Television
Accuracy problem
Simon Hoggart
Le Real Alan Clark (Channel 4) began with the sonorous words, 'In his celebrated diaries, Tory politician Alan Clark por- trayed himself as an engagingly flawed and swashbuckling hero, who made his way through the corridors of power with an air of reckless self-indulgence.' Spot on, I'd say. But of course this is a Channel 4 docu- mentary, in which nothing is ever as it once seemed. Philanthropists must be misers and war heroes snivelling cowards, other- wise there would be no way past the com- missioning editors. (`Trackerbar productions here. We've got this great idea for a docu- mentary which depicts Stephen Hawking as a genius struggling against tremendous physical disability. How about it?' Please leave your name at the beep.') This time they had a problem. Since the diaries portray the man — if not all events — with great accuracy, it's difficult to pull the normal trick of revealing them, and him, to be fraudulent. If the commentary had continued, 'The real Alan Clark was a timid, shrinking man who deeply disliked the cut-and-thrust of politics. He had a col- lection of conventional, middle-of-the-road views, tempered further by a paranoid fear of causing controversy. He was also gay they would have had a story. As it is, we learned that he was just as ambitious, just as right-wing, just as intemperate and just as randy as he always claimed. It's hard to be shocked by the revelation that someone behaved as disgracefully as he said he had. (The opening sequence was a passage from the diaries about his attempting to seduce a plump, bra-less young woman he met on the train, illustrated by a bra-less bosom of the type described jiggling up and down. These people suffer for their art.) And, yes, he shaded his diaries to make them closer to his view of himself (brother Colin's memories of their father's death- bed made Alan seem harsh, grasping and vengeful, whereas the diaries depict him as a loving, dutiful son. Who is right? And since Colin famously declined to make love to Marilyn Monroe, one has the faintest shimmer of doubt about the value of his judgments on Alan).
The three editions of The Last Fast Show Ever (BBC 2) were, as we expected, quite brilliant. It was a terrific festive bonus too, as if we got not just Morecambe and Wise repeats, but brand-new Christmas specials instead. It's hard to imagine how they must have pitched the first Fast Show to per- suade BBC 2 to take it on. 'The catch phrases won't be funny at all, they'll be things like "In't it brilliant?" and "knowing my luck" and "jumpers for goalposts" and "let's go off-road". Also much of the humour won't be humorous, as such, but will be very bleak, like the Sunday painter who goes berserk whenever he hears the word "black". Competitive Dad who can't bear his sons to best him at anything, and the effete, aristocratic Ralph endlessly yearning for Ted, his morose Irish estate worker. Also there'll be jokes about an old man who falls down potholes, and a TV presenter who coughs the whole time and interviews people who fart. Sounds good to you?' It was a brave executive who commis- sioned it.
Sometimes you feel that the writers real- ly hate their subjects. The ghastly music- hall comedian Arthur Atkinson (his catchphrases, 'Where's me washboard?' and 'I say, how queer' aren't funny either, except that they are, hilariously) had aged into the 1940s. The pastiches of British `comedy' films of the time, including one set in the African jungle complete with black-faced 'coons', and another in which his smug, grating voice was replaced by a crooner with a voice as light as pavlova, were not just immaculately observed but vicious. There was a streak of pure loathing there, like someone sticking pins into the most painful parts of the wax model. Yet the show remains touchingly, unremittingly cheerful. Partly I think it's because the cruelty is always mitigated by the optimism. Most humour is about the frailty of human ambition, and so Dr Den- zil Dexter still believes he can unlock the secrets of the universe by standing on toilet rolls, the jazz club man will get a real act to appear, Swiss Toni will sell a car, and Dave Angel, eco-warrior, will save the planet. Paul Whitehouse, the main player in the series, nearly always has a smile on his face, whether he's being Ron Manager, the foot- ball pundit whose synapses seem to have been wrongly wired, or the friendly burglar, or presenting the nightmarish Canal 5 tele- vision, which is almost as bad as our own Channel 5. The spoof on modem British Crime movies, full of inarticulate hard-men mouthing off meaninglessly at each other, was also perfectly judged and observed, yet built up a bubble of affectionate hilarity. The Fast Show told us that sometimes you have to be kind to be cruel.
Alistair McGowan's 2000 Impressions (BBC 1) is funny too — extremely funny and extremely clever. His female sidekick, Ronni Ancona (Posh Spice, Charlie Dim- mock and `smiley, smiley, Carol Smillie') is every bit as good as he is. Two points: Big Brother recast with squabbling newsreaders was beautifully managed and fairly amus- ing; however, some of the routines, even the wondrous royal family cast as the Royle Family are getting just the teeniest bit wearisome. Can McGowan do anyone who isn't a TV star? He clearly has the talent.
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