But where's the context? The lack of extras leaves the viewer wanting biographies and some documentary sense of the film's position in the series. The scene index is often arbitrary and the budget packaging means that we don't even get a full cast list. --Piers Ford
Frost On Friday
Based on the novel 'Goosefoot' by Patrick McGinley which tells of a fresh naive and idealistic Irish woman who moves to Dublin yearning for a more exciting life. On her arrival she is plunged into a world of fear when a multiple killer starts to call her.
Setting a Carry On film in a marriage bureau has a certain self-serving obviousness, so it's hardly surprising that Carry On Loving milks the idea for all it's worth. The Wedded Bliss Agency is of course a pretty dubious outfit, being run by Sid (James) and Sophie Bliss (Hattie Jacques), who together are the worst possible argument both for marriage and for their own profession: they constantly snipe at each other, they aren't actually married and their sophisticated computer matching system is in fact a complete fake. The remainder of the team are mostly cast as hapless clients, with predictable but often very funny situations arising from the various mismatches engineered by the agency, such as the inevitable misunderstanding over one client's interest in modelling. Yes, the humour is about as subtle as a flatulent elephant, but you can't help entering into the spirit of the thing. If there's an outstanding performance it has to be that of Imogen Hassall, who handles her transformation from round-shouldered frump to well-bred love goddess with considerable expertise and a genuine sense of fun. On the DVD: The picture ratio is 4:3, and as is usual for this series the disc has no added features, which always seems like a terribly missed opportunity.--Roger Thomas
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