THE PUNCH AND JUDY MAN (1963)

The Punch and Judy Man is a strange film that’s difficult to pigeonhole into one definite genre. Although there’s a sharp wit at work throughout, it’s hardly the comedy that its pre-release marketing had promised. I suppose it could be categorised as a comedy of manners that slides towards farce, and there are elements that would become mainstays of the sitcom format. But it’s more of a beautifully observed and realised slice-of-life drama—a sometimes-poignant portrait of a run-down seaside town desperate to recover its bygone halcyon days. It owes more to Under Milk Wood than it does to predecessors like the Ealing comedies or the Carry On films.

At the time, Tony Hancock was by far the most popular British comedian, and audiences were expecting his second feature film in a starring role to follow on from The Rebel (1961), his hilarious satire made just two years earlier. Or at least pick up on his hit television and radio shows. In its day, The Punch and Judy Man failed to please most Hancock fans or win him a new audience and performed poorly at the box office.

So, it’s great news that this under-appreciated gem of British cinema is getting a new lease of life with this sympathetically restored print from StudioCanal, scanned at 2K from the original film elements, presented uncut and in its original aspect ratio for the first time on Blu-ray in the UK. Hopefully, with this edition, Tony Hancock’s bittersweet and uncommonly subtle character study will appeal to a modern audience with fewer preconceptions about its star.

It’s an acquired taste that’ll draw appreciative audiences back for repeat viewings. A big part of the appeal for an audience of today, particularly those of a certain age, is the pure nostalgia evoked by everything (electric shavers that plug into standard light fittings, the old analogue radios, the clothes, the cars, the period décor…). Given time, the unremarkable becomes remarkable.

The storytelling still feels innovative, often pushing subtext to the fore and relinquishing dialogue entirely. The gestures, expressions, and what is not said carry much of the narrative. The first couple of scenes are prime examples of this approach… after the seaside town of Piltdown awakes during the credits with no main theme but the sound of the sea segueing into a somewhat sombre choral passage, we first meet Wally Pinner (Hancock) as he readies himself for the day. Listening to a religious programme on the radio, he responds with pauses, puzzled glances, smiles and shrugs to a parable about a man seeking shade under a fig tree. The lively pop music of the following radio show drives him down to breakfast where his wife Delia (Silvia Syms) greets him with silence, and neither say a word as they go through the motions that they obviously repeat day in, day out.

He seems briefly cheered by the plastic aeroplane he finds in the cereal packet as he listens to the snap, crackle, and pop… but is distracted from eating by the obtrusive sound of Delia buttering and munching toast while reading the newspaper. The sound design and foley work are exemplary here, and the soundscape remains a striking feature throughout. Eventually she pipes up, reading out highlights from a society column story about Lady Jane Caterham (Barbara Murray) who will be switching on the Piltdown illuminations at the town’s anniversary Gala. Delia finds it highly amusing; Wally couldn’t care less. We can tell they’re in a rut, and their childless marriage is all but loveless too.

Tony Hancock’s own marriage to Cicely Romanis was on the rocks, and he was drinking his liquor straight, starting at breakfast time. So, The Punch and Judy Man is perhaps the most autobiographical of his works, and he appears to be distancing himself from the persona he created in his television and radio shows which shared his own name. The setting also draws inspiration from his childhood spent in Bournemouth where his parents ran a hotel and his father worked as a stand-up comedian and variety entertainer. The fictional resort town of Piltdown is a poetic recreation of the Bournemouth of his earliest memories, though it was filmed on location in Bognor Regis.

The real Piltdown is 45 miles from Bognor Regis and nearly 20 miles from the nearest stretch of coast. However, the name would have had a familiar ring for audiences of the time. They would’ve almost certainly heard of Piltdown Man, a famous hoax which was exposed in 1953. A skull of a ‘missing link’ in human evolution was said to have been found in 1915 at Piltdown but was a fake made up of bones from different species and artificially aged with chemicals that were easily identified when properly tested. This association with falsity may well have been why Hancock named his fictional seaside town as one of the central themes of the film is the desire to live authentically while trying to fit in with those who don’t.

Just like the real-life Tony and Cecily, Wally and Delia are childless, and one of the more poignant subtexts running through the story is their desire for something more. In Wally’s case, this seems to be fatherhood. He’s repeatedly told to grow up and does exhibit a childish petulance now and then. Possibly a case of self-infantilisation as a form of rebelling against the expectations foisted upon an adult—rejecting the burden of traditional responsibilities such as holding down a 9-to-5 job, working toward other people’s goals and beholden to superiors who ultimately control the purse strings. These are all themes broached in his previous feature, The Rebel.

The way he looked at that cereal box prize… that wasn’t him being pleased with a tiny piece of plastic tat, maybe he was momentarily pondering the prospect of having a child about the house. Delia’s fixation with fitting in and putting down roots may not be a petty desire to be accepted by those she perceives as her betters, but the veiled desire to settle down and raise a family. However, she knows Wally is a misfit and their position in the Piltdown community is precarious. Clearly, this is a source of enmity between them.

Silvia Syms was a versatile actress who already had 16 significant big screen credits to her name, including relationship drama Woman in a Dressing Gown (1957), the classic war movie Ice Cold in Alex (1958), sleazy crime drama No Trees in the Street (1959), risqué romance The World of Suzie Wong (1960), and blackmail thriller Victim (1961). She would add another 30 movies and many more television appearances over the next six decades. Early in her career, she often landed roles on the strength of her acting skills despite being perhaps too young and sexy for the parts. It could be argued that being Tony Hancock’s junior by 10 years made the apparent stagnation of Delia and Wally’s marriage less credible, but this also hints at an untold backstory that adds complexity to the dynamics of their relationship.

Gradually, Hancock reveals Wally to be a multifaceted character with considerable depth, and it’s the character’s emotional journey that carries the narrative. To begin with, he certainly comes across as a dislikable person, grumpily berating his assistant, Edward (Hugh Lloyd) for his tardiness in preparing their tent, puppets, and props while making snide rejoinders in response to his comments about the weather. As they drive past the Town Hall, Wally leans out of the window of their 1950s Lea-Francis ‘Woody’ Estate Wagon to cordially greet the Mayor (Ronald Fraser) while making a rude gesture as he doffs his hat.

This scene caused some offence at the time and was cut to retain its ‘U’ certification. The main cause of contention was a working-class man disrespecting authority by displaying a disguised ‘V’ sign to his perceived superior, an elected council official. Around 10 minutes were trimmed, from this and several other scenes, to remove innuendo and some, albeit slapstick, fighting between two women. This remastered and uncut print, which seems mild by today’s standards, has now been given a ‘12’ certificate in the UK because of crude humour—which one hardly notices, and the very mild violence—which seems justified in context.

When Wally and Edward arrive at the beach, they join their outsider community of seaside showmen and hawkers. Among them is Charles the Sandman (John Le Mesurier), who monologues about the Battle of Trafalgar in front of his, obviously fake, sand sculpted tableau of the Death of Admiral Nelson. Another is Nevil Shanks (Mario Fabrizi) who plies his trade as a souvenir photographer and perpetually annoys Wally and Edward by touting for trade among the audience for their Punch and Judy show. Of course, the themes of the typical Punch and Judy show reflect those of the film: an unhappy marriage and an irreverent rebel disrespecting authority.

If one wants to intellectualise the whole film, there are many parallels with the stock characters of the commedia dell’arte where Mr Punch originated as Pulcinella. In these plays, dating back to Renaissance era Italy, the strata of society are simply represented by four defined groups of characters: the Zanni, are servants and working class artisans and count Pulcinella among their ranks; the Vecchi, are old wealthy men embodying pomp and decadence; the Innamorati, are young and privileged upper class lovers for whom things always work out, eventually; Il Capitano or la Signora are boastful, self-proclaimed masters, mistresses, bosses, and captains. In The Punch and Judy Man, Wally, Edward and their fellow sideshow performers would be of the Zanni. The council committee members are clearly the Vecchi. Lady Jane Caterham and her escorts (Brian Bedford and Peter Myers) may be fulfilling the role of the Innamorati, but the plot subverts their charmed trajectory by bringing them abruptly down to earth. And the Mayor, along with the Pub Landlord (Kevin Brennan), would both be in the role of Il Capitano.

As the narrative unfolds, we soon see through Wally’s front of abrasive bravado, and we’re allowed to glimpse his vulnerability, generosity, and innate kindness. This is brought to the fore in his interactions with young Peter (Nicholas Webb) a regular at the Punch and Judy performances and outspoken critic should any expected element—such as the crocodile—be left out of the show. Although Wally pretends to dread the boy’s presence, his interactions with him are honest and respectful. It’s as if they are equals rather than elder and junior. One must only assume that Wally chose his vocation as a Punch and Judy professor because he wanted to brighten the lives of working-class children. Nicholas Webb was a nephew of Silvia Syms who suggested him for the part and, despite being just nine-years-of-age, he turns in a very believable and grounded performance.

One day, when Peter shows up, but the performance is rained off, Wally’s paternal instinct is triggered. While walking the young lad to the bus stop in the torrential downpour, the display of an ice cream parlour window beckons. The beautifully planned and executed ice cream sundae scene, where Peter shows Wally how to enjoy a Piltdown Glory, will either leave one cold (pun intended) or will be appreciated as one of the great showcases of subtle physical humour. With almost no dialogue for its entire duration, apart from taking the orders at the beginning and settling the bill at the end, its gentle observational humour rivals that of Jacques Tati—the French master of visual narrative and humour who is said to be an inspiration for Hancock. The boy may symbolise Wally’s hankering to be a father or simply be echoing and amplifying the child within. Perhaps this is a manifestation of Hancock’s own misplaced childhood—the child-like aspect of his personality that can still take pleasure in the simple things, like a Piltdown Glory or, indeed, a Punch and Judy show on the beach.

The Punch and Judy Man strictly adheres to the three-act structure, and each has a different mood. The first act is a little tedious in its evocation of tedium, just about rescued by some very dry and droll humour. The mutual influence of Harold Pinter, who was becoming well-known around the same time, pervades the pacing and colours the dialogue. There may even be a touch of Samuel Beckett thrown in. The absorbing second act allows space for Hancock’s skill as a delicately nuanced actor to really shine, matched by the supporting cast, particularly John Le Mesurier.

The third act is a blatant criticism of the class divide with the aristocracy portrayed as far more loutish and crasser than the salt-of-the-earth types they frown upon. The switching on of the Piltdown illuminations delivers some rewarding text-based gags as inspirational slogans spelled out in lights malfunction and change their wording – a sequence created by simple animations and convincing matte work courtesy of an uncredited Les Bowie—better known for his work on many Hammer films including The Quatermass Xperiment (1955).

The airs and graces of Lady Caterham are satisfyingly revealed to be a sham and the Gala dinner degenerates into farce and physical gags. This feels rather incongruous, as if it’s knowingly sending up such comedy clichés with its bun fights and slapstick drunkards. Thankfully, it regains its composure during the quiet, though life-affirming denouement of Wally and Delia’s tender reconciliation.

The Punch and Judy Man is cited by many critics as being the beginning of the end for Tony Hancock. After the failure of The Rebel to consolidate a larger international following for him, he’d dropped his long-standing writing team of Ray Galton and Alan Simpson to co-write the script with his then neighbour, Phillip Oakes, a poet and journalist. Reputedly, Hancock desired more creative control, which may have influenced the choice of a relative newbie as director. Jeremy Summers had only previously worked in television and directed one short feature, though he’d go on to make significant contributions to cult shows like The Saint (1962–69), Jason King (1971–72), and The Protectors (1972–74) before settling into soaps and directing more than 60 episodes of Coronation Street and more than 160 episodes of Brookside (1982–2003).

It seems that Hancock felt his success had been reliant on others and he wanted to find out what he could do by himself. He also wanted to break out of a creative rut and move away from his tried and tested formula and well-established screen persona. He’s quoted as saying that he wanted to give audiences something better to laugh at than punchlines and pratfalls. In some ways he did.

The Punch and Judy Man is a well-crafted character-led drama that leans more toward arthouse than comedy. At a time when filmgoers were becoming accustomed to colour, he chose to use black-and-white, exquisitely photographed by Gilbert Taylor who’d previously worked with Hancock, handling the Technicolour cinematography on The Rebel. His next film would be another triumph of monochrome cinematography with Stanley Kubrick’s political satire, Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb (1964).

The Punch and Judy Man underperformed at the box office and received indecisive reviews from critics who didn’t know what to make of it.  What the public wanted was the Hancock they knew and loved, which was an exaggerated and larger-than-life version of who he already was. It seems he never really appreciated how close the TV personality of Hancock was to the real Hancock. Appositely, the film suggests that fulfilment comes from staying true to oneself, even if it means facing criticism and rejection from others. Wally’s refusal to conform to societal expectations along with his dedication to an unfashionable craft raise questions about personal integrity and authenticity. Ultimately Wally, who some may frame as a loser, is the victor on his own terms. Perhaps the same could be said of Tony Hancock.

UK | 1963 | 96 MINUTES | 1.66:1 | BLACK & WHITE | ENGLISH

Blu-ray Special Features:

• NEW Hard Knocks: Paul Merton on The Punch and Judy Man. (10 mins) He discusses some of the other comedians who had previously worked with Hancock, including those who made only brief cameo appearances, such as Hattie Jacques. He then discusses the production and some of its problems before briefly critiquing Tony Hancock’s career.
• Excerpt from ABC Series HANCOCK’S. Mainly audio only, illustrated with behind-the-scenes photographs and a few minutes of poor-quality surviving visuals.
• BEHP Audio interview extract with Jeremy Summers. In which he recalls a troubled production. He believes that Tony Hancock jettisoned his usual writers and co-stars, such as Sid James, because they would have stopped him doing things the way he wanted to. Summers remembers repeatedly querying things, asking Hancock if he really wanted scenes shot in a particular way and having doubts about the final outcomes. He sums up the whole experience as a rather sad affair because it was clear the film would not do well upon release. But, as they say, hindsight is always 20:20.
• Blackpool Show: Season 1 Episode 7 (60 mins, 1966). As one would expect, this is terribly dated and will be painfully nostalgic to some older viewers. It also serves to place The Punch and Judy Man in a clear historical context that highlights its comparative subtlety and sophistication. The variety show hosted by Hancock was recorded live, and the picture quality is of the time. The acts were all household names in their day. Freddie ‘Parrot Face’ Davies opens with his stand-up act that includes a sketch about a dead parrot that may well be the antecedent to the famous Monty Python one. The Rockin’ Berries perform songs and impersonations of other famous comedians of the day, such as Tommy Cooper, Ken Dodd and Eric Morecambe. Bob Monkhouse gets plenty of laughs sending up the first four James Bond films. Jeanie Carson intersperses her singing with sketches that are meant to be funny. Tony Hancock introduces each act with a comedic interlude or longer sketch of his own, including one of his Shakespearean pastiches.
• Behind the Scenes Stills Gallery.
• Theatrical trailer. Misleading the potential audience to expect a very different kind of film.

Cast & Crew

director: Jeremy Summers.
writers: Phillip Oakes & Tony Hancock.
starring: Tony Hancock, Sylvia Syms, Ronald Fraser, Barbara Murray, John Le Mesurier, Hugh Lloyd, Mario Fabrizi, Pauline Jameson, Norman Bird & Peter Vaughan.