This one should go, too

Press, 10 June 1980, Page 19

This one should go, too

Review ■p V Price relicity

Appalling. That’s the only word to describe it. The Sunday Special on TV2 called, aptly, “Anything Goes” is appalling. And far from special. Is Television New Zealand ' losing so much money from its waning advertising that this is all it can afford to produce? Is this what complementarity is a.ll about? Filling up the gaps in the programmes with cheap and nasty light entertainment shows that reach an all-time low in middle-of-the-road mediocrity was surely not part of the deal when they promised us better, brighter, and com* plementary viewing. They, pensioned ■ off the “Club Show” when people started to protest at how bad it was. So why haven’t they got the message about this latest production blunder? The most amazing thing about “Anything Goes” is the impression one gets that it is supposed to be awful. When the credits at the end say that it was “Almost produced by . . .”

and when the host makes frequent comments about the poor quality of

the show and some of its performers, one can’t help but wonder if the whole thing is simply an exercise in bad taste and slapdash production. But. if this is- the case, why bother producing it in the first place? There is no justification for spend-, ing money on something deliberately intending that it should be of inferior quality, and of little entertainment value to anyone — especially when T.V.N.Z. is crying poverty as the reason for not producing any local drama programmes. To be fair, the quality is not al! disastrous. A couple of performers manage to lift “Anything Goes” briefly from its haphazard, rough-and-ready appearance into a temporary resemblance of professionalism. Bridget Allen can certainly sing,

and Ginette McDonald is a natural comedienne. But apart from their cameo appearances, the show had nothing to recommend it except its conclusion. The studio audience spent most of their time staring at the monitors waiting to see themselves on the screen, and the bottles of wine standing on the studio tables looked as though they had never had anything in them all night. Attempts to make it. look as though the audience had been enjoying the odd glass of wine while watching the show failed: all the glasses remained empty. Alan Farquhar, the host, looked as though he, like the audience, wished he were somewhere else, too. His most revealing remark of the entire show was: “You may as well flick to the other channel now ’cause I’m finished for the night.” Good grief. Flicking to the other channel provided welcome relief with David Attenborough diving under water and climbing tip mountains once again to show us more about evolution. TVI, in fact, thrust one revelation after another at the viewer on Sunday night. After Attenborough’s excellent revelations about a world

that most of us never see. the lavish emptiness of the world of "Prince Regent,” the hypocrisy, superficiality, artifice, and some of the depravity of the ■ English court in the time of Ging George HI filled the screen. Revelations followed in “Close-Up.” which gave a frightening portrayal of four young men who had broken their necks while playing rugby and who were now tefraplegics — paralysed from the shoulders down. Forwards, especially hookers and props, who watched that programme will no doubt be thinking twice before they go into a scrum or ruck with their heads down in future. And I expect that there were even more revelations in "Orde Wingate,” the “Play of the Week.” which has been split into three episodes to make three “Plays of the Week.” But plays, films, documentaries, and dramas about the war, shown with monotonous regularity on television, have rarely claimed my attention. Sense told me that “Orde Wingate” would be well worth watching and would serve to further my educa< tion. But senses knew that Supertramp were playing on the other channel. And senses won.