Cilla: The Lost Tapes
Harry Redknapp’s Sanbanks Summer
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Fifty years ago, superstardom came with all the trimmings of glamour. Cilla Black’s idea of showing off her fame in 1966 was to film herself waving from a black Rolls-Royce on the driveway of her country house.
But by the end of her career, mega fame revealed itself in different ways. It was all about her celebrity friends . . . such as getting Simon Cowell to shoot her holiday videos for her.
These fascinating clips were uncovered on Cilla: The Lost Tapes (ITV), a treasure trove of unseen archive footage discovered by her eldest son, Robert, when he came to clear out his mother’s home.
Fascinating clips were uncovered on Cilla: The Lost Tapes (ITV), a treasure trove of unseen archive footage discovered by her eldest son, Robert, when he came to clear out his mother’s home, writes Christopher Stevens
Britain loved Cilla in the Sixties because, like her Scouse best mates Ringo, Gerry and the rest, she was working class and never hid it. When she made some cash — and she was a millionaire before she was 25 — she splashed it.
Before long, most families would have a telly, a car and foreign holidays. But in ’66, that was fancy. That was posh. Cilla filmed her home tour as a treat for the faithful of her fan club, who must have been thrilled to see her lounge with its colour TV set concealed within a giant plastic egg.
Cor! I bet even Michael Caine didn’t have one like that.
By the 21st century, such splendour impressed nobody. But Cilla flaunted her fame effortlessly, thanks to the calibre of celebs queuing to pay court to her.
Amid the cache of films, there were audio cassettes of interviews with her ghost-writer, made when they were working on her autobiography (Cilla is pictured with her son Robert in 1972)
And they still are. Cliff Richard watched the home movies mesmerised, and reminisced about the times she invited him to appear on her Saturday night TV variety show. Sir Cliff had his own Saturday special on BBC1 in the Seventies, but his awestruck tone left us in no doubt about who he believed the bigger star really was.
At her height, the girl from Scotland Road was so indisputably the Queen of Pop that songwriting genius Burt Bacharach flew from LA to conduct the studio orchestra as she recorded his number, Alfie.
The footage of Burt working the musicians like a flamboyant puppeteer, while Cilla belted out that giant melody behind him, was magical. So was her dance routine (unseen for more than 50 years) on stage at The Savoy, high-kicking to Hey Big Spender — a song she nonchalantly passed over to Shirley Bassey.
Amid the cache of films, there were audio cassettes of interviews with her ghost-writer, made when they were working on her autobiography.
Her unguarded voice proved the private Cilla, who died aged 72 in 2015, was no different from her stage persona.
She remembered doing the Royal Variety Performance in 1969 while heavily pregnant with Robert. ‘I was really almost dropping,’ she declared cheerfully. I bet she said as much to the Queen.
Former footballer Harry Redknapp’s personality is plainly the same whether he’s in the dugout, larking about on TV or relaxing at home with his beloved wife of 51 years, Sandra.
Harry Redknapp’s personality is plainly the same whether he’s in the dugout, larking about on TV or relaxing at home with his beloved wife of 51 years, Sandra (pictured together at their home on Sandbanks)
Sandbanks Summer (ITV), filmed around his gaff on the millionaire’s coastline near Poole in Dorset, was his own home movie, just mucking about with a couple of mates — ex-footballer Neil ‘Razor’ Ruddock and comedian Joe Pasquale.
The three of them did a spot of idle house-hunting before having a go at archery and medieval swordplay at nearby Corfe Castle.
In full armour, Harry couldn’t get his phone out of his pocket to speak to his bookie.
Then he and Joe went zooming in a light aircraft over the resort, to see Harry’s house from the air. It was like watching the pensioners’ version of Top Gear.