Pushing out the walls of television

Press, 11 May 1984, Page 11

Pushing out the walls of television

I Review j I Ken Strongman I

Even with good will and an affection for television,

there are times when it does not seem worth the money or energy. Then, along comes something which, unaided, makes an entire year’s costs and effort worth while. It pushes at the limits and shows what the medium can do. In the last 10 days or so, there have been two such programmes, or, depending on one’s viewpoint, possibly three. Not only did they provide unequivocally superb television, they also created an object lesson in the importance of detail. They were intricate and yet seemed to be faultless. The most important of the three was Alan Bennett’s “An Englishman Abroad,” which quite rightly ran away with a clutch of British awards. Coral Browne was very good, playing herself, but Alan Bates was perfect as the ageing homosexual, Guy Burgess, admirably trying to stop himself from going to seed in Moscow. It was an excellent study of effete charm becoming ravaged by circumstances. In one brief hour, Bennett managed to pack an extraordinary mixture of wistful, pathetic sadness. The image will long remain of Burgess and his permitted Muscovian male consort perched in a muddled, poor flat ‘ playing Gilbert and Sullivan on a piano and balalaika. As part of his stand against the drabness of his new country, Burgess persuaded Coral Browne to buy him a new outfit in London. It was delightful to hear her dressing down of the pyjama suppliers in response to their refusal to supply their wares to traitors since they already supplied the Royal family. Humour against a background of pathos makes a powerful picture. “An Englishman Abroad” was very nearly perfect as a one-hour play. Whatever aspect one dwelt on, all that could be seen was a remarkable thoroughness, precision and attention to detail, as well as creative flair. Just to take one example, there was Alan Bates’s walk, with which he did amazing things. Through a drunken stagger to a camp mince, he managed to portray a fierce optimism in a sort of square-should-ered not-to-be-trifled-with bounce which simply flung off the grey oppression of Moscow. Bennett has been a prolific playwright but his use of language in this reached a pinnacle. “D’you know,

there’s no-one in Moscow at all. It’s rather like staying up at Cambridge in the long vacation.” “I shouldn’t think the inside leg alters very much, would you? One of the immutables.” “No point in having a secret if you make a secret of it.” It was an incredibly sad portrayal of a charming aesthete putting a brave face on the memory of irretrievable better times. The gulf between his world and reality was summed up perfectly by his mother’s feeling that “He shouldn’t be made to stand in the corner forever.” If anything, “Harry’s Game” was even better television than “An Englishman Abroad.” It was not as significant a work of art, nor was it as sophisticated, but technically it pushed out the walls of television a little further. Again, it was attention to detail which impressed. To take just one example, the camera work was so brilliant that it imbued even the sordid Sara-cen-tank horrors of the Falls Road with a sort of romantic charm. "Harry’s Game” demonstrated that it is possible to take a reasonably good book and turn it into something special. It showed Belfast and to some extent what the troubles are all about in a compellingly dramatic form. As a television film it was reminiscent of “Rogue Male” a few years ago. In the interim, there has been no equivalent. The third programme in this surfeit of riches was awkwardly timed at 4.30 last Friday. The 30 minutes that I saw was an absorbing portrayal of Ratty, Mole, Toad and Badger. It looked just as one had always imagined that “Wind in the Willows” should look. Let us hope that it will be screened again, at a time more suitable for the adult children. Finally, two last brief comments about “An Englishman Abroad.” We could be watching the birth of a cliche about upper-class Englishmen. Both “Brideshead” and “An Englishman” began with some graphic vomiting. Are they always at it? However, if for no other reason, the play will stay in memory for its unlikely comparison between Communism, Australia and Leeds — they are all dull, or so thinks the Australian actress, Coral Browne.