Loverly class provides the dramatic interest

Press, 2 May 1981, Page 13

Loverly class provides the dramatic interest

Review

Douglas McKenzie

British preoccupation with class and, of course, accent is heavily involved in "The Other ’Arf’ (we just hoped we've typed that wretched title correctly; it sounds more like an alternative bark from a dog), now showing on Two on Thursdays. The trouble with the British fetish about class and accent is that, when indulged in dramatic productions, it may conceal or divert attention from good acting and writing in the same show. This is probably happening in "The Other ’Arf’'(yuk!). The script is superior in the witty sense, the plot is adequate and the acting competent. But all this seems to be designed solely as a vehicle for the delicious counterpoint provided by the terrible Cockney voice of Lorraine on the one hand, and the ostentatious inability of Charles to notice anything at all about this as he replies in his clipped middle-class tones and. of course, accompanying mannerisms. It all has to be carried into the families, too; so that Lorraines Dad sound like

Dick Emery among the dustmen, and Charles's fellow voyagers in the flat or the House of Commons bar flute their way round buttoned armchairs and shot cuffs as though they are organ pipes looking for a home in the upper register. Nearly the whole of the value of the script is suspended while the viewer is waiting for Lorraine's next tonsil-snapping glottal stop to be absorbed by Charles's impeccable equality. Lorraine Chase is to the Big Smoke what Pam Ayres is to the murky countryside. Miss Ayres starts with a script of negligible merit but by dint of funny rhymes, amusingly misplaced pauses, comic grins, and hilariously earthy vowels she has them roiling in the aisles. The vowels are the best part; those, and the burred “r” sound. This is accent at its uproarious peak of entertainment, not unlike the mirth from certain afflictions such as stage' stuttering. “Secret Army" (One) continues to be a show of un-

canny attraction which has a knack of not coming to grips with its own potential. It is hard to say which is the strongest force towards the “on” switch — the marvellously appropriate omin? ous theme tune and opening graphics, or Bernard Hepton. It is so hard to imagine J his programme without Mr Hepton that he has to be recognised as the one who holds the whole thing together. He has the look of haggard, furtive industry that one imagines would be just that worn by a Belgian who was making money hand over fist during the war by managing to be all things to all parties; so that to other Belgians in this week's episode he appeared to be a German collaborator, to the Germans a black marketeer, and to London saviour. In spite of the devious and self-serving behaviour of Albert Foiret the viewer could not be without him. Mr Hepton has built up such a disreputable character here that he can never expect to

be offered a future part as, say, a parish priest. This week, though, was such a mixed bag that it needed Mr Hep ton more than ever to bring it off. There was an extraordinary sequence of a British airman on the run converting to his own use a locomotive which just happened to be standing there all steamed up and ready to go and quite unattended; and then, having drawn notice to himself in this most conspicuous way, be drove the engine for what seemed only a hundred yards or so before jumping off. Still, the steam and nice paint were photogenic: perhaps this was the whole idea.