Television
Down to earth
Martyn Harris
So, farewell then, satellite TV. Next week Andy from Cable London will be around, his keys still clipped to his belt, Perhaps, to disconnect us from our ten extra channels of tosh.
Two years ago, when I began writing this column, it seemed rather a smart idea to do regular reviews of satellite TV. Every- body was being so snotty about Sky and BSB (as it then was). None of the critics on the expensive papers wanted to watch this Murdochian prolefeed (the Guardian still doesn't list it). So it seemed rather a bold, counter-intuitive move for the tweedy old Spectator to set about discovering its demo- cratic merits.
Our cricket-loving deputy editor made a sturdy case recently for the sport channels, but I'm not a cricket fan, and I'm not turned on by four hours' live coverage of the Volvo PGA European Tour (Screen- sport, Sunday, 2 p.m.) or by three hours of the Dubai Snooker Classic (Sky Sports, Tuesday, 2 p.m.). I can imagine they might be a major excitement in geriatric wards and waiting-rooms throughout the land _ but not this house.
I glance at the Sky Movie listing for today, which is Tuesday, and I read: 10.00 The One and Only; 12.00 Never Say Good- bye; 1.00 Andrea's Story; 2.00 Vanishing Wilderness; 4.00 The Jazz Singer, 6.00 The One and Only (again); 8.00 Working Trash; 10.00 Kill Me Again . . . But that's enough. There's not much there to make a date in my diary, and in any case I can hardly write reviews of ten-year-old B-features. Sky One is an endless drizzle of Ameri- can repeats: Lost in Space; Star Trek; Hart
to Hart; Elephant Boy; The Dukes of Haz-
zard. The pop channel, MTV, is a mindless wallpaper of bought-in promo-videos, Which even my children won't watch any more. The HVC 'adult' channel which we looked forward to so keenly has turned out to be a lot of silly Sixties smut, full of wenches and sideburned squires in Benny Hill-style chase sequences, so unerotic and embarrassing that we don't even turn it on for friends to giggle at any more. There might be a film worth watching once a month, but in two years the only Programmes I've felt moved to review are The Simpsons (Sky One, Sunday, 6.30 P.m.), which is genuinely funny and innova- tive, and WWF wrestling (Sunday, Sky SPorts, 1 p.m.), which is a passion of my
seven-year-old son's and well worth seeing for its surrealism — but only once.
None of this amounts to the £24 a month which it costs, added to which is the irrita- tion of having to deal with the suppliers of the service, Cable London. I won't bore you with a Bernard Levin-style recitation of breakdowns, disconnections, un-itemised bills, unanswered letters and switchboard impertinence, but we'll be glad to be shot of them.
The worst aspect of satellite is, of course, the undermining of audience figures and advertising base of the terrestrial channels, which has brought an erosion of quality that is obvious to any regular viewer. More repeats, more imports, more game shows, less original drama and fewer new films — not to mention the disappearance of live football. From what I read, and from the steady sprouting of ugly dishes I see on railway journeys, the satellite channels con- tinue to make progress, but much of this must be due to the relentless promotion of the Murdoch press, the heavily discounted cost of entry and idle curiosity to see what the neighbours are seeing. Without some dramatic improvement of content it is hard to see people renewing their contracts when prices go up (as they surely must). I'm hoping that, like the microwave oven or the food processor, each targeted at what turned out to be imaginary market niches, the satellite dish may be another product everyone buys — but only once.
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