“The Tyrant King! The Tyrant King! Find the Tyrant King!”

In 1968, the newly formed Thames Television wanted to assess the feasibility of a dedicated location film unit, so they hired film director Mike Hodges (Get Carter, Flash Gordon) to produce and direct a 6-part adaptation of The Tyrant King, a children’s book by Aylward Hall that was originally published by London Transport as a means of introducing youngsters to the sights and sounds of the capital. It was the perfect story for this venture, as it could be filmed entirely on location around London’s tourist attractions, showing off the versatility of location filming on hand-held film cameras, rather than the established in-studio set up. Because of when it was made, it not only convinced Thames to form what would become Euston Films – creators of The Sweeney, Minder and Quatermass – but it captured a snapshot of London at the height of the swinging 60s.

I grew up in the 70s, when London wasn’t so much swinging as erupting, and I was completely unaware of The Tyrant King until very recently. It was shown once in black & white in 1968 and never repeated – which is surprising, as it’s exactly the sort of thing I could have imagined being shown during the Summer holidays in the 70s, alongside The Monkees, Thunderbirds, The Beatles cartoons and other slightly-past-its-sell-by-date fare. The version that I’ve just recently watched, released by Network in the UK, was restored from its original colour film prints and it looks absolutely gorgeous. Chuck a psychedelic soundtrack taken from bands such as The Nice, The Pink Floyd and Cream into the mix and you’ve got quite possibly the most unashamedly late-60s kids TV series ever produced.

Three very middle-class kids, Peter (Kim Fortune), Charlotte (Candy Glendenning) and Bill (Edward McMurray, looking for all the world like a young Peter Tork) are creeping round a spooky abandoned house when they overhear androgynous bad guy Uncle Gerry (Murray Melvin) on the phone, arranging some kind of criminal enterprise that will take place between the ‘foxy little creatures’ and the ‘Tyrant King’. Determined to find out what this all means, the kids search all of London’s most picturesque landmarks to a soundtrack of groovy tracks, pursued by the sinister-looking stranger that they have dubbed ‘Scarface’ (Philip Madoc), who also seems very interested in finding out the whereabouts of Uncle Gerry. With maps and clues and puzzles to be solved, it’s all a bit like a trippy Enid Blyton Famous Five adventure.

What’s interesting about seeing The Tyrant King in colour is that it presents the contrasts that were present in London at the time it was made. Modern interpretations of the ‘swinging’ city portray it as awash with vibrant colour, but it’s quite clear from the location photography that although the outfits and some of the cars and shop-fronts were bright and colourful, the architecture of the city was the same drab grey that it had been for countless years… and still is now. That’s not a criticism by the way; I’ve always been fascinated by the ear-splitting culture clash of the 60s, how mini-skirt wearing hippie girls shared the pavement with businessmen with bowler hats and brollies. If you watch the film footage of the Beatles’ rooftop concert, it’s fascinating to observe how at least 50% of those watching from the street below are middle-aged office workers in suits and ties or mums in National Health specs out doing a bit of shopping.

No-one could accuse the kids in The Tyrant King of dressing down though; their clothes – which they change A LOT over the course of 6 episodes – are expensively fab to a degree of which most 60s kids could probably only dream. I’m surprised that Carnaby Street wasn’t their first stop in their trip around London. Peter’s outfits tend towards the smart casual, but Charlie and Bill must have much trendier parents because their wardrobe is a veritable 60s fashion parade! Mind you, having seen their Ideal Homes Exhibition house, I’m not at all surprised that they’re so fashionable. All three kids were pupils of the Italia Conte Stage School and went on to have varying lengths of acting career, the most successful being Candy Glendenning who, under her full name of Candace Glendenning, went on to become a scream queen in films like Tower of Evil and The Flesh and Blood Show, as well as appearing on TV on shows as diverse as Ripping Yarns, Blake’s 7 and Rainbow.

The script by Ace of Wands creator Trevor Preston is very naturalistic, but to be honest there’s not a lot to it; this serial is as much a travelogue as it is a drama. It wears its origins as a book to encourage children to explore London very much on its cheesecloth sleeve. But having said that, it never gets tired or uninteresting; Mike Hodges does an amazing job of keeping the pace up even with such relatively thin material and it’s never less than gorgeous to look at, with hand-hand film cameras capturing a vibrant sense of movement at a time when clunky old pedestal video cameras were still bashing into the edge of the scenery in studio. Hodges is a divisive director, with a body of work varying from the universally lauded Get Carter to the universally derided Morons from Outer Space, but The Tyrant King is often quite unfairly overlooked.

I’m glad to have discovered The Tyrant King and I can’t believe that I’d never heard of it until quite recently. A lot of reviews that you’ll read of this serial will play up the fact that it captures a moment in time of swinging 60s London, but there’s a lot more to it than that. Sure, it’s an invaluable record of what the Capital was actually like in 1968, but it’s also an intriguing and exciting adventure story. If you concentrate too much on the historical value of any kids’ TV series of yesteryear, you miss out on the sense of sheer joy that you can get from just watching them – and I certainly got a lot of joy out of watching The Tyrant King.

‘The Tyrant King’ is available on DVD through Network Distributing in the UK.