Television
Kind of weird
Wendy Cope
At a lunch a little while ago I met a man who is writing a book about philis- tines. He said I'm in it. Well, I don't mind really, but it did cause me to reflect that it's this wretched column that gives the game away. Other people can be philistine in secret. It's difficult for me to avoid admit- ting that I didn't see Trevor Nunn's pro- duction of Othello (BBC 2, Saturday even- ing) because I couldn't bear to miss thirty- something (Channel 4, 9 p.m., Saturday). The thing is one can re-read Othello any time but Saturday was the only chance to find out what happened when Hope was seriously tempted to have an affair with her bearded colleague John. Regular viewers will have noticed Hope and John eyeing each other in a way that suggested some- thing more than the mutual respect of keen environmentalists. Last week the campaign they've been involved in ended in failure, and there was no longer any reason for them to meet. She rang him up, wondering `if maybe that we, you know, didn't ex- plore all of our options'. The language they use in thirtysomething is a big part of the attraction. I found myself imagining what this team of script- writers might do with the drama on the other channel: 'Look, guys, I guess some of you maybe have a problem with the idea of me and Desdemona getting together and, like, some of you probably think I'm some kind of hick and maybe you're wondering what this rough old veteran did to pull a chick like her. Well, I want to talk to you about that.' Hope and John got as far as exploring their options in a Washington hotel room but — as we might have guessed — they decided at the last minute to be strong. Fighting pollution, refraining from adul- tery, they are a fine example to us all. If Gertrude Stein had had the opportun- ity to write a script for thirtysomething, it would probably be a bit like this: Michael and Melissa: We are two cousins.
We had the same grandparents.
We are two cousins.
We had the same grandparents.
Hope and Ellyn: We are not cousins. We were in high school together.
We are not cousins.
We were in high school together.
Melissa: What shall we do now?
We philistines find it hard to see the point of this kind of thing, or to fathom the significance of lines such as, 'There is no chair here because I am sitting on it.' But, surprisingly, the Dutch production of Three Plays by Gertrude Stein (Channel 4, 9.15 p.m., Sunday) was tolerable viewing. The main thing it had going for it was very enjoyable music — plinky plonky oriental/ avant-garde with a beat — by Fay Lovsky. The composer also did all the voices, recording the words on her soundtrack. So the actors — or dancers — had only to move around and make faces, which they did very well. Furthermore the programme featured some exciting trick camera work. In the last play, entitled Look and Long, one character was split in two, one grew very thin, and a third was turned into an egg. And then they were all changed back again by a female conjuror wearing a dog mask.
`Only Heineken can do this,' said the voice-over. No, not really. As they would say in thirtysomething, it was kind of weird.
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