Was That Film Really That Bad??? North Sea Hijack

"You lucky people!" was the catchphrase of Tommy Trinder, and whilst you may not know who Mr Trinder was, you will, by the end of this post, most certainly agree with the sentiment of that catchphrase in relation to this bespoke piece of British cinematic history. Ahem.

There is a sitcom idea in there somewhere...

North Sea Hijack (nee ffolkes, nee Assault Force, nee Demolition Squad Atlantic) is an "action" film based on the novel "Esther, Ruth and Jennifer" by Jack Davies, who also wrote the screenplay for the movie. It stars Roger Moore, Anthony Perkins, David Hedison, James Mason and so many British TV actors that you'll be constantly shouting out "Weren't they in... you know, that one that was on a Sunday night..." if you sit down to watch this movie. 

The plot is fairly straight forward: Perkins and his team of ne'er do wells hijack a North Sea oil rig support vessel (I can see where they got the title from then...) and plant explosives on the largest of the rigs and its support platform in order to get a ransom of £25m out of the British Government. It is up to private contractor Roger Moore as Rufus Excalibur ffolkes (I shit you not!) and his team of ex-special forces dudes to stop Perkins from getting the ransom and blowing up the platforms. However, the way the film sets this up is that Moore's team have already been given a heads up by the insurance industry that such a thing might happen and then, by huge coincidence, Perkin's mob rock up to do such a thing. Hmmm... Anyway, and SPOILERS, the good guys win, the bad guys loose. See, now you don't have to watch this. 

Oh, you expected Moore? Are three paragraphs not enough? Are you not entertained? Oh well, on your head be it...

Do this and it'll at least numb the pain of watching.

The cast then, and we have both Moore and Perkins playing against type. The former is a hard drinking, cat-loving, needle-working, misogynist ex-commando (put that on a dating site and see what you get back!); the latter a twitchy though steely eyed nut job. Think proto-Die Hard Alan Rickman without the good one liners or the suit but with woollen pullovers. To be fair to both, they're given little to do as the script is pretty bare (just how many times can we repeat how much the oil rigs are worth?) and the direction by Andrew V. McLaglen (son of Victor) is as dull as ditch water/any "Light" beer you care to mention and a good few that are beneath mention/the water you use to soak potatoes in (delete as applicable). Whilst you could put forward the argument that ffolkes is just Bond after he let himself go, he's not quite that one dimensional, and kudos must be given for ffolkes having a black cat called Enoch. For those of you too young for political gags of that vintage, trust me, it raised a smile. Mind you, Moore's facial hair convinces less than the later work done on his hair in the likes of A View to a Kill and if you matched Moore's character drink for drink, you'd be rat-arsed by the end. This may not necessarily be a bad thing...

Perkins in his best "Terrorist Woollen" from the Freemans Catalogue.

Hedison is his usual serious self, always looking comfortable gripping a telephone receiver, though I do feel that since his days on Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea, he never quite hit the limelight he deserved. James Mason just about picks up his cheque, as well as second billing, as a crusty Royal Navy Admiral whilst Jack Watson delivers a good performance as the Norwegian captain of Esther. Incidentally, this was his third film with Roger Moore within a three year period: they co-starred in The Wild Geese and The Sea Wolves, both rather decent movies if you get a chance to watch them though, it must be said, both films suffer from the same lacklustre direction of McLaglan. Honestly, I didn't think it was possible to direct films with all of the vim and vigour of Marvin the Paranoid Android, but McLaglan does it each and every time!

Nothing will happen in the next half hour... or hour...

The rest of the cast are good enough though comment must be made on Faith Brook as the Prime Minister. No, she's not bad in channeling Mrs Thatcher, it's just that in her first appearance onscreen, she looks like she's wearing a cross between the winner's gown from that year's Come Dancing and my grandma's net curtains. In fact, I'd go as far to say that Ballroom Thatcher might have been a winner in the '83 election even without the Falklands War boost! Think of the merch ideas for action figures: Tank Driving Thatcher, Milk Monitor Thatcher, Coal-Miner Thatcher and my personal, and local, favourite, Steel Worker Thatcher. Action Man would have had no chance!

Ballroom Thatcher!

Back to the film and you know there is something up when it starts and the music is all LOUD, EXCITING, STIRRING and LOUD (again)! This, gentle reader, is the first sign that this is not an action film, protesting too much so early on. Oh, there's lots of earnest telephone conversations, lots of examples of ffolkes' "idiosyncratic" character (which has not travelled well to be honest) and many, many scenes set aboard the Esther, which though well acted, suffer from knowledge that the majority of cast and crew on that boat were chugging seasickness tablets to stop themselves upchucking at every available opportunity. Model work is used for pretty much all of the rig work and it's functional at best, cheap at worst. But what the film lacks, despite its cast and overly saturated poster promise, is action. Any action. Apart from the end, you may argue, but even that's dafter than a box of frogs. Nope, this is truly a film you can watch if you've been told to avoid any excitable situations. So a Sunday afternoon then. It's a boring, dated, 100 minute long chore.  

Even Perkins is falling asleep...

If you've not seen North Sea Hijack (nee ffolkes, nee Assault Force, nee Demolition Squad Atlantic), consider yourself one of Mr Trinder's "lucky people". If you want to watch it, then a rather iffy copy is currently on YouTube if you must, though I take no responsibility in any resulting narcolepsy or this:

Th-th-th-th-that's all, ffolkes!