JULIE DRISCOLL in SEASON OF THE WITCH (1970)

This is a rehash of a previous post but as Desmond McCarthy and Johnny Byrne's BBC Wednesday Play, Season Of The Witch, first broadcast 7 January 1970, is available (for now) on YouTube it's worth flagging up again.

Made in the summer of ’69, Season of the Witch stars Julie Driscoll in her debut acting performance as Mel, who runs away from London, her parents, and her job and heads to Brighton. There she meets various “beats” (interestingly there are plenty of references to beats and beatniks – no one is a freak or hippie) and they mooch about doing very little.

Mel takes tips on scavenging for food (get a skinny dog and plead with the butcher for meat) and sleeps on the beach before hitch hiking to Cornwall, traipsing back to London for a demo, getting arrested, and hanging out with drifters Jake (Paul Nicholas) and Shaun (Robert Powell). 

With plentiful location shots, unscripted segments of dialogue, a few state-of-kids-today moments mixed with real-life interviews and footage (greasy bespectacled longhairs arguing half cocked political idealism and watching drug education films at a youth drop-in centre, filmed in a Ken Loach docudrama style), Season of the Witch is as much sympathetic coming of age documentary as it is "Beat Girl On The Road". As such, it’s aged well, it attitude at least. Da yoof may not say “scenes” and “pads” anymore but the spirit and searching for a sense of belonging can’t be much different.

Julie Driscoll is a far better singer than actress - and isn't helped by having to deliver some clumsy dialogue - she's good to watch. The best line comes from Mel’s Dad (Glynn Edwards), who in a long rant about drugs, coffee shops, long-haired layabouts and the state of young people wanting to look conspicuous says “I saw one of ‘em the other day wearing a cowboy hat. In ‘arrow. There ain’t any cowboys in ‘arrow”. Director Desmond McCarthy has since explained all the lines in that monologue were taken from a real Panorama documentary. He's also confirmed the sign in a B&B window of “We reserve the right to refuse beatniks and other undesirables” was also genuine. 

A soundtrack by Brian Auger and the Trinity and a bit of Blind Faith in Hyde Park adds to the enjoyable. And despite the title it's mercifully Donovan-free.

SEASON OF THE WITCH (1970)

May’s cultural highlight came yesterday at the NFT for the Flipside screening of Season of the Witch, a BBC Wednesday Play made in the summer of ’69 with Julie Driscoll playing Mel who runs away from London, her parents, and her job and heads to Brighton. There she meets various “beats” (interestingly there are plenty of references to beats and beatniks – no one is a freak or hippie) and they mooch about doing very little.

Mel takes tips on scavenging for food (get a skinny dog and plead with the butcher for meat) and sleeping on the beach before hitch hiking to Cornwall, traipsing back to London for a rally, getting arrested, moving on again, getting a pad with Jake (Paul Nicholas) and Shaun (Robert Powell), and upping sticks again.

With plentiful location shots, unscripted segments of dialogue, a few “what’s it all about?” moments mixed with genuine interviews and footage (greasy bespectacled longhairs arguing half cocked political idealism and watching drug education films at a youth drop-in centre), Season of the Witch is as much sympathetic coming of age documentary as it is Beat Girl On The Road. As such, it’s aged well. Da yoof may not say “scenes” and “pads” anymore but the spirit can’t be much different.

Julie Driscoll is a far better singer than actress but the role suited: neither ditzy dolly bird nor down at the heel desperado; it made a change to see a portrayal of a together, likeable and eminently sensible young woman in a 60s film.

The best line came from Mel’s Dad (played by Glynn Edwards, better known as Dave from the Winchester Club in Minder), who in a long rant about the state of young people today said “I saw one of ‘em the other day wearing cowboy hat. In ‘arrow. There ain’t any cowboys in ‘arrow”. Director Desmond McCarthy gave a good Q&A session afterwards and explained all the lines in that monologue were taken from a real Panorama documentary. He also confirmed the sign in a B&B window of “We reserve the right to refuse beatniks and other undesirables” was also genuine.

Add to all that a soundtrack by Brian Auger and the Trinity and a bit of Blind Faith in Hyde Park and you’ve a real treasure that’s screaming out to be issued on DVD.