Rare depth shown in series

Press, 24 January 1986, Page 15

Rare depth shown in series

P Review 1

Ken Strongman

One quality that links dissimilar but equally successful television programmes is confidence. Monday evening embraces an example of this link, between Marilyn Waring and Simon Callow. They are hemispheres apart, stylistically opposed and at the extremes of seriousness and humour, yet they share a confidence which is successful.

In “Power and Powerlessness” Marilyn Waring adopts a very low profile, but the interviews have all worked well because she has enough confidence in her own intellectual ability not to push in. This, together with the people she has chosen for the series, have given each programme a depth rarely seen on New Zealand television, or anywhere else for that matter.

Ms Waring’s guests have been allowed to speak for themselves and have been given time to develop their points of view, even if these have been controversial or, in some cases, almost vacuous. As an interviewer, Ms Waring has not judged or

even commented, other than to lead them on further.

There was a good example in the fourth programme. A social worker, who had had some very sensible things to say, suddenly commented that, having found out about women she was recently beginning to re-explore and enjoy the world of men. It is good television that can produce something as deeply annoying as this, in its immaturity. If the person in question still thinks in this “there’s a - basic - difference - between-the-sexes” ways, it is certain that the men (and women) she begins to explore will not enjoy her quest But this is beside the point which is that Marilyn Waring allowed her to say all this without making judgments during the interview.

This week the subject of the interview was Denis O’Reilly an ex-Black Power, Commonwealth fellowship recipient Catholic pakeha with a close Maori affinity. And there we were with a 25minute discussion, based on an enviable thorough-

ness of thought ranging from black theatre to basic spirituality. It was as intellectual as it is possible to get away with on television and all that Marilyn Waring was doing was sitting opposite him and nodding sometimes. In order simply to rattle on as they do, Ms War-

ing’s guests must hold her in great respect. In the end the less she says, the more they contribute. At one point on Monday Denis O’Reilly could not think of a word. “Patronising?” she asked. “Nah, ne’er mind about patronising... it was anarchy.” It was the genuine response of one equal to another.

“Power and Powerlessness” is an important series. It reflects a side of New Zealand which is rarely shown on television — the intellectual, thoughtful and socially concerned. It also shows that television is capable of depth. It is to be hoped that, because of all this, the public outcry does not clobber it It all depends on how well viewers can handle things like Denis O’Reilly’s excellent comparison of Black Power and the Establishment: ‘‘lt’s not the symbol of power that freaks you out; it should be the practice.”

The contrast between all this intellectual weight and the sheer froth of Simon Callow as Tom Chance in “Chance in a Million” could not be greater. But, as light entertainment this programme works well because he has the confidence to be a complete jackass. He has a marvellous guileless face and manner, but, in a muddled way, knows everybody and everything. It is as shallow as "Power and Powerlessness” is deep but it absorbs.

In whatever . sphere, some of the better television performers have about them an air of suppressed violence, as well as confidence. Think of John Cleese or even mild-mannered Michael Crawford. At any time, they look as though they could erupt Simon Callow gives the same impression, both from his physical presence and from a style of speech in which the words seem to be let out by an abruptly opened valve. In a somewhat similar way, Marilyn Waring has an air of possible aggression about her. She could suddenly erupt into intellectual violence, but like Tom Chance, never does. It is not just confidence then, it is also a hint of something in reserve. Tailpiece: the one-day cricket commentators seem to be running their own competition for which of them can say: “He is sweating profusely” the most times per minute. Last weekend in a quiet moment, they even discussed someone who “never sweats.” Perhaps there’ll be a classic sweat of the year competition.