Here's another one of those gloriously optimistic and romantic postwar new town promotional films. This one is of Glenrothes New Town, filmed in 1958. Visually it's the Ladybird Book of New Towns.
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It's a pretty masculine affair to start with, all rugged landscape, sweat and mining. Then we cut to a new clinic, where a nurse is carrying out a checkup on George, a miner and our hero. 'The medical centres of today look clean, efficient and attractive,' say the narrator. You can see what's coming next, but you pray it won't. But then it does. 'And so do the nurses!' Close-up of bust.
The canteen, with its steel-framed chairs, teak counters and plain tables looks like any number of hipster caffs today. And then we're off on a bus to the new town itself, with the inevitable tweedy planners, earth-movers and, you've guessed it, yet more sexist commentary. 'A bold use of colour to a house is what cosmetics are to a woman.'
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George's unnamed wife and children head off to the newly built shops. 'Apart from mountaineering there's no more dangerous passtime for a man than a woman shopping,' drawls the narrator. Before you can say 'Oh, do fuck off,' Mrs George meets a friend and talks about clothes, and the musical score produces more unearned comedic wah-wah-wahs than you would have thought possible, and our hero slopes off to a new pub to get hammered.
Later, at home in her 50s kitchen 'cooking is so easy she almost feels guilty'. I'm sure. And at the end the Queen and Prince Philip rock up and are gawped at. Yet somehow, despite being by far the most sexist of these new town promo films, it still manages to be delightful and fascinating, even though, or perhaps because, it's as alien from today as possible.
It's a pretty masculine affair to start with, all rugged landscape, sweat and mining. Then we cut to a new clinic, where a nurse is carrying out a checkup on George, a miner and our hero. 'The medical centres of today look clean, efficient and attractive,' say the narrator. You can see what's coming next, but you pray it won't. But then it does. 'And so do the nurses!' Close-up of bust.
The canteen, with its steel-framed chairs, teak counters and plain tables looks like any number of hipster caffs today. And then we're off on a bus to the new town itself, with the inevitable tweedy planners, earth-movers and, you've guessed it, yet more sexist commentary. 'A bold use of colour to a house is what cosmetics are to a woman.'
George's unnamed wife and children head off to the newly built shops. 'Apart from mountaineering there's no more dangerous passtime for a man than a woman shopping,' drawls the narrator. Before you can say 'Oh, do fuck off,' Mrs George meets a friend and talks about clothes, and the musical score produces more unearned comedic wah-wah-wahs than you would have thought possible, and our hero slopes off to a new pub to get hammered.
Later, at home in her 50s kitchen 'cooking is so easy she almost feels guilty'. I'm sure. And at the end the Queen and Prince Philip rock up and are gawped at. Yet somehow, despite being by far the most sexist of these new town promo films, it still manages to be delightful and fascinating, even though, or perhaps because, it's as alien from today as possible.