"TAKE IT FROM HERE"

New Zealand Listener, Volume 22, Issue 548, 23 December 1949, Page 16

"TAKE IT FROM HERE"

Written for "The Listener" by

DOROTHY

ANDERSON

HE Paris Cinema in London’s Regent Street is small and intimate. Tucked away down in a basement, with dead white walls, scarlet draperies and scarlet low slung seats, it was once a cinema for the select, with an atmosphere that was cosy, intellectual-and perhaps just a little risque. But now the scarlet’ seats are rubbed and shabby. Some have been removed to make way for a makeshift stage which extends out into the auditorium. Overhead the white arc of the ceiling is crisscrossed with loops of wire, and microphones and amplifiers drop low over the seats. For, as the notice on the doors above announces, this cinema has been taken over by the BBC and here are held some of the "live" shows, variety, comedy and musical half-hours, to be recorded for broadcast later in the week. Our tickets are for Sunday night at 8.15 and the show we are to see recorded is the comedy half-hour, Take It From Here. This will then be broadcast on Tuesday night at 8.0 in the Light Programme, on Thursday night at 10.0 in the Home Service, and again the following Sunday at 5.0 in the Light. Since ITMA came so tragically to an end, it is such shows as this that have tried to fill the gap. Many people will be listening to,all three of the re-broadcasts of Take It From Here (commonly called "Tife"), and its gags and catchwords have become popular parlance. Like all these radio shows, "Tife" follows the same pattern each week with the same team, the same situations, and the same catch phrases. It is left to the skill of the script-writers to ring the changes. The Take It From Heré team is a small one-Jimmy Edwards, very burly and ex-R.A.F., Dick Bentley, lean and thinfaced, and Joy Nichols, blonde and vivacious. Both Joy and Dick are Australians.

_ When we arrive there is a seemingly casual look about everything. The or-chestra-the BBC Augmented Revue-in slacks and sports coats, are wandering about, chatting. ‘People in the little -glass room at the back of the auditorium are switching switches and trying lights. The audience drifts in, waves to friends on the stage, and finds its seats. The second hand on the big clock moves deliberately round, flick by flick. By 8.25 the red seats have filled, the orchestra. are in their places, handling their instruments. The lights at the back go out. The glare from the big green arc lamps falls onto the tiny forward stage, with the long poles of the microphones §sticking up from it. Then producer Charles Maxwell is up there in front of them, welcoming us and introducing us to the

performers. It is a light-hearted and frivolous introduction. As the long lean script writer, Frank Muir, tells us: "This show is meant to be funny and if you think it is, laugh. If you don’t, don't laugh." To ease the last few minutes before the signal is given, Jimmy Edwards rambles on with a story he wants to tell us which isn’t true but should be. We, the audience, are happily responsive. Then the green light flashes, the second hand ticks round to the minute, the conductor raises his hand. The show has begun. There is a smoothness and suppleness about this stage presentation. The three stars stand before the microphone, reading their script, moving a little

closer as they speak their own lines and then back again. The lines and cracks that seem funny over the air are emphasised here by Dick’s petulant moue and Jimmy twirling his moustache. At times, the. laughter from the audience almost disrupts the closely timed sequence. There must be perfect timing and smoothness in the whole 30 minutes. The singers, the Four Keynotes, move silently up to the microphone to take their place on the very beat. The sound effects men, in earphones, tap the right gong at the right second. Above thé clock the red light flickers on and off. Now it is "Tife’s" film of the week -this time the ‘Boon and Sixpence," and we. chuckle at Dick Bentley, as Paul the famous painter, and at J°Y, Nichols, as Mimosa his dusky girl friend. It is a happy and gay performance and We are as happy and gay, listening, as are the performers. Giggles among ghe three stars upset the script for a moment. And then it is all over. The script writer guides the last burst of applause until it fades away. The announcer rounds off the show with his admonition "till next week," and the orchestra sweeps in with "Just one of those things." On Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday we will be able to hear it all over again and perhaps recognise our own laughter. Judging by the guffaws of a man behind us, he intended to be recognised. We are asked to sit still for a few minutes to see that nothing need be retaken. Then the O.K. is given, and the audience file out. A swarm settles about the stage and the stars. Books and pens in hand, the autograph hunters are waiting to collect. Outside, at street level, another crowd are waiting to watch these famous personalities cross the pavement to their cars. (Recordings of "Take It From Here" have been received by the NZBS from the BBC Transcription Service, and it is probable that they will be heard from National stations following the current series of "Much-Binding-in-the-Marsh.") a A RY