Rating: C-
Dir: Gerald Thomas
Star: Elke Sommer, Kenneth Williams, Windsor Davies, Jack Douglas
The loss of Talbot Rothwell’s sure and experienced hand on the script is probably the biggest loss here, although the absence of Sid James on theatrical tour is also felt. The lecherous role played by Davies seems to have been intended for James. Although the newcomer would have been familiar to audiences at the time from his role in It Ain’t Half Hot Mum, there’s just something “off” about his performance. The whole thing, frankly, feels like a mockbuster version of Carry on Camping, with the same basic scenario of a weekend at a camp site. Indeed, the same location of the orchard at Pinewood Studios was used as for its predecessor, and the weather proved similarly uncooperative.
Rather than wrangling a school trip, Williams is now archaeologist Professor Roland Crump running a dig nearby with the help of expert on Roman remains, Professor Anna Vooshka (Sommer). In the caravan park are Fred Ramsden (Davies) and his pal. Ernie Bragg (Douglas), who are there on a weekend away from their wives, with Fred in particular intending to take full advantage of the freedom. While the local dolly birds (Sherrie Hewson and Carol Hawkins) are largely immune to their dubious charms, they are happy to take advantage, in a way which feels more mean-spirited than comedic. There are a slew of minor subplots to fill up running time, involving the usual henpecked husbands, shrewish mothers-in-law, and communications breakdowns, plus subsidence, an escaped mynah bird (voiced by director Thomas) and wet paint.
I wasn’t that impressed with Camping, but it’s still somewhat better than this. The main saving grace is Sommer, one of the rare cases in the franchise of a foreigner actually being played by a foreigner, rather than Bernard Bresslaw in brownface. Elke tears into her dialogue with glee, delivering malapropism after malapropism, due to her fractured knowledge and pronunciation of English. These almost inevitably come with deeply seventies sexual undertones, e.g. saying “cramped” in a way that sounds like “crumpet,” confusing “hitting it off” with “having it off”, or looking for cleaning supplies by going round the park asking “Excuse please, you have scrubbers in caravan?” Yet when we’re laughing at Prof. Vooshka, it’s also clear she’s ferociously competent and takes no shit from anyone.
The rest of the cast, however, look to be sleepwalking through their roles; admittedly, the generally weak script doesn’t give them much with which to work. It feels like new writer Dave Freeman, who had worked on The Benny Hill Show for over a decade, took the straightest route possible to any penis reference, and only occasionally captures the surreal spirit of the best entries. A rare such moment sees Fred and Ernie use an entire wardrobe door to check if Prof. Crump is still breathing, because that’s the only mirror in their caravan. Otherwise, there’s little of note, even less of the usual sense of escalating chaos, while the ending comes abruptly, almost as a relief.