While I have done my bit to fight back against the erasure of the British sex comedies that helped to boost the box office numbers for a few years in the 1970s, I am far from an expert on the topic. I will persevere, however, even if it means continuing to see far more of Robin Askwith than I ever wanted. I'm not going to claim that these movies have enduring appeal, nor am I going to say that many of them have an artistry and sophistication unjustly ignored by snobs, but they have earned a place in the history of cinema that remains worthy of note.
Based on a book by Christopher Wood (as Timothy lea), this is the tale of a young man (Askwith) who finds out that being a window cleaner is about more than just cleaning windows. He has to go out of his way to ensure that every client is happy. That's easier said than done though, especially when our young lead ends up taking a proper shine to a female police officer named Elizabeth Radlett (Linda Hayden).
Adapted into screenplay form by Wood and director Val Guest, this is silly and horribly dated stuff. It's based around the idea that all attractive women are really desperate for horny men to help take care of their needs, and also tries to convince viewers that Robin Askwith can often become the main object of their desire. Askwith works in his role because he's very much an everyman, but that also works against him, considering how he is supposed to be able to stir up such a passion in a number of the featured female characters.
The most fun here comes from the supporting cast. Aside from Askwith, who simply has to look cheeky and chirpy, and always ready to jump into bed with someone, there are turns from Anthony Booth (the man who shares the lore of the mystical window cleaner lothario), the aforementioned Hayden, John Le Mesurier and Joan Hickson (sorely underused as the parents of Hayden's character), Bill Maynard and Dandy Nichols (the parents of our randy lead), and a number of other faces familiar to fans of British TV and cinema.
Guest may be very aware that he's not making any kind of absolute classic, especially in contrast to some of his much better work throughout the '50s and '60s, but he knows exactly what he's helming. There's a lot of titillation (despite the extra raunch factor of both this and the "Adventures" series, things are still presented with the emphasis on sauciness ahead of anything truly pornographic. It may be a bit more full-on than the seaside postcard humour of the Carry On movies, a series that fell by the wayside when it tried to balance the milder sensibilities and comforting companionship of the main stars with the more liberal attitudes of cinema-goers, but it's still trying to offer a bit of something for everyone (no pun intended).
People will continue to roll their eyes at me, and they'll pull my leg about my reasons for watching films like this, but I'll continue to bang the drum for the inherent value of these relics. They're a fascinating snapshot of one facet of British cinema, and I'm absolutely delighted to now own many of them in home media releases that also contain a wealth of supplementary features and information providing important context for them.
Oh, this isn't one of my favourites though, but it's better than any of the instalments in the "Adventures" movie series.
5/10
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