The Year's Television
MORE rather than better television is what 1956 has meant. The commercial boys in their first full i year have certainly got into a sort of stride remarkably quickly. Sure,, their programmes are still freckled with meaningless half-hours—most of 'them imitations of the three sound entertainment programmes they've given us on films: Robin Hood, Gun Law and 1 Love Lucy—but no one can deny that the commercials themselves have got a lot better; and in recent months some of the serious contributions from Mr. Sidney Bernstein's Granada network have added promising- looking backbone. It is Granada we must thank for Look, Back in Anger as well as for the, so far uncertain but occasionally brilliant Under Fire and What the Papers Say. Of course, the major contribution of the rival outfit has been in the presentation of news. ITN, under the leadership of first Mr. Crawley and then Mr. Geoffrey Cox, can look back on 1956 with a great deal of pride. They have, for the first time, presented news to fit the medium rather than ignoring the camera while reading the news. The considerable improve- ment in 'the BBC's standards is largely due to ITN's splendid pioneering work.
The area where the new boys have most surprisingly failed remains that of glamour- variety. ATV's Saturday and Sunday night pro- grammes are still disappointingly scratchy, still lack taste in presentation, still rely far too much on putting a camera in front of a series of acts that have originally been worked out for the theatre. The new kind of impresario that television needs so badly has not come along. He needs to combine many virtues. To the solid experience of the theatre of Mr. Val Parnell and his cohorts he neea to add the showmanship and film expertise of a Goldwyn, the inventive technical skill of a Baird, the lively curiosity of a Korda, and the taste and nose for talent of a Cochran. Above all he needs to know what the younger viewers are thinking, what they are feeling for in their entertainment and in their instruction. He must get away from the weight of administrative detail that seems to stop so many promising television careers in mid-flight. He must attract to television the best writers, the best thinkers, the best talkers, the best musicians, the best artists—for until there is a general raising of standards television will• remain an engaging peep-show of middle-class talents designed for middle-class tastelessness.
In terms of personalities only one of any size has emerged this year, and that a most unlikely one: Mr. Robin Day, the chief ITN newsreader. His eager, prodding, bespectacled face has already turned him into a kind of late-night intellectual's Elvis Presley. No one has emerged in the wider sweep of program- ming to challenge the reign of a half-fit Mr. Harding. Mr. Pickles is happily in eclipse. Of the traditional comedians only Mr. Askey seems to be able to retain a consistently high level of ideas and production. Messrs. Milligan and Sellers and their Goon Show company have done brilliantly for many of us; but, it seems, not brilliantly enough for most of us. Son of Fred was miserably stopped after only eight of its thirteen programmes had run because not enough people were looking at it. This wasn't just the first truly new comic show in the new medium; it was one of the first new and fresh shows of any kind. Its failure with the mass audience is one of the tragedies of 1956.
The BBC has maintained its very high standard in outside -broadcasts, particularly of sporting events. One of the unforgettable sights of the year was Miller bowling and bowling; the short walk back, the hand through the hair, the tigerish run, the extraordinary thirty-six-year-old arm up and over.
Television is fine at that sort of thing; and it's fine, too, with people : Sir Gerald Kelly's series was memorable chiefly because he was allowed to talk calmly into the camera without having an interviewer asking idiot questions. And people like Sir Mortimer Wheeler, Pro- fessor Daniel, the Free Speech team now happily anchored on Sunthy afternoons on ATV, little Mlle. Drouet the other week— television does well by people like this when they have something to give. And by and large, it's doing all right by events. Information programmes are generally at a perfectly serious, adult level. Where it is failing still (and this is where and why films are knocking the ratings of popular TV shows for 'a loop in America) is in telling a story. Television needs new storytellers as much as it needs new impresarios. Let's hope• that a few emerge in the best of all electronic worlds in 1957.
JOHN METBALF
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