A Spectator's Notebook

During the long but painless and not depressLug months I have spent recovering in my own ,00rne from the effects of a slight stroke I have been disinclined for much reading or conversation and have been almost entirely dependent or time-passing and entertainment on a colour television set which has stood facing my bed at a comfortable distance. From it I have learned a great deal not only of television itself but the state of mind of people who become reputedly obsessed by it and watch it at all hours of the daY and late into the night, who subordinate their social life and obligations to its demands. I have been made to realise how the thing has changed habits of thought and expression uring the decade or two in which it has oecome (whether we like it or not) a dominant aspect of national life. First I stress colour television for whether or not the colours are natural or accurately reproduced on the screen, there is no doubt that they bring an element of reality to the hanging picture, as anyone who has watched it and returns to black and white must be aware. Readers of news bulletins and weathermen whom we are accustomed to see looking ruddy and well-fed seem suddenly Punt and liverish as though the colour had literally been drained from their cheeks and the world becomes a lifeless place beyond the Styx. tritish is best 4 have watched television for long periods with understanding and interest in a number of countries including our only rivals in its Productio'n, France and Germany, and I am Woolly convinced that our own with its unique , 'Ystem of alternative national and commercial Programmes is now (so far as that goes) the best that the world has to give. rnust however say, voicing of course only pne individual's prejudices, that perhaps Inevitably and through the failures of our nature and our national economy at least. 70 ar 13er cent of programmes created for television e mediocre and unimaginative and that the ,s'est, sport, news of topical events, political roPaganda and the reproduction of old films, 're gravely deficient from the standpoint of the viewer, though he is nearly always willing ;ad ready to be pleased and entertained. „r°grammes of political propaganda must of ”"ieicessity be shown at the same time on all aunels, or we should be able by manipulaw,/I to escape listening to their banalities, but ?"Y. should the same system of coercion be Plied to sporting events and, far more axa„sPerating, to the exchange of boring views e*„.;`' comments by the 'experts' who are n'"_1310Yed to discuss them? One appreciates the ‘:sessity of filling time by the showing of old 8".orts retired from service in the cinema long cliti.lco, but why do these always seem to be 12,'Isen for the sake of the maximum boredom a„,,the greatest number of viewers of mixed "`,contrasting interests? e are anxious for the News to be read e;Ice. and sometimes three times during the ahePhg, and appreciate that it is accurately Cur Intelligently read by skilled newscasters,

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an,"ThY should the by-products of news, trivia an.i personalities, opinion and would-be m„a,slug experiences of reporters occupy so n,"crl time after the News proper, trivia and ;"'WkY humour spoken in the self-satisfied Ug Manner of Michael Barrett or with the th"'1Y matiness of Barry Westwood? Surely

e reminiscences of nonagenarians, the old-time skills of artisans, the appearance in the provinces of actors or the tricks and perfections Of favourite pets, all described to inquisitive interviewers, do not merit quite so much of the time of tired workers coming home and expecting to be entertained by their favourite programmes.

The comedians

Among these the highest talent, creative, inventive or merely interpretative, seems to be that of individual or twin comics who have more of it than all the versatile actors, the wily interviewers, the quizmasters, debaters, descriptive artists and musicians put together. In their acts, it seems to me, lives the only true and individual genius to be seen on television. There are doubtless able playwrights both serious and sprightly, and a quite uncannily large number of talented actors and actresses able;to extract the last spark of significance front their scripts, but I only feel myself in the televised presence of an immortal when one of these rare spirits appears and takes me to another, infinitely funnier and larger, world.

I am thinking, of course, of Morecambe and Wise, with their apparent spontaneity which conceals I suspect stern dedication, of the Two Ronnies of whom the debate eternally continues, which is the funnier? Joyce Grenfell, the only true comic among women, the others being beautifully funny comediennes and actresses and in another category. Michael Crawford who has the divine gift of selfridicule as well as that touch of pathos which only the greatest funny men seem to display, Stanley Baxter who possesses and enthrals his audience, and Mike Yarwood who reduces them to near-hysteria at the (usually willing) expense of his victims, Dick Emery who is a satirist as well as 'a comic, and Benny Hill who can be funny for a full hour without a single lapse into seriousness. The Goodies who so cleverly exploit the unexpected, and Tommy Cooper, Dave Allen and Frankie Howerd who in entirely different ways make me retch with laughter, and finally the lugubrious Les Dawson whose concealed affability makes his disgruntled manner wholly irresistible.

Series situation

Comic situations in series, weekly episodes on a single theme or set in a similar background, have proved to be so successful initially that they have been too often and too long repeated. Dad's Army surprised everyone by its immense appeal and viewability, and I for one hope it continues for another year or two, and It Ain't Half Hot, Mum which has for me a nostalgic reality, truth of detail and versimilitude I find almost sublimely funny, So also did I for a long time find Till Death Us Do Part, Ste ptoe and Son and Father, Dear Father, but others have been based on situations not strong enough to sustain a whole series of half-hour comedies and have died unregretted before to the general public their end was in sight.

' The list of these is long, for it seems that only by releasing a number of episodes in such a series can the producers discover what the response to it will be and most of those which have endeared themselves to the public have seemed at first of dubious appeal, or based on a situation which might arouse actual hostility or social self-consciousness like Upstairs, Downstairs or even The Forsyte Saga.

Entertainment first

Frankly I want television to entertain rather than to educate me so I keep my knobs unpressed for most programmes of archaeological, historical, or scientific interest I make an exception for the gorgeous and informative details of old civilisations which Julius Norwich so articulately gives us, but I am not so receptive to Lord Clark, and thoroughly dislike the manner and matter of James Burke. The promoters of intimate interviews with film stars and other already over-exposed personalities, like Michael Parkinson, Russell Harty and David Frost, seem for the most part exercises in egomania, in spite of the near-hysterical appreciation of invited audiences. Many of these are individual fads and disapprovals but most habitual viewers could formulate similar lists. In this lies the strength and the weakness of the medium — strength because the promoters have to range far to find new kinds of programme and weakness because believing they have found them they work them to death.

Talking points

For the rest, omitting public events, crowd scenes, royal occasions, discussions of topical issues, glimpses of wild life and exotic animals which are nearly always rewarding, colourful scenes of travel, people of little-known races, of wars and disasters and violence, I remember as we all do when we meet in trains and at meals, at parties and in shops, what I saw last night and which is my 'favourite programme.' This is infallible as a talking point.

You choose what you like, you are your own critic and auditioner, and you have your own moments of exasperation or sheer loathing of the scene or the people in front of you. You may go for Call My Bluff or try to find some suggestion of the genius of Trollope in the contemporary dress display of The Pallisers, you may well be intrigued by the ingenuity of Colombo or the authenticity of Z Cars; I may prefer University Challenge (though my mind does not work quickly enough to defeat the young champions) or Esther Rantzen's exposures of the silliness and crookedness that menaces our daily lives, or the topographical and historical talk of Julius Norwich, You want Ironside and Cannon; I watch each instalment of Crown Court with admiration for the skill of its acting and actuality. I can take the interminable commonplaces of Coronation Street, finding it genuinely proletarian, but I can't stand Crossroads which seems common and pretentious. You like Cilia Black and Top of the Pops; I can't bear Jimmy Saville and am hooked on The Generation Game. Every man has his own bad taste, though I for one could not have got through these last three months without television.

Rupert Croft-Cooke