Skilful Anzac Day Programme

Press, Volume CIX, Issue 31974, 29 April 1969, Page 8

Skilful Anzac Day Programme

(By

Garry Arthur)

The N,Z.B.C.’s Anzac Day production, “The Songs They Sang,” was a perfect choice for television’s contribution to the national day of remembrance. Music must be one of the most effective means of recall-, ing the past, and probably' most of us asso iate particular memories with particular tunes. Short-lived “pop” music is almost a calendar in this respect. For those who experienced either or both wars, at home or overseas, the old songs revived on this programme must have been most evocai tive of the times. I The programme was skillfully constructed and flowed without a hitch, linked by a sensible and not too obtrusive commentary. It was quite an achievement to combine so | successfully the widely varying styles of the vocalists, and • it was a surprise to see some

of the singers so much at home in this role. The Christchurch singer Malcolm McNeil was a case in point It says much for his versatility and the producer’s skill that his modern jazz singing style should seem to adapt so well to the Tin Pan Alley songs of the past. Newsreel film was used to good effect and not without some subtle comment on the contrast between the sentimental songs of the times and the grim realities of war. The only flaw in “The Songs They Sang" was the fact that the miming was too obvious at times. It must be very difficult for singers to synchronise their on-camera singing with their prerecorded songs, but the extra time and expense involved in getting it right is worth while. Suddent realisation that songs are being mimed is a

bad let-down for the audience. Wednesday evening was notable for two factual programmes—Sir Edmund Hillary’s jet boat expedition up the rivers of Nepal, and Town and Around’s historical piece about the Temuka man who may have been the world's first aviator. The jet-boat expedition was ' full of action and tension, and brought home one of the jmore exciting instances of New Zealand aid to developing countries—on what the i Americans would call the people-to-people level. David McPhail's examination of the pioneering work of Richard Pearse stirred the imagination and left the question open as to whether this taciturn fanner was indeed the first man to achieve powered flight. By coincidence each of these programmes managed to introduce widely-used New ' Zealand words which are usually scrupulously shunned by the communications media. In both cases they gave the programme a lift because they made points that could have been made in no other way. Sir Edmund Hillary aptly i named a fearsome stretch of water and the elderly man at Temuka recalled what he thought of the flying farmer iso many years ago: to New ' Zealanders the ultimate in folly. No doubt these words caused some surprise in many

1 sitting rooms, but it is unlikely that many persons were shocked or offended, i After all, such words are liberally used in ordinary conversation throughout the i country, and they are never | intended or interpreted at ! their dictionary meaning. ! It is a very healthy sign jto find the N.Z.B.C. recognis : ing this. In the two programmes mentioned, the subI stitution of “raspberries”— the television equivalent of i asterisks—would have invited us to think of something : worse. As it was. Sir Edmund Huillary’s name for the rapids would be endorsed by everyone who saw the male-volent-looking stretch of water, and the expression used by the old eye-witness of Pearse's flight told us exactly what his generation thought of the idiots trying to imitate the birds.

Television