Bracken and Welbyfinal appearances?

Press, Volume CXI, Issue 32536, 20 February 1971, Page 4

Bracken and Welby—final appearances?

Those masterpieces of television art, “Bracken’s World” and “Marcus Welby, M.D.,” sank together on Thursday night in a sea of sentimentality and this viewer is one who hopes fervently that no attempt will be made to raise them. The N.Z.B.C. has a duty to set reasonable standards; these programmes, surely, did not meet them and were little closer to acceptability than “Peyton Place.”

Of course, both “Bracken’s World” and “Marcus Welby M.D.” were popular with some viewers, whose support is found from time to time in the correspondence on this page. But the fact that there are readers of the worst sort of novellettes does not make literature out of rubbish. There was little to choose between these programmes on Thursday night. "Bracken’s World” began with a brief apeparance by Lloyd Nolan, whose few seconds on the screen were intended, presumably, to make everyone feel they had had a treat. And in the story, there was yet another instance of a struggling young actress — Paulette—struggling to preserve her honour as well as her career. Another bucketful of jealousies and intrigues, a scheming seducer of an acting coach, Paulette’s pushing mother, unhappy mother - daughter relationships, an emotional breakdown or two—all the usual ingredients of this familiar, soggy dish. But in the end, Paulette left the nasty coach and went back to sweet Laura Deane for her acting lessons. She needed them. There was a basinful of unhappiness in the “Marcus Welby” story too. Mother has been dead nearly a year;

father grieves for his son, who has been away longer than that; the son comes □ack, drug-ridden; father rejects him. Then he doesn’t. Daughter feels rejected by father. Welby and his assistant fall out; daughter begins to worry about dad’s association with his secretary; the boy suffers from hatred of his father and the world, as well as recurrent aftereffects of his L.S.D. junket; Welby says the lad must go to a clinic; the boy turns back to his father to save him from that fate; father agrees and Welby threatens a court order; father says he will fight that, and brings out the inevitable Welby line “You are no longer my doctor”; but the boy breaks down again, is found by father, who then agrees to the clinic; the daughter gets on with her housework. Heaven help us all, if that is what the N.Z.B.C. thinks of us. It was better, much better, later in the night. Nana Mouskouri had a

round-the-continent trip in music, the songs being sung in Greek, French, Italian, English and Spanish. She has a lovely voice,, a calming presence; “Scarborough Fair” was particularly appealing.

After some earlier disappointments, we found “Mr Digby Darling” much improved. There were some bright lines and situations, all the better for the underplaying of Sheila Hancock and Peter Jones who were, in “The Rag Trade” a pair of raving lunatics. One of the most diverting thoughts followed the boss’s misapprehension that Mr Digby was a father again. He had Digby and secretary up to his office for a drink and they all sang “For He’s a ' Jolly Good Fellow” followed, apparently, by a succession of sea shanties.

The hint of this ludicrous situation was far better than straight portrayal of it and the absurdity of it was still delighting us when they got round to the news.— PANDORA.