Riviera Police

When Riviera Police debuted in the summer of 1965, it looked set to be a hit. It had all the ingredients of a light-hearted crime drama designed to dazzle: an exotic French Riviera backdrop, a cast of international detectives, and a schedule perfectly timed to accompany the languid heat of August evenings. And indeed, in its earliest episodes, it did just that — even outpacing Coronation Street to become the most-watched programme in Britain.

The series followed a previously used formulaic set-up: four detectives from across the Commonwealth — England, Australia, and Canada — seconded to Marseille under the auspices of the French police. Each week saw a different combination of these characters pursuing a roster of criminals that included jewel thieves, murderers, blackmailers, con men, gambling racketeers and the inevitable array of "plug-ugglies" (slang at that time for  brutish types, often used to describe ruffians or city toughs) one expects to find along the "mink, Champagne and diamond belt" of southern France or that always assemble where there is wealth untold.

Episodes were often set against stunning backdrops, including the Monaco Grand Prix and the Nice Flower Festival, which certainly gave the show visual flair. One particularly memorable location was the terrace of the Martinez Hotel in Cannes, described by series director Ian Fordyce as "one of the most exotic spots on the glamorous French Riviera." There, amidst polka-dotted sunshades, Royal palms, and the scent of orange blossom and Gauloises, the show managed to gather its four lead actors for a single, iconic scene — a logistical feat, given their busy schedules and fondness for Riviera leisure pursuits like water-skiing and canoeing.

The central cast was chosen to bring a mix of charm and contrast: Brian Spink (The Aweful Mr. Goodall), suave and polished as Inspector Legrand, was the only actor to appear in all thirteen episodes. He was joined by Frank Lieberman (Ghost Squad) as Canadian Lt. Col. Constant Sorel, Geoffrey Frederick (Call Oxbridge 2000) as London’s Supt. Adam Hunter, and Noel Trevarthen (Chopper Squad; Neighbours), playing the Australian Supt. Bernie Johnson with a languid flair reminiscent of Amos Burke. Episodes often featured the detectives in rotating pairings — much like in The Four Just Men (which was coincidentally showing as repeats in a late night weekend slot at the same time) — with many sequences filmed on location in France, though the bulk of the production was completed in London studios.

Production, however, wasn't without its challenges. Shooting in public spaces often led to clashes with klaxon-happy French motorists and bemused sun-tanned builders. "The motorists were annoyed because we held up traffic to film the terrace scene," said Fordyce. "We were restricted to two-minute takes, while some genuine Riviera Police held back the traffic. It's amazing how many cars can pile up in 120 seconds along a bustling Riviera highway."

Location shoots, while glamorous, came with risks. Trevarthen notably broke his foot filming a chase sequence near Vence, while Anthony Valentine (Callan - guesting in the first episode) suffered minor burns to his feet during an all-day beach shoot at Juan-les-Pins. The heat, it seemed, took no prisoners.

Yet, for all its visual splendour and early popularity, Riviera Police quickly fell from grace. While audiences initially tuned in in droves, critics were far from impressed. Milton Shulman of the Evening Standard dismissed it as "a bumbling, pathetic copy" of Burke's Law, lambasting its "colourless detectives" and "cretinous plots." The Stage, in its 19 August 1965 edition, was similarly scathing, labelling it as banal and stock-laden, more suited to off-peak slots than prime-time summer viewing whilst bemoaning the fact that this was standard fayre on British television in the summer months: "Riviera Police using stock characters in stock plots, fails to make anything viewable out of its setting, which has obviously been chosen for summer showing. Repeats of tolerable programmes, or first showings of mediocre (to put it kindly) programmes--this is the Hobson's Choice for viewers this August. There is a case for repeating a good programme, but very rarely at peak viewing times...the companies should remember that not everyone goes on holiday in August, that not everyone who does go on holiday ceases to be a viewer, and that they cannot shelve their responsibility to provide a balanced lively programme all the year round."

Even the producers were told to tone down some of the racier elements — presumably in response to its sun-drenched setting, sultry tone, and scantily-clad extras — or risk being moved to a later time slot. But in the end, neither the Riviera’s glamour nor the promise of international intrigue could save the series from a swift decline.

Riviera Police stands as a curious relic of 1960s British television — a show that promised sun, sex, and suspense, but ultimately delivered little more than beautiful scenery and fleeting escapism. An experiment in international crime-fighting and summer scheduling, yes — but one whose charm faded faster than a tan on a cloudy English day.

Laurence Marcus