Troy Kennedy Martin

Introduction

Z Cars, Diary of a Young Man, The Italian Job, Kelly’s Heroes, The Sweeney, Reilly – Ace of Spies and Edge of Darkness – whenever the name of Troy Kennedy Martin is mentioned it is invariably accompanied by a list of these titles, the films and television dramas with which he is most often associated as a screenwriter. These seven productions are in themselves testimony to the diversity of projects with which Kennedy Martin has been involved in a career spanning six decades. They suggest an interest in popular forms of film and television drama and an eclecticism which has tended to exclude him from the canon of television auteurs, a list which would no doubt include Alan Bennett, Alan Bleasdale, Trevor Griffiths, David Mercer, Alan Plater and Dennis Potter, writers whose authorial credentials have been celebrated in numerous books, articles and television programmes.

The fact that this book is the first study of any length of the work of Troy Kennedy Martin and that he has not (yet) been the subject of an Arena or South Bank Show might suggest an ambivalence towards him as a writer of popular film and television drama. The eclecticism of the above list may be one reason for Kennedy Martin’s critical neglect. It is not that he is not known, but that he is known by different constituencies: by fans and critics of police drama for Z Cars and The Sweeney; by academics for his 1964 polemic against naturalism in television drama, ‘Nats go home’, which informed the non-naturalistic serial Diary of a Young Man, on which he collaborated with John McGrath, and which was an early formative directorial experience for Ken Loach; by fans of the 1960s ‘cult’ movie The Italian Job, which attracted a new audience following its re-release in the late 1990s, spawning a Hollywood remake; by movie buffs and Clint Eastwood fans alike for the popular Hollywood war film Kelly’s Heroes, for which he was well-paid and which sparked a brief Hollywood career in the early 1970s; and by aficionados of 1980s ‘quality’ television serials for the historical drama Reilly – Ace of Spies and the award-winning nuclear thriller Edge of Darkness, both of which remain in the public domain with their release on DVD and repeat screenings on digital television channels.

If these seven productions appeal to different constituencies and represent the ‘known’ Troy Kennedy Martin there is another body of work that is equally eclectic and for which Kennedy Martin is much less well-known. There are the single plays he wrote in the late 1950s through to the mid 1960s; the adaptations of novels and short stories by writers as varied as Somerset Maugham, John Wyndham, Raymond Chandler, Frederick Pohl, C. P. Snow, Angus Wilson and Gillian Slovo; the eleven episodes he wrote for Weavers Green and the five episodes of Parkin’s Patch, all written under a pseudonym; the Armchair Thriller serial Fear of God; the television films Hostile Waters, Bravo Two Zero and Red Dust; not to mention the many unproduced television dramas and screenplays Kennedy Martin has written over a period of more than forty years.

This book will explore further the ‘known’ Kennedy Martin while revealing the ‘unknown’ Kennedy Martin in a series of chapters organised according to the categories of the single play (which will also consider, in a book devoted mainly to work for television, his screenplays from the late 1960s and early 1970s), the theory and practice of experimental and non-naturalistic television drama, the creation of and contributions to popular drama series, the major drama serials of the 1980s, and the ‘hostile waters’ of British television since the late 1980s, as television entered a more competitive, deregulated era in which the creative role of the writer, especially the writer used to the relative freedoms of the 1960s, became increasingly circumscribed.

The eclecticism of Troy Kennedy Martin’s oeuvre raises an inevitable question of authorship. How can a writer responsible for Z Cars, Diary of a Young Man and the situation comedy If It Moves, File It; for television plays and popular Hollywood movies; for episodes of drama series as diverse as Redcap, Out of the Unknown, Weavers Green, Parkin’s Patch, Colditz, Fall of Eagles and The Sweeney; the creator of Reilly – Ace of Spies and Edge of Darkness; and the adapter of novels as different as The Old Men at the Zoo and Red Dust, possibly be considered an auteur to rank alongside the likes of David Mercer and Dennis Potter? The sheer variety of Kennedy Martin’s work would seem to count against any stylistic or thematic consistency. Yet, as the following chapters will reveal, there are thematic consistencies in his work, especially in terms of an irreverent attitude towards the military and police, a scepticism about political institutions, and a consistent interest, over a period of fifty years, in social, political, moral and ecological issues.

Television, like the film industry, is a collaborative medium and, through interviews with some of the people with whom Kennedy Martin has collaborated, in addition to the analysis of individual productions, the chapters that follow will seek to reveal the ways in which the work of Troy Kennedy Martin has been the product of collaboration with other writers, producers, script editors and directors. In television, where there are so many potential checks and balances on the creative process, the question of individual authorship is problematic. Nevertheless there has, historically, been a strong case to be made for the individual input of the writer in the creation of television drama, which makes the search for signs of individual authorship legitimate. Later chapters will explore whether the writer in television drama today can be said to be the author of the work to the extent that he or she might have been in the 1950s and 1960s.

The main objective in this book has been to explore the work of one writer in relation to historical developments in British television drama. The book therefore adopts a largely chronological structure, starting with Kennedy Martin’s early television scripts, which were broadcast live, and tracing his involvement in the aesthetic debates that accompanied technological and institutional changes in British television in the 1960s, which led to his ‘Nats go home’ polemic, as well as exploring the impact of social and political change on his work from the early 1960s through to the 2000s. In many respects not only was Kennedy Martin central to some of the important developments in British television drama, he also anticipated the ways in which television might develop. Witness his 1986 MacTaggart Lecture in which he predicted the advent of mini-dramas on small portable television screens, a prediction which has come to pass twenty years later with the ability of mobile telephones and iPods to receive television images.

Researching and writing this book has been a voyage of discovery, an adventure in television historiography involving the examination of a wide range of original material, drawn from a variety of sources. One source has been the television programmes themselves, where they exist and are available for viewing. Much of the early history of British television, extending in some cases right up to the 1970s, has disappeared as a result of the junking of films and videotapes, or the wiping of tapes for re-use. This is the case with much of the drama Kennedy Martin wrote in the late 1950s and early 1960s and also includes his six-part situation comedy, If It Moves, File It, transmitted in 1970. All of these programmes are now part of the ‘lost’ history of British television. In their absence, and in addition to the programmes that are still available, scripts constitute an invaluable resource, in their various forms of original manuscripts, typescripts, rehearsal scripts, camera scripts and screenplays. Many of Troy Kennedy Martin’s scripts are held as a Special Collection in the British Film Institute Library, along with other documentation. Some scripts are also held at the BBC Written Archives Centre in Caversham, which is also an extremely valuable repository of other forms of documentation including official BBC correspondence, audience research reports on individual programmes, and press cuttings. Additionally, the research for this book has been considerably enhanced by the assistance of Troy Kennedy Martin in making available a number of scripts, including several unproduced scripts, from his own personal collection.

The other main source of information on which this book has drawn has been original interviews, with Troy Kennedy Martin and with producers, directors and script editors with whom he has worked since the late 1950s. Interview material has always to be treated with care – memories can be inaccurate and misleading, especially when the interviewee is trying to recollect events from thirty or forty years before – but oral history can be a valuable source of information, especially in the absence of other material or where a different perspective or insight is needed on a particular production or event. Interviewing writers, producers and directors about projects with which they, especially the writer, may have been involved for months or even years can bring a project to life – especially if it is a ‘lost’ programme or unproduced project – in a way that reading scripts and other written documentation cannot. Spending many hours talking to Troy Kennedy Martin, and several of his collaborators, about his extensive and varied output has been one of the many pleasures in researching and writing this book. It has not, I trust, resulted in a hagiography but an informed, critical interpretation of the work of one of Britain’s leading screenwriters.

1 Biographical sketch

Francis Troy Kennedy Martin was born on Bute, an island on the Clyde, on the west coast of Scotland, on 15 February 1932. His father named him Troy after a Glasgow priest, Father Troy, who had helped the young Frank Martin to rehabilitate following his return from the First World War, where he had been wounded. Kennedy was added to the name by Frank Martin in memory of his commanding officer in the war, Colonel Kennedy. They went through the Battle of the Somme together and later the Battle of Cambrae where Kennedy was killed at Bourlon Wood and Frank was wounded. Kennedy, in peacetime a Professor of History at University College London, had been a father-figure to the working-class teenager and wanted him to go to university after the war. He was also childless and expressed a wish that any children Frank might one day have would bear his name. So when, fifteen years later, Troy was born, Frank dutifully did this. The names Troy and Kennedy were also given to the other children born to Frank and his wife Kathleen (including the girls), but only Troy was actually called by that name, no doubt to distinguish him from his father – Frank and Francis being too confusing.

The route by which Troy Kennedy Martin arrived at his name could have come from one of his own scripts. Indeed the military experience and strong character of his Glaswegian father, together with the nurturing influence of his mother, a Montessori teacher who encouraged her children to read from an early age, were clearly formative influences, not only on Troy but also on his younger brother Ian, both of whom went on to pursue successful careers as screenwriters, with a tendency to specialise in genres featuring the police and armed forces.

They grew up in a lower-middle-class Catholic family, in London, where Frank and Kathleen Martin went to live in the mid 1930s. During the 1920s Frank Martin worked for the Anglo-Persian Oil Company in the Middle East and on returning to London got a job as the manager of a laundry in Streatham, so Troy’s very early years were spent in South London, until the outbreak of the Second World War when the children were evacuated to Bute and to Aran, enabling the family to reconnect with relatives in Glasgow: ‘Those were quite formative years I spent up there, in Scotland, but not in Glasgow, on the islands.’¹

Having spent his early years in London, experiencing some of the Blitz before being evacuated to Scotland, Troy Kennedy Martin had acquired an English accent, which led to him getting into some scraps with the local Scottish kids:

Certainly the first occasion I was at school up there – I guess I must have been ten – at the local Catholic school at Bute, I used to have to fight my way home every night because they absolutely loathed the English. Looking back it was really odd because they were more angry with the English than they were with the Germans. A lot of their fathers were in the 51st Highland Division and had to surrender at Saint Valéry so they were all in POW camps, but still it was the English who were the real enemy.

Despite his London accent Troy grew up feeling half Scottish, but with a sense also of Irish identity, for his family was descended from Irish immigrants who left Ireland for Scotland in the nineteenth century: ‘I guess it was like John McGrath’s generation, they were Irish and they went to Liverpool, and mine were Irish and they went to Glasgow. So when we met, John and I, years later, there was this natural affinity, which was never discussed, it was just there.’

It was this, no doubt, which influenced his decision to go to Trinity College, Dublin, in 1949, to reconnect with his Irish ancestry. After Streatham the Martin family moved to North London, living first in Finchley and then Muswell Hill. Troy attended Finchley Catholic Grammar School, ‘but I wasn’t a real academic high flyer. I had loads of ambitions and certainly none of them was to do with writing. So the writing thing came when I went to Trinity.’

Although he grew up in a Catholic family and went to a Catholic school, Catholicism did not have a lasting influence on him. It may be that the death of his mother, a practising Catholic, when he was young caused Troy to lose interest in the Catholic faith, for his father was not a devout Catholic: ‘My mother was very practising, but my father just went along with it. My mother died of cancer just after the war, when I was about sixteen, in London, and I think that had an immense effect on all of us.’ According to Troy, the death of his mother was a severe blow to his father and the family’s troubles were compounded when Frank Martin lost his job after the war:

He was devastated by my mother’s death … he never really recovered from that and he never really worked again. Once he lost his job we became really poor, I mean but really poor. There was some money that was going to come on stream from my mother’s father, which had been left in some kind of trust for her children, and that helped us through university, particularly in Trinity where the rest of the family didn’t have grants. I got a full grant, from Middlesex, and went over, but from about 1946 to 1951 or ’52 we were really poor …

Frank Martin was very keen for his children to go to university and was excited when Troy got a place at Trinity to read history. Troy was there for four years and stayed on after graduating, by which time the whole family had relocated to Dublin, his brother and sisters also going to Trinity, although Ian and his younger sister, Maureen, dropped out. The years at Trinity were liberating for Troy and he began to think of himself as a writer during this period, coming into contact with other writers and immersing himself in Dublin literary life:

Brendan Behan lived just next door and one day he just chucked this copy of a book, which turned out to be The Borstal Boy, over. He said ‘You’re a writer, what do you make of this?’ and of course I didn’t really like it. I thought ‘Who wants to read something about a borstal boy?’, so I’d say, ‘Oh it’s very good Brendan … ’ By the end of that time, before I went into the army, I knew all those sort of people and was working with grown-ups and thinking like a grown-up, rather than like a student.

At a loose end after university, Troy decided to volunteer for the army, knowing that if he went back to England he would get called up for National Service anyway. In Northern Ireland, he discovered, it was possible to get a better deal than if he signed up for the regular army in England:

They didn’t have conscription because of the political situation, but ever since the war they’d accepted people from the north and the south to do what would be the equivalent of National Service, but for regular pay and with regular holidays, so you could go to the north and actually get out quicker than you would if you did your two years here, because I think you could end up with about twenty one months or something, plus getting about six weeks/two months leave, plus quite decent pay. So I went up there and volunteered. I didn’t know what regiment to go in for and then I remembered ‘A Gordon for me’, so I put down the Gordon Highlanders!

The choice of the famous Scottish regiment was significant given his upbringing on the islands. After basic training Kennedy Martin did officer training and before long was on his way to Cyprus as a Second Lieutenant in an infantry battalion. Cyprus was still a British colony but there was a guerrilla movement of Greek-Cypriots seeking enosis (integration with Greece) and also a large Turkish minority, so it was a volatile situation. Kennedy Martin’s battalion was based in the mountains, where there was guerrilla activity, and as a Second Lieutenant he had a platoon which he would take out on patrol: ‘Our job was to hunt down these enosis people who were conducting a kind of guerrilla campaign, very much like the ones that happened in Greece during World War Two, and we were up in the mountains, in Troodos. It was really exciting in a way.’

Although Kennedy Martin was in Cyprus for less than a year, being stationed there when the Suez Crisis happened in 1956, the experience was to be a lasting one, providing material for some of his early television scripts. But his first attempt to prove himself as a writer was as a novelist. Three months after returning to England from Cyprus Kennedy Martin left the army, returned to Dublin and decided he was going to write a novel:

So I wrote this novel, or at least a draft of it, and then went to London with it. I wrote it on Achill Island, on the west coast of Ireland … I went down there with some friends and I think Ian and Mo [Maureen, his sister] came a bit later. You know, it was peat fires, or turf fires, and gathering mushrooms in the morning, and still having no money and I wrote the draft of this novel down there.

The novel was Beat on a Damask Drum, set in Indo-China in 1954. Its subject was an elite unit of soldiers, a multinational group comprising an Englishman, American, Irishman, French and German, operating as a sort of trouble-shooting unit, often behind enemy lines, at a time when communist aggression against the French colonial troops was escalating into what would eventually become the Vietnam War. Into this situation enters a beautiful woman, Joey Castle, a friend of the Englishman, Adam Canning, who she has known since childhood and who she tries to persuade to return with her to England.

The novel enabled Kennedy Martin to draw on his military experience, but given that his experience of active service had been in Cyprus it seems curious that he chose to set the novel in South East Asia. It does, however, demonstrate his interest in world politics at the time, as well as giving an indication of his literary influences: ‘One was showing interest in that [the situation in Indo-China] and what was happening in Russia and so on. I was reading everything and having ideas I guess. Also I think I was very influenced by Graham Greene and Hemingway.’ According to Kennedy Martin, Graham Greene gave Beat on a Damask Drum a very good review and indeed the novel bears some similarity to Greene’s own South East Asia war novel, A Quiet American, published in 1955, although Kennedy Martin says he had not read Greene’s novel when he wrote Beat on a Damask Drum. The novel was published by John Murray in 1959, but by then Kennedy Martin had embarked on a career as a television scriptwriter and, apart from a 1962 novelisation of Z Cars, was not to return to novel writing:

That was my first and only novel but I did think of myself as a novelist … I guess for the first two years I was involved in television, or even a little longer, I felt ‘I’m only doing this in a temporary kind of way and I’m really a real writer and these people who work in television aren’t as real as I am!’, so I had that rather cocky attitude.

Kennedy Martin spent two years working on Beat on a Damask Drum but for his first television play, Incident at Echo Six (BBC, 9 December 1958), he drew directly from his National Service experience in Cyprus. The play is about an attack on a police station in the mountains in northern Cyprus and follows the unfolding of the event over the course of one night. Transmitted as a live studio drama the play, like most studio dramas of the time, was dialogue-led and played out on a limited number of studio sets, although it did include some short film sequences for exterior scenes. As with Beat on a Damask Drum Kennedy Martin was concerned to explore the tensions and the relationships between the men (the play featured an all-male cast, including Barry Foster in a leading role and a young Tony Garnett in one of his early acting roles) as they tried to deal with the aftermath of the attack, as well as seeking to describe the reality of the political situation in which these British soldiers were involved.

Incident at Echo Six resulted in Kennedy Martin being taken on by the BBC as a scriptwriter/adapter and he worked on a number of adaptations over the next three years plus a second original play set in Cyprus which was eventually screened as The Interrogator (BBC, 22 December 1961). Between Incident at Echo Six and The Interrogator there were adaptations of stories by Somerset Maugham (The Traitor) and Bernard Newman (Element of Doubt) and also an adaptation of a play by John Heron and Maureen Quiney called The Price of Freedom, set in a refugee camp and screened as part of the BBC’s contribution to World Refugee Year in 1960.

In 1961, while working as a scriptwriter/adapter, Kennedy Martin worked on six half-hour plays for a series called Storyboard, one of which was an original script while the others were adaptations. Storyboard was an attempt to explore the potential for experimentation in live television drama and it was the first series that the innovative director James MacTaggart worked on after being brought down from Glasgow by Elwyn Jones to work in the Drama Department at the BBC. None of these experimental dramas survive, but they mark the beginnings of a tradition of innovation in television drama that eventually led to The Wednesday Play, the first series of which was produced by MacTaggart in 1965.

Also in 1961, apart from completing The Interrogator and working on at least two other television plays, Kennedy Martin began work on Z Cars, the groundbreaking police series which was to become one of the BBC’s popular successes in the early 1960s. There is some dispute about the origins of Z Cars, Elwyn Jones sometimes being credited for coming up with the idea, but it was Kennedy Martin who developed the format for the series and who did most of the initial research, in addition to writing the majority of the early episodes. The impact of Z Cars was enormous and the series transformed the representation of the police on British television, introducing a new benchmark for realism in television drama. Although Z Cars was largely studio-based there was an increased use of film which helped to give the series added realism and a much faster pace than in most drama series of the time. In addition, some of the episodes written by Kennedy Martin incorporated several different storylines, with narratives interwoven through the episode in a manner unprecedented in the early 1960s.

Kennedy Martin and John McGrath wanted to place the focus of the series on the people in the fictional towns of Newtown and Seaport, as much as the police, and to explore the social problems which such new towns were encountering at the time. As McGrath put it: ‘The series was going to be a kind of documentary about people’s lives in these areas, and the cops were incidental – they were the means of finding out about people’s lives’ (Laing, 1986: 170). The series was an immediate success, attracting audiences of fourteen million within a matter of weeks and the initial run of thirteen episodes was extended to thirty-one. However, contrary to the original intentions of Kennedy Martin and McGrath, it was the police who became the focus as the series became established. Having launched it as a groundbreaking social–realist drama they decided to leave.

John McGrath joined the BBC as a scriptwriter/adapter in 1960, the year after Kennedy Martin, and they were like-minded in their ambition to develop a new kind of television drama. Their relationship was cemented while working on Z Cars and, following their departure from the series, they decided to work together to develop new forms of television drama. The major outcome of their collaboration was Diary of a Young Man, a six-part experimental serial produced by James MacTaggart and directed by Peter Duguid and Ken Loach. Diary of a Young Man was transmitted in August–September 1964 but an extract from one of the scripts was included in an article which Kennedy Martin wrote for the theatre magazine Encore in April 1964. Entitled ‘Nats Go Home: First Statement of a New Drama for Television’, the article was a manifesto for a new kind of television drama, opening with a critique of the dominant tradition of naturalism in television drama before proceeding to outline a model for a new form of non-naturalistic drama. The script extract from Diary of a Young Man was used to illustrate the narrative possibilities of this new drama, the essential aims of which were ‘to free the camera from photographing dialogue, to free the structure from natural time, and to exploit the total and absolute objectivity of the television camera’ (Kennedy Martin, 1964: 25).

Roger Smith, who was to become the first story editor on The Wednesday Play, was also someone Kennedy Martin worked closely with in this period. Having worked together on the Storyboard series, in which Smith also appeared as an actor, they collaborated on an adaptation