Some films are remembered because they are masterpieces. Others survive because they capture a moment that could never be recreated. Cliff Richard’s Take Me High, released in 1973, belongs firmly to the second category. Often dismissed as a confused musical comedy and regarded as the final major film of Richard’s cinematic career, it has gradually developed a second life as something far more intriguing: an accidental documentary about Birmingham, urban redevelopment and Britain’s uneasy leap into the modern age.
At first glance, the film appears to offer a familiar pop-star formula. Richard plays Tim Matthews, a London-based banker who is unexpectedly transferred to Birmingham. He is reluctant to leave the capital and even more reluctant to embrace his new surroundings. His unhappy reaction to the move provides the film with one of its defining lines: “I’ve got to face it — face Birmingham!” It is a comic declaration, but it also reveals the central tension of the story. Tim sees the city as an unwanted assignment, while the film gradually begins to show Birmingham as a place of energy, invention and possibility.
A Musical Comedy with an Unusual Sense of Place
The plot of Take Me High is undeniably thin. Tim becomes involved in an entrepreneurial scheme and helps create a fast-food business called Brumburger. Romance, workplace misunderstandings and musical performances follow, producing a story that feels part pop vehicle, part business fantasy and part city promotional film.
Yet the weakness of the narrative is also one of the film’s accidental strengths. Because the storyline never fully commands the screen, viewers are free to concentrate on the background. Birmingham becomes the real star. Streets, buildings, waterways, traffic systems and construction sites receive an extraordinary amount of attention. The camera records a city that was still being reshaped by post-war planning, with concrete structures and sweeping road schemes standing beside older industrial districts.
The opening images are especially valuable to modern viewers. The film moves through a rain-soaked landscape of Aston and the M6, with Spaghetti Junction appearing as a dramatic symbol of the new urban Britain. Faded cars, factory rooftops and industrial towers fill the frame. What may have been intended as ordinary contemporary scenery now has the visual power of archival footage.
Birmingham in the Age of Brutalism
Much of the film’s fascination comes from its portrait of Birmingham during a period of radical transformation. The city had already undergone extensive redevelopment, much of it associated with the controversial post-war vision of planner Herbert Manzoni. Older streets and historic buildings had been cleared or altered, while ring roads, flyovers, shopping complexes and concrete civic structures took their place.
For some residents, this represented progress. Birmingham was being presented as a confident industrial powerhouse ready to compete with any major European city. For others, the redevelopment destroyed character and disconnected communities from the city centre. Take Me High captures both sides of that argument without ever directly discussing it. Its bright musical numbers and optimistic business storyline sit against a backdrop of hard concrete, traffic corridors and soot-darkened industrial architecture.
Locations that have since changed beyond recognition give the film an almost dreamlike quality. Gas Street Basin appears before later waves of regeneration transformed the canal district. Pagoda Island can be seen before the familiar modern skyline developed around it. The Ringway Centre and the Bull Ring are preserved in forms that many younger viewers know only through photographs and architectural histories.
That makes the film particularly meaningful to Birmingham audiences. A scene that seems incidental to the plot can provoke immediate recognition: a familiar building in an unfamiliar state, a road layout that has disappeared, or a landmark shown before restoration and redevelopment. The result is less like watching a conventional musical and more like opening a time capsule.
Cliff Richard’s Final Major Film Appearance
For Cliff Richard, Take Me High marked the end of an important chapter. By the early 1970s, he had already established himself as one of Britain’s most successful singers. His music career had survived changing fashions, from early rock and roll through pop ballads and religious material. Cinema, however, proved to be a less reliable second act.
Richard’s earlier films had enjoyed varying degrees of popularity, but the format increasingly seemed out of step with the changing tastes of British audiences. The era of the traditional pop-star musical was fading, and younger viewers were looking for edgier stories, more complicated characters and a less polished image of celebrity. In that climate, Take Me High arrived with a style that could feel old-fashioned even at the time.
The critical response was harsh. Reviews mocked the film’s sugary tone and uncertain identity, with one famous description comparing it to “a large basinful of pink blancmange.” Another contemporary judgment suggested that it did little for Birmingham and even less for Cliff Richard. Such reactions helped establish the movie as a failure, and Richard rarely discusses it with the same enthusiasm reserved for his musical achievements.
That reputation may be unfair if the film is judged solely by its historical importance. It is not a sophisticated drama, and its comedy can feel awkward. The romance lacks depth, the business plot is fanciful, and the songs do not possess the lasting cultural impact of Richard’s best-known hits. Still, the film offers a rare combination of popular entertainment and urban observation.
Why the Film Deserves a Second Look
Modern audiences often approach Take Me High with expectations that differ from those of 1973 cinema-goers. They are less concerned with whether the Brumburger storyline works and more interested in what the film reveals about the period. Its rough edges become part of the attraction. The dated fashion, cheerful consumerism and ambitious cityscape all contribute to an atmosphere that cannot be reproduced by a modern production designed to look retro.
There is also something appealing about the film’s sincerity. It may be clumsy, but it genuinely believes in the possibility of reinvention. Tim Matthews arrives in Birmingham feeling displaced, yet he eventually discovers opportunity in the city. That journey mirrors Birmingham’s own complicated relationship with change. The film asks whether a place can be modern without losing its identity, even if it never articulates the question clearly.
For fans of vintage pop, the film offers another chance to see Richard as a screen performer rather than simply a singer. His polished image is present throughout, but there is also a slightly more vulnerable quality in the character’s uncertainty. He is an outsider trying to understand a city that does not immediately welcome him. That premise gives the performance more charm than the script perhaps deserves.
An Accidental Birmingham Classic
Take Me High may never become a critical classic, but it has achieved something arguably more unusual. It has become a cherished curiosity, particularly among people who remember Birmingham before its latest wave of redevelopment. Screenings attract viewers who want to identify buildings, compare old streets with modern photographs and experience a city preserved in motion.
Its lasting appeal lies in the gap between intention and result. The filmmakers wanted to make a light musical comedy about romance, banking and entrepreneurial ambition. Instead, they created an extraordinary record of a city caught between industrial decline and futuristic confidence. The film’s weaknesses, including its uneven tone and exaggerated optimism, help reveal the era that produced it.
So, is Take Me High worth watching today? As a conventional musical, it is an acquired taste. As a showcase for Cliff Richard, it is an unusual final statement. But as a portrait of 1970s Birmingham, it is remarkably valuable. Beneath the awkward jokes and unlikely Brumburger dream lies a vivid record of streets, buildings and ambitions that have largely disappeared.
Like Birmingham itself, the film has been underestimated. It is not elegant, and it is not always easy to love. Yet it has atmosphere, personality and moments of genuine visual discovery. For viewers willing to look beyond the plot, Take Me High is more than a forgotten Cliff Richard vehicle. It is a charmingly bizarre farewell to British pop cinema and an enduring postcard from a city still learning how to become its future.