TELEVISION AND RADIO
Orr Sunday night the years of waiting were rewarded. The demolition by a collapsing ceil- ing of a panel in full panoply of tiaras and teeth represents one of the most magical moments of catharsis yet achieved by tele- vision. That the ceiling consisted of flour and unbruising bits and pieces specially rigged up for the occasion by the Crazy Gang with (clearly—and surprisingly) the wholehearted co-operation of the BBC, did nothing to rob the moment of its splendour. For, indeed, no one more accurately descries and more ruth lessly destroys genteel archness of the panel member variety than the Crazy Gang. A kind of fivefold released libido, they brought int(' their brief, vulgar appearance more life, mot, genuine laughter than you can squeeze out a thousand GueSs My Story's, Down You Go', The Name's the Same's or What's My Littc.. For not only did they gloriously present it-- with pictures of a Miss Elizabeth Allan with her tiara skew-wiff and a Miss Eunice Gaysoi too startled to bubble, but also, in a mo,1 satisfying way, they refused to answer any ti the questions (usually so earnestly cogitated. so earnestly answered) except with blank and bleary-eyed negatives. Their revolt, on beha I of millions of weary viewers, tired of then own obedience to obedience, was as stimulat- ing as it was complete. And their final gesture —a cheap but enchantingly .cheerful verbal gag ('What story? Prices are too high and
must come down with a bang l'—collapse of false ceiling) was one of television's moments of growth..
For far too long we have suffered silently from a stubborn determination at Lime
beside him—and call the whole dreary thing entertainment. Mr. Flanagan deserves at least barony (and what a magnificent baron he auld make) for his leadership of this brave tilt at what will remain I'm afraid—come the ititumn—those all too numerous windmills. Mr. Christopher Mayhew deserves well of us too. His series on peaceful co-existence (the sixth and final programme is yet to be seen), While inclined to be prosy and prim, remains nevertheless a palpably honest and adult tempt to examine the problems and possi- lities inherent in that strange phrase. Mon- day night's attempt to take a view of the likely shape of the forthcoming Four-Power meet- ings was marred by the irritating use of a telephone gimmick. My respect for and inter- est in the views of Mr. Edward Crankshaw for example, are unlikely to he increased or decreased by his being filmed holding a tele- phone through which he pretends to be chat- ting in a lively, confidential way to Mr. Mayhew. My only other criticism of this uenerally excellent news-analysis programme : Mayhew is too self-effacing. His camera manner is crisp and clean, his summaries accurate and short. He should come into the Picture more and not bow out so modestly in Favour of less competent, often less expert experts.
The week's worst viewing was undoubtedly that single part of Double Date which emanated fram the Stork Club, Streatham, Where Mr. Robin Scutt, a pleasing new rmnpere, did a good job of covering up his .wild surmise before an extraordinary render- ing of Funiculi funicula and an even more extraordinary group of mambo dancers. The week's best? What else but the begin- ing of Wimbledon?
JOHN METCALF
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