Disturbing evening for viewers

Press, 11 August 1980, Page 14

Disturbing evening for viewers

Review

Felicity price

Only the insensitive could have slept easy in their beds after watching the disturbing run of programmes, on TVI late on Friday evening.

Disturbing? Yes. But not the too-much-sex-and-vio-lence kind of disturbance. There is no sex or violence to be seen, as a rule, in “New Makers,” “News" Stand,” or “Tales of the Unexpected” — unless, of course, you count the heated arguments that often develop on “News Makers’ as violent.

What was so disturbing about “News Makers” was the subject matter itself ■ — the controversial proposal for another aluminium smelter in Southland, using cheap South Island hydroelectricity that New Zealanders are already paying dearly for. The Minister of Energy (Mr Birch) gave a good impression of a nit-picker pecking away at his opposition without any significant effect. Whereas Professor Von Moeske, who seemed an inordinantly sensible man for an economist, came across as having an argument that was surely worth taking into consideration by the Government before it forges ahead with what seems to be yet another costly white elephant. Such is the effect of television, especially the type of television produced by an intelligent current affairs interviewer who refuses to be intimidated by anybody, no matter how great their standing in the community, and who persistently tries to seek out the truth of the matter, in the face of evasiveness and smoke-screens. lan Fraser’s weekly pro-

gramme has become worth staying at home on Friday nights for, even if it is only to find out what politicians are trying to keep hidden from us. It is reprehensible of Mr Birch and his Government to refuse to tell their taxpayers how much Comalco is to be charged for its cheap power to run its smelter, yet this was the admission that lan Fraser finally managed to extract from the Honourable Minister.

And even if Professor Von Moeske’s figures were not all absolutely accurate, as Mr Birch kept trying to insist, the suggestion that some public audit to examine the economic implications of the Government’s plan for Southland’s second smelter would surely be supremely sensible, given the vast amount of money the Government plans to invest in it.

Such were the disturbing questions raised by “News Makers” — questions that were largely unanswered, through no fault of the programme’s worthy host.

Helen Paske, on “News Stand,” also left a lot of questions unanswered, with her timely, if somewhat cursory look at the often feeble photographic reproduction efforts of New Zealand newspapers.

Obviously, newspapers like “The Press” and the

“Evening Post” which made such a poor showing pictorially in her line-up of front pages from the major dailies, will solve their pics ture problems when they switch to new technology, whenever that may be. In the meantime, surely it is unreasonable to expect them to invest in something that can only be a temporary stop-gap measure at best. To cap off the evening, though, “Tales of the Unexpected” was the most disturbing programme of all. Sure, Roald Dahl has made a name for himself with his short stories, and anyone even vaguely familiar with his writings knows to expect an unusual twist at the end. But “The Landlady,” which was dramatised on Friday evening, must be among his heaviest, most macabre tales of all.

Usually, his endings have some sort of warped justification, making the reader (or, in this case, viewer) feel satisfied, in a strange sort of way. But there was nothing satisfying about the end of “The Landlady.” As the story unfolded, the gradually increasing tension and peculiarities in the old lady’s habits made it obvious that she had something unexpected up her sleeve for the nice young boy about to start at Cambridge. But his fate must have been quite a shock for most viewers.

Stuffed parrots may be only just socially acceptable. Stuffed dogs are a little out of the ordinary. But a room full of stuffed people? And nice young boj’s at that? I shall never be able to look a taxidermist straight in the eye again.