Television
Called to the bar
Martyn Harris
Iwas sitting in the Groucho the other day when I realised why Cheers (Channel 4, Sunday, 9 p.m.) is so popular. I'm not a member of the club, but when I'm invited I am struck by the number of well-known people hanging around the place: Griff Rhys-Jones, John Sessions, Robbie Col- trane, Anthony Hopkins and Rik Maya11 would be quite a normal night.
You'd think people as rich and famous as that would have somewhere better to go than an ordinary bar in a shabby Soho street. They should be at exotic parties, with interesting and amusing friends, instead of sitting and boozing in the sort of place that allows in people like me. I saw Keith Waterhouse come in alone and order a glass of champagne. He sat down and looked around hopefully as he drank it, but nobody spoke to him, and after 20 minutes or so he left, on his own.
The fact is that nearly everyone, even if they are rich and famous, is bored and lonely and shy most of the time. A place like the Groucho gives an illusion of con- viviality, and Cheers is its TV equivalent: the place where, as the theme tune says, `everyone kno-oo-ows your name'. Cheers goes one better by supplying an implausible cross-section of America: postman, accoun- tant, psychiatrist, ball player and barmaid, which gives a comforting sense of homo- geneity in a fragmented society. All you get, in the Groucho is stand-up comics and stoned journalists. Cheers has been over-praised by critics. it is meant to represent an American style of team writing and ensemble acting that our own TV, geared to the two-handed domes" tic sitcom, does not do very well. In fact we have produced ensemble comedies like Drop the Dead Donkey, which are more cheaply made and just as good, and others like Dads' Army which are far better. Having said that, Cheers is pretty go°6. and I shall miss it. I like the bold way a WI can change direction — as when Sam and Diane, both pretending to be married so °,,s to make the other jealous, are each robbed of their fake spouses in a matter of see- onds: Rebecca carried off to be married by Tom Berenger and Drew pursued by 1115 gay lover: 'Muffin! Come back!' I like too' its confident ear for the surrealism of COO' versation, as when Cliff the postnnie reveals his latest conspiracy theory: 1115 don't really have earthquakes in California'
They are building a tunnel through the cen- tre of the world to house a giant computer that will control the earth's rotation. . '
`Y'know, Cliff,' says Dr Crane, the psy- chiatrist, `Electro-convulsive therapy only sounds scary. Let me bring you a colour brochure.' The episode faded out to a late- night meaning-of-life conversation. Post- man Cliff said the key was comfortable shoes: 'Aristotle — sandals; Confucius thongs; Einstein — loose loafers'. When everyone had left and Sam was wiping down the bar for the last time, fat Norm Popped back to say he thought life was all about love. 'You know what I love?' he asked.
`Beer?' said Sam.
`I'll have a quick one,' said Norm.
In Lady Chattel-ley (BBC 1, Sunday, 9.35 p.m.), Joely Richardson finally got her kit off and, as her father suggested, her 'axle greased', though Sean Bean only took off his tweed cap, much to my wife's disap- pointment. Meanwhile Sir Clifford was droning on about coal tar, aniline dyes and Racine when he wasn't lying on the billiard table having his bottom rubbed by Mrs Bolton, the new housekeeper (the excellent Shirley Anne Field). Connie told Mellors she might get pregnant; Mrs Bolton told the rector's housekeeper that Sir Clifford showed signs of life below the waist, and there wasn't one stallion in the whole episode. Things are looking up.
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