Space Police: Star Laws REVIEW

Before there was Precinct 88, Officer Jane Castle, and the planet Altor, there was Precinct 44 East, Officer Cathy Costello, and the planet Zar XL5 – to name but a few of the differences between the 1994 television series Space Precinct, and its original pilot episode filmed 8 years prior, Space Police: Star Laws. A lot can change in 8 years. While there are several recognisable elements of Space Police that made it into Space Precinct, I really feel like we’re assessing two completely different beasts, produced in two different eras of Gerry Anderson’s career.

As I’ve detailed fervently in my Space Precinct episode reviews, the resulting television series was a production that stumbled despite its long gestation period. At the cost of quality, the show was rushed through a breakneck shooting schedule to meet ambitious broadcasting deadlines. While money flowed generously towards Space Precinct, the funds ultimately ended up in the wrong places. At times, the show lacked both style and substance. Meanwhile, Space Police was built on the foundations of the 1983 Anderson Burr puppet series Terrahawks and carries a lot of that show’s bold confidence in spite of budgetary restrictions. Terrahawks and Space Police are cheap and cheerful, but with the emphasis on cheerful. This leaves Space Police with the strange affliction of feeling scrappier than Space Precinct, but landing with much more confidence. Where Space Precinct suffered an identity crisis throughout its run, Space Police has a stronger sense of self that’s been founded on lessons learned from Terrahawks.

I used to sit firmly in the camp that prefers the Space Police pilot over the Space Precinct series. I struggled to get into Space Precinct and only recently completed my first marathon of the whole show. Conversely, I’ve never hesitated to revisit Space Police over the years. How so? What always gave Space Police the edge for me? And does that hold true in the wake of my big Space Precinct crash course? Will Space Police hold up compared to the show it ultimately inspired?

Our story begins in space… which probably doesn’t come as much of a surprise. The aesthetic of the planet and city we see is not a million miles away from the representation of Altor and Demeter City that Steven Begg delivered for Space Precinct. Steven Begg directed all the visual effects for both Space Police and Space Precinct so those similarities are expected. The movies that influenced his work are much the same for both projects – Blade Runner and Star Wars to name a couple. Steven Begg and Space Police art director Mark Harris had recently worked together on Aliens and were able to freely borrow a lot of models and sets from that production to keep costs down. This borrowing went both ways with some Terrahawks models turning up in Aliens too.

The opening caption establishes this as “an Anderson Burr Picture.” The partnership of producers Gerry Anderson and Christopher Burr was still going strong after making Terrahawks together. The two struck a good balance in sharing the creative and business responsibilities of their filmmaking endeavours throughout the 1980s. It was only when Burr left the UK for Portugal in the late 80s and took up an interest in golf that the Anderson Burr partnership dissolved amicably. In 1989, Gerry Anderson edited a new, 24-minute cut of Space Police in collaboration with The Moving Picture Company to try and sell the series. On this updated edit, Christopher Burr is no longer credited as a producer since he would have had no involvement in any resulting series. It sounds fair to assume that Burr had little to no involvement in devising the premise, but was instrumental in the administrative and financial aspects of getting Space Police made.

Flying a police cruiser towards the city, we meet Lieutenant Chuck Brogan. Again, the general setup of a flying police car and an officer in an Earth-like police uniform is close to what we end up seeing in Space Precinct. Squint your eyes really, really tight and you could believe you’re watching the same show. The same… but different.

One great big difference between Space Police and Space Precinct is the casting of the lead character. Chuck Brogan is played by veteran Anderson actor Shane Rimmer – voice of Scott Tracy in Thunderbirds, guest performer in Captain Scarlet, Joe 90, The Secret Service, UFO, The Protectors, and Space: 1999, and a writer on a number of those shows too. Shane Rimmer was Gerry Anderson’s first pick to play the role – so much so that the earliest documentation for Space Police flat out named the lead character “Commander Shane Rimmer.”

By listening to the character’s inner monologue, we learn that Lieutenant Chuck Brogan had worked for the NYPD for 15 years before transferring to the vaguely titled, “Space Police.” In the original shooting script for Space Police, the line is a little bit different: “I’m Brogan… Lieutenant Brogan. For fifteen years I worked for the NYPD… Now I’m a Space Cop.” Doesn’t have the right ring to it, does it? Of course, when Chuck Brogan became Patrick Brogan, and Shane Rimmer became Ted Shackelford, the line was changed again to indicate that the lieutenant had been with the NYPD for 20 years rather than 15.

We crash zoom in on the star emblem of the space police force before transitioning to an illustrated shield and the logo for Gerry Anderson & Christopher Burr’s Space Police. The shield motif, font, and approximate colouring were carried through to the title card and branding of Space Precinct.

It’s worth noting that the version of Space Police I’m looking at here was upscaled to high definition and included as an extra on the Space Precinct Blu-ray release by Anderson Entertainment. Despite being shot on 16mm film, the only complete copy of Space Police that survives is a standard definition tape. For the Blu-ray release, Anderson Entertainment therefore elected to use AI upscaling to present Space Police alongside the restored HD Space Precinct episodes as a bonus feature. However, it is important to distinguish that the HD restorations of the Space Precinct episodes were provided by ITV Content Services and sourced from DigiBeta master tapes at considerable time and cost. Meanwhile, this copy of Space Police was upscaled by Andrew Joseph on a more limited budget using a lower-quality source. For these reasons, the results of the AI processing on Space Police are not as impressive as what was achieved with Space Precinct. I’m glad it was included on the Blu-ray set to provide a complete Space Precinct experience, but the key selling point of the box set is undoubtedly how good the series itself looks, while bonus features like Space Police are just that – bonuses that need only look as good as they can without drastically increasing the retail price of the set.

Since Space Police ended up standing alone, the episode title “Star Laws” feels surplus to requirement… especially as the film has nothing to do with any laws concerning stars. Presumably it’s a pun on Star Wars… yes, get ready for a lot of puns.

Brogan’s cruiser flies high above street level. What we’re essentially seeing here is a darker, moodier version of exactly the kind of shot we’d see of Demeter City in Space Precinct. A caption introduces actor Catherine Chevalier who plays the role of Cathy Costello – the only other human character featured in the cast. Prior to Space Police, Chevalier’s roles had included the TV Movie Dutch Girls alongside a young Colin Firth, an episode of the short-lived TV series Lime Street, and the 1986 sci-fi comedy movie, The American Way, also known as Riders of the Storm, which happened to also feature Officer Dick voice actor, Jeff Harding. Chevalier is remembered most fondly for her roles in the horror movies Hellbound: Hellraiser II (1988) and Nightbreed (1990). In more recent years, she has worked as a movement and posture teacher.

To write the script for Space Police, Gerry Anderson turned to one of his most significant contributors, Tony Barwick. Barwick had just written the vast majority of the scripts for Terrahawks, but that only makes up a small part of the writing credits he accumulated on various Gerry Anderson productions. The number of scripts he provided across Thunderbirds, Captain Scarlet, Joe 90, The Secret Service, UFO, The Protectors, Space: 1999, and later Dick Spanner P.I. and even GFI is in triple digits. What a tragedy that Tony Barwick passed away in 1993 just a year before Space Precinct finally entered production. His talents might have made such a difference to that show’s often misjudged tone and lacklustre scripts. While Space Police’s mixture of action and dry humour may not be to everyone’s tastes, at least the tone is established with great confidence. Tony Barwick’s voice is more prevalent than ever in Space Police and he doesn’t care whether you love it or hate it.

Another Anderson stalwart is editor Alan Killick. In addition to his editing work on Joe 90, The Secret Service, UFO, Space: 1999 and Terrahawks, Alan Killick’s further credits include The Adventures of Black Beauty, Star Maidens, The New Avengers, The Professionals, and the Bond movies A View To A Kill and The Living Daylights. Already it’s clear that Gerry was pulling out the big guns to work on Space Police. Well, with one noteworthy exception…

Yes, you read that right. The music for Space Police was composed by the show’s producers. Let’s not forget that Space Police was a pilot film financed by Anderson Burr themselves, and therefore any opportunity to save a bit of money was probably welcomed. It’s rare to see Gerry Anderson’s name take second billing in any context, but even the multi-talented Gerry couldn’t make any claim towards being a musician. So, I can safely assume that Christopher Burr was the chief creative force behind the music of Space Police, with Gerry probably just there to advise. The technological revolution of the 1980s made the production of electronic music more accessible to modestly talented individuals… for better or worse. For many, the soundtrack of Space Police would fall into the worse category. Personally, I’ve learned to appreciate its charming naffness, but boy oh boy is it repetitive and generic. There’s a difference between cultivating recurring themes and straight up playing the same notes over and over again. I couldn’t make better music, but Terrahawks composer Richard Harvey definitely could have, and Space Precinct composer Crispin Merrell definitely did. Christopher Burr’s music for Space Police serves its purpose, but only just.

When you boil it right down, Space Police is a blend of styles between Terrahawks and Space Precinct. And nowhere else is this more evident than in the work of visual effects director, Steven Begg. Unexpectedly promoted to the role of effects director at the start of Terrahawks, Begg had the whole of that series to take a crash course in filming miniatures. Throughout Terrahawks you can watch him learning and refining his methods while faced with the constant pressure of producing model effects to the same standard as Derek Meddings, but without his experience or budget. I can see Steven Begg really taking the bull by the horns with Space Police and daring to up the ante. He takes the opportunity to throw every technique at the project and it’s a lot of fun to watch. His work offers Space Police yet more confidence and vitality.

Bob Bell’s association with Gerry Anderson goes back to joining the art department on Torchy The Battery Boy and rising through the ranks to become the go-to art director on all of Gerry’s productions from the second series of Supercar through to The Protectors. Missing Space: 1999 due to other work, he later re-joined Anderson for Terrahawks as an associate producer, and continued in that role for Space Police.

Bob Bell’s son, Tony Bell, was entrusted to direct Space Police. As a director of 15 episodes of Terrahawks, he was a logical choice to tackle this new pilot film which heavily involved many of the puppetry techniques used on the earlier show. By trade, Tony Bell was a boom operator and only dipped his toe into directing with Terrahawks and Space Police. He then returned to the sound department on major blockbuster productions like Avengers: Age of Ultron (2015), Valkyrie (2008) and the Thunderbirds (2004) movie.

Phew, now that we’ve made it through the opening credits we can finally dive into some action. Brogan’s patrol is suddenly interrupted by a snazzy red car barging in front of him. On-screen, the traffic offence is only made clear if you look very carefully at the grubby ‘Emergency Vehicles Only’ sign that lights up angrily with the word ‘VIOLATION’. The script explains more thoroughly: “An alien jalopy climbs up onto the emergency level. A warning light flashes. ‘You are on a prohibited level. Police and emergency vehicles only.'” Sirens blare and we get a good look at the city as Brogan chases the reckless driver to ground level. Diving in between buildings at high speed became the bread and butter of Space Precinct and it’s beautifully pulled off here as well. The city feels alive and lit up, but suitably seedy and grungy.

The stop-motion techniques that would come into their own on the next Anderson Burr series, Dick Spanner P.I., are put to use for an animated Fuzz Cola billboard ad. The dribbling cola fiend gives a startled look to camera before the dangerous driver crashes straight through the screen. Since it’s a precursor to the type of throwaway visual humour we’d see in Dick Spanner, I can imagine this unscripted moment was the brainchild of the special effects team.

As the car crashes down, we see a little model of a robot bobbling around in the middle of the foreground. In the bottom right corner of the frame we can see a couple of live action performers having an argument – likely a pair of special effects technicians. This mix of live action and model work achieved in-camera with multiple exposures is, in my opinion, more convincing than some of the green screen compositing that was used on Space Precinct 8 years later to achieve the same effect. But that could also just be the lower quality images making it harder to see the joins here.

Another staple of Space Precinct is born as Brogan watches the car crash… and crash… and crash some more. The vehicle slides through many alleyways and piles of garbage until eventually colliding with a building and stopping with minimal damage.

Brogan lands the cruiser right next to the crashed car. Unlike the later Space Precinct cruiser design, we can see that the boosters on the side of the vehicle have rotated to demonstrate its ability for vertical take-off.

The dark and smoggy mise-en-scène of the rain-soaked alleyway is incredibly atmospheric. It’s exactly the type of mood Space Precinct often aimed for but rarely pulled off so evocatively. Three lighting cameramen are credited for Space Police: Alan Hume presumably covering live action material, Harry Oakes for special effects, and Paddy Seale for puppets. Alan Hume went on to photograph the majority of Space Precinct’s live action material with mixed results, often over-lighting the sets and making everything look flat. There aren’t too many episodes of Space Precinct that capture the moodiness of this alley scene. To give Hume the benefit of the doubt, I’m guessing Space Precinct’s shooting schedule was just that little bit more intensive and didn’t allow for such complex lighting setups.

Between this wide shot of Brogan and the close-up is where you can really detect the downsides of the AI upscaling process on this restoration. It seems to struggle with adding detail to faces viewed from a distance. With so little data to work with the process ends up sharpening or smoothing over facial features in unrealistic ways, resulting in an uncanny look for a few frames that doesn’t match the actor’s features as we know them. Then, in close-up, Shane Rimmer’s face appears roughly as it should.

The voice of Officer Dick, played by Jeff Harding, cuts in over the radio. What radio, you ask? Well, the script specifies that Brogan has a “transceiver button on his collar.” How very Anderson. Jeff Harding will be familiar to dedicated Space Precinct viewers as playing Dr. Eastman in the episode Hate Street.

With but a few fleeting glances, we learn that our crook is a one-eyed, multi-armed creature hidden behind some bins. The alien surrendering with four hands held high is surely Gerry Anderson and Tony Barwick’s humour at its driest. The alienness of the alien is being played 100% for laughs – something which Space Precinct only really attempted in its early episodes with characters like Armand Loyster in Protect and Survive. This has the advantage of helping to excuse some of the less than convincing techniques that are used to bring the alien creature to life. Nobody is believing that this guy is anything other than a bunch of rubber hands on sticks, but that’s okay because it’s part of the joke. Is that a joke worth making? If your average viewer is a young kid, I’d say it probably is. More discerning adult viewers are knowingly invited to roll their eyes.

Backup arrives but Brogan seems to have the situation under control. That is until the four-armed freak turns out to be a five-armed freak with a gun! The multi-armed humour really doesn’t let up and yet there’s a gritty reality to the whole thing which makes it dramatic somehow. It’s funny and serious at the same time and I’m really not sure how they’re pulling it off.

Dick finally arrives and forces the garbage dwelling crook to surrender with all five arms in the air. The blaster gun flashes seen here are considerably less elaborate than the digital effects applied in Space Precinct.

Dick is accompanied by Officer Harry who checks that Brogan is okay. More on these feline crime-fighters in a moment…

The space cops blast off in their space cruisers and head for… space. Steven Begg makes use of multiple exposures to convey the ships smoothly gliding through the vacuum. These are techniques picked up from Brian Johnson’s Space: 1999 work and practiced multiple times in Terrahawks. Meanwhile, the music is trying a little bit too hard to express the sense of triumph to us. In the shooting script, this is the sequence where it was originally suggested that the opening credits should appear.

This scene’s dialogue – scene 34A in the script – was a late addition. The shooting script was issued in March 1986, while this brief exchange between Dick and Harry is dated 22nd May 1986. Voice recording is reported to have taken place on April 1st so presumably this means an extra session was required to pick up these additions. Harry is being voiced by Kate Harper, who also made appearances in Space Precinct as various alien guest characters for the episodes The Witness, Hate Street, and The Fire Within.

But let’s start talking about these cat-like creatures shall we? Before Space Precinct gave us Tarns and Creons, Space Police suggested that giant talking cats would be the ones fighting for justice in the galaxy. Gerry Anderson’s initial format had actually proposed a whole menagerie of officers inspired by different animals – the feline Lieutenant Leo with a lion’s strength and agility; the elephantine Lieutenant Ellie with a good memory; the canine Captain Wag with incredible hearing and a nose for sniffing out explosives and drugs; and the imaginatively named Sergeant Bats, the bat-like officer with special vision and the ability to fly. Ultimately, the revised format made them all feline – probably to cut costs. But what was the reason for introducing alien creatures to the show in the first place? More on that in a moment.

Here is the Precinct 44 East police station. It’s a more modest design than the giant greenish-yellow station house seen in Space Precinct. There’s a hint of Cloudbase from Captain Scarlet about this one.

The station house interior is a more intimate set than the vast two-storey complex built for Space Precinct. The cluster of desks and monitors and control panels and other junk give it that lived-in police station feel. However, the lack of any extras scurrying around in uniform does make the place feel a tad empty.

We’re introduced to the rest of the team – human officer Cathy Costello, and two more cats called Tom and Bats. Yes, Bats was retained from the original format but for some reason turned into another cat. Meanwhile Leo, Ellie, and Wag became Tom, Dick, and Harry… which isn’t exactly a laugh out loud joke. It’s not like Officers Tom, Dick, and Harry form an iconic trio worthy of the names. They usually work in pairs. Bats is described in the script as coming from “Special Division” which explains her uniform differing from the rest. Tom is voiced by another Anderson veteran in David Healy, who took on roles in Captain Scarlet, Joe 90, The Secret Service, and UFO – plus a couple of infamous dubbing duties in Space Precinct. Bats is voiced by Desirée Erasmus, whose subsequent credits include Sid and Nancy (1986), Sexy Beast (2000), and The Ghost Writer (2010).

You’re not mistaken, Tom is passing the time by levitating a can of Fuzz Cola. He has the power of telekinesis. Not only is this a setup for something miraculous that happens later in the plot, it’s also one of the bizarre things that did manage to creep its way into Space Precinct with the Tarns. Unlike the Tarns who are all born with a third eye, it’s not exactly clear why Tom has this telekinetic ability. Apparently there’s a Fuzz-levitating world record, so Tom probably isn’t the only creature in the cosmos capable of such a feat. Does that mean all cat people have this skill but Tom’s just perfected it?

Cathy heads to the window, spots the two cruisers incoming, and exclaims, “Teacher’s back!” It’s flippant and colloquial remarks like these that bring the tone of the pilot closer to the series that inspired it – Hill Street Blues.

Alas, Tom’s record-breaking shenanigans will have to wait.

Landing lights guide the cruisers towards the four-bay docking area where a couple of grabbing arms are ready to hold the ships in a parked position. Keen-eyed viewers will spot that behind the cruisers is a heap of black cloth trying to disguise the model control rig.

Dick and Harry escort their legless prisoner into the station house, arms flailing and mouth gabbling away about the injustice of it all. The puppet is extremely animated, presumably being operated by the hidden arms of the performers inside the Dick and Harry costumes.

And who exactly is inside those costumes? Well, this is the weird thing about Space Police. Instead of using actors, the live action versions of Tom, Dick, Harry, and Bats are being portrayed by puppeteers Christine Glanville, Jan King, Lyn Beardsall, and Tina Werts respectively. They are wearing full body suits and animatronic masks given the impressive title of “Galactronics”. Space Precinct would ultimately use the same method to portray the bulk of its alien characters – the masks just got more sophisticated, and the people inside them were actors rather than puppeteers. Christine Glanville stayed on with Space Precinct to perfect these masks and was one of the operators of their remote control mechanisms.

Brogan follows the officers down the corridor. In the script, the original intention was to hear Brogan’s inner monologue at this point. He would have introduced the station house and his colleagues to us in voice over. In theory, such exposition is important for a pilot episode, but I’m glad they kept it out in the end. It would have slowed the scene right down. We’ve got a whole 50 minutes to learn everyone’s names so it’s not like we have to be told them directly. Curiously though, Brogan’s deleted monologue does specify about his colleagues, “They’ve got alien names like Czechoslavakia [sic] said backward. So I settled for Tom, Dick and Harry.” This is noteworthy because it means that Tom, Dick, and Harry are not their actual names. It turns out Brogan is a space racist and can’t be bothered to pay his colleagues the respect of learning their real names, and just uses nicknames instead. It’s probably for the best that this detail was cut.

I’m now acutely aware of the fact that Officer Tom is seasoned Anderson puppeteer Christine Glanville in a fat suit and I can’t take my eyes off them.

The multi-armed ne’er-do-well is unceremoniously dumped on the table and Tony Bell opts for some hectic handheld camera work reminiscent of Hill Street Blues. Bats recognises the low-life from somewhere. I must say Bats has got very nice hair… on her head, I mean… and her face, I suppose.

Now, here’s someone you might know. It’s Slomo! Yes, other than Brogan, the loveable robot assistant Slomo was the only other recognisable character to directly transfer from Space Police to Space Precinct with minimal modifications. Richard Gregory built the prop for Space Police, kept it in a shed for eight years, and then he was brought out and massively overhauled for Space Precinct by David Dunsterville. As you can see, the Slomo of Space Police is silver instead of white, had multiple tool attachments jutting out instead of two basic arms, and featured a disc-shaped head with fewer lights and gizmos than his later counterpart.

Unlike the later variant, a unique feature of the Space Police Slomo is the way his two eyes function as video screens to display basic images and text. This effect is rather crudely achieved by overlaying the graphics in post-production and hoping that the audience won’t notice the head moving independently of the twin displays. Curiously, Slomo’s readout identifies the arrested crook as A. Quintman, an associate of V. Lann. This detail isn’t specified in the shooting script and doesn’t have any bearing on what happens next. I think it’s purely a heads up for the audience.

Cathy offers Brogan a list of suspects who are ‘Known associates of V. Lann.’ The shooting script offers a slightly different list to the one specified on-screen:

“E. VILE”

“EYEBALLS”

“TERRY WRIST”

“R. SONIST”

“SLOB FACE”

As you can see, it’s all much of a muchness.

Brogan explains that his chosen method for capturing V. Lann and his gang is to irritate them as much as he possibly can. Sounds delightful. I enjoy the laid back rapport between the characters here. They clearly enjoy their jobs and get along quite well.

The interrogation isn’t exactly fruitful, but it is fun. The crook wants his lawyer, and Brogan wants to know who he works for. Neither of them get what they want.

The crook doesn’t take kindly to Brogan looming over and nicknaming him “Armpits.” That deleted bit of inner monologue from earlier where Brogan explains his nicknames for Tom, Dick, and Harry suddenly offers some insight to this moment. Apparently Brogan just has a thing for giving aliens stupid names.

Brogan wanders off looking for Slomo while the others take care of their new friend, Armpits. We’re just getting a few more glimpses of the office set and I really like the look of it. It’s a great blend of spaceship and workplace.

Brogan quips that Slomo might have Apache blood because of his stealth. The robot doesn’t get the joke and tries to begin a lecture on North American Indians. In the shooting script, Slomo does admit that the joke is “Very droll” – indicating a capacity for humour that would be beyond Slomo’s Space Precinct counterpart. At the end of this scene, Brogan ultimately cuts him off and just complains about the air conditioning.

Slomo tries a touch of subliminal messaging. Is everyone in this ruddy film sponsored by Fuzz Cola?

Brogan inadvertently takes the hint, and Slomo shares his glee with the audience. I’m really glad they dropped using Slomo’s eyes as screens in Space Precinct. The effect just doesn’t work and the jokes aren’t that funny.

Brogan is horrified to discover a fresh uniform hanging up for him. Cathy reminds the lieutenant that he has a “heavy date.” Yes, we’re slowly meandering our way towards the actual plot. Space Police takes a leisurely approach to pacing and it’s surprising to me that the pilot ends up running to 52 minutes given the relatively straightforward story.

Interestingly, when Anderson Burr were trying to raise the finance for the series in 1985, they secured a co-production deal with the ITV franchise operator TVS to the tune of £625,000 for the one-hour pilot. However, the actual proposal for the series itself was for 65 half-hour episodes. When the Space Police deal with TVS fell through, Anderson Burr ended up funding the 52-minute pilot themselves, and when Space Precinct finally became a series 8 years later, the episodes would run to 43 minutes (without commercials).

We’re saying goodbye to the city for now and moving to the barren wastelands that seem to cover most of the planet.

Bats offers Brogan compliments on his attire. The script specifies that he should be wearing a “dress uniform with stiff cap and shining badge.” I don’t think they’ve quite nailed the dress uniform part – the shirt doesn’t look all that different from what he was just wearing.

Through the clouds a pretty fantastic ship emerges. It’s an enormous expanse of lush garden floating in the sky. The script describes the Presidential Residence as “an incredibly beautiful ‘flying’ house set in its own gardens.” The house part barely fits on the screen because the ship is so enormous, but you definitely get the idea.

Bats wryly describes it as “just another mobile home.” Everyone’s a comedian in this show.

To give you some idea of scale, the model of the Presidential Residence was about 5-foot long. It’s a big beast made to look even bigger by the magnificent clouds that sweep alongside.

The live action set for the ship’s exterior isn’t quite so impressive. Brogan and Bats look like they’re lost in a garden centre.

I hope you like barren desert landscapes because you’re gonna be seeing an awful lot of them in the near future.

At this point in the shooting script we were supposed to cut to an initial scene in V. Lann’s car where both he and E. Vile discuss their ludicrous nicknames courtesy of Brogan. This scene was likely removed from the final cut because the whole “Brogan-giving-people-nicknames” thing was needlessly convoluted and trimmed from the whole show.

Lovely bit of forced perspective as the live action Brogan and Bats step into the live action set for the President’s office…

… and meet the puppet-sized President in his puppet-sized office. Clever, right?!

So here’s the really brilliant thing about Space Police. Because human characters are exclusively played by actors, and the aliens are portrayed by a combination of masked puppeteers and Terrahawks-style Supermacromation puppets, it’s entirely possible to have humans and aliens interacting in the same scene without it looking too weird. Compare this to Gerry Anderson’s last Supermarionation series, The Secret Service, where the viewer was expected to not care when a puppet Stanley Unwin suddenly turned into the actor Stanley Unwin. Cutting from a fake human to a real human stretched the imagination way too far. But cutting between a real human and a fake alien is much more palatable. Of course, we’ll see later that this blend of styles does come with restrictions on how much the humans and puppets can really interact. For the moment though, let’s enjoy Shane Rimmer chatting to a thumb-faced dignitary like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

The President is pleased with a report which details Brogan’s efforts smashing V. Lann’s crime syndicate. Apparently that’s reason enough for a humble police lieutenant to be granted an audience with the president of the whole planet. Oh, but it sounds like Brogan and the five other officers of Precinct 44 East are the police for the whole planet. It’s a bizarre setup but you just have to run with it.

The script doesn’t offer a physical description of the President but curiously does detail that his desk is supposed to be “carved from purple and orange rock.” This isn’t the case on-screen, and I wonder if the descriptions got mixed up and the President ended up with a face carved out of orange rock. I find this alien design a little unsettling. I wouldn’t have minded seeing something more outlandish given that the President is exclusively seen in puppet-form and therefore not confined to a humanoid face or shape. The voice is solid enough though.

A full cast list for Space Police has never been published specifying exactly who played whom aside from the lead characters. Based on nothing but listening to snippets of the various actors’ other work I’ve come up with a rough guess that the President is voiced here by Peter Whitman.

At the mention of V. Lann and E. Vile (a voice-over not included in the shooting script) we head out to a very flat car parked in the desert, followed by some grizzly close-ups of our story’s villains. Again, Christopher Burr’s music is pounding it into our heads that these are the bad guys.

Now, these are some great alien designs. V. Lann is a big, blobby, Jabba the Hutt type of figure, while E. Vile is a skinny, bug-eyed wretch. Gary Martin, who went on to voice Slomo, Beezle, and countless guest characters in Space Precinct, is confirmed to have voiced V. Lann. That impossibly deep grumble is Gary Martin’s specialty as a voice actor – most famously as the Sugar Puffs Honey Monster. My best guess as to the voice actor behind E. Vile is Kerry Shale, but this remains unconfirmed.

V. Lann is ruddy terrifying, isn’t he?

Here’s a weird quirk of the music. V. Lann’s thumping theme also seems to feature snippets of barely audible, unscripted dialogue throughout the film. You can just about make out the words, “This could be him,” in V. Lann’s voice as another car pulls up. A spoken word section during the music? Weird, but okay as one-off in this context.

No, you’re not mistaken, V. Lann’s eyes have now turned red. He’s got eyes like a set of traffic lights and I couldn’t tell you what the various colours are supposed to represent. They don’t appear to correlate with his mood or anything like that. They just change colour as he speaks. E. Vile gets very excited now that their colleagues have arrived and does his best impersonation of a machine gun.

As E. Vile waves out the window, the soundtrack once again quietly repeats V. Lann’s line, “This could be him.” I have no idea why. I can only assume it’s Christopher Burr trying to do something experimental with the music. But it’s just confusing.

Much of the dialogue in this scene plays out much quicker than the way it was originally scripted. The shooting script mistakenly refers to V. Lann as ‘Mr. Big’ at one point because that was the character’s original name in Anderson’s initial outline.

In the other car it looks like we have an early prototype of Dick Spanner paired up with a giant lizard. The duo of gangsters are stop-motion-animated by Steven Begg’s team with terrific results. None of these moments inside the other car are scripted.

Dick Spanner’s evil twin takes off. The script specifies that V. Lann’s car is a ‘Fleetwood’ – as in the Cadillac. The other car is described as a “Packard”. Both are classic gangster cars. Steven Begg’s model makers don’t seem to have followed that brief and have instead gone for something totally sci-fi with both designs. As the other car flies up the hill we once again hear a faint “This could be him” on the soundtrack. I swear I’m not imagining it.

Meanwhile, Bats and Brogan are struggling to pay attention to whatever the President is waffling on about.

But Bats is actually using her special ability to detect infrared signals approaching from outside. At this point I’m really not sure whether she’s supposed to be a cat or a bat. She certainly has bat eyes and bat ears. But why the white fur like the other cat people? The president assures the officers that no-one can get within a mile of the ship without the alarm sounding. Wanna bet?

Yeah, no such luck. Bats spots the approaching car before anyone else.

Brogan orders the President to duck as the car comes straight towards them. Bats and Brogan whip out their guns in slow motion… fake slow motion… like they’ve just decided to move really slowly for some reason.

A flashing light from one of the windows indicates that a blaster is being fired from the attacking car. All this achieves is the pruning of some hedges.

The car comes around for another pass but this time the officers are ready – Bats with her blaster and Brogan with his trusty old Magnum. Shane Rimmer’s putting everything he’s got into shooting the baddies.

Within a couple of good shots, the car spins out of control and explodes spectacularly. And that’s that.

Bron, the President’s personal assistant, arrives to check on his boss. Immediately, everyone is suspicious of Bron. Immediately. They ask him why the security system failed and all he can do is get flustered. Talk about dodgy.

The Presidential Residence has a special landing pad built into the side of a mountain. Very snazzy. Does this mean that the President typically resides on the side of this mountain? Seems a bit remote for the heart of a world government.

Brogan requests that the President cancel an upcoming visit to Ultraville due to safety concerns. It’s a journey usually undertaken by monorail train. Shane Rimmer knows very well what typically happens to monorails in Gerry Anderson shows, having personally scripted the Joe 90 episode Breakout. “A soft target” doesn’t begin to cover it. But the President cannot afford to show weakness in the face of terrorism and insists on making the trip while Brogan makes whatever security arrangements he can. Well, we all know how this is going to go.

Back in the city, there’s quite the disco party going on at Mr. Big’s Secret Hideout. The music provides the most rudimentary thumping beat for an eclectic bunch of aliens to dance to. The Sporilla body suit that first appeared in the Terrahawks episode Space Giant is reused here with a different mask. What we’re really looking at is a bunch of the production team throwing on costumes and having a grand old time.

For one unscripted gag, this puppet has been built with a snarling lip to indicate that his drink is just a little bit too strong. Making a whole puppet for one throwaway gag is quite a commitment, so perhaps this lad is reused from something else – let me know if you recognise him!

E. Vile requests a “Jingo special” from the six-armed barman, and what follows is some truly frantic cocktail assembly. “Need a hand pal?” E. Vile quips. Tony Barwick is never afraid of making the most obvious jokes and I can appreciate why some people find that grating. But at least it sets a very clear tone. Space Police doesn’t try and trick you into liking it. The jokes are objectively terrible and you’re either invited to join in the fun or get out.

V. Lann comes trundling through the disco. I’m guessing he’s not in the mood for a boogie.

E. Vile tries his drink and obviously it’s disgusting. V. Lann is more concerned about their complete and utter failure to murder the President. He insists that their contact on the inside be summoned to the club. Now, I wonder who that might be…

Bron comes to check in on the President before leaving for the night. The President apologises to Bron for keeping him from his wife all evening. A deleted line from the script indicates that Bron has a son named Bron Junior. Bron bids farewell, looking as shifty as he always does.

E. Vile brings “the contact” straight to the front door of the bar.

In the March 1986 shooting script there’s a significant deleted scene at the police station that would have taken place before this. It would have featured Brogan taking a quiet moment staring out of the window, appreciating a phenomena that reminds him of seeing Halley’s comet back on Earth. He’d hiked into the mountains with his older brother in the winter of ’85 to see it (suggesting Space Police isn’t set too far in the future). Slomo listens to Brogan getting nostalgic for the landscape and people of Earth before encouraging the lieutenant to head home for the night. What’s curious about this cut scene is that there’s also an additional page with Dick and Harry marked as a ‘NEW SCENE ISSUED Friday 23rd May 1986’. Before Brogan appreciates the view out of the window, this additional moment would have seen him interrupting a chat between Dick and Harry about Harry’s colourful dating life before sending the officers home. In the end, both Brogan’s reminiscence with Slomo, and the Dick and Harry exchange are cut from the final edit. It would have added a healthy sprinkle of characterisation for sure, but also slowed the pace down to a crawl.

Without that police station scene to slow things down, we end up learning pretty quickly that Bron is the traitor. V. Lann has taken Bron’s wife and son in exchange for shutting off the President’s security system. But since the assassination attempt failed, V. Lann is going to be keeping Bron’s family hostage for a little longer. Uniquely for a Gerry Anderson production, V. Lann’s chubby fingers are operated using the puppeteer’s hands inside the gloves. This means a second puppeteer is needed so that V. Lann’s mouth and two hands are animated in sync. Quite the departure from your standard-issue Terrahawks puppet. It’s much more in line with something extravagant from a Jim Henson production…

Oh, and speaking of which, now is a good time to mention that Jim Henson (Sesame Street, The Muppet Show, The Dark Crystal, Labyrinth) nearly helped to make Space Police into a full series. Sounds like a match made in heaven, right? Henson saw the pilot and was suitably impressed. The Henson International Television Company offered to help raise financing and distribution. Henson didn’t wish to step on Gerry Anderson’s toes and made clear that creative control of the project would remain with Anderson. Unfortunately, Jim Henson’s sudden passing in 1990 meant that the partnership never came to fruition.

Dawn on the planet Zar XL5 is conveyed through a good old-fashioned matte painting. Lovely stuff.

For his family’s safety, Bron has to keep quiet about the assassination plot and allow the President to enjoy what could be his last sunrise. I’m not sure why the President’s office has a giant bed sheet for a ceiling. It doesn’t look very regal.

It’s a new day at Precinct 44 East and I’m afraid I’m just not sold on the wonky, flat design of the station house. I much prefer the Space Precinct version.

The officers are positively raucous and gabbling over each other this morning. Cathy and Bats discuss a new restaurant on 5th. Harry needs money for the coffee machine. Slomo’s calling for order. Tom barges into Cathy who tells him off for shedding fur. Dick complains about the coffee while Tom desperately wants to hear who won the big sports game. It’s all the standard-issue station house chatter happening all at once and I love it. Space Precinct has its fair share of chaotic station house scenes, but for me this one does a better job of capturing the slightly crabby workplace mood that you’d expect to see first thing in the morning. The alien characters feel like real people with their gripes and little fixations. It’s very, very reminiscent of the bustling roll call scenes from Hill Street Blues.

And when the boss arrives, everyone shuts up and gets ready to work.

But Slomo does Tom a solid and shares the score from that big game… but fails to convey which team actually won. Oh the hilarity.

The roll call goes full Hill Street Blues as Brogan offers up the news that “R. Sonist, the well known fire freak, won’t be buying any matches for a while,” resulting in riotous applause for Officer Tom who apparently arrested him.

The second and final item on the agenda concerns the President’s journey by monorail to Ultraville. Brogan anticipates a hit by organised crime and needs the whole team to scramble. He finishes with, “Let’s intellectualise. Let’s keep one step ahead. Let’s roll.” Alas, he doesn’t manage to finish with Sergeant Esterhaus’ Hill Street Blues catchphrase, “And hey! Let’s be careful out there!”

Elsewhere, V. Lann’s car is driven inside a mighty impressive warehouse. The repetitive V. Lann musical theme strikes up again and repeats that ghostly phrase, “This could be him…”

E. Vile has come alone to look for a doggie. But this is Space Police so it’s no ordinary doggie…

Megabyte is a fearsome robot dog with glowing red eyes, brought to life by Steven Begg using stop-motion animation. The movement is a little clunky but the design of the mechanical creature is very striking. The name Megabyte was later given to Professor James Gee’s dog in the ill-fated GFI cartoon created by Gerry Anderson and written by Tony Barwick in 1992.

In the warehouse office, V. Lann is ready to get the next evil scheme underway. Bron has given them a device – the nature of which we don’t yet know. We also hear that the monorail steward has been knocked out cold for 48 hours. So much for top notch security.

V. Lann decides to “give Brogan one last chance” and calls up the station house. Slomo and Cathy start work on tracing the call while Brogan tries to keep him talking. All the buttons and screens that we see on the set are so 1980s, but it feels ever so slightly more appealing than the 1990s tech that dominated Space Precinct.

Can Cathy and Slomo trace the call in time? The readout on Slomo’s eye-screen is actually the only reference we get in the whole film to the planet actually being called Zar XL5 – it’s never mentioned in dialogue.

V. Lann tries to convince Brogan that releasing all of his cronies from jail is the wisest course of action, “to prevent further unpleasantness.” It’s not a very convincing argument. Brogan vows to take down organised crime and V. Lann loses his patience. Call ends. So much for keeping him talking.

They’ve failed to trace the call and Brogan is wondering what all that was really in aid of. Slomo insists that security have fully assessed the train… which apparently doesn’t include checking whether the staff are still conscious.

Brogan’s earlier conversation with the President about cancelling the trip to Ultraville is played back on a loop as the monorail train is established for the first time in the valley beneath the Presidential Residence. This moment isn’t in the script, and the dialogue take we hear is different to the one we heard in the original scene. The train itself is nothing special in my opinion. I would have liked to see a more elaborate design than a giant white brick.

The train’s interior is more impressive. I don’t know what that power unit is in the middle, but it looks cool.

Bron is on the phone to V. Lann. He’s hesitant about giving away a vital security code. Ugh, I know his family are at risk and everything but the guy is just a little bit pathetic, y’know? Bron eventually volunteers the key – 04127. In a deleted bit of dialogue, E. Vile would have then hilariously struggled to remember the five-digit number.

The President wants to be heading out but Bron makes up some nonsense about a minor fault in the train’s engine causing a delay. He’s such a worm. The puppeteer somehow manages to convey a flicker of doubt in the President’s mind.

Elsewhere, Bron presses a button on a control panel so that it lights up with the word ‘OVERRIDE’ in the same font as the show’s logo. That probably doesn’t mean anything good.

In close-up, part of the control panel’s label has been covered with black tape, but that doesn’t disguise the fact that in real life, it’s actually a 7081 Precision Voltmeter, complete with all the buttons for doing things like switching between direct and alternating current.

Of course, Monorail Central Control immediately call up to ask about the fault. Bron promises to fix it on his end without their involvement. As we’ll see in a moment, Monorail Central Control aren’t good for much.

V. Lann and E. Vile park up nearby to get a great view of the monorail. An unauthorised vehicle parking up next door to the Presidential Residence? Yeah, apparently that’s fine. No security concerns here.

V. Lann tosses over the programmed control device with the five-digit key punched in. Some deleted dialogue would have once again seen E. Vile fail to remember the code, leading V. Lann to compare his associate’s brain to a stretch of clean white snow.

According to the script, the intention was that we would now be looking at the train through a gun-type-sight. Instead we just go through a series of crash zooms synced to the so-called rhythm of the music. With some more stop-motion animation, the engine uncouples from the rest of the train…

… and saunters off down the line on its own before exploding spectacularly for no apparent reason. The script specifies an insert shot of a small bomb that’s been planted on the track, but I guess we don’t need that. Not a single person notices any of this. How?! How does Monorail Central Control not know when one of its own trains blows up of its own accord?! Why is there not a single security guard watching the train right now?!

In glorious slow motion, the train tumbles into a ravine…

… reaches the bottom…

… and consumes the entire valley in a fireball the size of Belgium. You’re seriously telling me that nobody’s going to notice that?

And then, appearing out of thin air, we have a brand new engine coach ready to reverse down the line and connect up to the President’s train. Where did V. Lann manage to spring that from?! How did a missing engine unit go unnoticed by Central Control?! What’s Brogan been doing all this time if not watching for this kind of thing?!

V. Lann and E. Vile make their getaway, again, without anyone noticing. Putting a single cop on guard next to the train would have foiled that entire plan, but nope, apparently the President of the whole darn planet doesn’t deserve one solitary guard.

The President has mistaken the distant explosion for thunder. At least he’s the only person around here with working ears. Bron is ready to send the President off to meet his maker, but there’s a catch… the President wants Bron to join him on the train journey of certain death.

Cursed by politeness and family responsibility, he agrees to go. What a fool.

The train sets off with the President and Bron aboard in a swanky coach. The script describes the set as reflecting “taste, money and power.” It’s nice, but I wouldn’t have said it was that nice.

Bron explains to the President that the one-thousand-mile journey will take four hours. At 250 mph, the train’s speed roughly matches the peak of what was possible for real-life prototype trains in the 1980s.

Bron sends this really ugly attendant to go and fetch coffee for the President. They really aren’t an attractive species are they?

The six-armed barman from V. Lann’s club is here to serve the drinks. This top security operation really is an absolute shambles. This is why you don’t give a common or garden police lieutenant the responsibility of protecting the World President! Brogan’s clearly not up to the job!

News finally reaches the police that the main circuits on the President’s train have been out of action for the last seven minutes. Brogan didn’t even have his shoes on.

Brogan scrambles the team, sending Dick and Harry out in a cruiser. Better late than never, I suppose.

Christopher Burr and Gerry Anderson’s score inexplicably chooses this moment to play in some jaunty, triumphant music. The President looks out across the landscape which is, for some totally unscripted reason, exploding. Apparently the President appreciates the sight of volcanic eruptions right on his doorstep.

Brogan breaks the news that someone in the President’s confidence has been a deceitful little snitch. It doesn’t take long to figure out who. But it’s okay because Monorail Central Control is going to stop the train remotely using emergency circuits in the engine coach… even though it’s not the same engine coach they started the day with.

Some red lights and a measly little siren kick into action.

There are a few minor differences between Bron and the President’s scripted dialogue here compared to what made the final cut. We miss out on the President quietly saying, “You’re in deep trouble boy.” I would have found that quite satisfying to hear. But we also miss the President promising to get Bron’s family back. I guess that goes without saying.

As the train starts to decelerate, Brogan promises that a car is on the way to pick up the President… and probably arrest Bron, let’s be honest.

Dick and Harry are ready to swoop in from the skies and save the day. These birdseye shots of the train in motion were achieved not by filming from above but by tipping the whole landscape on its side. We hear another use of the acknowledgment, “S.P.A.” which was Space Police’s attempt at creating an F.A.B. or an S.I.G. It didn’t really catch on. The phrase only gets the briefest of uses in Space Precinct.

Just as things are looking up, something of an explosion happens in the engine coach. The train starts to accelerate faster than before. The door is jammed. Rats. Well, we are only halfway through the show after all – something bad had to happen.

Brogan receives another call from V. Lann, who gloats about his special control device that is, at present, the only way of stopping the sabotaged train.

The finished film cuts out a lot of the dialogue from the shooting script which suggests E. Vile is a clueless buffoon. However, the occasional moment still creeps in like this one with V. Lann yelling at his associate for interrupting. The pairing immediately puts me in mind of Masterspy and Zarin from Supercar.

Alas, Brogan still can’t keep V. Lann talking long enough for Cathy to trace the call. The lieutenant really isn’t doing very well at any aspect of his job today. But hey, at least the episode hasn’t been interrupted by Sally Brogan whining about the kids’ homework or something.

Brogan passes on the news that V. Lann is going to destroy the train unless his goons are released from jail. The President refuses to allow it. Brogan promises to save the day regardless of the odds. If you’re beginning to think this is sounding like the setup for an episode of Thunderbirds, you’re not the only one.

Back on the phone once again, Brogan passes on the message that the President isn’t going to be blackmailed. V. Lann offers them 30 minutes to change their minds. That’s a rather generous amount of time, isn’t it? Wouldn’t putting the pressure on with a 5-minute countdown be more effective?

Dick and Harry are somehow back behind their desks at the station house. Either that’s a continuity error or they gave up on stopping the President’s train really fast! The team are alarmed to hear V. Lann’s warning that there’s another bomb that they won’t be able to find. In an effort to keep the call going, Brogan suggests it’s all a bluff. Doesn’t seem likely does it?

And Cathy still fails to trace the call. I’m starting to wonder whether someone else should be operating the switchboard because this is getting tedious.

So, Brogan has no plan and the train is hurtling out of control towards disaster. Now would normally be the time to call International Rescue. Instead, we fade to black for a commercial break. Yes, a full 28 minutes into the show, the script now specifies that it’s time for the first commercial break. I think broadcasters would have something to say about that. The shot of the train whipping through the smoke towards camera is very nice though.

After the break, we learn that Bron and the attendant have searched the train and not found a bomb. I’m not sure I’d trust Bron with that job given his track record. Also, I hope the attendant doesn’t take this the wrong way but… he’s clearly got a bum for a head.

At this point Brogan and V. Lann are just flirting with each other.

And this time the call lasts long enough for Slomo and “BOSS LADY” Cathy to trace the location of V. Lann’s warehouse.

Brogan sends all of his officers down there but doesn’t attend the scene himself. Someone’s got to man the phones up in the space station. Shane Rimmer’s turned from Scott Tracy into poor John Tracy.

Three cruisers blast off. Are you sick of the music yet?

Slomo congratulates his superior for keeping V. Lann talking long enough to trace the call… despite the multiple failed attempts. But Brogan reckons it was a little too easy. Wait, what? It took you four tries?! How is that easy?!

Steven Begg tries out some more stop-motion as the cruisers slow down and deploy their atmospheric boosters for landing.

It’s a shame for a show called Space Police that we don’t see more shots of the vehicles flying through space – the special effects team are very good at it.

When the cruisers land, it’s now apparently nighttime on this part of the planet. The train is still in daylight.

Dick has the brilliant job of announcing, “This is the Space Police!” And don’t they all look marvellous in their fancy helmets?

There are no signs of life, but Brogan smells a trap – an idiom which Slomo fails to understand in that classic robot way. Brogan decides that Cathy should go inside the warehouse on her own. Well, well, well. What makes Officer Costello so expendable, eh?

Under the watchful eye of Megabyte, Cathy enters the warehouse and explores V. Lann’s lucrative side hustle in arms dealing. He seems to slap that ‘BiG’ branding on everything. Cathy mentions that she wouldn’t want to be around all these missiles on the Fourth of July. Bizarrely, the original scripted line is “I wouldn’t want to be around here on Hallowe’en.” I think it’s pretty obvious why that was changed.

Megabyte and Cathy have a bit of a disagreement over safety protocol when in close proximity to a whacking great warhead. Megabyte seems to think using his flamethrower breath is a wise decision in an enclosed space. Cathy, on the other hand, favours continuing to fire her blaster when the robot dog is discharging a considerable amount of electrical energy into the air.

I think the Fourth of July is going to come early this year.

For reasons that I must assure you will not be explained later, Cathy’s face turns into a metallic black mask.

Dick plans to go in and rescue Cathy but the highly explosive weapons inside the warehouse have other ideas. The whole building gets annihilated. Considering just how many missiles were strewn about the place I think they got off lightly.

Oh naff off, Slomo. If you’re going to put trivial little platitudes on your eye-screens at least have the decency to do it in a nice font.

To a somber version of that oh-so-familiar musical melody, a police cruiser returns to the station house.

The masked figure walks into the office with a scorched uniform. Brogan asks for a report, and unsurprisingly nothing was found in the building’s wreckage.

Here’s how the script describes it: “Using video effects we see a magical transformation. The indestructible metallic form is metamorphosised back into Cathy.”

Brogan has seen this happen many times before, but he’s still stunned by it. Slomo dares to offer a scientific explanation but gets cut off. Sooo… Is Cathy a cyborg? Does she wear a special helmet? Is she not really human? None of the subsequent Space Precinct characters share Cathy’s ability, so this really is a one-off. We’ll never know who Cathy Costello really was. Of course, this magical transformation does have a practical benefit for the production that we’ll see a bit later.

The runaway train is still chugging along with the President rattling around inside. Thank goodness there’s a thousand miles of track to play with. The cruisers catch up, but Brogan orders Tom and Bats to go on ahead and check the track for another bomb. Finally, the lieutenant is thinking ahead. And, hey, the music is even starting to sound decent.

Parked next to the track in their weirdly flat car, E. Vile and V. Lann hear the space police cruiser approaching.

Bats manages to spot something on the monorail track and asks Tom to turn around and fly back before they go too far past it.

E. Vile wants to escape the scene, but V. Lann insists on patience.

With access to the latest and greatest video effects that a 1980s editing suite had to offer, Bats is able to inspect the track using X-ray vision, ultra violet vision, and some kind of echo location. She finds C38 explosive under the monorail. Bingo!

Tom lands the cruiser because they’ve got to take care of that bomb before the train arrives! The plot may be plodding along a bit slowly, but it’s still fairly exciting.

It’s taken us a while to get here, but for the first time we’re now seeing the puppet versions of Bats and Tom, rather than the body suits and animatronic masks. When I first watched Space Police as a youngster I did not spot the transition whatsoever. The puppets are beautifully made to match the full-sized characters. The limited movement of the animatronic masks goes some way to selling the illusion, but the attention to detail in the fur and the costumes is also a big part of it. Again, think back to The Secret Service when Gerry Anderson tried to convince us that the puppet Stanley Unwin and the human Stanley Unwin were one and the same. It didn’t work because there was nowhere to hide and all the limitations of the puppet were incredibly apparent when shown alongside the real thing. By using alien creatures in Space Police, it’s easier to accept a restricted range of motion and expression in both their puppet and animatronic forms.

V. Lann orders his henchman to exit the vehicle and “take care of the situation.” So E. Vile grabs a big rifle. That’s the mobster way of taking care of business.

He grumbles and groans about his lot in life while Bats is delicately trying to defuse the bomb. Is there anything she can’t do?

Tom alerts us all to the fact that the train is coming. I will say that in close-up the puppet heads do lack some of the cute and cuddly features of the larger masks. From certain angles Tom looks like a piece of taxidermy.

E. Vile somehow seems surprised to learn that the police officers are armed and will shoot back at you if you try and shoot them. He retreats very quickly.

As the car goes to take off, Tom tries to land a few more shots. Unfortunately his aim is dreadful and all he ends up hitting is a great big rock…

… which is about to fall down right on top of them. Rockfalls are a pretty common hazard in the Anderson universe so every character should be prepared.

Thankfully, Tom has those unbelievably useful telekinetic skills that he’s been practicing. But the rock is quite a bit larger than a can of cola. With all his might he suspends the boulder in the air just above the track.

With milliseconds to spare, Bats cuts the right wire and deactivates the bomb. The train passes under Tom’s rock and all is well. The script describes that Tom’s fur is “matted with sweat” by now. We’re spared from that particular image.

Tom triumphantly keels over and lets the rock smash on the track. What a hero.

The next bit of dialogue doesn’t feature in the shooting script. Tom and Bats discuss the possibility that the train will crash into the terminus at Ultraville in 95 minutes unless Brogan can figure out a way to stop it. With the best will in the world, I hope it doesn’t take that long.

Safely out of the way in Zar XL5’s orbit, E. Vile is very impressed with Officer Tom’s display of strength. But V. Lann’s evil scheme is far from over. Yes, of course he’s found another way of cutting right through Brogan’s feather-light security arrangements.

Dick and Harry are still keeping up with the President’s train as it whips through the landscape at its top, top speed of 300 mph.

Up in the station house, Brogan asks Slomo to find a way of stopping the train. Meanwhile, he assigns “fat man” Tom to keep surveying the track towards Ultraville. Apparently Tom doesn’t have a problem with being fat-shamed by his boss. The script specifies that Bats and Tom should be covered in dust after their ordeal in the canyon, but I don’t see a speck on either of them. They’ve switched back from puppets to full size animatronics now in case you needed me to point that out.

Meanwhile, V. Lann successfully blows up a bridge without anyone around to stop him. Yup. It’s just that easy to knock out major infrastructure. A quick deleted scene would have featured Tom and Bats spotting the burst of infrared activity in the distance. Instead, we just go straight to V. Lann laughing like a maniac, and then fade to black for another commercial break. We’re now basically looking at the plot of the Thunderbirds episode Brink of Disaster and I’m okay with that.

The puppet versions of Tom and Bats arrive to assess the damage to the bridge. It’s knackered, basically.

Brogan pleads for Slomo to figure out how to stop the train immediately. Shane Rimmer is really doing excellent work here. It’s just a shame that so much of his performance is confined to the station house.

Dick and Harry do some quick math to determine they’ve got 100 miles of track and 20 minutes left before the train reaches the collapsed bridge.

Slomo has cooked up a scheme just nutty enough to work. Unfortunately the AI upscaling is still really struggling with keeping Cathy and Brogan’s faces straight in long shots like this.

Brogan explains the plan to his team. The audience isn’t clued in on the full story which allows some tension to build. Dick gets his gun ready to shoot at whatever the critical moment might be…

The President is informed of the situation and Brogan gives a 30-second countdown. The music really kicks in and I’m finding it hard to hate. Yes, an actual musician probably would have done a better job with the soundtrack, but at least Burr and Anderson are giving it a decent try. The President, Bron, and Bumhead the attendant start moving into the next coach.

The tension builds nicely as Dick lines up his shot, the camera creeps towards Brogan counting down, the police cruiser keeps up with the speeding train, and the passengers encounter an unexpected weapon poking out from behind the bar. Oh yeah, I’d forgotten about that guy.

Brogan completes his countdown with all that terrific Scott Tracy authority about him. Dick opens fire and successfully uncouples the engine coach from the rest of the train with a single blast. Success! Well, at least one can only hope so.

Dick is congratulated for his fine marksmanship and is sent to meet the two passenger coaches which have stopped in the middle of the desert. The Space Police style of cruiser is starting to grow on me. I think it looks better in close-up when it’s more imposing.

Harry has a nasty suspicion that all is not well. So far she’s definitely the character we’ve heard the least from. Since all the alien officers seem to have a special ability, maybe Harry has a sixth sense for predicting danger… although if that were the case I suppose Cathy wouldn’t have been blindly sent into that warehouse earlier.

A single flickering light from the back of the train indicates that Dick and Harry are being shot at. They fly their cruiser out of the way and avoid getting blown up. Things can never be straightforward, can they?

Slomo and Brogan reach the same conclusion about what just happened…

The six-armed barman attacked the President, killed the attendant formerly known as Bumhead, and trapped them in the first coach which is still on a path towards destruction. The President is still confident in Brogan’s ability to save the day. Brogan, on the other hand, suggests that giving way to blackmail might be the best option at this point.

The President quite rightly gives Brogan a stern reminder that he’s a democratically elected chief executive of the whole ruddy planet and cannot submit to terrorism. I’ve only just made the connection that both the pilot episode of Space Police and the pilot episode of Captain Scarlet feature a world president in jeopardy. Definitely seeing a lot of those Supermarionation influences creeping into this show.

Parked on yet another rocky ridge, V. Lann receives yet another call from Brogan to yet again explain that the President is yet again not budging on the deal. Do we reckon this conversation is going to turn out any differently from the last dozen or so?

In a sense, it does turn out differently. V. Lann chucks the remote control for the train out of the window and declares that nothing can stop it now. So that’s the end of the negotiation I suppose. The script specifies that we should see an insert shot of the remote control smashed on the rocks. We don’t get this in the finished film, so maybe one of the officers could have come along and found the device intact. That’s not what happens, but I’m just saying it technically could have been done.

With yet another utterance of, “This could be him,” in the music, we watch V. Lann make yet another getaway. Yes, this is all starting to get rather repetitive. I promise it gets more interesting shortly.

Slomo needs more time to come up with a plan and starts considering how to get an officer aboard the train itself. Among the many strings of text that flicker by on Slomo’s eye-screens we get a a lovely long list of Gerry Anderson creations… in not quite the right order: FourFeatherFallsSupercarFireballXL5StingrayThunderbirdsCaptainScarletJoe)-Space1999UFOProtectorsJourneyToTheFarSideOfTheSunInvestigatorSpacePoliceDoppelgangerDickSpannerToBeContinued.

I’m obviously beyond thrilled that The Investigator made the cut but where’s the love for The Secret Service, The Day After Tomorrow, or even Terrahawks? It’s also worth noting that the pilot for Dick Spanner was shot in April 1985, before Space Police, but the rest of the series didn’t start shooting until February 1987 after Space Police was completed. Oh and Doppelganger and Journey To The Far Side of the Sun are the same film listed twice with two different titles. Oh and someone was obviously just holding down the Shift key when they were typing out Joe 90.

Back at their club, V. Lann and E. Vile are taking stock of the situation. Well, V. Lann is taking stock and E. Vile is taking another one of his hideous drinks. Some deleted dialogue from this scene would have included V. Lann considering what would happen after the President’s demise. He would have proposed rigging the next election with one of his own candidates getting the top job. This guy really does have a chunky finger in every pie. As it is though, we’re just left with V. Lann chuckling happily at the thought of successfully killing the President. And that’s the last we see of V. Lann and E. Vile for the rest of the show. We don’t see them getting arrested or in any way receiving their comeuppance for all this nastiness. It was probably planned that they would be recurring villains throughout the series. They therefore needed to evade capture and keep causing trouble for the Space Police. Big, villainous aliens would, of course, become a regular feature of Space Precinct. One could even consider E. Vile’s bug-eyed design a precursor to the Creons.

After reading through that long list of Anderson productions, Slomo has finally managed to devise a strategy. Again, the audience isn’t told what it is so that some tension can be sustained. Brogan certainly looks apprehensive but he doesn’t have any other options at this point.

Dick volunteers for whatever the dangerous assignment is that Slomo’s cooked up. Brogan digs a little into his character’s history and regales us with the advice of his old NYPD captain about not accepting volunteers. So he gives Dick a direct order to do the job instead. How pedantic.

Step one of the plan involves Harry blasting a hole through the top of the train. She makes sure the President and Bron are safely out of the way first, of course.

Step two is for Harry to match the speed of the train and gently lower Dick through the hole in the roof. This definitely falls outside the realm of regular police work. We’re firmly in Thunderbirds territory here. We get a brief look at the puppet version of Harry at the controls of the cruiser. Isn’t it strange that there was a full-size cruiser set and a puppet-sized one? Doesn’t doubling it up rather defeat the purpose of using the puppets to save money on building full-size sets in the first place? The puppet-sized version is only used for a couple of shots whenever they want to show more of the vehicle’s exterior. So why not just build more of the cruiser’s exterior onto the full-size set and call it good?

Tom is good enough to alert his colleagues about a rapidly approaching tunnel. One wonders how they didn’t spot it sooner.

The train enters the tunnel and Harry’s police cruiser manages to dodge the enormous mountain in the nick of time. Just before the near-collision, while Dick was still dangling down, a little bit of scripted dialogue was cut – Harry would have offered to pull Dick out. Oh grow up.

“Did Dick make it? Will someone tell me, did Dick make it?!” Couldn’t have put it better myself, Tom. We’re all on the edge of our seats as the coach exits the tunnel.

The very cheery puppet version of Dick has successfully landed on the floor of the coach. He claims to have landed on his brain when he’s very clearly on his tooshie. Maybe it’s a lighthearted joke, or maybe these alien cat people really do keep their brains in their butts. Dick’s vacant smile is a little disconcerting, but otherwise he seems fine.

Brogan reminds us that there are eleven minutes left. I’m definitely ready to see Shane Rimmer doing something other than sitting at a desk.

Dick establishes the traditional method for opening locked doors – by blasting it and hoping for the best. Many, many other Space Precinct characters followed in his footsteps with this technique.

Using a device referred to in the script as a ‘videcom’, Dick can transmit a live feed to the station house team. This seriously under-used videcom was presumably the inspiration for Space Precinct’s much more prominent multi-com device. Slomo determines that Dick should open fire on the hi-pulse chamber to try and stop the train. Dick does his best to shoot away the problem, but after many, many bangs the engine just keeps on chugging.

With that slightly demonic smile still plastered across his face, Dick declares that he’s been beaten.

With less than ten minutes to stop the train, and violently blasting the engine still the only viable option, Brogan and Cathy decide to get involved. Yes, the human actors are finally going to play a part in the main action!

Slomo and Cathy share a sweet moment as the little robot tries to urge caution. Apparently Cathy’s “protective skin” isn’t entirely indestructible. But Cathy’s a gosh darn hero. She’s going to try blowing up the train’s hi-pulse chamber anyway.

I know the 1980s video effects haven’t aged all that well, but I still think Cathy’s mysterious transformation into a metal-skinned-something-or-other is pretty neat.

Slomo is left all alone. He quietly asks Cathy to take care. Awww. He has a little robot crush on her. That’s… confusing.

The script specifies that Brogan’s car is “an older, personalized version of the Space Police Cars, perhaps a little dented and rusty.” I’m not sure that particular detail made it onto our screens. The script also repeatedly makes reference to the cruisers breaking the “speed limit” every time they take off. Again, this isn’t made abundantly clear on-screen except for this one moment when there’s a quick flash of light and Brogan’s cruiser appears in the planet’s orbit.

With the bridge-less gorge rapidly approaching, Brogan declares that they’ll need to take a speedier approach to getting Cathy aboard the train. She’s lowered from the bottom of the cruiser just like Dick was earlier…

… but apparently the hole Harry already blasted in the roof just wasn’t a viable option this time around. Instead, the puppet version of Cathy comes crashing through the window like an absolute badass.

Yes, we’re now looking at a puppet version of Cathy. That’s really the whole reason for the protective mask thing. It’s so the show had the option to place Cathy in the heart of the puppet action if needed, but also have another human for Shane Rimmer to interact with up in the police station. It’s very clever.

Cathy enters the engine room and tells Dick to take cover. Surely Dick should just leave the room for optimal safety? Otherwise what was the point of bringing Cathy in to do this in the first place?

Cathy sure looks like she means business with that blaster. There’s an insert shot suggested in the script of her specifically flicking her gun to blast mode which doesn’t make it into the final cut. That would have offered more of a distinction between her attempt at shooting the engine and Dick’s earlier efforts.

She really gives it the beans and eventually blasts a hole in the side of the hi-pulse chamber…

The train finally begins to slow up. The force of the deceleration knocks the furniture and the passengers flying. Poor Dick gets flattened by some debris. As sparks fly from the monorail track we’re left on the edge of our seats. It’s a classic bit of Anderson action… literally, because it’s basically a rehashed version of Brink of Disaster.

All Brogan can do is watch as the train heads for the end of the line…

The coach stops at the very tippy-tippy edge of the ravine where the track has run out. Something tells me this isn’t over yet.

The train is perfectly balanced over the edge of the ravine. Brogan is sweating buckets as it teeters back and forth. The trouble is that Dick is trapped under some debris at one end of the train and Cathy’s held up against the wall unable to free her colleague. She’s determined to save him but it’s very clear the train will tip over if either of them budge. We’ve essentially transitioned from Brink of Disaster into End of the Road. It’s seriously tense stuff.

Cathy moves to help Dick and it all goes horribly wrong. The train tumbles. Surely, that’s game over?

Shane Rimmer takes us through the full spectrum of emotions as Brogan watches it happen.

But as the train falls, we see quick, subliminal cuts to Tom’s eyes focusing hard. Yes, it started with a cola can, escalated to a boulder, and now this remarkable cat-man has the power to catch an entire train in mid-air with the power of his mind. Boy has that talent come in handy today.

The train settles firmly on the ground and kicks up some dust. Okay, Tom wasn’t quite able to suspend the whole thing in the sky, but slowing its descent definitely saved the day.

Cathy’s the one who gets to make the pun. “You had a train to catch, right?” Tom collapses with sheer embarrassment. Christopher Burr even attempts a classic Barry Gray “wah-wah” on the soundtrack to signpost the gag for us all.

Bats, Harry, Cathy, and Tom join the President in the ruins of his coach for a quick pat on the back. Despite the danger being over, Cathy’s keeping her protective skin on because… well… the human version of Cathy wouldn’t fit on the set. She explains to Tom that Dick is elsewhere, tying up a loose end…

Dick has flown all the way back to the other train coaches in order to apprehend the so-called steward who injured the President and killed Bumhead the attendant. There’s a bit of a gunfight, but the barman surrenders with five hands held high. Yup, it’s a lovely call-back to the beginning of the show.

But oh rats, it turns out this guy has six hands! Dick is held up with nowhere to go. Who will save the day?!

Well, of course it had to be Brogan and his trusty Magnum.

All six hands go up. A really nice gag to tie up the show.

Brogan sums up the moral of the story – “Hey, sometimes us old timers can be a bit handy, huh?” Yes he’s been sitting in a chair up in the police station for most of the show, but sure, we’ll let you be the hero of this moment Brogan.

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Space Police is a lot of fun, but more than ever I can see why the format underwent some drastic changes in order to become Space Precinct. Though brilliant from a technical standpoint, the mix of puppetry and live action has the unfortunate side effect of leaving the show’s star, Lieutenant Brogan, stranded on the periphery of the main action. Ingenious as it is to cut costs by building half of the sets and characters at puppet scale, it does limit the scope of the story. So it pains me to say it, but I think Space Precinct was right to go all-in on live action.

Had Space Police continued in this form as a series, I think many additional characters would have been needed to sustain future episodes. I like Brogan, Cathy, Slomo, Bats, Tom, Dick, and Harry, but the police station needed some more activity going on. I would also hope that further episodes would have explored more interesting locations on the planet Zar XL5 instead of the barren deserts which seem to dominate most of the landscape. Space Precinct’s approach of filling up the station house with tons of different cops and transferring the action to the bustling heart of Demeter City offered the writers many, many more options for story ideas.

Space Police does score some points over its successor. As a diehard Anderson fan, I have to love Shane Rimmer as Brogan. Ted Shackelford is fantastic, and probably the better casting choice for the series, but who doesn’t love hearing Scott Tracy in command of his own police force? Catherine Chevalier also shows a lot of promise in the role of Cathy Costello, and I could have accepted her over Simone Bendix in the role of Jane Castle for Space Precinct. The rest of the Space Police voice cast and puppeteers all bring the most out of their roles and create some memorable characters out of relatively little material.

Mark Harris’ art direction for Space Police shows a strong and consistent vision that the set designers on Space Precinct struggled to achieve. Where the Space Precinct sets sometimes feel cardboardy and flat, the Space Police station house and police cruiser interiors look robust and realistic. Both productions are of their time, but the look of Space Police has somehow aged better because the production design is polished to a higher standard.

With a bigger budget and more advanced equipment at his disposal, Steven Begg’s special effects for Space Precinct may be more high-tech than what we’ve seen in Space Police, but there’s something so endearing about the scrappier model work of this pilot film. A lot of love, innovation, and attention to detail has gone into achieving some remarkable things in Space Police. Compared to Space Precinct, I would say Space Police does a better job of achieving a consistent look between the puppet, live action, and special effects material.

The tone of Space Police is an acquired taste. If you like Terrahawks and Dick Spanner, then you’re bound to like Space Police. It’s cut from the same cloth. I like that humour is a thread through all of Anderson Burr’s output in the 1980s. There’s an unapologetic confidence to it which is endearing to some audience members and irritating to others. Space Police sticks to doing a few things really well – namely, comedy and action. Space Precinct attempted a shotgun approach of trying everything to please everyone. It made the show just a little bit goofy, and a little bit scary, and a little bit dramatic, and a little bit soapy and ultimately just watered down the show’s impact on its potential audience.

I think what makes Space Police enjoyable to watch today as a standalone production is the way it encapsulates so much of that indefinable Gerry Anderson spirit. It’s ambitious, innovative, driven by action, and full of likeable characters risking their lives to do good. Then there are the finer details like having a world government in place, turning the story into a thrilling rescue mission, and everything exploding in the most bombastic possible way. Space Police is unashamedly a distilled Gerry Anderson production. The work of people like Shane Rimmer and Tony Barwick are also a big factor in achieving that nostalgic Anderson feeling. Space Precinct strips away a lot of that stuff to the point that it doesn’t always feel like an Anderson show. Space Precinct may have been the series that got made in the end, but Space Police is definitely the version that feels more quintessentially Gerry Anderson.

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How Space Police Became Space Precinct

After the pilot was finished, Gerry Anderson had a tough job ahead of him trying to sell Space Police. The pilot was first screened at the 1987 World Science Fiction Convention in Brighton. It went on to be shown to potential distributors to gauge interest in funding a full series. The film always received a warm reception, but the high cost of producing more episodes was always a stumbling point for investors. During the project’s eight years in limbo, it underwent a number of significant changes. I previously mentioned that Gerry Anderson re-edited the pilot in 1989 to a leaner 24-minute runtime. This was in the hope that it would find a home in the shorter time slots available for children’s programming. No such luck.

In 1991, John Needham of Mentorn Films approached Gerry to produce a short film for the Birmingham Motor Show featuring Lady Penelope and Parker from Thunderbirds promoting the new Bentley. He subsequently asked Gerry if there were any other properties he would be interested in developing for television with Mentorn. Space Police was top of the list. A new, 2-minute trailer was cut together from the pilot film. At first, the BBC were interested in a revised version of the project spanning 13 episodes. But money was an issue. Then MGM Television were keen. Again, a budget couldn’t be agreed upon. In 1992, a new pilot script entitled The Max Factor was written by Gavin Scott which ultimately went unused.

In Autumn 1993, Mentorn and Grove Television Enterprises decided to produce a new promotional film to try and sell Space Police. With the original pilot now seven years old, I’m sure it was felt that a few aspects needed to be updated to match the revised format and convince backers that Space Police was set to be the hit TV show of the 1990s. Director Paul Annett was given a fresh set of actors, sets, alien animatronics, and one day of studio time to shoot new scenes. These were interspersed with clips from the original pilot – mostly showcasing Steven Begg’s special effects work. Some glimpses of Catherine Chevalier made it into the trailer, but Shane Rimmer was completely removed.

There’s really only one positive thing I can say about the Space Police Reloaded trailer – I would have liked to see Chloe Annett go on to play Officer Castle in the series. And I guess seeing Bruce Boa (Fawlty Towers’ Waldorf Salad man) making a cameo is a fun treat. But all of the other problems that beset the early episodes of Space Precinct are here. Cringe-inducing jokes. Terrible dubbing. Boring set design. The only thing that’s a significant improvement on the 1986 Space Police pilot is the alien masks. Of course, comparing a 5-minute test film shot in a single day to a 50-minute extravaganza completed over several months isn’t really a fair contest. But isn’t it fascinating to see an exact middle ground between the styles of Space Police and Space Precinct? It’s like seeing two different eras of filmmaking collide in one horrible mess.

In early 1994, Space Police finally received a green light. Pre-production work started at Pinewood and Shepperton Studios to produce 24 episodes to the tune of £20 million. With a new team of writers, producers, directors, actors, and technicians at the helm, the show was taken in creative directions no-one could have anticipated when Gerry Anderson devised the format of Space Police almost a decade earlier. Even the title had to change during filming, when it was discovered the LEGO company already had a conflicting trademark. And that’s how Space Police became Space Precinct.

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So, I’ve now reviewed every episode of Space Precinct, I’ve reassessed the Space Police pilot film, and I’ve even glanced a disapproving eye over the Space Police Reloaded trailer. It’s fair to say I have well and truly completed Space Precinct… haven’t I?

Okay, but my friends made that one. I can’t really review Slomo: Little Lost Robot with an impartial viewpoint, can I?

Ditto for the Space Precinct Reloaded comic.

Yes, alright, you’ve made your point.

There’s still more Space Precinct out there.

Okay, you can stop now.

I love this job.

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