'Fish’ out of water

Press, 4 December 1978, Page 15

'Fish’ out of water

By

DERRICK MANSBRIDGE

I “If you like 'Barney ■ Miller,’ you must watch ! ‘Fish’,’ a friend told me. It reminded me of something else I was once told: “If you : like winkles you will love snails.” In fact, I detested snails (even when disguised as cs-; cargots), and I find that' I “Fish” is not to my taste; either. This “love me, love my spin-off” concept of tele-; I vision programmers is large-; |ly doomed to failure, simply; because when they take a; personality out of a success-

ful series and make it a cen-.: • tral character, it loses far more than it gains. Fish fits into “Barney, i Miller” like one finger into I: ;a glove; one eccentric |< I among many eccentrics that make up the zany, often hi- 1 larious, always delightful whole. But “Fish” on its own is too often . . . I’m sorry ... a Fish out of water. 1 To do Fish justice in a series of his own a j scriptwriter would need to i j create new characteristics, ; make him larger than life. * The producers have not! I tried to do this to him in | “Fish,” presumably because ; they could hardly call the

, programme a spin-off if (they did. So what we have left is not a rounder Fish, but a ; longer Fish, when length merely distorts and blunts I the essential edges. In fact, too much Fish is a bore. If all this has an upsetting i effect on Fish-lovers I ask ’ them not to despair. I “Barney Miller” returns on ; Wednesday. And Fish as : part of the menu is much ; tastier than Fish as the only | I course. Spin-offs have the same I > effect on my TV 7 taste buds!

.as “Fish.” .On her own; ! “Maud” is a loud-mouth in- j terloper and Betty White , went from the same riches ;to rags when the producers I decided to cash in on her. How thankful we should be that spin-offs are a recent, and I hope dying, innovation. Just imagine what Charles Dickens might have done to some of his more memorable secondary characters if the moneyspinner had been in vogue in his days . . . More of Micawber, ; Dora Dies Again, Wallowing <in Weller. Dickens would have had a whale of a time with his little fishes. On Saturday I succumbed: to the temptation to watch.

‘The Prisoner of Zenda” for partly nostalgic and mainly mischievious reasons. I saw the film at the local cinema > back in 1952 when it was i first released by MGM, and I even at that advanced age I squirmed and wriggled I around in my seat as Stei! wart Granger and James I Mason went through their! jfamous sword fight. (I hesitate to use the word “fencing” in deference to a I friend of mine who nearly : ruined the whole scene and | was finally thrown out of the cinema because he refused to take it seriously. 1 : He was a fencing instruc- ; tor). It was the ending I waited 1 for on Saturday — after Rudolph and the lovely Prin- ■ cess Flavia make their long, : sad farewell, as Princess ■ Flavia explains why she ! cannot elope with him because she must do her royal duty, and Rudolph rides off into the sunset. • It was a scene which struck exactly the right royal note — king and ! country and duty. Unfortu-' j nately, the audience at my! l| local cinema completely H ruined it. There was imme-i ' diately a mass evacuation as hundreds scrambled and ■ leapt for the exit — before the orchestra could strike up the National Anthem. On Saturday I found j myself on my feet and head- , ing for the exit (lounge i door) before I knew what: was happening. “Where are you going?” my wife asked. You have to be quick on your feet. “To make the coffee, of course,” I replied. It was my turn, anyway. I don’t like to leave it until the last day in the year.

POINTS OF I VIEWING