Bring on the acting girls

Press, 15 May 1981, Page 11

Bring on the acting girls

Review

Ken Strongman

What sort of heroes are the programmers providing for our children these days? If 5 p.m. until 6.30 p.m. on Wednesday is representative, they have their good and bad points. At 5 p.m. is “A Dropa Kulcha”; music for the young, and very little different from “Ready to Roll.”

Much of the music was good (to my untutored ear) but seeing a mixture of pop groups makes one deplore some of the values which these heroes are reflecting. They have to both look and sound singular, which by a natural progression leads them to the bizarre.

Dressing, making up and making music in studiedly semi-original ways is steadily taking the place of genuine creativity. The differences between the groups is becoming so repetitious as to be predictable, thus making even the point of originality become lost. All of which is,a pity, since there was some enjoyable music, particularly from “The Who.” However, it is a pleasant enough programme and its heroes are at least what passes for real in the pop world. Why, though, should its presenter have to make his announcements whilst sitting on steps made out of old scaffolding? It is puzzling.

At 5.30 p.m. the first episode of “The Doombolt Chase” was, quite simply, excellent. Donald Burton, as commander of a naval ship, runs down a small boat, and offers no explanation. He is court-martialled (Peter Vaughan — old Billy Fox himself — was the prosecuting captain) and still gives no account of himself. Why? His 14-year-old son, mature, sensible, independent, gutsy, full of life, and fun-loving, sets out to solve the mystery, with two friends by yacht no less. If you or your children saw this first episode, you are probably hooked. There was action, mystery, talk of a coded message, and little doubt that truth will out and right will triumph. There

was also some first rate repartee.

“Have you assumed command of this ship?” “No, sir.” “Then I’d be obliged if you’d leave the running of it to me.” There just never seems to be the opportunity to say such things. Finally, at 6 p.m. there was the perennial “Dick Turpin,” which is all about cheeky-faced Richard O’Sullivan, and Michael Deeks as Swiftnick, his cheeky-faced sidekick. They could be playing anyone; Robin Hood, King Arthur, Ned Kelly, it wouldn’t matter. It is just an excuse for some fast talking which would do credit to a-private eye, all with a grinning hint of self-parody. This week they had some good adventures with the Romanies, but as usual noone was hurt, except Spiker (what a marvellous name for a baddy) and even he was all right in the end. By the way, the gipsy wench was Cathy, who must briefly have risen from the depths of “Wuthering Heights.” What can one say of this 90 minutes worth of heroes for the children? We can rest easy. For the most part, they were straightforward, interesting, singular (if a bit too much so in some instances), and, what is most important, fun-loving but with a serious core. The children won’t go far wrong emulating them. But, and it is a big but, they were almost entirely male. Don’t young girls watch television? Or, if they do, do programme makers assume that they prefer to identify with males? • This imbalance is not untypical of children’s- programmes, which makes them one of the final bastions of the male-dominated world of yesteryear.