WARNING: REVIEW CONTAINS SPOILERS
Was this sort of thing really in fashion thirty years ago?
On The Buses was produced by the Hammer organisation, famous for their horror movies, of which you could argue this "comedy" is one. If you think that there's little comic potential to be had from the exploits of a bus company then... you'd be right.
A series so dated that the theme tune contains the lyrics "It's a gay life on the buses, make sure you leave your bird at home" without any homosexual connotation intended. Reg Varney and Bob Grant play a bus driver and conductor, who conduct sexual harassment in the workplace as a "bit of a laugh". Touching up women and remarking how big their breasts are is not only acceptable behaviour, it's actively encouraged. Stan and Jack, two very unlikeable characters, regularly laugh at their own jokes in a bid to convince you they're funny. It's not an effective illusion. Jack (Grant), who resembles a grey-haired Eric Sykes with foot-long sideburns, turns out to be an irresistible babe-magnet. Their daily routine concerns Stan (Varney) missing out routes so that Jack can find time to sleep with another man's wife. Stan, for his part, chats up an Irish cook (who sounds Welsh, but never mind) whom Jack remarks has "nice dumplings". After she asks if Stan sees anything he fancies, he stares at her chest with a "cor, not 'alf!" and asks if she fancies "a bit of roly-poly". She actually responds, and tells him off for putting temptation in her way. Well, how could she resist a line like that? It's not long before she's on his sofa, crying out "Oh, Holy Mary, I'll have to go to confession tomorrow!" Yes, it really is THAT bad.
Only Stephen Lewis as the Hitler-moustached Inspector Blakey produces any mirth. While Blakey can seem an amusing caricature, it's notable that Lewis does talk like that in real life, as evidenced from his straight role in The Krays. Blakey's laugh and double takes are a wonder to behold, and, while supposed to be the villain, he's far, far more likeable than the crass Stan and Jack. Other supporting "comedy" characters include the undersexed brother-in-law and the plain sister who - hold your sides - has thick glasses. Stan tactfully jokes to the pair that he should have a vasectomy as "we don't want her in the club." Ultimately, it turns out Olive is pregnant, due to the fact that the television was broken four months previously.
Inevitably compared with the "Carry On" series, they're really poles apart. Lewis is the only player whose style is self-effacing, Varney in particular seeming to have a genuine belief that his lines are actually in some way funny. It also lacks the vaguely political or literary merits of a Carry On, or the decent film standards. Coming from an established television sitcom, this contains no cinematic grace but seems merely like a triple-length episode with lacklustre direction.
The "plot", if you can call it that, involves the Bus Company employing female drivers in a bid for equality. With, as you might imagine, "hilarious" consequences. The complex dynamics of such a polemic are resolved by Pat Coombs and cohorts yelling "come on, girls, let's sort this little boy out", while sticking an air hose up Stan's trousers. "What's the matter, got the wind up?" he's asked in one of the film's many feeble puns. Stan and Jack retaliate with fake diversion signs, spiders and tea filled with laxatives. The film concludes with the supposedly loveable, but actually bawdy and insensitive, Stan and Jack threatening to walk out after the women are promoted to Inspectors. But not to worry - Stan's new inspector is a long-legged girl in a mini-skirt, causing the day to be saved!
Of course, watched in an ironic kind of way this slab of pure cheese can still produce a wry smile. But it's wearying lack of sophistication and aged worldview of oversexed housewives and shocked vicars make it, at best, an out-of-time relic.
Was this sort of thing really in fashion thirty years ago?
On The Buses was produced by the Hammer organisation, famous for their horror movies, of which you could argue this "comedy" is one. If you think that there's little comic potential to be had from the exploits of a bus company then... you'd be right.
A series so dated that the theme tune contains the lyrics "It's a gay life on the buses, make sure you leave your bird at home" without any homosexual connotation intended. Reg Varney and Bob Grant play a bus driver and conductor, who conduct sexual harassment in the workplace as a "bit of a laugh". Touching up women and remarking how big their breasts are is not only acceptable behaviour, it's actively encouraged. Stan and Jack, two very unlikeable characters, regularly laugh at their own jokes in a bid to convince you they're funny. It's not an effective illusion. Jack (Grant), who resembles a grey-haired Eric Sykes with foot-long sideburns, turns out to be an irresistible babe-magnet. Their daily routine concerns Stan (Varney) missing out routes so that Jack can find time to sleep with another man's wife. Stan, for his part, chats up an Irish cook (who sounds Welsh, but never mind) whom Jack remarks has "nice dumplings". After she asks if Stan sees anything he fancies, he stares at her chest with a "cor, not 'alf!" and asks if she fancies "a bit of roly-poly". She actually responds, and tells him off for putting temptation in her way. Well, how could she resist a line like that? It's not long before she's on his sofa, crying out "Oh, Holy Mary, I'll have to go to confession tomorrow!" Yes, it really is THAT bad.
Only Stephen Lewis as the Hitler-moustached Inspector Blakey produces any mirth. While Blakey can seem an amusing caricature, it's notable that Lewis does talk like that in real life, as evidenced from his straight role in The Krays. Blakey's laugh and double takes are a wonder to behold, and, while supposed to be the villain, he's far, far more likeable than the crass Stan and Jack. Other supporting "comedy" characters include the undersexed brother-in-law and the plain sister who - hold your sides - has thick glasses. Stan tactfully jokes to the pair that he should have a vasectomy as "we don't want her in the club." Ultimately, it turns out Olive is pregnant, due to the fact that the television was broken four months previously.
Inevitably compared with the "Carry On" series, they're really poles apart. Lewis is the only player whose style is self-effacing, Varney in particular seeming to have a genuine belief that his lines are actually in some way funny. It also lacks the vaguely political or literary merits of a Carry On, or the decent film standards. Coming from an established television sitcom, this contains no cinematic grace but seems merely like a triple-length episode with lacklustre direction.
The "plot", if you can call it that, involves the Bus Company employing female drivers in a bid for equality. With, as you might imagine, "hilarious" consequences. The complex dynamics of such a polemic are resolved by Pat Coombs and cohorts yelling "come on, girls, let's sort this little boy out", while sticking an air hose up Stan's trousers. "What's the matter, got the wind up?" he's asked in one of the film's many feeble puns. Stan and Jack retaliate with fake diversion signs, spiders and tea filled with laxatives. The film concludes with the supposedly loveable, but actually bawdy and insensitive, Stan and Jack threatening to walk out after the women are promoted to Inspectors. But not to worry - Stan's new inspector is a long-legged girl in a mini-skirt, causing the day to be saved!
Of course, watched in an ironic kind of way this slab of pure cheese can still produce a wry smile. But it's wearying lack of sophistication and aged worldview of oversexed housewives and shocked vicars make it, at best, an out-of-time relic.