Don't Just Lie There, Say Something!

At the Conservative Party Conference in 1993, the then British Prime Minister John Major made his now-notorious "back to basics" speech calling for a return to traditional moral values. The reason that the speech has become notorious is that over the next couple of years a number of Conservative politicians were shown by the media to have been involved in various forms of sexual or financial misconduct, and his party's growing reputation for "sleaze" was a significant factor in Major's defeat at the 1997 general election. (Surprisingly, the media missed what would have been the biggest sleaze story of all, namely that Major had himself had an adulterous affair with a female colleague, Edwina Curry).

"Don't Just Lie There, Say Something" reflects the long-standing British obsession with the sexual misdeeds of their politicians, especially those politicians who preach one thing and practise another, an obsession going back at least to the Profumo affair in 1963. The film came out in 1973, the same year as another notorious scandal which saw two Government ministers, Antony Lambton and Lord Jellicoe, forced to resign from office because of their involvement with prostitutes.

The central character is Sir William Mannering-Brown, a Home Office minister who has introduced into Parliament a controversial Bill imposing stricter controls over sex and violence in the media, even though he is himself an inveterate womaniser. The trouble starts when Sir William's inept, bumbling deputy Barry Ovis is kidnapped on his way to his wedding by a group of anarchist hippies opposed to the Bill. (Were the scriptwriters aware, I wonder, that "ovis" is Latin for "sheep"?) Ovis manages to escape from his kidnappers and takes refuge in Sir William's London flat, unaware that his boss is using it for an assignment with his glamorous but mercenary secretary Giselle Parkyn, whose main concern is to persuade Sir William to award lucrative Government contracts to her father's sausage-manufacturing business.

Bawdy comedy was very much a mainstay of the British film industry in the seventies, but "Don't Just Lie There…" is rather different in style to films such as the "Carry On" series, which depended heavily on suggestive innuendo. It has been said that the difference between comedy and farce is that the writer of farce does not need a sense of humour, merely a sense of strict mathematical logic. Although there is some bawdy wordplay such as obvious doubles entendres on the word "pussy" or the expression "have it off", most of the humour in "Don't Just Lie There…" is of the strictly mathematical sort. The plot arises from Sir William's desperate attempts to hide evidence of his misconduct from Ovis, Giselle, his other mistress Wendy, the hippies, an officious police officer, an elderly opposition politician, his wife Birdie and Ovis's fiancée Jean.

There are some familiar (at least in Britain) faces in this film. Leslie Phillips, with his sandy colouring and foxy features, was far from conventionally handsome, but he seemed to make a career out of playing smooth but lecherous cads, and Mannering-Brown falls firmly in this category. Brian Rix similarly made a career (although more on stage than on film) of playing bumbling idiots who normally ended up losing their trousers (as Ovis does more than once). Joanna Lumley (Giselle), with her classic English Rose beauty and seductive speaking voice, was regarded as one of the most promising British newcomers of the early seventies. (She has gone on to become one of the most familiar faces on British television, although her film career has been rather patchy). Joan Sims (Birdie) was a regular star of the "Carry On" films, where she also often played formidable wives pursuing errant husbands.

The presence of all these stars, however, is not enough to save this film. The frantic antics of the cast- most of the action consists of people in various states of undress hiding in, or under, beds, in cupboards or outside windows- are never amusing. The few effective moments, in fact, come when the film relies on verbal rather than physical humour, such as the scene where Sir William, speaking to the policeman, is desperately trying to concoct an explanation as to why he is in bed with Ovis and then, when she betrays her presence by sneezing loudly under the covers, why Giselle is with them. Farce was a popular genre in the British theatre at the time, although it has lost its popularity since, and even in the seventies it never seemed to transfer well from the stage to the screen. ("No Sex Please, We're British" was one of the longest-running West End hits of the decade, a fact that will baffle anyone who has seen the film version). At the time "Don't Just Lie There…" seems to have been well received- it even spawned a TV spin-off called "Men of Affairs"- but today it looks like a horribly dated period piece. 4/10

To use the words forced, stagey, inane and desperate to describe this film would be a severe understatement. The majority of this film seems to consist of characters hiding under beds or in closets, running around in their underwear or less or putting on "funny" accents to get themselves out of compromising positions (and I use the term loosely).

The characters in this film are incredibly dumb but there's a method behind this. They have to be dumb otherwise if they acted like sensible human beings all the plot strands would be tied up in about 20 minutes.

This is the sort of film they don't make anymore and with good reason.

Leslie Phillips starred in a few bedroom farces in the early to mid-1970s. These were DOCTOR IN TROUBLE, NOT NOW DARLING, Spanish FLY, NOT NOW COMRADE and this film. DON'T JUST LIE THERE, SAY SOMETHING is undoubtedly one of the best of these films.

The plot is as follows - a government minister intends to tighten up the laws on censorship, leading to a group of hippies kidnapping his underdog. From this simple premise the film descends into the usual farce with clothes coming off, mistaken identities, characters making up stories as they try to explain away their various antics and so on.

The first thing to note is that the film doesn't look like a filmed stage play in the same way as NOT NOW DARLING did. It makes use of more than one location and some outdoor scenes too (although not too many).

Leslie Phillips is on top form in this film and his caddish on screen persona is ideally suited to the part he plays. Likewise, Brian Rix is probably at his best in this film. I remember recently seeing the film version of another Rix farce, DRY ROT, and noting that it was a far less energetic production than this one. Rix has a ball of a time getting into all manner of mishaps, as well as trying to fool a police inspector with a phony Australian accent. It's all great to see and the film moves along at a very fast pace like NOT NOW DARLING did.

Joanna Lumley has always been better in serious works rather than comedy. That's my opinion anyway. I'll always think of her as being at her best as Sapphire in the SAPPHIRE AND STEEL series. But she is good as Miss Parkyn, Phillips' secretary and shares many great scenes with Phillips.

Derek Royle has fun playing an MP of the opposition party, hoping to find evidence of Phillips' sexual exploits in order to try embarrassing (and possibly bring down) the government.

Peter Bland is excellent as Inspector Ruff, a character who reprises his role in another, lesser-known Rix farce called A BIT BETWEEN THE TEETH (sadly no film version of that one was made).

Joan Sims is somewhat wasted as Phillips' wife, but it's great to see her here nonetheless.

The rest of the cast are great too, especially Katy Manning.

As was the case with NOT NOW DARLING, the film is better than the stage version. The faster pace and the perfect casting ensure this.

Overall, DON'T JUST LIE THERE, SAY SOMETHING is one of the best British farces - a fast-paced masterpiece and one of my all-time favourite comedies. For fans of the CARRY ON films, Benny Hill, Ray Cooney farces (or Brian Rix ones of course), this is a must see.

Crown minister Leslie Phillips and back-bench friend Brian Rix are co-sponsoring an anti-smut bill. This has a group of youngster upset, so they kidnap Rix on the day he is to be wed, drug him, and call the papers and police to come visit the orgy and wreck his standing. Meanwhile, Phillips is supposed to be on his way to Scotland, but has arranged for a rendez-vous -- two, as it turns out. All these collide in one large flat into which youngsters, police, fiancees, secretaries, mistresses, and senile Opposition MP Derek Royle are crammed into various doors, closets, and under beds.

I imagine Michael Pertwee's script performed better as a door-slamming stage farce than the movie it was turned into. Valiant efforts to open it up via editing cuts only serve to destroy the sharp timing such efforts need. Still, the ladies, including Joan Sims, Joanna Lumley, Myra Frances, and Nicola Rowley, are lovely, and if you have patience, the second half is better timed for this sort of nonsense, and Rix is quite good, and Phillips (whom youngsters may recall as the voice of the Sorting Hat in the Harry Potter is always amusing in a fast-thinking, scoundrelly way.

The idea was sorted into a TV show, MEN OF AFFAIRS.

What a dire soul-destroying chore it was sitting through this archaic piece of 'entertainment' from that bleak era when the Confessions films and 'On the Buses' were considered the height of British comedy. The only reason I watched this was because that incorrigible cad Leslie Philips was in the cast and – so I thought – he's always worth a viewing. Sadly, even he can't salvage anything from this mess. A number of people run around a politician's flat (or 'love nest' as The Sun would have it) in various states of undress, frantically trying to avoid one another or engage in extramarital or mercenary sex. It's incredible to believe that a generation just once removed from my own used to find this rubbish funny. Avoid at all costs.