KNIGHTS OF GOD - A REVIEWby Tim Munro © 1988 In comparison to the almost totally barren previous five years, 1987 was quite a good twelve months for British telefantasy. Although Doctor Who went down the pan quicker than a quart of Domestos™, two sophisticated and intelligent series provided compensation. BBC2's Star Cops was one, and TVS's Knights of God was the other. This series must've really made the BBC feel sick. Firstly it showed just how far their standards have dropped (this type of action family drama was once the BBC's unrivalled forte) and secondly Knights ventured into the territory of a post-catastrophe Britain - an area the BBC had explored only recently, with rather less successful results (i.e. The Tripods). But worst of all, at a time when the BBC coated Doctor Who in whimsy in order to give it "family appeal," Knights was a family drama of the old school - with suspense, horror, traumatic psychological drama, and realistic violence! That is why I like Knights so much - it was almost like being zapped back to the good old days of Hinchcliffe and so, in many ways, it was a timely reminder of how badly Doctor Who has gone off track. It proves that a series can deal with contemporary issues and serve up unsanitised violence for family audiences without a single squeak of protest from Bloody Mary! Neil Hutchings (of Celestial Tearoom infamy) has leapt on Knights low ratings and concluded that Doctor Who in this style would, therefore, be less popular than JN-T's panto efforts. Hutchings over-looks the fact that Knights was hidden away at on Sunday afternoons - I'd like to see McCoy's Who do any better in that timeslot! Knights is artistically vindicated, at least - its appreciation index was consistently better than Season 24's Doctor Who. This is unsurprising, because Knights was one of those rare and beautiful productions in which everything gelled to produce spellbinding television - so much so that I still find it hard to watch the episodes dispassionately. It is a rare show, which so thoroughly convinces one of its reality. The production values of Knights were worthy of a feature film: masses of action set-pieces and stunts; helicopters; whole armies of extras; and armouries of real weapons. Studio sets were rarely - if at all - used, and the locations ranged from one end of the British Isles to the other (at least, that's what it looked like). Everything was epic in scale, convincing one that the new-born nation of "Anglia" extended way beyond what we could see. Mind you, Knights was not just another glossy shoot-em-up runaround. The scale was rigidly controlled - it had to be an epic, because the story would not have worked without a violent backdrop, but it never went beyond its requirements. Not one stunt or pyrotechnic display seemed gratuitous. One feels that TVS provided exactly the resources needed, but no more than that. Compare this to the BBC's handling of The Tripods, where Auntie Beeb decided that she wanted a big budget SF epic and only then worried about the scripts. One gets the impression that Knights producer Anna Home was handed the script by Richard Cooper, and only then decided that it would have to be such a big budget production. Interestingly, despite the scale of the show, it only cost £750,000 ($1.6m) more than Season 24 and, despite being denied access (because it was filmed) to all the technical gimmickry of Doctor Who, Knights could get more drama into three minutes than Who summoned up in fourteen episodes. Worse, it produced far more innovative imagery! The show is visually flawless - it all looks real. The Knights' operation room has a hard metallic feel, and their Chapel picks up the gothic, feudal atmosphere which runs through the whole production. Costume design was superb - no glittery sequins and lurex here! Anglia's people looked ragged and threadbare; Colley's (Don Henderson) rebels are dirty and weather-beaten - one can quite believe they've spent twenty years living rough. The Knights are smart in shining black, with only the scarlet of the Order's emblem to brighten the dehumanising uniforms. The cloaks used by the Knights in the Chapel emphasised the medieval look, giving them a high-backed, Richard III appearance. The directors, Michael Kerrigan and Andrew Morgan, handled the immense scale of Knights with a confidence that the latter sadly lacked for Time and the Rani. The camerawork is continually skilful and precise, culminating in episode 13's breathtaking Battle of Winchester. The raw brutality - especially as dealt out by would-be Prior Hugo (Julian Fellowes) - is not glossed over à la The A Team: deaths are presented with unsettling honesty and the sadistic thuggery of the participants is hammered home. The cliff-hangers were really good, none being substandard, some leaving one gasping for breath afterwards! None of them were forced melodrama, the most effective being the endings to episodes 10 and 12. The former acts as a, "Blimey, what happens next?" cliff-hanger: Prior Mordrin (John Woodvine), well on his way to mania, stands in the Chapel and lifts up his recently-acquired crown. This works perfectly - the flickering candlelight, the manic expression of Woodvine, fanfare music and the final freeze-frame creates a wonderfully powerful image. Episode 12's epitomises the action cliff-hanger: Gervase (George Winter) has discovered his true identity and the killer impulse, implanted in his mind by Mordrin, takes hold. With Julia (Claire Parker) in pursuit, he flees across the countryside to the cliffs. These shots are inter-cut with Mordrin in the Chapel, confirming earlier hints that he and Gervase are mentally linked. The deranged Prior seems to know what the boy is doing, even though there are hundreds of miles between them. Brilliant footage of Gervase running, and aerial shots of Julia following, lead to the climax: we see through Gervase's eyes as he nears the cliff and then.... The camera goes over the edge, the beach far below swinging up into view. In the Chapel, Mordrin is seen from the rafters; he jerks upwards, arms spread wide, crown in one hand, grinning deliriously as he screams a terrifying, triumphant, "Yeeeesss!!" The frame freezes on him as the theme tune crashes in. Backed by Christopher Gunning's brilliant score, this is a marvellous cliff-hanger - it totally convinces one that Gervase has gone over the cliff and that Mordrin has won at last. Even after repeated re-viewing, this episode conclusion never seems to lose its power. Others deserving a mention include episode 9's confrontation between Mordrin and Arthur (Patrick Troughton), which culminates with the tormented Gervase about to stab the latter. Episode 6 has Gervase blown from his motorcycle in slow-motion; episode 4 sees Julia pursued and then machine-gunned by one of the Order's helicopters - one would never have thought that black helicopters could be as sinister as Kerrigan and Morgan make them! All of these cliff-hangers arise naturally out of the story and even the ones that are not obviously dramatic are carried through by powerful writing, acting and direction. There is no grafting of unnecessary dramatic threats onto the episodes, as with Dragonfire. Care also went into the soundtrack. The theme and incidental music are magnificent, and the reliance on orchestral backing emphasises the epic realism. The theme is haunting and militaristic, while the incidentals always complemente the visuals, especially in the case of the mystical choral piece that serves as Arthur's theme. This resurfaces in more idyllic form as Gervase and Julia's theme, and finally becomes almost pseudo-Howard's Way for episode 12's sweeping aerial shots of the yacht taking them to the island monastery. It is criminal that this score isn't available on record and no doubt - like The Prisoner - we will probably have to wait a decade for it to become so. Knights of God's great strength was in its script. Do not believe Starburst's Paul Mount, who called it, "dour," and, "pessimistic." Episode 13 is marvellously optimistic, and humour is scattered throughout the serial - a dry humour used by the Welsh as a form of self-defence, and by the early, sane Prior Mordrin as a way of putting down the over-zealous brother Hugo:
MORDRIN: These executions.... They are having some effect? Other than the rather drastic one on the people we shoot? The reliance on complicated - but not confusing - plot, three-dimensional characters and sharp dialogue sets Knights above most 1987 television. These days, spectacle is all, and can apparently excuse massive plot holes, but Knights is different - it is like a '70s series, when audiences expected to work for their entertainment and weren't treated as Grade Z morons by the programme makers. Richard Cooper is a superb writer who put phenomenal work into Knights of God. Evidently, he expected a sophisticated audience, so never patronised his viewers, and made no compromise in his portrayal of dangerous moral and political issues. He dumped us in the Anglia of 2020, and left us to get on with it, assuming intelligence on our part. He bombarded the viewer with information - Anglia is a credible concept because of the detail he packed in. One feels that he worked out the history, politics and geography of the new Britain before he even started work on the script, and bore in mind even minor details that go almost unnoticed. Often a throwaway line makes a point, as in episode 3, when Mordrin is on the communicator to Hugo:
HUGO: Some rioting again.... Bristol and Cambridge. I said it was a mistake to reopen the University. Cooper uses the mammoth length of Knights to expand ideas slowly and naturally, dropping clues as he goes. He adds even more detail in the novelisation, particularly about the status of Canterbury, and the treatment of the new regime by the rest of the world (US arms embargo, etc.) - I recommend this book without reservation. Another reason for Anglia's reality is that it is an extrapolation of modern trends. Cooper calls it a warning against right-wing, "God-is-on-our-side," religious cults, and the Knights are such a body. Their god is the God of the Old Testament, and in episode 2 Mordrin used a litany astonishing in its naked sadism:
MORDRIN: Curse with famine, perish with sickness, blight, break, burn.... all who stand against us! There is no thought or logic to their fanaticism. Cooper is clever enough to avoid direct confrontation with the Andertons of this world, though: the Knights are not Christian, by any means. Camp 15's Governor calls Christianity, "a religion of slaves." The Church is Mordrin's enemy, confined to its city state of Canterbury (shades of the Vatican in WWII), and the Archbishop talks of, "the real God, before the Knights perverted that word." In episode 2, copies of the New Testament are prominent among the prisoners' confiscated belongings at Camp 15. Perhaps this is why the religious lobby has been uncharacteristically silent about Knights - superficially it is about the defeat of an un-Christian dictatorship by the restoration of a Christian Monarchy. As usual, the subtlety has sailed past Saint Mary of Whitehouse - the Knights may not be Christian in name, but their philosophy is identical to that of certain "Born Again" Christian outfits. The nation that Gervase envisages at the end of the series is a secular one of tolerance and unity - true Christianity at last! The Resistance doesn't seek to restore our Britain - the picture of the late twentieth century painted by Camp 15's Governor is vivid and familiar: mass unemployment, riots, a bitter North/South divide, and, ultimately, a civil war, out of which an opportunist crackpot religion seizes power. In many ways, our Britain created the Order of the Knights of God. The history that Cooper describes could be happening now. Part of the fun lies in piecing together the plot from the hints that Cooper feeds us. He delights in frustrating our expectations - long after we've sussed that Gervase himself is the King, we're given no confirmation. Episode 11 ends with the Archbishop of Canterbury dying on the verge of revealing all! In episode 8, Cooper actually turns his audience against Arthur, who seems to do nothing to save Gervase from the Wastelanders' "justice," and looks inhumanly callous. Audience and characters all turn against him, yet in episode 13 he is vindicated entirely. With characters, too, there are hints here and hints there, carried by credible dialogue. Cooper writes depths into them, but does so concisely, and with a humour that can be rather cruel at times, as in episode 13, when Mordrin is fussing over who will crown him, with his doctor (Michael Sheard) by his side:
DOCTOR: Napoleon needed no bishops - he crowned himself. Who are all madmen supposed to think they are...? Cooper also rejects stereotypes. Gervase is, at first , a scowling and petulant teenager, unfit for the Crown that awaits him. Mordrin is amoral, rather than evil, and fired by a fanatical patriotism that none of the other Knights have. Hugo is a cowardly opportunist; Wilson - the young Knight who kind of befriends Gervase - is in it for the food, clothing and shelter; the Knight who bullies Gervase at Camp 15 is just in for the sadism; and even Brother Simon (an unsettling portrayal by Nigel Stock of Mordrin's old comrade-in-arms, stricken by some incurably fatal ailment - just as Stock was and so never lived to see his performance on screen) and Williams owe their loyalty to Mordrin personally, rather than the Order as a whole. The Resistance can be said to be evil: Gervase calls them worse than the Knights; the Caernarfon raid is indiscriminate slaughter until Owen (Gareth Thomas) intervenes, and Colley is a butcher who would probably be bored stiff if the Resistance won! Nor is the conclusion so naïve as it first appears. Amidst all the national anthems, the stirring victory, and the unfurling of the Union Flag once more, there are hints that Gervase will not be a brilliant King - he has still not come to terms with his role. He gazes at the Crown with fear and bewilderment, and it is clear that he will have to lean on Julia's love to support him through his reign, as he has throughout his ordeal. The quality of the script attracted a stunning cast, many of whom happily played quite minor roles. John Woodvine's Prior Mordin is a thoroughly convincing portrayal of a man destroyed by his own obsessions. George Winter catches Gervase perfectly, going from rebellious youth, through tortured suffering, to insecure and frightened King. His mannerisms and posture seem to mature before our eyes, reaching a climax in episode 13, with Gervase delivering his broadcast to the nation in a manner so similar to Edward VIII's abdication that George Winter must've been studying the recordings. Julian Fellowes turns Hugo into a multi-faceted and fascinating villain, capable of startling switches of mood and skilful manipulation of cleverer people around him. Gareth Thomas bravely returns to playing resistance leaders, and gives Owen a complexity and credibility that always seemed to elude Roj Blake. Shirley Stelfox's Beth complements him perfectly - you can believe they have weathered twenty traumatic years together. Patrick Troughton's genius is underlined by his weary Arthur, full of idealism, but nursing the secret pain of guilt; and Nigel Stock catches perfectly the dogged loyalty of Brother Simon. Both men are greatly missed. John Vine engages one's sympathy very well as the abused Williams, with a sensitive and well-judged performance. Don Henderson is perfectly viscous as Colley - a born hunter and a brutal killer. Even minor characters are memorable, from Crispin de Nys's hateful Knight and Michael Lees's suppressed-sadist governor in episodes 2 and 3, through Spencer Leigh's credible Wilson, to David Lyon's decent but doomed Archbishop of Canterbury. Anne Stallybrass plays the embittered Nell - who nurses Julia back to health - with matchless skill, and Barrie Cookson is splendid as Brigadier Clarke, picking his way so cautiously through his dealings with Mordrin - they respect, but neither trust nor like each other. Even Chris Bowen's helicopter pilot is little seen, but memorably real. Only one character doesn't quite come off and this is Claire Parker's Julia Clarke. It is Julia's love that sustains Gervase through his ordeal, but - inevitably - this means that the relationship is seen mainly from his point of view, and so Julia lacks the complex written depths of the other characters. Ms Parker's performances are patchy, therefore, and she seems to be struggling to get a fix on the role - at the start of episode 6 she seems embarrassingly false. Fortunately, as things get moving and Gervase's reliance on her grows, Claire Parker finds her feet and gives the part life, if not depth, particularly in the scenes with Troughton's Arthur, and Nell's death. The Gervase/Julia romance is also nicely, credibly played and developed, and George Winter and Claire Parker have a natural rapport that makes these scenes flow very well. Some think that Knights is too grim, others that it is just a load of futuristic Arthurian nonsense, but such people are only looking at the surface. Even the Arthurian references are just one of many devices that Richard Cooper uses to evoke a medieval feel - Brother Tyrell echoes Richard III, and Hugo's revelation of Mordrin's ambitions to the Council ("To show the people what? That we again have a King in this land?") is a direct lift from Julius Caesar. The piece is shot through with meaning and allegory, and - like The Prisoner - the more one watches, the more one sees. Knights of God is a skilfully-crafted piece of telefantasy worthy of the title "classic," and a powerful warning against the forces of bigotry and intolerance, disguised as religious morality, which increasingly threaten our society. As such, it deserves closer and more detailed analysis than we can give it here - analysis that begins next issue with a profile of the founder of the Order of the Knights of God, John Woodvine's stunning creation, the Prior Mordin. NOTES: Minor punctuation and grammatical changes from the original printed version.
Knights of God Episode Guide (#6) Return to Star Begotten #5 Listing
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