The Stage

Settling for second best - light ent vs reality TV

Published Monday 16 February 2004 at 14:25 by Paul Clark

Writer and director Paul Clark argues that today’s TV schedulers are failing family audiences by refusing to back quality light entertainment, instead opting for simplistic, reality-based shows

Okay, so it was a crackers idea. Some of the most popular entertainment on TV came from someone, somewhere, waking up at three in the morning screaming “Eureka!” - or, more likely, “Ulrika! Davina! Dale Winton! In the jungle! With premium telephone lines at 50p a minute!”.

And so it was when my moment of television revelation, my Esther Rantzen epiphany, came.

Will Hay was, in my blinkered opinion, the greatest British comic actor of the 20th century. For ten years I had been mulling over the idea of a tribute to the classic movie Oh, Mr Porter! (1937), a three-handed classic, starring Hay, Graham Moffatt (the fat boy) and Moore Marriott (the whiskery old man).

I had pitched an idea for a South Bank Show, tied to re-making the film for a modern audience. The idea was perfect for a special, family-friendly ITV Christmas Eve night. I was convinced someone, somewhere in the executive, potted-palm suites would well up a tear in their eye and say it was a nice idea. Oh, for the joys of naivety - but this is 2004, not 1937.

The casting for the re-make is obvious, at least in my eyes. For crusty old Hay there could only be one - Bruce Forsyth. Moffat’s role is ideal for Peter Kay, the current heir to the mantle of British comic genius.

I had pondered the idea for years, mumbling incoherently around the house, until the wife could stand it no more and hijacked a book signing by Brucie at Harrods, to collar him. “Will Hay?” was his immediate reaction. “How do you know about Will Hay? I’d love to do it! Have you a script?” he gushed.

Had I a script? Within a week we had a hastily cobbled adaptation, come transcription, and a video of the original packaged up. The words were faxed to Forsyth’s home in Brazil and he apparently gave the nod to the idea, provided the filming schedule could fit his sensible and very non-showbiz life outside of the UK.

Speaking to Forsyth’s manager, Ian Wilson, it seemed that the fly in the ointment was the vagaries of current fashion - who would fund it?

Fool that I am, I ignored all the signs telling me, no chance. I was on a roll. I sent the idea to Tony Robinson, the only actor with the comic timing, vocal mannerisms and, yes, the look to breath new life into Marriott’s old fool character again. His agent received it at 9.30am and by midday said he would jump at the chance to appear. “Tony says he would love to do it, if you can get it commissioned.”

Kay would make complete my ideal cast, if I could only track him down. Channel 4 could not give me a contact address. Short of hanging around street corners in Bolton, I have yet to speak to Kay. Perhaps he reads The Stage?

Armed with Brucie and Baldrick, polite letters went off to the Beeb, ITV Towers, and Channel 4 - these days the ‘who knows what we want, anyway?’ channel. They all rejected it out of hand. No meetings, no lunches, no chances to pitch the merits - just short, sharp, unconstructive rejection letters.

I wonder if the proposals were even read, let alone considered.

Forsyth and Robinson, these great comic stars, one guesses, are no longer thought to be in vogue, in a world of Ant and Dec, ‘entertainment-lite’ rather than light entertainment, all soppy grins mocking pneumatic models and pectoral singers.

I am left scouting around the British film industry - what there is left of it - for a taker. The British Film Council claims to have funds for suchlike - and we shall see, in time. Ian Thompson of the BFC told me: “Unfortunately, ‘star status’ in UK films does not always help a film get off the ground. More often it is the quality of the screenplay and the ability of the producer to finance a budget that is in keeping with the film’s potential in the marketplace. It’s always slightly a chicken and egg thing, with financiers only interested if you have stars and stars only interested if you have financing.”

If that was not enough, there are copyright issues around the original script that I have yet to comprehend and men in suits ready to beat me over the head with rolled up contracts, even before we reach the ‘let’s have lunch to discuss it stage’.

The unbelievable thing is, here we have a proposal for a re-make of a superb film that drew 12 million people out of their homes to the movies, a film that 90% of the public under the age of 40 have not and will not see in its original, hissy, creaking, mono-sound, black and white format, yet a film that consistently rates in the top 100 movies of all time.

I see why some might say, leave well alone.

Yet, in Forsyth, Robinson and Kay we have the comic geniuses of the eighties, nineties and noughties. Filmed in 5.1 digital stereo, widescreen colour, with high production values, promoted and, yes, packaged for television, it would reach an all-new family audience.

Oh, Mr Porter! 2005, starring Forsyth, Robinson and Kay, is a bankable commodity. It is just convincing the dour accountants with golden chequebooks - sorry, I meant to say commissioning editors - that is the hard part.

Terrestrial broadcasters are always banging on about wanting high-quality programmes that attract mixed, younger audiences. ITV, particularly, claims it wants family films and whimsical comedy, to balance out the royal correspondents eating slugs and endless reality-driven drivel. The BBC claims in its charter that they commission a range and diversity of shows for all ages and groups. Right. Channel 4 makes all kinds of spurious claims of diversity and reaching out to audiences. Except families, it seems.

Once upon a time, deep, crisp snow lay all around and the Christmas schedules were filled with delights, such as Morecambe and Wise cracking jokes. Now we have Razor and Jordan passing wind. This year we can look forward to more repeats of Bond - both James and Jennie - and variants of Pop Idol.

Yet none of the above channels will even discuss a proposal for a sure-fire hit film for the Christmas schedules, starring three of the biggest comedy stars of our generation.

It is a sad day for British television when our main channels will not even consider a film of obvious merit, starring much-loved performers, with a first-class pedigree, that would grab high ratings. They want TV for idiots, by idiots.

n Paul Clark wrote sketches and songs for seven series of Spitting Image, eight series of Rory Bremner, Radio 4, Kate Robbins, Hale and Pace and many others. He directed and produced The New Politics, a film of Tony Benn’s final election campaign. His first novel is to be published this year.