David Warner

The deranged Swinging Sixties comedy that was the making and breaking of David Warner

Aged 24, warner was called 'Christ-like' by critics. But the savage Morgan - A Suitable Case For Treatment brought out the devil in him.

9 of the best Inside No. 9 episodes so far

As the dark nights draw in, Reece Shearsmith and Steve Pemberton's anthology series Inside No. 9 returns for a third season.

Pity Elizabeth Gadge (Ruth Sheen). After being accused of consorting with the devil, she has to face two of England's most feared witch-finders, Clarke and Warren (Steve Pemberton and Reece Shearsmith). She faces being burned at the stake, and her trial is the most exciting event in Little Happens since "the escaped cow". What unfolds, as the anthology series continues, is essentially a Hammer Horror played for laughs. As dimwitted local bigwig Sir Andrew Pike, David Warner quite brilliantly makes the most of every line he's given.

Radio Times review

We're back in the 17th century for the trial of Elizabeth Gadge (Mike Leigh favourite Ruth Sheen), an old crone accused of witchcraft by her own flesh and blood. The trial bodes well for local bigwig Sir Andrew Pike (David Warner), keen to attract visitors to the dismal village of Little Happens, whose sole attractions hitherto have been the green, a duck and a bench. Reece Shearsmith and Steve Pemberton play dual witchfinders, Mr Warren and Mr Clarke. (See what they did there?)

The loose anthology format certainly allows them to indulge their passions and peccadillos, here mining the Vincent Price classic, Witchfinder General, for flavour and chuckles. From the start, the arch performances call to mind a League of Gentlemen sketch where they dismissed a DVD movie for having "too much actinggg", but this dark tale soon works a devilish spell.

Tonight's macabre tale is totally different from anything that has gone before in this series, but it is equally accomplished and very, very funny. In an inspired pastiche of a 17th-century witch trial, Sir Andrew Pike (David Warner) has summoned two of England's most notorious witch finders, named Mr Warren and Mr Clark in tribute to the late actor, to try a defenceless old woman (Ruth Sheen) accused of consorting most lewdly with the devil. "Let us at least hear the testimony of the poor old crone," says Clarke, "before we reward ourselves with gold for burning her to death." It's like a long-lost Monty Python sketch, only better.

This review contains spoilers...

Albert's Memorial was a bodysnatching road movie starring David Jason, David Warner and Michael Jayston as Second World War veterans who, 45 years earlier, had abjectly failed to rescue a young German girl from murderous Soviet troops. When Jayston's character dies, the remaining two must fulfil his dying wish and bury their comrade in the same field outside Berlin where the atrocity occurred.

Which is one hell of a great opening for a drama. Unfortunately, this was one corpse that had been embalmed in saccharin, for the story was soon floundering beneath a wave of sweetness and sentimentality. The jokes were of the "Quiet, you'll wake the dead!" variety, and the plot had holes big enough to drive a hearse and cart through.

My patience finally expired when the mystery hitch-hiker sharing their road to redemption turned out to be the ghost of the murdered German girl.

It is a tribute to the talents of Warner and Jason that they actually succeeded in delivering very moving performances among all the unadulterated tosh.

I wish I could tell you that in David Jason's latest ITV1 drama, he plays a maverick computer hacker on the run from the Russian mafia, or a dashing international pianist preparing for one last recital before he retires. But of course, he's nothing of the sort. We know the kinds of characters Jason plays, and we love him for them.

Tonight it's Harry, a lovable London cab driver whose memories of the second world war are stirred when an old friend dies, leaving behind a bizarre request. Jason is an executive producer on the project, and it's his kind of drama, a touching, whimsical portrait of old age and its ghosts.

He's ably supported by David Warner as Harry's mate Frank. The two of them are surprised when their friend Albert calls them to his death bed and asks them to bury him in a field in Germany where the three men shared an unspecified trauma in 1945, one that bound them together, even though "We haven't had the guts to deal with it since."

What follows is a gentle caper involving a black cab, a coffin and a trip to the continent. There's a good deal of old-boy bickering between the leads, some mild black comedy and, underneath it all, a sad fable of war, death and memory.

This one-off drama might not have had the sexiest pitch ever: two World War II veterans honour their friend's dying wish by taking his body for burial in Germany. However, a cast led by David Jason, a nice splash of dark humour and the skilful unravelling of a mystery made it well worth watching.

The film kicked off with the dying Albert (Michael Jayston) asking his mates Harry (Jason) and Frank (David Warner) to bury him on the hillside near Berlin where they met the advancing Russian army. However, it was clear that the three men had a secret: something happened there that had haunted them ever since.

With Albert's death, the film edged into more farcical territory. Harry and Frank stole his body to prevent his cremation, and before long he was boxed up and strapped to the top of Harry's London cab for the road trip. Along the way, with the intervention of Vicki (Judith Hoersch), a young German hitch-hiker, Harry and Frank gradually came to terms with the events of 1945.

The mystery unfolded quite nicely, with clever editing reflecting the way memory works and inviting the viewer to piece together the tragic events. However, despite strong performances from Jason and Warner, the film relied too much on Last of the Summer Wine-style capers and creaky banter.

Worse of all, the plot leant on too many coincidences and contained too many moments that strained credibility. And after a moving climax, the clumsy revelation in the final minutes overshadowed the touching human drama of old men coming to terms with the past. A disappointing end to an otherwise engaging drama.

If your hobbies include masquerading as a wizard with a magic helmet, a ridiculous name and a penchant for slaying goblins, then Anil Gupta and Richard Pinto's fantastical new comedy should be right up your cobbled street. If not, don't worry - there are still loads of laughs in this affectionate lampoon of a genre that generally takes itself far too seriously.

Stephen Mangan stars as fantasy novelist Sam, who is whisked off to a Tolkien-style parallel universe by a noble elf, a sexy warrior princess and a feisty dwarf called Dean (why are dwarves always Scottish?). It turns out Sam's dog is the Chosen One destined to save 'Lower Earth' from Lord Darkness - an arch-villain reminiscent of David Warner's Devil in Time Bandits and played brilliantly by Alistair McGowan. It's so much fun you'll wish you'd joined the Dungeons & Dragons society after all.

By some strange turn of fate the new Classic Serial is Scoop, Evelyn Waugh's satire on the press (its ownership, practices and function). The story is simple. We are in the 1930s. A mighty newspaper proprietor, Lord Copper, believes wars are good for countries because they unite people against a known enemy. He is persuaded by a beautiful society hostess to send one of her social pets, John Boot, to report the war in far-off Ishmaelia. By mistake, another Boot, William, who writes the Daily Beast's nature notebook, is dispatched. William knows nothing of abroad or reporting. We understand that, like Voltaire's Candide, he will somehow come out of this mess quite well and make us laugh a lot. Jeremy Front has done a deft, sly adaptation, bringing out the brilliance of the characters. Sally Avens has cast it very well (Rory Kinnear as William and Stephen Critchlow as Corker are perfect, David Warner as Lord Copper is pluperfect) and directs it with panache. A better antidote to hysteria cannot be imagined.