SPECTATOR'S NOTEBOOK
J. W. M. THOMPSON
People who don't like the idea of law and order' becoming a concern of the electors ought to reflect that at any rate it is far too serious a matter to be left entirely to the politicians and the police; as has just been illustrated by the curious case of the Open Space Theatre. It will be remembered that this small and (I believe) unimportant 'ex- perimental' theatre was showing a film about which the police developed certain doubts. One day, therefore, as many as thirty-two policemen (so it now appears) descended upon the establishment in order to seize the film and the projector—the film on suspicion of obscenity; the projector for no reason that I can think of, unless some new doctrine of guilt by association extends to mechanical devices as well as human beings. Subsequently various details came to light, including the comical one that the film had in fact been recommended to the Open Space Theatre by, of all people, the secretary to the British Board of Film Censors. But ultimately the matter was passed by the police to the Director of Public Prosecu- tions; and he decided that no prosecution was to take place.
In one sense that was the end of the epi- sode, although it meant considerable incon- venience and loss so far as the Open Space Theatre was concerned. But it still, in fact, left several questions hanging in the air. Why, when London is so lavishly supplied with pornography and commercialised sex - of all varieties, should the police have picked on this one insignificant theatre? Why, having done so, were thirty-two policemen required to carry out the raid? And if, as has been suggested, the raid was conducted as a result, of a complaint from the public, does this mean that anyone can bring down thirty-two policemen upon any place of entertainment or public resort merely by lodging a complaint?
Not surprisingly, some MPS have already attempted to get the answers to some of the questions from the Home Secretary; one Labour Member, Mr G. R. Strauss, asked for an assurance that this was only 'a regret- table and isolated incident' and not the beginning of 'a repressive "Mrs Grundy" campaign': but, not surprisingly, they got very little enlightenment indeed,
Policeman's friend
Mr Callaghan's performance was, in fact, a revealing example of how the approach of a law and order' question, especially in pre- election times like these, can lure a politician into a peculiarly flat-footed sort of obscur- antism. Thus, although tackled specifically on the Open Space Theatre raid, Mr Callaghan replied with a breath-taking non sequitur ('There is a great deal of concern in the country at the moment about the amount of pornography which is being sent unsolicited through the posr—my italics); then, when the emptiness of the reply was pointed out to him, he retreated behind the remark that he couldn't comment on cases which were 'before the courts'; and finally, when made to admit that this particular case was not 'before the courts' at all, he ended up with some bluff generalisations about 'supporting the police'.
Thus an unsatisfactory-seeming incident of police activity against a small theatre goes completely unexplained; Mr Callaghan emerges with useful electioneering publicity as the Policeman's Friend in these lawless days; some Tories are riled because they hate to see him stealing their clothes in this way; and the electorate are, or ought to be, reminded yet again that it's unwise to leave these critical matters of law and liberty either to policemen or to politicians without keeping an eye on them all the time.
Public faces
I am sorry, but I find the prospect of another slab of official sculpture in London, even though it will commemorate Sir Winston Churchill, a singularly unmoving one. We seem no longer to have the knack of setting up monuments to great men which actually contribute something positive to their settings. The art of portrait sculpture is as much in decline as the art of portrait painting: and as evidence of the state of that activity the Annigoni painting of the Queen is still to be seen in a sort of im- provised cinema foyer at the National Por- trait Gallery.
Why artists and sculptors are no longer very good at portraiture is a profound ques- tion upon which many sententious things could be said. I forebear. But I did go to the private view of the Royal Society of Portrait Painters' show the other day, some- thing I had never done before; and I must say I enjoyed it rather more than I expected to. Prejudice, I fear, had suggested it would be a dismal array of slick commercial like- nesses, but there seemed to be a respect- able, unambitious level of craftsmanship in many of the exhibits. At the private view, too, there was the pleasure of spotting many of the subjects hovering modestly near their portraits; not all of those City magnates or tweedy landowners looked nearly so life- like, I noticed, as their painted selves upon the walls of the galleries. Another minor pleasure was matching a portrait of Mr X with, elsewhere, a self-portrait by Mr X; it was notable how the latter somehow drew more youthful vigour from the same set of features. And there were lots of pictures of nice girls and charming children, and 'con- versation pieces' with the sitters staring in morose silence into the distance.
It seemed to me there were plenty of painters whose portraits of the Queen I would rather see in the NPG than that Anni- gotti. I've also thought, subsequently, that portraitists, although now accustomed to a lowly place, must feel themselves sorely underprivileged all the same; so far as I have seen, only one art critic has men- tioned their seventy-sixth annual exhibiton.
Another new translation
'The Lord is my welfare officer: therefore I cannot be deprived of my entitlements in- sofar as they accord with social justice. 'He provides me with a tea-break in a Green Belt amenity area: he leads me to where there is adequate parking space.
'He engages in meaningful and valid dia- logue with me: and leads me in the paths of relevance, for his image's sake. 'Yes, though I walk through the valley of the military-industrial complex, I will fear no reactionary: for you are marching with me, and your banner and your slogan will comfort me.' (Etc. etc.)
Previous page
