TV programs worth watching
Sun Nov 2 — Sat Nov 8
Caroline O'Connor is a talented actress. Based on the scant information provided by the ABC, it would appear that she starred in a one-woman show at the Melbourne Theatre Company called Bombshells that was specially written for O'Connor by playwright Joanna Murray-Smith. The show apparently comprised three vignettes, each of them a monologue by O'Connor. The ABC has made what they are calling a "series" out of it by the simple expedient of filming a performance live on stage and cutting it into its three component parts (ABC 3.35pm Sundays). This may help the ABC cope with a reduced budget, but it does not make satisfactory television. For stage and TV are different media: a production is presented differently on stage to the way it is presented on TV. On stage, actors must project, to reach the audience at the back. TV is by its nature intimate: projection of the voice on TV is unnatural and illusion destroying. The stage is by nature artificial, representational. A few props can represent a room or a battlefield. TV (like the cinema) gives the illusion of reality; sets must be "true to life", fully detailed, or else the illusion of reality is lost again. As a record of Caroline O'Connor performing on stage, Bombshells has some archival interest. Shaun Gurton's sets are simple but effective, but the difference between the two media jars constantly. It is perhaps most obvious in the first "episode", Mum, in which O'Connor copes with a crying baby. TV, with some artifice, would use a real baby; this is not possible on stage, so O'Connor must nurse an imaginary baby. On stage it works; on TV it looks what it is: completely artificial. It's a pity, because the monologues could have been adapted with a little effort into a true production for television, and would have been infinitely more watchable. The difference between the stage and the cinema was discovered very early in the history of the movies. From the very beginning, filmmakers were conscious that their visual medium was very different from the aural medium of the theatre. Over the three decades of its existence, the silent cinema produced a treasure trove of stunning artistic achievement, films of amazing power and complexity, visual beauty and technical brilliance. This achievement was revealed and celebrated in all its splendor some years ago by British film buffs Kevin Brownlow and David Gill, in their monumental series Hollywood: A Celebration Of The American Silent Film. Now, at last, this extraordinary series in 13 one-hour episodes is back (ABC 5.00pm Sundays). No one interested in cinema should miss it. Brownlow's knowledge of Hollywood's silent period is extraordinary and he used it to the full in making this series. He and Gill have also made painstaking studies, often frame by frame, of key sequences in major films to unearth the secrets of the golden age of Hollywood films. I particularly remember the episode in which, by freezing frames, he shows us how some seemingly breathtaking stunts were actually achieved. Made in 1998, Buena Vista Social Club (SBS 9.30pm Sunday) is, in the words of critic Bob Mastrangelo, "one of the most critically acclaimed and commercially popular documentaries of its time, a loving tribute by German filmmaker Wim Wenders and musician Ry Cooder to the surviving members of a forgotten golden age of Cuban music". Usually credited as a German-US co-production, the film was actually co-produced with Cuba's film production organisation, the Instituto Cubano de Arte e Industria Cinematograficos. "Ry Cooder, best remembered by film fans for the wailing slide guitar theme of Wenders' Paris, Texas, went to Cuba in 1996 to meet with some legendary 'soneros' musicians of the '30s, '40s and '50s. "The result was the album Buena Vista Social Club, recorded with such colorful characters as the 90-year-old singer/guitarist Compay Segundo, guitarist Eliades Ochoa, baritone Ibrahim Ferrer and Omara Portuondo, 'the Cuban Edith Piaf'", says critic Gvn|l Dvnmez-Colin. The album won a Grammy and in this refreshing documentary, Wim Wenders shows these exceptional musicians in their hometown, Havana. The film follows them into cafes, clubs and even living rooms, as well as to recording sessions and their 1998 concerts in Amsterdam (Le Carre) and New York City (Carnegie Hall). "The music is fantastic, and, for those unfamiliar with this musical genre, a revelation", says Gvn|l Dvnmez-Colin. "In Cuba, music flows like a river", according to Ry Cooder. "Pursuing this metaphor, Wenders wanted to make a film that would 'just float on this river ... not interfering with it, just drifting along'." "The result is a film full of vitality and positive energy, which is also an absolute delight to musical ears", says Gvn|l Dvnmez- Colin. Rick Myall (The Young Ones, Bottom, guest appearances on Black Adder, etc) seemingly knows only one way to act: over the top. When this manic quality is under control it can provide a surreal quality to otherwise straightforward material. When it is not under control it can be frankly embarrassing. In his new series, Believe Nothing (ABC 9.00pm Thursdays), it is more or less under control, although the series is sufficently bizarre that you would be hard put to notice. Myall plays Adonis Cnut, the smartest man in Britain if not the world. He is irresistible to women, consulted by governments and idolised by his peers. Naturally, he is approached to join the Council for International Progress — a shadowy, underground organisation that controls and manipulates everything that goes on in the world. He does not hesitate. Cnut's devoted manservant Albumen is played by Michael Maloney while the virginal Hannah Awkward, after whom Cnut lusts, is played with equal flair by Emily Bruni. The series is wildly improbable, but that's half the fun. In this week's episode, Prepare To Meteor Maker, Cnut, Albumen and Hannah join a high altitude balloon race as a means of escaping the end of the world from a collison with a giant meteor. Unlike several recent British comedy series, this one actually made me laugh.