Removing the magic

Press, 5 June 1982, Page 13

Removing the magic

Review ]

Ken Strongman

TVNZ's programmes are sprinkled over the week's viewing like salt over fish and chips. No doubt, they are timed as they are to appeal to various audiences and in response to ratings. Currently though, there are some puzzling features, Why, for example, has “'Fourth Estate" been removed to a less favourable place and time?

In this context, it is worth considering what the pundits schedule in the important, mid-week, mid-evening spots. On Wednesday, there is "Vicky. Jayne and Maggie,” the sort of entertainment one has when not having entertainment. The three women are pleasant, lively, exuberant and at times vivacious. They are accomplished dancers, wear interesting clothes and have a talented choreographer. However, to enjoy the programme, one has to like this sort of thing, and who does? It is all form and style and very little content. Given some flair, all this might be tolerable, but their guest this week was not. Grant Bridger is yet another song and dance man with a mid-Atlantic accent. He had a tail suit from the.2os and danced as though his shoulders were ducks bobbing up and down on choppy water. On Wednesday at 8.00, an ideal spot, is “Close Up,” which usually maintains a good standard. The main item this week concerned the

massaging of more than just egos in Auckland. Queen Street was portrayed as covered in prostitutes, vomit, urine, drag-racers and patrolling police cars. The reporter saw little other than credit-card sex being used to help New Zealand's balance of payments by entertaining overseas visitors. In more ways than one this is the bottom end of trade.

The oldest game in the world seems to be a matter of viewpoint. The local superintendent stated that he does not see prostitution as “a main activity for the police.” A . comforting thought. On the other hand, a local owner of a massage parlour saw- the prostitutes as providing “unfair competition” for his masseuses. One of the young ladies saw it all as something of a joke. “They do nasty things to your body.” Giggle. “I really enjoy a discipline massage.” Giggle. It takes all sorts to make a world and if “Close Up” is right, most of them walk up and down Queen Street during the course of an evening.

Thursday’s only mid-even-ing local offering is "Contact.” This week it featured one of those parasitical but still interesting films of a film. “They Shoot Commercials. Don't They?” took the golden magic out of the Crunchie advertisement for ever.

The making of. television commercials in New Zealand

is evidently burgeoning, but the makers pull at our heart strings with their tales of low budgets,' limited time and the vagaries of, the weather. But they do have talent, no doubt about it. The final results are amazing when one considers that the filming seems to occur in the same sort of confusion which abounds in the bathroom first thing in the morning.

However, to hark back to Queen Street for a moment, the thought is there that such talent might be a touch prostituted by being driven by the commercial interests of advertisements. What “Contact" made clear was the shallowness of the business. The actors for Crunchie had to be not only good-looking but also relatively unknown. So they were Australia's finest. All in appearance and facade, which, for entertainment, might be acceptable. But when it is used simply to make the viewer buy one productrather another, it needs more thought than it is given. Without actually saying it aloud, the “Contact” programme showed very clearly the double standards with which television advertisements are imbued. They are creative: the Crunchie people worked wonders with plastic, polythene and bags of flour. But all to sell one product. Perhaps the product would be cheaper with less creativity in Jts advertisement.