For years, whilst having pleasant memories of this film in TV, I'd dismissed this as just a bit of period fluff. But two years ago I watched it again, in full cinemascope, digitally remastered and it IS a corker. Great fun. Great acting. An amazingly top-form professional production. Plus the wow factors of those amazing - nay magnificent - aircraft!
One minor thing I think I disagree with you on: I think Sarah Miles is rather well cast as a would-be suffragette who keeps losing her skirt!
Exactly the same perspective this end. It needs to be seen in widescreen remastered high-definition- cf 1980s television sets. Took me several viewings to realise, actually, how good it is...
In 1966, the night before the World Cup final, my aunty Sylvia and her friend, Coral took me to Hendon Odeon to see Those Magnificent Men in Their Flying Machines. It was the days when you had old guys in elaborate, gold braided uniforms stood outside. Anyway, there we were, waiting in line to enter the cinema when, in twos and threes, the entire England squad join the line for the box office.
We get inside, in the dress circle, and I’m sat two rows directly behind Jack Charlton, who is sat with Bobby Moore and (I think) Martin Peters. Over to my right, across the aisle, and down a few rows, is Nobby Stiles — the first and only time I ever saw him wearing glasses, sat with Alan Ball and (I think) Roger Hunt.
Anyway, as the lights go down and we settle down to watch Pathé News and the adverts the cinema manager makes a big mistake by announcing the fact that the squad are in the cinema, and requesting that we all leave them alone to enjoy the film. Straightaway people are looking every which way trying to spot them, lines of autograph hunters are queueing in the aisles. I was so excited I thought I was going to piss myself — so off I went to the Gents. As I was going down the stairs to the WC Gordon Banks was jogging up the stairs — he was late. He patted me on the head as he passed. I go back to my seat and my aunty and her companion are going through their handbags looking for something I could ask the players to sign. All through the first part of the film — before the intermission — my view of the screen was blocked by this big fella. I had some Thunderbirds bubble gum cards in my pocket and I thought I could ask Jack and Bobby Moore and Martin Peters for their autograph during the first intermission. I bottled it.
I go back to school after the summer holidays and, of course, tell all me mates, “Never guess what…”
Nobody, absolutely nobody, believed me. Over the years, before the internet, I began to doubt that it had ever happened myself.
Fast forward to 1996 — thirty years later, Newcastle Irish Festival, and I’ve been invited to the first night of a Sean O’Casey play by an Irish theatre company at Northern Stage. I was with a very good friend, a die-hard Middlesbrough fan. Anyway, just before the first interval we went down to the bar. And, yep, you guessed, Jack Charlton is sat at the bar on his own, having a pint and a fag. My mate wanted to go and remonstrate with him about, as he saw it, leaving Boro in the lurch. Anyway, we chatted with him — he regaled us with loads of good yarns — and then I told him ,“The last time I saw you in person was the night before the World Cup final…Hendon Odeon, Those Magnificent Men in Their Flying Machines…” He smiled. Then I told him, “I never did your autograph.” And he laughed.
We asked how it was he was in the theatre. He told us that a couple of weeks’ or so prior he was having a lunchtime drink in a local pub when a group of Irish actors walked in and recognised him. They introduced him to a Guinness rep, who were part sponsoring the show, and he gets the gig of pouring Black Velvets at the first night party. He tells us to come along. So we did. The space was rammed with the cast and local nabobs, dignitaries and the usual suspects. And, there’s Jack, dutifully pouring Black Velvets. He sees us and calls us up to the bar. He pours us two Black Velvets, and, as they settle he says to me, “I never caught your name the first time we met. Here,” and he passed me a scrap of paper and a biro. “Write it for me.” Jack Charlton asked for my autograph. So I gave it him. You can imagine the looks and comments of some people attending — “Whose he? Jack Charlton just asked for his autograph.”
Top bloke — a real gentleman — with a warm, if wicked, sense of humour. R.I.P.
Terry-Thomas. Say no more. Does exactly what it says on the tin…
Like many of your excellent selections, Luke, I haven’t seen this one in ages, and will rectify that ASAP, but my abiding memory of this film is Terry-Thomas being, as ever, an excellent bounder; Gert Frobe developing his Kaiser Wilhelm tendencies that would come to full fruition in Chitty; and, last but not least, those magnificent flying machines.
Spiffing stuff, and a lovely, warm, glowing read…just like the old Ready Brek ads!
I was going to mention Dastardly and Muttley in their Flying Machines aka Stop the Pigeon and stupidly forgot! Yes, I am sure that's the case. However, as I've mentioned before in various posts, all that spiked helmet stuff was incredibly fashionable in the 1960s.
Wikipedia- that trusty sword of truth! There was a sequel to Magnificent Men, Montecarlo or Bust (1969)- v. similar to The Great Race (1965), but that DID start Terry-Thomas. They are confusing the two films. But again, the point is that all this veteran car and flying machine stuff, just like the spiked helmets and the outbreak of The First World War, was dead trendy in the mid to late 1960s.
A fun childhood memory that one... probably responsible for my long lasting love of everything that flies, and also, balloons! I need to rewatch for the meticulous period rendering. I have an old Ronald Searle book of illustrations somewhere, going to dig it out!
Thanks for the memories- for all of its flaws it is still great fun with the many period touches (didn’t the 60s themselves in the UK seem rather Edwardian?) but the reproduction aircraft were all amazing and rather accurate and I those days the stereotypical characters were still considered fun (wogs start at Dover). I think the same joke was tried again with period cars? But this is the better of the two. And I still know many of the theme song’s lyrics!
Seriously... I'm not sure it does have any flaws? Altho' you can see 1964 Didcot(?) power station in that bit when Terry-Thomas lands on a London Brighton & South Coast train, supposedly set in 1910 France. Yes, the sequel was Montecarlo or Bust... but somehow, doesn't have the same magic?
Perhaps it’s my American pov when I look at it, the American studios struggled trying to be funny in the same way. And they rather unimaginatively retitled the car film over here trying to link it more the this film.
I spent yesterday afternoon wallowing in the visuals. It's truly splendid. I would love to see this on the big screen. And the aeroplanes are REAL. Beautiful replicas.
Thanks for this! I have vivid memories of being allowed in to sit on the floor at the front of the Chiltern Cinema in about 1968/9 - it was the same year that The Jungle Book came out in the UK. It’s strange what an enormous impression the film made on me!
I missed the disco - phew! But I did first see The Sting there, and a whole string of greats: Diamonds are Forever, Bullitt, Charge of the Light Brigade, Etc
I was also a Chiltern Cinema regular, approx. 1971-1977. Scene of early Adventures in Dating (the anxious wait outside the cinema!) and many memorable films. That’ll Be The Day/ Stardust sticks in my mind for some reason…
I went there a few times. My grandfather took me to The Sting, certainly. I can remember that. Plus the most cringey Saturday morning cinema thing for the kiddywinks, with live 'disco-dancing' on stage.
For years, whilst having pleasant memories of this film in TV, I'd dismissed this as just a bit of period fluff. But two years ago I watched it again, in full cinemascope, digitally remastered and it IS a corker. Great fun. Great acting. An amazingly top-form professional production. Plus the wow factors of those amazing - nay magnificent - aircraft!
One minor thing I think I disagree with you on: I think Sarah Miles is rather well cast as a would-be suffragette who keeps losing her skirt!
Exactly the same perspective this end. It needs to be seen in widescreen remastered high-definition- cf 1980s television sets. Took me several viewings to realise, actually, how good it is...
In 1966, the night before the World Cup final, my aunty Sylvia and her friend, Coral took me to Hendon Odeon to see Those Magnificent Men in Their Flying Machines. It was the days when you had old guys in elaborate, gold braided uniforms stood outside. Anyway, there we were, waiting in line to enter the cinema when, in twos and threes, the entire England squad join the line for the box office.
We get inside, in the dress circle, and I’m sat two rows directly behind Jack Charlton, who is sat with Bobby Moore and (I think) Martin Peters. Over to my right, across the aisle, and down a few rows, is Nobby Stiles — the first and only time I ever saw him wearing glasses, sat with Alan Ball and (I think) Roger Hunt.
Anyway, as the lights go down and we settle down to watch Pathé News and the adverts the cinema manager makes a big mistake by announcing the fact that the squad are in the cinema, and requesting that we all leave them alone to enjoy the film. Straightaway people are looking every which way trying to spot them, lines of autograph hunters are queueing in the aisles. I was so excited I thought I was going to piss myself — so off I went to the Gents. As I was going down the stairs to the WC Gordon Banks was jogging up the stairs — he was late. He patted me on the head as he passed. I go back to my seat and my aunty and her companion are going through their handbags looking for something I could ask the players to sign. All through the first part of the film — before the intermission — my view of the screen was blocked by this big fella. I had some Thunderbirds bubble gum cards in my pocket and I thought I could ask Jack and Bobby Moore and Martin Peters for their autograph during the first intermission. I bottled it.
I go back to school after the summer holidays and, of course, tell all me mates, “Never guess what…”
Nobody, absolutely nobody, believed me. Over the years, before the internet, I began to doubt that it had ever happened myself.
Fast forward to 1996 — thirty years later, Newcastle Irish Festival, and I’ve been invited to the first night of a Sean O’Casey play by an Irish theatre company at Northern Stage. I was with a very good friend, a die-hard Middlesbrough fan. Anyway, just before the first interval we went down to the bar. And, yep, you guessed, Jack Charlton is sat at the bar on his own, having a pint and a fag. My mate wanted to go and remonstrate with him about, as he saw it, leaving Boro in the lurch. Anyway, we chatted with him — he regaled us with loads of good yarns — and then I told him ,“The last time I saw you in person was the night before the World Cup final…Hendon Odeon, Those Magnificent Men in Their Flying Machines…” He smiled. Then I told him, “I never did your autograph.” And he laughed.
We asked how it was he was in the theatre. He told us that a couple of weeks’ or so prior he was having a lunchtime drink in a local pub when a group of Irish actors walked in and recognised him. They introduced him to a Guinness rep, who were part sponsoring the show, and he gets the gig of pouring Black Velvets at the first night party. He tells us to come along. So we did. The space was rammed with the cast and local nabobs, dignitaries and the usual suspects. And, there’s Jack, dutifully pouring Black Velvets. He sees us and calls us up to the bar. He pours us two Black Velvets, and, as they settle he says to me, “I never caught your name the first time we met. Here,” and he passed me a scrap of paper and a biro. “Write it for me.” Jack Charlton asked for my autograph. So I gave it him. You can imagine the looks and comments of some people attending — “Whose he? Jack Charlton just asked for his autograph.”
Top bloke — a real gentleman — with a warm, if wicked, sense of humour. R.I.P.
Terry-Thomas. Say no more. Does exactly what it says on the tin…
Like many of your excellent selections, Luke, I haven’t seen this one in ages, and will rectify that ASAP, but my abiding memory of this film is Terry-Thomas being, as ever, an excellent bounder; Gert Frobe developing his Kaiser Wilhelm tendencies that would come to full fruition in Chitty; and, last but not least, those magnificent flying machines.
Spiffing stuff, and a lovely, warm, glowing read…just like the old Ready Brek ads!
Thanks again, Luke!
I've always assumed that the Wacky Races character Dick Dastardly was based on Terry Thomas in this film? Going to go off and Google it now!
I was going to mention Dastardly and Muttley in their Flying Machines aka Stop the Pigeon and stupidly forgot! Yes, I am sure that's the case. However, as I've mentioned before in various posts, all that spiked helmet stuff was incredibly fashionable in the 1960s.
Wikipedia says yes to Terry-Thomas, but also inspired by a US film called The Great Race? Which TT wasn't in? I'm confused
Wikipedia- that trusty sword of truth! There was a sequel to Magnificent Men, Montecarlo or Bust (1969)- v. similar to The Great Race (1965), but that DID start Terry-Thomas. They are confusing the two films. But again, the point is that all this veteran car and flying machine stuff, just like the spiked helmets and the outbreak of The First World War, was dead trendy in the mid to late 1960s.
A fun childhood memory that one... probably responsible for my long lasting love of everything that flies, and also, balloons! I need to rewatch for the meticulous period rendering. I have an old Ronald Searle book of illustrations somewhere, going to dig it out!
Ronald Searle! Wot a talent!
Thanks for the memories- for all of its flaws it is still great fun with the many period touches (didn’t the 60s themselves in the UK seem rather Edwardian?) but the reproduction aircraft were all amazing and rather accurate and I those days the stereotypical characters were still considered fun (wogs start at Dover). I think the same joke was tried again with period cars? But this is the better of the two. And I still know many of the theme song’s lyrics!
Seriously... I'm not sure it does have any flaws? Altho' you can see 1964 Didcot(?) power station in that bit when Terry-Thomas lands on a London Brighton & South Coast train, supposedly set in 1910 France. Yes, the sequel was Montecarlo or Bust... but somehow, doesn't have the same magic?
Perhaps it’s my American pov when I look at it, the American studios struggled trying to be funny in the same way. And they rather unimaginatively retitled the car film over here trying to link it more the this film.
Truly a magnificent film , thank you so much for reminding me to purchase and rewatch a good few times
I spent yesterday afternoon wallowing in the visuals. It's truly splendid. I would love to see this on the big screen. And the aeroplanes are REAL. Beautiful replicas.
So trye and it is a film that just brings visual joy
Thanks for this! I have vivid memories of being allowed in to sit on the floor at the front of the Chiltern Cinema in about 1968/9 - it was the same year that The Jungle Book came out in the UK. It’s strange what an enormous impression the film made on me!
Beaconsfield?
I missed the disco - phew! But I did first see The Sting there, and a whole string of greats: Diamonds are Forever, Bullitt, Charge of the Light Brigade, Etc
I was also a Chiltern Cinema regular, approx. 1971-1977. Scene of early Adventures in Dating (the anxious wait outside the cinema!) and many memorable films. That’ll Be The Day/ Stardust sticks in my mind for some reason…
Indeed….judging by your posts we must have been at some of the same showings.
I went there a few times. My grandfather took me to The Sting, certainly. I can remember that. Plus the most cringey Saturday morning cinema thing for the kiddywinks, with live 'disco-dancing' on stage.