Julius Caesar (1953)

In this Hollywood film of the play, James Mason stars as Brutus, but this version is most certainly best known for the actor who steals the show from under Mason's nose, because for some reason they went and cast Marlon Fucking Brando as Mark Fucking Antony. To the surprise of nobody, John Gielgud is also in this, playing Cassius. The title role is played by Louis Calhern, though I had to keep reminding myself he wasn't Basil "Crown Court judge Mr Justice Poynter" Dignam because the resemblance is uncanny.

The play is abridged to get it down to two hours, but is a pretty faithful adaptation for that, including retaining the play's unfortunate structural issues whereby after the famous "Friends, Romans, Countrymannys..." speech it makes several skips in time, with battles and other events occurring off-stage between scenes. The film manages to include a battle scene, but it is perfunctory and small-scale compared to later filmed Shakespearean battles, even the battle of Bosworth from the Richard iii made only two years later, never mind the truly ambitious such as Orson Welles's Chimes at Midnight ten years after.

The film therefore loses a lot of momentum in the last half-hour, and its main point of interest is found in the middle, consisting of the murder scene and the funereal speeches that sway the Roman crowds first to Brutus and then to Antony. Here is where Mason and Brando shine, though never quite to the point that you can forget the Hollywood stars and see them only as their characters. Brando's finest moment might actually come just before this bit, in the "Cry 'Havoc,' and let slip the dogs of war" soliloquy (at almost exactly the halfway point in the movie), where he holds the scene alone.

He's no James Purefoy (purr) though, despite having the haircut.

Richard III (1955)

This is the Laurence Olivier version, which is still easily the most famous single version of the play even for those who have never watched any film or TV adaptation of it. I've seen several, from 1960's An Age of Kings where Richard was played by Paul Daneman, through versions with Ian Holm, Ron Cook, Ian McKellen, to the 2016 Benedict Cumberbatch-starring Hollow Crown, and this is still the go to version for references and impersonators* (Red Dwarf's Marooned, the overacting hospital in Monty Python's Flying Circus), not to mention the source of Peter Cook's oh dear Richard the third (plus inspiring much of the portrayal of Bosworth Field) in the first episode of The Black Adder.

At 2 hours and 30 minutes it's as abridged as most versions tend to be when they're intended to stand alone, as opposed to following on from the preceding Henry vi plays, since this allows a number of subplots (such as anything involving Queen Margaret) to be easily dropped. What did surprise me is how much this film rearranged scenes and dialogue - probably the most of any of those I'm familiar with. It doesn't even begin with the fabulous, unforgettable "Now..." speech, instead placing that a few scenes further in.

The abridging and rearranging is done with one thing in mind - the producer, director and star Olivier wants his character to be on screen at all times, always the centre of attention, even more so than Shakespeare had him. You're not for one moment allowed to forget who's in charge here, he overshadows every other actor and character - sometimes literally, since the motif of Richard's distinctive humpbacked silhouette is repeatedly used to fall upon and thus indicate his next victim.

Other actors of note include Stanley "Zulu" Baker as Henry Richmond, the future King Henry vii, who is allowed the merest trace of a Welsh accent, unlike everyone else who all speak in pure RP. Laurence "Fall of Eagles" Naismith is Lord Stanley who, unusually, is the one to kill Richard at the end - normally it is Richmond who does this. Perhaps Olivier thought it better coming from a character we had become familiar with throughout the film rather than one introduced only a couple of scenes earlier? Yes, clearly Olivier knows better than Shakespeare; no megalomania to be seen here. Mew.

A young-looking Douglas "what do you mean he's not Basil Rathbone?" Wilmer appears, as does Claire Bloom, the latter because there was a time when it was obligatory for her to appear in every Shakespeare adaptation made in Britain. The same can be said of John Gielgud who is here playing Clarence (I'm only surprised Mary Morris wasn't in this as well). And finally, it would be remiss of me not to mention Clive "Trenchard" Morton, looking much the same as he did in The Sea Devils even though that was made nearly 20 years later, and a young actor called Patrick Troughton took the small role of Tyrrell, the manny who murders the Princes in the Tower on behalf of their usurping uncle Dickie. I wonder whatever became of him?

Justifiably famous for being a lavish, technicolour production from out of the austere 1950s, but not really, if we're being honest, the best version of Richard iii. You all know by now I'm not normally a cat to praise modern television without cause, but I'd put the (relatively) recent Cumberbatch version above this, and it's not even the one I'd say was the best of the Thirds. I'd rate the 1983 Ron Cook BBC TV version as the one that deserves that crown, though being nearly unabridged and so running at about 4 hours in length you need to be prepared for a marathon not a sprint. Better yet, get a horse.

A horse.

My kingdom for a horse.

Mew.

* Some have even claimed that Paul Darrow was impersonating Olivier when he played Tekker in Timelash, including Darrow himself (on the DVD commentary). Personally I can't see much of a resemblance, because Paul Darrow is far too handsome. Unless it's the hair?

Yes, maybe that's it - it's his hair that's doing the impression. Mew.

The Strange Case of the End of Civilisation as We Know It

This essentially forgotten TV programme is a quite extraordinarily bad one-off ITV comedy from 1977, written by and starring John Cleese. In it, Cleese plays a descendant of Sherlock Holmes, and it co-stars Arthur Lowe and Connie Booth as descendants of Dr Watson and Mrs Hudson respectively. Lowe's portrayal is the archetypal Stupid Watson, putting even Nigel Bruce's origination of the trope to shame in how incompetent and oblivious he is. Also, Watson is partially bionic, because this was made in the 1970s.

It is hard to believe that this was made in the same era as Cleese and Booth were in the middle of making Fawlty Towers, so far apart are they in quality that it would take Michael Palin an entire series to travel between them. The theory that Cleese gradually lost his comedic sensibilities between Fawlty Towers ending and the present day is disproved by the existence of The Strange Case of the End of Civilisation as We Know It, which shows he was just as capable of making missteps back then - and I'm not talking about the Ministry of Silly Walks there, mew!

The issue is that, even when it has a good gag (of which there are a few), just about every single joke in the film is laboured until it ceases to be funny, and is then laboured a bit more for good measure. It is dreadful. Quality guest stars are wasted, with most of them - such as Joss Ackland and Stratford "Belkov" Johns - enthusiastically overacting and chewing on the scenery in a way that would make Darrow proud, but the material just isn't there for them to make it actually any good. Denholm Elliott just about gets out with his dignity intact, but I'm not sure anybody else did.

One thing to praise it for is the lack of typical '70s blackface and yellowface. When representatives of the five continents gather, the Asian delegate is played by Burt Kwouk, and the African delegate by Christopher Asante - the latter of whom I most recently saw in Rumpole and the Golden Thread, one of the best Rumpole episodes. This small step in a progressive direction is then entirely undone by a terrible joke about simultaneous translation, where Kwouk's character hears the most stereotypical faux-Chinese imaginable, and Asante hears the sound of jungle drums!

The plot sees Cleese's Holmes gather together the world's greatest detectives as part of a plan to draw out the descendant of Professor Moriarty. This is a trope that was inexplicably popular around this point in the '70s, with resemblances to the film Murder by Death (1976) and a 1976 episode of The Goodies, Daylight Robbery on the Orient Express. Here, in addition to Poirot (called "Hercules Parrot," mew) we get send ups of contemporary detectives including Columbo, Kojak, and McCloud... No, me neither.

The ending sees Moriarty successfully bring about the end of civilisation as we know it, which fortunately prevented them from making any sequels. Cleese, meanwhile, should never be allowed to criticise anything other comedians have done (especially not Monty Python's Flying Circus season four, the one the others did without him) without having this immediately thrown back in his face. 

Although it's still a better version of Sherlock Holmes than the BBC's Sherlock.