Australia’s bicentennial concert — predictably unspectacular

Press, 29 January 1988, Page 15

Australia’s bicentennial concert — predictably unspectacular

Judging from “The Bicentennial Concert,” we are going to have a great deal to put up with as the Australians celebrate the last 200 of the 40,000 years in which humanity has sounded its didgeridoo.

It was absolutely everything that might be imagined of "the be-all and end-all of television spectaculars.” One could only watch in the sort of amazed but concentrated fascination normally reserved for a chance encounter with mating sparrows.

The two representatives of the television medium set the scene with true Australian style and panache. Whilst the camera looked from on high onto a band beating drums but making no music, and two mounted policemen peering round a corner, awaiting Charles and Diana, so they graphically described what we would see.

“You’ve got no idea what you are about to see.” They speculated about Di’s dress but could not actually describe it. “She always looks spectacular. And you can see how tall she is.” Then,

excitedly, “There is our prime minister and his wife, Hazel.” Setting aside their consternation at an unknown gentleman who walked between them and the camera, they warmed to their task. As Charles, and Diana went into the Sydney Entertainment Centre, so the commentators became agitated by what they described as “the vomitory,” a passageway in which “the Prince and Princess make their final adjustments to themselves.” This simple elegance of description must have endeared them to the official recorders of Royal tours. Then it was into the entertainment itself. There was more than two hours of profligate cameras gratuitously romping from angle to angle and zooming in and out like flies on a string.

The introduction was a perfect tribute to Australian style in its costume, choreography, music and general concept. It seemed to last for 200 years and included camels and windsurfers, with “Waltzing Matilda” interwoven with Mozart.

No-one actually fell over on stage. The m.c. was Jack Thompson, and why not indeed? He did a good enough job although his evening clothes made him seem like a turtle about to burst from its shell. In fact, the clothes all round were bizarre. Olivia Newton-John looked about 14, up to the head, and Cliff Richard appeared to be wearing “Miami Vice” pyjamas cut out of old curtains. Pamela Stephen-

son took the only way out and with her unerring bad taste wore a little number which set out to parody crudeness and was too crude to succeed. There were no surprises amongst the performers, even Rolf Harris doing his usual indescribable thing. It was a supreme collection of talentless hasbeens. The only person to give a truly professional performance was John Denver, although it did not make him any easier to listen to. At various times there were songs about Bradman and Kingsford-Smith, people mentioned Whitlam and Fraser, and there were the usual coy references to convicts. The whole thing was reminiscent of the noisy mess which develops at the birthday parties of ten-year-old boys. The "spectacular” was dominated by song and dance sequences, clearly (or rather, uncleanly) written for the occasion. They were supposed to represent the history of Australia, at least as seen through the eyes of those

who have run it for the last 200 years. Apart from a word or two about dream times, there was no mention of the indigenous population. Notably, even Midnight Oil, who have made the only reasonable noise to cross the Tasman recently, were not there. They might have been unacceptably controversial rather than acceptably tasteless. “The Bicentennial Concert” was a television trial and should have just been described as “the end-all > of television spectaculars.” It was a third-rate copy of a style and format better left to the Americans, and repeated the word Australia more times than it has even been said before in the time. But it did provide a comforting predictability. The concert was exactly what would be expected from a country which contains Bondi Beach, Surfers’ Paradise, paper money that looks less discreet than its Monopoly equivalent, Queensland, child-stealing dingoes, and | U.F.O.s in the Nullabor. i