Mr Cardiff

Reviews


Television

Damon - A Welsh Cult?

High Hopes, High Horses





Damon - A Welsh Cult?

The beauty of writing for Stink of Shoe Polish is that we don’t have the hindrance of product placement. A half-page colour advertisement in one of our competitors yields a full-page eulogy or it does if your name is Damon Rochefort. It is a delicious irony, therefore, that the said freebie has gone off half cock in the printing process; the last four paragraphs being unintelligible, pretty much like the show – Damon Rochefort Tonight (BBC Wales, Thursdays @ 11pm) that it is plugging.

The Western Mail’s magazine proclaims Mr Rochefort a ‘cult’ and I would certainly agree with at least three of those letters.

Unfortunately, Damon Rochefort doesn’t have the urbanity to be another Simon Fanshawe, nor the cuddliness of a Graham Norton, nor the in your faceness of Dale Winton. He is trying to build the show on the cult of personality but when the personality is of the puff adder, Beau Brummel kind you are bound to be on to a loser.

Rochefort claims that the programme is more performance than chat show. Anybody who caught the first instalment of ‘…Tonight’ and witnessed the travesty of an encounter that was sad has-been Ken Morley meets sad would be Rochefort would have to admit that theirs was the kind of performance art that would not even merit an Arts Council grant.

The fact of the matter is that this show is one step beyond Rochefort and by the time that you read this the commissioning editor at BBC Wales might well have pulled the plug on the show and consigned it to the dustbin of history. If not, Damon, don’t blame the show on Yuri Geller (Rochefort’s earpiece mysteriously malfunctioned on the first show). If you are going to front a chat show spend some time researching your questions, listen to the answers and take the conversation somewhere.

The whole ragbag that is ‘…Tonight’ can’t be blamed entirely on Damon Rochefort, the production company Avanti and BBC Wales must share some of the blame. BBC Wales already has a perfectly serviceable chat show fronted by Jamie Owen so why does it need another? Presumably to target a young hip audience and show that it can take chances. Sadly against a show like ‘So Graham Norton’, ‘…Tonight’ merely looks passé.

Avanti have missed a golden opportunity. Not only have they fallen into the ‘style over substance’ trap, they have also managed to produce a set that is absolutely not audience friendly. Forty or fifty of the audience cram onto sofas whilst the bulk of the onlookers are squeezed into the corners of the studio. The much-heralded ‘Lift’, a means of introducing guests, had been virtually abandoned by show three. No surprise when the walk from the lift to Damon’s desk was longer than the applause most ‘B’ list celebs could muster. And finally, why has Avanti allowed its most valuable commodity – La Rochefort- to be so under produced? Surely it would have been worth spending a few grand recruiting an executive producer with a track record, simmer for a few weeks, and gradually bring Damon to the boil. What we have at the moment is popcorn, made in haste…and it has made a mess of the kitchen.

Was there anything to like? Actually, there was; I thought that Ocean Colour Scene on show one were brill. Perhaps BBC Wales should give them their own show. It won’t happen though, they haven’t had a number one hit; what chat show host has? Damon Rochefort? You’re kidding. I was thinking of Terry Wogan and the Floral Dance.

This article first appeared in the March 1999
Edition of Stink of Shoe Polish


[ Top ]



High Hopes, High Horses

Picture the scene; a graveyard slot on BBC2 in the midst of a withering summer schedule. Horrible isn’t it? A perfect time for a network premiere. ‘High Hopes’, a BBC Wales sit-com pilot tiptoed onto our screen and was roundly savaged by the critics. It doesn’t matter that you missed the carnage, everyone did. The whole gruesome episode proved only one thing; writer Boyd ‘Satellite City’ Clack became famous for finding a niche in a void – Welsh Situation Comedy.

About the same time ‘Jack of Hearts’, a Keith Allen vehicle, also from BBC Wales, burst on to our screens and was voted a success, a second series beckons. At last our local broadcaster has a hit on its hands. It has been a long time coming – who remembers ‘Lifeboat’, ‘Tiger Bay? Failures outnumber successes at about the same rate as Bobby Gould’s victories to humiliating reverses during his time as Welsh Team Manager. We mustn’t get carried away; the success of ‘Jack of Hearts’ has more to do with director Tim Lyn’s surprisingly fresh camera work, the watchability of Keith Allen and the ‘new’ subject matter – who’d have thought that social work could be sexy? – than its Welshness.

This is the problem that BBC Wales’ comedy department faces. Comedy can only be truly successful if it is anchored in its locale. Liver Birds – Liverpool, Rab C. Nesbitt – Glasgow, The Likley Lads – Newcastle. The list is virtually endless. Where was Fawlty Towers set? Only Fools and Horses, Til’ Death Do Us Part, Last of the Summer Wine, Father Ted. It is no wonder that we can’t make decent comedy when every Welshman has a different idea of what Wales is. Mr. Producer stop and think. It doesn’t matter what our ideas of Wales are; it is the mass audience’s perception that makes all the difference.

So let’s give the audience what they think they know and zoom in on a bleak Gren-like terrace where sheep graze freely, let’s get to know the people who live there. Of course Taffy was a Welshman lives at number twelve but who are his neighbours? Here we break the stereotype and engage the audience. My Wales is quite cosmopolitan, who is your neighbour? Not a sheep-shagger in sight so let’s have a comedy definitely set in Wales, not necessarily about Wales.

We have the producers, believe it or not, to see this through. Chris Stuart, for instance, at Presentable Productions, knows all about mass appeal having even been a Radio Two DJ in his time and making Max Boyce appear funny deserves some praise. If we had the guts to open the doors behind the stereotype we might find laughs inside. And if you want to know who my neighbour is, he’s a gob-shite social worker who has just moved down from London. Funny old world isn’t it?

This article first appeared in the October 1999
Edition of Stink of Shoe Polish


[ Top ]