Television
Luwies for luwies
Martyn Harris
The only halfway decent joke in the Bafta show (BBC1, Sunday, 8.00 p.m.) came from a desperately mugging Mel Smith, fronting the Los Angeles end of the ceremony from a smoggy balcony at Uni- versal Studios. 'Great to see so many of our friends here today, especially as the Nicaraguan Academy Awards — the Naf- tas — are being held at the same time.'
It was near enough the truth to raise a laugh; everywhere else insincerity settled like snow. In that excruciating sequence Where the celebrities are button-holed in the foyer, Joanna Lumley breathed, 'I've had my prize already — simply being nomi- nated.' For Emma Thompson, `Tonight is lovely because it's all mates y'know? And we know lots of people here. So many peo- Ple here I've worked with and really admire. You don't really think about your- self at all.'
Of course she didn't, and it was moving to see her take the stage in her simple hair Shirt. to decline her award for Best Actress and donate it instead to her many 'mates' among the gaffers, key-grips and best boys Who had worked so hard to turn Forster's least favourite novel into the emptiest screen adaptation in years. Husband Ken Branagh, who preceded her on stage to receive the Michael Balcon Award for gen- eral wonderfulness, declared modestly, 'I didn't know they gave awards to short, irri- tating megalomaniacs.' Acting awards, of course, seldom go to anyone else.
. The participants in these horrible events like to kid themselves that all will be forgiv- en if they indulge in some strategic gesture Of renunciation: 'The last thing on my mind Is winning and, in any case, it's the tea-boy who really deserves it.' In truth, the only honourable way to avoid being besmirched IS to simply ignore the whole thing, as Woody Allen has done with the Oscars, for over 20 years. Hugh Hebert of the Guardian, who was a Bafta judge last year, has already com- Plained that the 'jury' for awards like 'Best °rama Serial' are only presented with four options and forbidden from introducing choices of their own. The four options, moreover, always seem to be those network flagships like Inspector Morse, Casualty, keves and Wooster and Poirot, where repu- tations and investment are heavily exposed. Just consider some of this year's awards: Best Light Entertainment — Noel's House Party; Best Drama Serial — Inspector Morse; Best Actor — John Thaw (for Morse); Best Film — Howard's End; Best Film Actress — Emma Thompson (for Howard's End). It's all luvvies for luvvies: the film and broadcast establishment nomi- nating its own work, awarding itself its own prizes, and then pretending it doesn't think it deserves them. What humbug.
The Bofty show (Bore Of The Year Awards, BBC2, Saturday, 9.15 p.m.) was supposedly a satire on the whole charade, and though it hit the odd target, it missed rather more of them. This was largely a problem of assimilation, in that yesterday's iconoclasts become today's television estab- lishment faster than you can change chan- nels. Is there any way at all in which people like Ian Hislop, Paul Merton, Tony Slattery et al can conceivably masquerade as mis- chievous outsiders? Angus Deayton sent up the oleaginous reader of 'citations', but was on the Bafta Awards two days later playing the same role for real. Harry Enfield appeared on Bofty as half of the odious Radio 1 DJ duo, Smashy and Nicey, but the parody of dull, genial, self-serving celebrity was only moderately funny. It might have been funnier if you didn't know that Enfield is already a major player in broadcasting, who had just signed an arse- licking letter of support for John Birt.
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