Cinematic heroes 2: Ian Hendry


(c) BBC


“Do you know, I’d almost forgotten what your eyes look like.  They’re still the same.  Piss-holes in the snow.”


If those words, uttered by a sneering Michael Caine in Get Carter, the classic British gangster movie from 1970, aren’t engraved on Ian Hendry’s tombstone, they might as well be – for I imagine they’re what most people think of when they hear Hendry’s name mentioned today.  They come at the end of a tense scene where Caine’s Jack Carter encounters scuzzball Eric Paice, played by Hendry, at Newcastle Racecourse in High Gosforth Park.  Hendry was originally lined up to play Carter, the virile hero / anti-hero of the celebrated Geordie-land equivalent of Mean Streets.  However, by 1970 heavy drinking had taken its toll on his health and physique.  So instead he was given the supporting role of the weasely but memorably villainous Paice.


Hendry was resentful at losing the lead role to Caine.  The night before the race-course scene was filmed, an attempt to give it a read-through in the hotel where the cast were staying was reportedly a disaster due to Hendry being three-sheets-to-the-wind.  It’s said that Caine kept his professional cool in the face of Hendry’s drunken uncooperativeness, although he may have enjoyed the irony of the film’s climax, which sees Carter force-feed Paice a bottle of whisky before clubbing him to death with a shotgun.  Director Mike Hodges, meanwhile, thought Hendry’s resentment was a bonus because it heightened the tension between Carter and Paice onscreen.  Every cloud has its silver lining.


While researching this entry, I read a lot about Hendry’s alcohol problems, which came as a surprise to me.  When I was a kid in the 1970s, by which time his drinking was well out of hand, he seemed nonetheless to be ubiquitous.  He turned up on TV all the time – I remember seeing him in The Persuaders, The Sweeney, Thriller, Van Der Valk, Churchill’s People, Crown Court, Supernatural, The New Avengers and Return of the Saint – and he was in a fair number of films too.  Mind you, the taxman was giving him as much trouble as the drink, which was possibly an incentive to keep working no matter what physical and mental state he was in.


Born in 1931 in Ipswich, the county-town of Suffolk, Hendry worked originally in property management and also did two years of national service after World War II.  But he’d been interested in amateur dramatics since his schooldays and had even done a spell working as a circus clown’s sidekick – an experience that left him with an enduring love for the big top – and in 1953 he packed in the office job and enlisted in London’s Central School of Speech and Drama, where his fellow students included Vanessa Redgrave and Judi Dench.  After graduation from the school he spent the remainder of the 1950s doing stage-work and getting bit-parts in films, including one in Jack Clayton’s 1959 adaptation of John Braine’s novel Room at the Top.


(c) ABC


It was on television, however, that Hendry got noticed.  In 1960 he secured the lead role in a short-lived show, Police Surgeon, and a year later he was the lead in another show, The Avengers, which was anything but short-lived – it lasted until 1969, becoming ever more whimsical, surreal and outlandish along the way, and it made a 1960s icon out of its ultra-suave, bowler-hatted and brolly-carrying hero John Steed and an international star out of the actor who played him, Patrick Macnee.  It’s still talked about in some quarters as the greatest television series ever made.


In its earliest incarnation, though, Macnee only had second billing and Hendry was the real star – he played the show’s tragic hero, Doctor David Keel, whose efforts to investigate and avenge the murder of his fiancé by a criminal gang (hence the title The Avengers) bring him into contact with Steed.  Once the case is solved, Keel and Steed form a crime-fighting partnership.  Nearly all the videotapes of the episodes from the show’s first season were wiped, but looking at what remains (bits of the very first episode are viewable on youtube), it’s surprising how much like a standard British crime melodrama the original Avengers is – Steed hasn’t yet acquired his trademark suit, bowler and brolly and wears a decidedly non-debonair raincoat.


A strike that held up work at the production company, the Associated British Corporation, and the promise of a successful film career persuaded Hendry to depart at the end of the first season and once he was gone The Avengers morphed into the telly legend it is today.  Steered by producers Albert Fennell and Brian Clemens – Clemens was also the chief writer – it grew increasingly and gloriously baroque and Hendry was replaced as Macnee’s partner by, in turn, Honor Blackman, Diana Rigg and Linda Thorson.  I suspect the show wouldn’t have followed the iconic path that it did if Hendry had stayed on board – mind you, at least then we’d have been spared the truly horrible movie version with Ralph Fiennes and Uma Thurman in 1998.


Post-Avengers, Hendry’s 1960s films included Roman Polanski’s Repulsion (1965) and Sidney Lumet’s The Hill (1965).  The latter was the first of several quality (if not so financially successful) movies that Lumet made with Sean Connery, who was trying to forge a serious movie career away from the Bond films.  It was set in a British army correction camp in the Libyan desert during World War II and Hendry excels at playing an evil-bastard sergeant who crosses the line in persecuting the camp’s inmates.  Interestingly, five years later in the 1970 film The Mackenzie Break, Hendry played another screw at a wartime prison camp – the twist being that the inmates are German soldiers attempting to escape from a British POW camp in northern Scotland.


(c) MGM


Meanwhile, in 1963, Hendry married the actress Janet Munro, who’d made her name appearing both in Walt Disney movies like Darby O’Gill and the Little People and Swiss Family Robinson and in sci-fi ones like The Trollenberg Terror and The Day the Earth Caught Fire.  When the Daily Mirror found out about their romance, Hendry’s star was so much in the ascendant that the newspaper reported it on its front page.  Munro, like Hendry, had a weakness for alcohol and a carelessness with money and their relationship seemed to encourage rather than banish their demons.  She died of a heart attack in 1971, a year after she and Hendry had separated, and her death propelled Hendry even further into alcoholism.


In 1969, he appeared in the science fiction film Doppelganger, the first venture into live-action filmmaking by producer Gerry Anderson, who was then famous for his TV-puppet shows like Thunderbirds and Captain Scarlet and the Mysterons.  Supposedly, Anderson was simultaneously shocked by Hendry’s drunkenness and taken by his charm – in the studio pub, Hendry had a habit of walking up to him on his hands (a trick he’d possibly picked up in his circus days) and saying to Anderson, “Evening, boss.”


After Get Carter, Hendry remained busy but an increasing amount of his work was on television – and although he was a regular face in British movies, it was clear by now that he wasn’t going to achieve stardom and would have to settle for ‘trusty-old-character-actor’ status.  Slightly frail and haunted-looking in appearance and with thinning hair – indeed, according to one account of his life I read, Hendry’s refusal to wear a toupee had damaged his chances of getting lead roles – he was equally adept at playing rodentine villains like Paice in Get Carter, harassed victims and, occasionally, heroes with more than a hint of vulnerability.


In the early 1970s Hendry started turning up in horror films, which he may have seen as one more nail in his career’s coffin but which helped to cement him in the affections of weird people like myself.  He was the luckless hero of the second segment of the 1972 anthology film Tales from the Crypt, whose stories were based on strips from old American horror comics like Vault of Horror, Haunt of Fear and Tales from the Crypt itself.  The film doesn’t do justice to its source material, although Hendry’s segment about a man who seemingly survives a horrific car crash and then can’t figure out why everyone he encounters runs away in terror – it’s because he’s actually… dead! – comes closest to capturing the comics’ visceral, in-your-face style.


He was also the hero of 1973’s Theatre of Blood, a comedy-horror movie that I could rhapsodise about all day.  It features Vincent Price as an insane and hammily over-the-top Shakespearean actor who starts murdering the snobbish London theatre critics who’ve bad-mouthed his performances, using murder methods borrowed from the Bard’s plays.  Hendry plays the youngest and least obnoxious critic, who halfway through the film has a sword-fight with Price modelled on the one between Tybalt and Mercutio in Romeo and Juliet and then, at the end, nearly gets his eyes put out as the Earl of Gloucester did in King Lear.  Hendry gets rescued by the police, however, and is on hand to pronounce judgement on Price when he finally plunges to his death through the roof of a burning theatre-building: “Yes it was a remarkable performance… he was madly overacting as usual, but you must admit he did know how to make an exit.”


Playing Price’s daughter in Theatre of Blood was none other than Diana Rigg, one of Hendry’s replacements in The Avengers.  And incidentally, the penthouse flat that Hendry’s character occupies during the film would later, in real life, become the home of Jeffrey Archer – to give him his full Wikipedia title, the “novelist, failed politician and former jailbird Jeffrey Archer.”


(c) United Artists


In 1974, Hendry appeared in Captain Kronos Vampire Hunter, an ahead-of-its-time Hammer horror-swashbuckler written and directed by his old Avengers comrade Brian Clements, who kindly billed him as ‘guest’ star on the credits.  Playing the film’s title role was the German actor Horst Janson, who’d been one of the prisoners in The Mackenzie Break.  Hendry also turned up in the opening sequence of Damien: Omen II (1978) with another great British character actor, Leo McKern.  Hendry and McKern have little to do, apart from die in a freak and presumably Damien-inspired accident, but it’s nice to see the pair of them share some screen-time.


Among Hendry’s later television credits was a guest appearance in the The New Avengers, the late-1970s revival of The Avengers that again starred Macnee, with Joanna Lumley and Gareth Hunt as his partners this time.  In the episode To Catch a Rat, Hendry doesn’t play a returning David Keel but a British secret agent who’s spent nearly two decades in a psychiatric hospital suffering from amnesia.  When a blow to the head cures him of the amnesia, he realises he has knowledge of a traitorous double-agent who’s been operating all this time at the heart of Britain’s intelligence establishment, and Macnee, Lumley and Hunt have to rescue him before the traitor has him killed.  Producers Fennell and Clemens saw to it that Hendry was first seen working undercover as a trapeze artist in his old love, a circus tent.  They also ensured that Macnee hailed Hendry at the episode’s end as an ‘old friend’ and told him, “It may be 17 years late, but welcome back…”


In the late 1970s Hendry was declared bankrupt and professionally he fared little better than he did financially.  His last film role was an uncredited part in the 1980 prison movie McVicar, although it would’ve been sadder if his film CV had ended with his previous cinematic appearance, which was in 1979’s dreadful Joan-and-Jackie Collins sex / disco / gangster epic The Bitch.  Meanwhile, on television, his 1980s roles were mostly confined to crime shows like Bergerac, The Chinese Detective and Antonia Fraser’s limp lady-detective series Jemima Shore Investigates.  His final role came in 1984, when he appeared in three episodes of Brookside, the flagship soap opera for the recently-launched Channel 4.  (When it started broadcasting, one of the first things Channel 4 did was repeat the mid-1960s episodes of The Avengers, thus introducing them to a new generation – myself included.)


Hendry died from a stomach haemorrhage on Christmas Eve, 1984, at the age of 53.  His last TV appearance was as a guest on an episode of This is your Life honouring his old Avengers co-star Patrick Macnee.  The episode also had contributions from Honor Blackman, Diana Rigg, Linda Thorson, Joanna Lumley and Gareth Hunt.  Hendry looked in terrible shape when he came on stage to greet Macnee, but at this gathering of Avengers alumni it would’ve been tragic if he, the original star of the show, hadn’t been there.


In this, the Internet era, there’s been a revival of interest in Ian Hendry.  He has an extensive official website devoted to him at and a fan one at  Also, earlier this year, the first-ever biography of the actor, Send in the Clowns: the Yoyo Life of Ian Hendry by Gabriel Hershman, was published to good reviews:


Deadly déjà vu


(c) The Times


History repeats itself…’  It’s tempting to end that quote with the words of Karl Marx, who famously said, ‘…first as tragedy, second as farce.’  However, in the case of the Tunisian opposition politician Mohamed Brahmi, who on July 25th was shot dead in front his home in Tunis just five-and-a-half months after the Tunisian opposition politician Chokri Belaid was shot dead in front of his home in Tunis, I would refer instead to the American lawyer and civil libertarian Clarence Darrow.  Darrow said something a little different about history repeating itself: ‘…and that’s one of the things that’s wrong with history.’


Belaid’s assassination in February – allegedly by Islamic extremists, although some claimed the moderate-Islamist Ennahdha party, the main player in the Tunisian government, had colluded in it – prompted the Tunisian trade union body, the UGTT, to hold a day-long general strike in protest.  It also pitched the country into what was agreed to be its worst constitutional crisis since the revolution in early 2011.


Relatives of Brahmi, the founder and leader of the socialist, Arab-nationalist People’s Movement – I’ve heard the adjective ‘Nasserite’ used to describe it – blamed Ennahdha for having a hand in his death too.  However, the Minister of the Interior, Lofti Ben Jeddou, was swift to claim that Brahmi and Belaid had been shot with the same gun and to pin the blame on a Salafist extremist called Boubacar Hakim.  Considering how intricate and time-consuming forensic science can be, I suspect Ben Jeddou was a little too swift in making that claim.  Meanwhile, once again, the day after, the UGTT organised a one-day strike in protest against the killing and against the government’s handling of the security situation.


Brahmi was less prominent than Belaid and his assassination seemed to have less immediate impact than the events in February had.  Part of this, however, was surely due to it being summer and it being Ramadan – temperatures in the mid-thirties and physical weakness from fasting for most of a day will dull even the strongest emotions of anger and outrage.  Also, the shooting took place on a national holiday, Republic Day, when Tunis had a somnolent, closed-down feel to it.  However, I didn’t have to wait long before seeing signs that something was wrong.  Late that afternoon, in front of my local supermarket, I noticed a middle-aged woman sobbing in the street.  And when I went up to the first floor of the Lafayette Carrefour shopping mall, I saw that all the big TV / plasma screens along one wall of the household-appliances section were tuned into a Tunisian TV news programme, which was covering the assassination.  Simultaneously, the screens showed the façade of the dead politician’s house, and his car parked in the drive, and the spent cartridges littering the ground.  Three Carrefour staff-members and a half-dozen shoppers stood watching the images in horrified silence.


That night, at about 1.00 AM, I heard a throng of people moving along my street, past the front of my apartment building and in the direction of Belvedere Park.  When I looked out of my living-room window, I saw hundreds and hundreds of young people walking by, the eldest of them surely no more than college-age.  They hadn’t arranged themselves in a single, dense crowd, but were in groups of three, four and five that were strung across the whole street and that seemed never-ending as they drifted past.  Some were chanting.  Quite a few were wheeling bicycles.  There were no beards and only a couple of headscarves in sight, so I assumed this was an anti-Ennahdha protest.  Finally, near the back of the throng, there appeared the first of a slow-moving cortege of police vans and cars, their lights flashing silently and sinisterly, their occupants obviously monitoring the marchers ahead of them.


Since Brahmi’s funeral, there have been calls for the dissolution of the government.  Additionally, anti-government and pro-government protestors have been a continual presence in front of the National Constituent Assembly in Bardo – police first used tear gas to disperse the two groups of antagonists, but have since settled for laying down barbed wire to keep them apart.  Prime Minister Ali Larayedh has insisted that, despite the protests, the government is here to stay – at least, until December 17th, which is the latest date that ministers are talking about as the occasion of Tunisia’s next elections.  However, Larayedh’s assertions have been undermined by the fact that certain individuals have since resigned from his supposedly-here-to-say government, including Education Minister Salem Labiadh (who until now was best known to international pundits for his efforts to stop Tunisian schoolchildren from performing the Harlem Shake).


The screws were further tightened on the government on July 29th when militants, believed to have ties with Al-Qaeda in the Maghreb, attacked a Tunisian army patrol and killed eight soldiers on Chaambi Mountain near the Algerian border.  Attempts have also been made to bomb National Guard members in less remote areas – one bomb exploded beside a highway 23 kilometres south of Tunis on July 30th and another went off four days earlier in La Goulette, just east of the capital – although there were no casualties.  Critics claim that Tunisia’s government is now, bloodily, reaping what it sowed with its earlier, go-easy-on-them policies towards Islamic extremists.


With everything that’s happened in the past week, it’s no surprise that the BBC news website has commented: ‘Not since the uprising that toppled longstanding president Zine al-Abidine Ben Ali has Tunisia faced a crisis so serious’ (  Which is exactly what everyone said after Belaid’s assassination in February, although this situation now does feel worse.


Even those Tunisians who would rejoice in seeing the current government thrown out of office today should acknowledge, though, that there’s an elephant in the room – a jumbo-sized Egyptian elephant.  Anti-government protestors in Egypt got what they wanted on July 3rd when democratically-elected (just about) Muslim Brotherhood President Mohamed Morsi was removed from power by the Egyptian army.  Following Morsi’s removal, 51 Muslim Brotherhood supporters were killed by solders on July 8th at a barracks in Cairo and between 120 and 136 more were killed in the city’s Nasr City district on July 27th.  Accounts from eyewitnesses and the Human Rights Watch seem to back Muslim Brotherhood claims that on both occasions their people were murdered.  There have been other deaths in smaller, less publicised incidents and nobody is predicting that the worst is over.  Getting rid of a government, no matter how bad, that claims to have a democratic mandate is always going to have consequences, potentially devastating ones.


Tread carefully, Tunisia.  Don’t let history repeat itself – not as tragedy, not as farce and not as an Egyptian-style bloodbath.