Charming Aussie bounders

Press, 2 June 1989, Page 7

Charming Aussie bounders

The good ling about television seatn changes is that as [Ogrammes end, there coies a sense of optimism ttt whatever replaces ther must be better. Afte: a few months, everhing looks so awful th; anything would be a improvement. One eception to this general ule is the demise of “Or World,” which could lefully stay where it is evry week of the year. Ttuthought of Cousteau andie dreaded Calypso replying it is decidedly . ..■'rench. Gael shorte-job-in-the-telly-week Idlow has beamed at usor the last time for a :w months. She makes ie perfect start and finh to “Our World,” lookig more and more like a wonderfully exotic creatui herself as she goes on - a sort of cross betweeia fawn, an iguana and a dng Charles spaniel. The topic o end the series was ell chosen, “The Woncrful Kangaroo,” the beguiling, bouncing holders being given a touctof gravitas by a Peter stinov commentary. It was a fine hour, in spit of depending on rath; too much slow-motion iouncing of the six-millic-dollar kangaroo sort. The progimme was very good n the long

Ken Strongman on television

view which is becoming such an essential part of “natural” documentaries. Australia looked millions of years old as the roos lived out their exigent existence dealing with the necessary evil of fire. Then, evenutally, there were the aboriginals, portrayed by a few old men remembering the old days, obligatory mention of dream time, and Rolf Harris doing the sound effects with a sheet of hardboard and a piece of scaffold pipe.

After this it was off for a few more shots of roos of various sizes scratching

themselves. Scratching seems to be the main function of those withered looking front limbs, although the rate at which they go at it, one would think the big back legs would be more suitable. In fact, the programme hinted that most of the animal life in Australia, even including homo sapiens, spends much of its time scratching.

The best moments showed the sorts of things that roos and people get up to. A sequence of serious scientists trying to catch their jumping charges showed just how elegant an animal moving naturally is in comparison with humans who seemed to have evolved beyond anything natural.

The most curious relationship between roos and people is on the golf course, where roos are encouraged because they keep the grass down and they look nice. The trouble is, not only do they not putt very well, to get to the golf course at all they have to cross the road and their road sense appears to be non-exis-tent. Sitting there, in the middle of the highway, they look at their most condescending and definitely supercilious, not unlike a lesser member of the English aristocracy who has been caught in

flagrante delictowith one of the maids.

It was a good, well made, beautifully photographed programme, which retained its integrity in spite of some gratuitous bars of “Waltzing Matilda” and a few minutes about the dirty dingo. A lasting image was of the sight of a group of emus running down the road away from the camera, like a bevy of gangling dowager duchesses.

Meanwhile, roos of all shapes and sizes are breeding faster than the euphemistic culls can keep down with them. In spite of this, what is essentially an agricultural pest remains as a sort of symbol of the Australian national consciousness. It is understandable: they are marvellous animals, physicially impressive in movement but engagingly out of a child’s story book when still. A little like Gael Ludlow herself.

Tailpiece. The “Bell Tea subtitles in teletext” plastered on the screen at the start of some programmes is beginning to give the television that festooned-in-advertise-ments look of a formula one racing car. As the competition heats up, there will presumably be little messages all over the place.