Setting the tone

Press, 16 March 1982, Page 21

Setting the tone

“Credo" might well be an appropriate type of programme for a Sunday evening, but it is poor television. It is verbal rather than visual, a barrage of not very well fired words. The programme is divided into the three parts so beloved of producers. On Sunday, the first and longest part involved an interview with the national director of Bamardo’s. He seemed a pleasant man who should have been left to describe his photographs of the early days of Barnardo’s by himself.

Unfortunately, he was interviewed by a lady, called, I think, Naomi .Trig. It was a most uncomfortable few minutes. She either bored into him with the twin laser beams of her attention or gently but firmly shoved him from one photograph to the next. - .

Indoor, interviews really should be held sitting down. Most people just have not had enough practice of what to do with bodies that seem to have grown several extra limbs when they are pointed at by a television camera. Naomi was uncomfortable as well, Jv ■■ When her lasers switched off and became ordinary eyes, they kept swivelling sideways. She was uneasy and so were we all. The second interview was notable in that it implied that the New Zealand policy appears to be to take in only such refugees as will be of some benefit to the country.

It was an interesting contrast with Bamardo who helped any needy children. The final minute or two ’concerned St Patrick and centred on a most engaging priest. Father Conan Fahey, a fine old Welsh name, wore an actual habit and kept grinning. It could have been something to do with the glass of green beer he was drinking. It was definitely green.

At 7.00, there began 45 minutes of the Evening Post Onslow Brass Band. Somehow, there is not much to say about brass bands, other than that they are good or bad. This one was good. Why is brass band music so delightfully optimistic and good-humoured? It could be because there is always the chance that the Two Ronnies will pop out with padded bosoms and frilly nicks.

When a brass band takes hold of a tune, thereafter it cries out for the composition of rude rhymes and dirty ditties. Maybe it is due to the wartime influence of the monorchic Fuehrer.

Naturally, in New Zealand where there is a brass band there are marching girls. More questions immediately leap about in search of answers. Why did it all start in New Zealand? What do they get out of it? One possibility is that it sprang up as a final act of female desperation in response to the New Zealand male’s general refusal to

[Review]

Ken Strongman

dance. Presumably they stick to their glasses and avoid the dance floor in case they are branded as poofters or pansies, or are whisked off by a roving talent scout for the Russian ballet.

So, perhaps the women decided to go it alone, get some short skirts and in impressive synchrony and in more ways than one, show the men what they are missing.

It was a very colourful 45 minutes, both visually and auditorally. A good way to help finish off the week-end; ebullience with a hint of wistfulness.

Followed by "Country Calendar” in the last of its four seasons in the high country, the proper mood of Sunday evening calm optimism was achieved. However, someone needs to do a bit of work on "Credo,” I believe.