Available on DVD, Blu-ray and Limited Edition Box Set from 20 October
Stephen La Rivière / UK / 2014 / 112 minutes
For the generation of baby boomers, Gerry Anderson was a god. As a young frustrated filmmaker in the late 1950s, he was talked into making TV shows for children using puppets, despite the idea almost inducing vomiting. He was determined to make the best of a bad lot. Combining superior special effects with humorous yet believable characterisation, he reached his apotheosis with Thunderbirds in 1966.
Anderson’s miniaturised oeuvre, long considered a cult, is now the subject of a sumptuous documentary tracing a career encompassing Fireball XL5, Captain Scarlet and Joe 90. His team of pioneers (including his wife, Sylvia) captured the glamour and danger of the 1960s zeitgeist for the under-tens. With heaps of new footage, outtakes and storyboards – and a moving return visit by puppeteers to the less than salubrious studios in Slough – there’s a real behind-the-scenes peek into the making of the shows. The mix of Bond style spy storylines, sex appeal and kitsch (epitomised by Lady Penelope and her pink Rolls-Royce) entertained children as well as adults.
To fans, much of this will be familiar. What’s missing is a bit of insight. What accounted for Thunderbirds‘ huge popularity? One reason is almost certainly that, despite the realistic models and explosions, many of the sets looked rather homespun, and the heads and hands of the puppets were out of proportion to the bodies, making them all the more doll-like and endearing: like toys come magically to life.
The underlying sadness in the documentary is also, infuriatingly, unexplored. Why are the clutch of puppeteers who revisit the studio so glum – a glumness at odds with the optimism of the shows and stills taken in the mid-1960s that show them as a young, crazy gang having the time of their lives?
Some insight on Gerry and Sylvia Anderson’s unpleasant divorce and a few critical voices may have made for less of a hagiography. And there is maybe just too many talking heads: Gerry and Sylvia, their son Jamie – and even Penelope and her chauffeur Parker – all do pieces to camera. These quibbles aside, for Anderson diehards this is an excellent addition to their DVD collection. And for those just discovering the strange world of Fanderson it will prove a revelation; an insight into one of the stranger and more delightful byways of British television.