Learning about S, America — at last

Press, 25 February 1986, Page 17

Learning about S, America — at last

[ Review j 1 Ken Strongman I

"Sweat of the Sun, Tears of the Moon" was as good an eight hours of television documentary as has popped out of the box for some time. Everything about it was right — pictures, words, depth of ideas, and even the music. By the end, one actually knew something about South America, at last. It showed more shades of grey than are dreamt of in many philosophies, with no-one to blame and ‘ little point in making value judgments. Jack Pizzey did an exceptionally fine job with this series, particularly because in some subtle ways he overstepped the traditional bounds of television journalism. Most of the time he was dispassionate and merely followed his not inconsiderable nose. Now and again, though, he let his

own attitudes peep through. This gave the series an extra dimension, and somehow made it more gutsy. The final programme concentrated on Colombia, which epitomises the extremes of South America. The few rich exploit the many poor, with brass bands and Pizzey in between. In spite of the fact that the elected president is a former peasant, government is by the rich, of the desperately poor Indians, who know neither what gov-

emment is for, nor what it is about

The entire series produced an excellent succession of rich images of noise, bustle and movement, from the bursting exuberance of the cities to the quiet, dusty scratching about in the countryside, where everyone has black teeth and pigs. An amazing amount of bruising physical work is done by so many for so few. Life in these places seems to be basic and elemental and Pizzey managed to get somewhere near it, from pigkilling to moustache-rid-den smiles. The emotional warmth is constant. The image will long remain of a broadly smiling band who were singing “If she won’t love me I’ll slice up her face with a razor blade.” The commentary was

first rate. There would be brief, disembodied statements such as “Monday nights in the town are given over to blood lust” Then there would be several minutes of a blooddrenched cock fight in which the animals had fractionally more grace and charm than the onlookers. In Colombia, there is a sense in which the name of the capital — Bogota — seems somehow to describe the people. In this world, everything is manipulation, a pseudosophisticated adolescent tattoo on the emotions. “Sweat and Tears” leaves two main feelings — an aching sadness that this massive half continent appears to have no gentleness, and a vast anger at the rape of the original Indian society, political exploitation, the overwhelming pressure of

the church, and the sheer, primitive crude violence of everything. The dilemma is that although South America is far away and is full of South Americans, they are still people like us — and that takes some coming to terms with. In the end, all that remained were feelings of hopelessness, as if attempting, to use Pizzey’s analogy, to plough the sea.

In a very different vein, Thursday has also seen the start of “The Secret Life of Edgar Briggs," with Britain’s most successful recent comic character actor, David Jason, uplifted to the S.I.S. from “Open All Hours." It is a useless, silly spoof, but is saved by Jason’s fine sense of timing, and his Peter Sellers-like awkwardness when dealing with the physical world.

He cannot move without bumping into things, falling over, crushing his hands or destroying things. But he makes it seem as though the world is attacking him.

The verbal humour is a bit laboured. “I wanted you to destroy it, memorise it and then read it.” But Jason is splendid, reminiscent of all the great comedians in his pathetically genuine battle with life. “I’ll kill you if I have to Mr Briggs.” “Over my dead body.” Tailpiece. There must be something ’ about cricket that makes little verbal delights likely to happen. In the test series, it has begun again with John Morrison suggesting that as well as being the captain “Coney can swing it both ways.” Good luck to the man.