THE LAUREL AND HARDY SOUND SHORTS - Ranking 40-36.

I'm back after a very long layoff for reasons to numbingly dull to explain. I have to confess, I have been a massive Laurel and Hardy fan since early childhood, a member of the team's official fan club (or appreciation society if you prefer) for over four decades, and even a world champion regarding general knowledge quizzes on the pair. So it is only natural that I cast a critical eye on their films, starting with their celebrated series of sound shorts, made exclusively at the Hal Roach Studios from 1929 to 1935. This personal list is merely my own personal opinion, knowing all the titles involved from backwards to forwards, side to side, chanting the dialogue in my own head, knowing what will come next yet still laughing and enjoying the company of two placidly dumb, naive but thoroughly nice and likeable people, with merits even in their weakest and lesser subjects, the latter of which we start off with. The list does not include their guest or cameo appearances in a number of other Roach short films that featured Thelma Todd and ZaSu Pitts ('On The Loose'), Our Gang ('Wild Poses'), Charley Chase ('On The Wrong Trek'), and their appearance in the all-star charity film 'The Stolen Jools' (aka 'The Slippery Pearls').

40.BE BIG! (1931)  

      

It is an undoubted fact that the series of sound short films Stan Laurel and Oliver Hardy are the best known, most revived, celebrated and loved in cinema history, above those of Chaplin, Keaton, Lloyd, The Three Stooges, Edgar Kennedy and scores of other contemporaries, now mostly long forgotten. The amount of interest over 8 decades after their last starring short film was made is still extraordinary even in this more dehumanised and cynical age of laptops, computers, smartphones and tablets, a wildly exaggerated dystopian space age in the 1930's, when sound films were the new technological wonder of the time. It's also arguable that unlike their contemporaries, Laurel and Hardy never truly made a bad or unwatchable short film in the sound era, though they could fall behind their usual high, or on occasions, peerless standards.

Stan and Ollie (the latter known as "Babe" off screen to friends and colleagues) were the masters not just of the short comedy format, but of the short film itself, and no performer or filmmaker has ever matched their consistently high standards in this particular medium. But a handful did fall below what was expected from them, and Be Big! is generally recognised by critics, historians and buffs as myself as the weakest example of the 40 sound shorts they made with Roach.

Be Big! isn't especially terrible in itself, as the first reel is actually consistently amusing, reworked as it is from one of their latter silents We Faw Down, which eventually begat their celebrated feature film Sons of The Desert, of which will be discussed at a later date when we come to the Roach features.

There are some funny visual and verbal gags in the opening ten minutes or so as Ollie feigns illness so he and Stan can attend a party being thrown at a Masonic Lodge-style organisation in the former's honour instead of going with their wives on a trip to Atlantic City. So far, so good. But as soon as the wives fall for Ollie's fainting spell and leave without them, Be Big! 's remaining two reels are taken up with the boys putting on each other's riding boots which is the Lodge's official costume for such events. L & H were comic masters at milking gags out of single situations, but the particular task of Ollie trying to get out of Stan's boots is far too thin a premise which may have worked for about five minutes, not over fifteen. There certainly are some funny moments scattered within, but frustration and tedium set in fairly quickly for both L & H and the audience, with the normally charming and endearing background music, predominantly by LeRoy Shield, coming across as over-emphatic and over-blown on this occasion on a soundtrack that has not survived well, even in modern cleaned-up versions. For many years a one reel version was available on the old home movie market, and the BBC also showed an abridged and edited print which even though it removed the more laboured and prolonged footage was still too much of an extended joke. 

So Be Big! is the closest the team came to making an absolute clunker in their series of short films, poor by their own standards, yet compared to most of their rivals at the time, and certainly what passes for comedy nowadays, not as bad as you would think as there are still some great gags present, but not enough to save it being probably their weakest sound short.

39.BERTH MARKS (1929)

The team's second so-called 'talkie' following Unaccustomed As We Are, Berth Marks benefits from some decent location filming but is hampered, as most of their earliest sound shorts are, by the technical limitations that were a problem in these embryonic days. A silent version was available to cinemas not yet equipped for sound, and the non-talking version was probably better paced and less creaky than the talking version, which was not readily available even on the home movie market for many years until it eventually turned up on the BBC, for example as late as the 1990's, then on VHS and DVD in restored prints. 

Berth Marks has a similarly overlong and rather irksome scene as Be Big! when the boys attempt to change into their bedclothes in a cramped upper berth while travelling as musicians by train to Pottsville in vaudeville. Restrictions on sound editing and re-recording in these early days of talking pictures placed further strains on timing and filming. The scene actually worked rather better in one of their 20th Century Fox features, the somewhat unfairly maligned The Big Noise, which benefited from the advances in sound and film technology a decade and a half on. 

But Laurel and Hardy were basically in the same boat as everybody else in these early days of sound, and had to find ways round these dilemmas which they did remarkably quickly, less than a year later in fact. William Everson called the film "one of the few really poor comedies the team made...a misfire all down the line", though acknowledged the various difficulties encountered by major and minor film studios in this period. That said, there are still one or two decent laughs abound, with an amusing dialogue sequence with Pat Harmon (as illustrated above), and a clothes ripping scene involving other train passengers, while an obviously inferior imitation of the ferociously paced street battles and "reciprocal destruction" sequences of their silent days, actually works quite well, but it would take until the following year when the team would successfully negotiate the early problems that bedevilled early sound film-making.

38.UNACCUSTOMED AS WE ARE (1929)

The team's first talking film is a wholly set-bound domestic comedy, awkwardly paced and statically filmed, yet it is obvious that the voices of Stan Laurel and Oliver Hardy are perfectly suited to their characters developed in the silent era in the previous two years. Not many people can recall the voices of Chaplin, Keaton and Lloyd when they eventually spoke for the first time on film, in Chaplin's case as late as 1940 in The Great Dictator (although he sung a nonsense lyric song in Modern Times four years earlier). But even at this early stage, the voices of Laurel and Hardy are distinctive, characterful and memorable, which would be expanded on and deepened in the years ahead. Stan's slightly lisping Lancashire-cum-American accent, which would be gently modified as time went on, and Ollie's Southern American drawl, capable of great warmth and charm with occasional forays into harshness, was allied with his comic partner in perfect harmony.

This is the most notable aspect of Unaccustomed As We Are, more notable than the film itself which survives nine decades on in a rather worn, crackly soundtrack, although we can be grateful there is speech to listen to anyway as the sound-on-disc recording was lost for many years until it was found again in the late 70's.

There is a great deal of dialogue in the film, and a great deal which is difficult to decipher, as there is a large emphasis on verbal rather than visual humour, the latter of which struggles to come off due to the technical restrictions of the time, with Ollie being blown out of a kitchen represented by falling back rather clumsily, accompanied by a rather tame-looking flame thrower, not a patch on the spectacular reworking of the scene (and indeed much of the film) in the much later feature Block-Heads. The supporting cast of Edgar Kennedy, Mae Busch and Thelma Todd provide good value, and despite its undoubted creakiness still provides some decent laughs, though most modern audiences will find the film a bit of a strain to watch today as the obviously primitive sound recording had some time to go before technical advances would take place, though only for about another year.

After various plot complications and misunderstandings, Kennedy the cop gets a battering from his wife, with Stan addressing Ollie as "Mr.Hardy" at this stage, taking a massive noisy tumble down the stairs which uses the possibilities of sound in an imaginative, amusing manner.

So L & H's introduction the world of sound pictures is uncertain, stagey and nervy, but their voices register very well, and better things would lie ahead.

 37.OLIVER THE EIGHTH (1934)

Laurel and Hardy's occasional forays into horror or panic comedy did not always suit their style of comedy best, as they were essentially about subtle facial pantomime and reaction to situations, not running around screaming in terror or being threatened with unpleasant demises.

Oliver The Eighth was their final three-reeler and made in a period when Hal Roach was gradually winding down their short film series in favour of features, which Stan Laurel never particularly approved of as he felt much more at home in the short film format, creating gags and situations rather than sustaining a story in a feature-length narrative.

It was always difficult for pure comedians like Laurel and Hardy to transfer to the feature film format as they did not have dramatic aspersions like Chaplin, whose features were basically dramas with humorous passages. Laurel and Hardy just wanted to make people laugh, and they did it better than virtually any other artist in film history, including Chaplin himself, who overall was a better dramatist and feature film maker than Stan Laurel, but inferior as a creator of gags and comic situations.

Far inferior in fact, but Oliver The Eighth gives the impression of an era coming to an end, as it would do barely a year after. Slow of pace and containing moderately funny but not outstanding material, there is a slightly upsetting tone to the film as Ollie nearly succumbs to a nasty death, revived by a rather hackneyed 'dream' ending, with Mae Busch giving a rather sinister performance that exudes very little humour, which leaves an overall feeling of ambivalence and uncertainty in the viewer as the film ends.

36.THE LAUREL-HARDY MURDER CASE (1930)

A film with a rather curious reputation; a quintessential and eponymously named reference book from the mid-70's gave this their highest rating of four (hats), while The Music Box oddly received half (a hat) less. Others though have called it their worst short film, "dull", "unamusing", affected by  "lethargy" and with the exception of a briefly seen Tiny Sandford, containing an unfamiliar supporting cast with such foils as James Finlayson and Charlie Hall conspicuously absent, yet important as the very first occasion Ollie turns to Stan and exclaims: "Well, here's another nice mess you've gotten me into!" (and not "fine mess" as is too often misquoted).

I used to really like this film as a young child, but not as much now in rather cynical middle age, as there is a great amount of screaming and howling in the film, some from the atypical supporting cast but mostly from the boys themselves. The jokes involving panic and misunderstandings in the creepiest of old dark houses were fairly obvious even for 1930, yet some of them (a bat under a bedsheet, a lampshade covered in another bedsheet accidentally following Stan and Ollie down a massive stair case) are executed very well and do provide some genuine laughs.

On the other hand, William Everson complained of a large mortality rate, and some of these scenes may prove a bit shocking for young children watching (though I wasn't too bothered at such an age), particularly when various relatives of Stan are done away with by a phone-operated trapdoor (this scene appears to have been reworked into a Morecambe and Wise film, That Riviera Touch, in 1966).

Randy Skretvedt has recently said the film is somewhat better than its reputation suggests, as restored HD prints show some effective production values, and the cliched old dark house during a thunderstorm does look moodily atmospheric, but whether or not this is suitable for a L & H film is a matter of conjecture. The best scenes are near the beginning where the boys laze away the day at a seedy dockside location;some of what follows has some very funny moments, but the film as a whole is morbid and a change of tack that doesn't entirely suit them, with a predictable dream ending as was the case with Oliver The Eighth. The Laurel-Hardy Murder Case is slightly better, but it just shows that the horror comedy sub-genre was not quite Laurel and Hardy's forte (it rather suited the wisecracking style of Bob Hope more a decade later in The Cat and The Canary and The Ghost Breakers).

The Beginning of The End of Trash TV? (Part 3)

"The James Whale Radio Show", a mixture of the occasionally sublime and the more often seedy

There was a kind of inevitability, however, that once late night TV (usually under the umbrella title of 'Night Time') was fully established, there would be the temptation for more explicit, dubious material to be broadcast that both the programme makers and TV bosses hoped would be barely noticed by the regulators and moral arbiters, as such would not be watching at such an ungodly hour, except for semi or fully drunken youths who would revel in such sleaze. Maybe the most prominent, but not certainly the most distinguished example of such was the ironically titled "The James Whale Radio Show", broadcast live from the early days of 'Night Time' in 1988 until the mid 90's, starring DJ James Whale at Yorkshire TV Studios in Leeds. (Whale had been working for some years at the city's main independent station, Radio Aire).

Whale's radio persona was that of a confrontational, voluble, rude and belligerent ringmaster, not afraid to berate callers to his show if they displeased him, or cut them off instantly by a quick flick of a control or volume button. The TV version of his radio talk show followed a similar pattern, looking as though it was actually being filmed in a radio rather than TV studio (it wasn't made clear whether this was used as mere effect), with frequent forays into what appeared to be be the main reception lobby at the Yorkshire TV studios. The show itself comprised a mixture of contemporary pop videos and serious debates with various politicians, public figures and celebrities of the day, and to be fair, some of these debates worked quite well, with Whale showing himself a decent interviewer and linkman at his best, with subjects such as the monarchy and disabled rights alternating rather uncertainly with showbiz style interjections featuring the increasingly unfashionable Bernard Manning as one example; Manning actually appeared on the programme more than once, in a period when the alternative comedy brigade, who by this time had taken over the mantle from more traditionalist, mainstream comics on TV, and had all but killed the racist and sexist humour that was Manning's trademark. 

The best interview and maybe the best ever moment from the series' history was an interview with Spike Milligan who spoke about his mental health struggles, a remarkably frank and compassionate piece of television with Whale showing immense empathy and understanding over Milligan's manic depression and getting the deeply troubled comic genius to open up seriously (albeit injected with some typically well-timed comic one-liners) in a way he had never really expressed before in public. Even as recently as the 90's, this was still a period where depression and other forms of mental illness were rarely discussed in public or the media, or indeed taken seriously by the NHS, treating it as a taboo subject and an embarrassment to be swept under the carpet, with stigma, ignorance and prejudice still all too frequent before more enlightened attitudes and lobbying from mental health campaigners and charities broke down such barriers. So Whale deserves much credit for such an interview in an era when such a subject was still treated as an excuse to make cheap jokes, or to just dismiss as a made up lifestyle choice; Whale's line of questioning is perfectly judged and never inappropriate or offensive, and Milligan appears to appreciate his interviewer's sympathetic, sensitive attitudes and responds fluently, honestly and movingly. A piece of television that is totally compelling from beginning to end, obscenely underrated and may in fact have started the process of looking at mental illness from a new, less ignorant perspective in the years ahead.

Spike Milligan speaks movingly about his manic depression in a memorable interview with James Whale

Yet a sublime peak such as this was a rarity, and Whale more often than not teetered his show into the kind of boorish confrontation that confirmed his not always spotless reputation, walking out in the middle of one show in a rage, and letting the singer Sinitta rather haplessly take over in his absence, although he admitted in his autobiography years later that this was a deliberately pre-arranged stunt to bolster up some media hype (which got some attention from the tabloids). There were appearances from very risque female dancers in scanty, fetishistic costumes in several shows, and an infamous appearance from Wayne Hussey of the rock group The Mission, heavily drunk or worse, swearing profusely, with Whale having to forcefully remove Hussey from the set when the attempted interview collapsed into chaos. On a few occasions, Whale phoned up some well-known celebrities (having obtained their numbers by dubious means) on the mere pretence of irritating them, and let us not forget his pretty young female assistant Donna, a mute and rather stereotypical portrayal of a subversive, blonde bimbo. Various hoax callers turned serious debates into farce by shouting obscenities when put through live, which perhaps led the the series' end as Whale became a victim of his own penchant for conflict for the sake of it by the mid 90's; a further similar series followed in 1996 but this was pre-recorded with no live calls taken anymore after the embarrassing potty-mouthed interjections that had led to the previous series' demise, with Whale now coming across as more subdued and restricted, and he soon returned to his more natural home of the radio talk show, where he stills causes controversy in the present, after making inappropriate remarks and responses to a woman who claimed she had been "orally raped" in a phone call.He was suspended but later reinstated as host of his show.

Whale's show was certainly not 100% trash or sensationalism across the board, and indeed was very capable of intelligent, informative debate at its best, with the host a fine interviewer when the situation demanded, but there were lapses of taste and control rather too often for comfort, which were about to get worse and more excessive in other late night programming as the 90's turned into a new century, and would begin to seep even into programmes in peak time viewing.

The Beginning of The End of Trash TV? (Part 2)

Death On The Rock (1988): Did this hard-hitting investigative documentary inadvertently start the process of 'Trash TV'?

Perversely, it could be argued that the main catalyst for the culture of 'Trash TV' in Britain was not a programme that featured any kind of gross sensationalism or distasteful exaggeration at all. Quite the contrary in fact; a very serious, persuasive but highly controversial investigative documentary ('Death On The Rock') from Thames Television's respected 'This Week' series (the Southern equivalent to the somewhat more revered 'World In Action' series from Granada TV) about the shootings of three IRA operatives in Gibraltar in March 1988, who were thought to be planning a bomb attack.

I won't go too much into the details involved, but the main argument was were any warnings given by SAS soldiers before they opened fire, if the IRA members were armed themselves and exchanged fire with the SAS, and if they were about to detonate a bomb. The official line from Margaret Thatcher's government was the IRA did open fire and were ready to detonate a bomb; 'Death On The Rock', broadcast just a few weeks after the incident, claimed the IRA were unarmed, that no bomb was present and the SAS shot them dead without warning, with witness statements supporting such evidence, contradictory to the official government line.

It had not been the first occasion that British TV had incurred the wrath of Margaret Thatcher in the 1980's. The BBC had been her main bone of contention beforehand, particularly in a General Election debate with members of the public on the 'Nationwide' programme in 1983, where a schoolteacher, Diana Gould, took issue with Thatcher on the sinking of the Argentine warship 'General Belgrano' during the Falklands conflict the previous year. Thatcher was the supremely dominant political figure during the 80's, with huge parliamentary majorities at her disposal, and an allegedly dictatorial manner in her overwhelmingly male cabinet. So to see a relatively unheralded schoolteacher of around the same age disagreeing and berating her live on National TV and unable to take appropriate action (such as ignoring or sacking such a miscreant) was an unexpected humiliation. The Nationwide editor, Roger Bolton, later recalled an ill-tempered contretemps between him, Thatcher, and her husband Denis, whose views were even more right-wing than his wife, apparently supporting the Apartheid regime in South Africa (as he had business interests in the country) and accusing the BBC of being 'pinkos', 'poofs' and 'trots' amongst other insults. It may or may not have been a coincidence that Nationwide was cancelled from BBC 1's evening schedules just a few months later.

Curiously enough, Bolton was the editor on 'Death On The Rock' five years later, proving to be Thatcher's nemesis again, although this time the repercussions were to be far more serious, and arguably irreparable, for British broadcasting. The government lobbied both Thames and the powerful regulatory broadcasting body at the time, the IBA, for the programme not to be shown, but both organisations refused to yield, and the battle lines were drawn; the staunchly Thatcherite press predictably launched propagandist counterattacks on the programme, notably via character assassinations against the most prominent eye witness featured on the documentary, Carmen Proetta  (who was later paid damages for such stories), and including Roger Bolton himself, who also won damages and an apology after untruthful allegations were published in the Daily Mail.

The IBA (Independent Broadcasting Authority) was an early casualty of the 'Death On The Rock' controversy

Although Death On The Rock won the BAFTA award for Best Documentary, Thatcher and her allies in the cabinet saw the programme as an act of treason, and hardened their attitudes towards a proposed new Broadcasting Bill, loosening regulatory controls over quality and content, opening up competition, expanding choice (i.e. more channels) and bringing in market forces, all quintessential aspects of Thatcherism. This and other similar proposals were put forward in the 1990 Broadcasting Act, which was duly passed, one of the last statute bills passed in the Thatcher government before she was brusquely removed by her own MP's near the end of that year.An independent inquiry viewed the programme had been fair in its conclusions, but as the late Ray Fitzwalter (the Editor-in-Chief of Granada's 'World In Action' for many years) stated in his book "The Dream That Died: The Rise and Fall of ITV", the writing was now on the wall for quality television as the spectre of deregulation, sensationalism and profit was about to replace intelligence, integrity and independent thought:

"Death On The Rock proved to be a high point for the IBA.They had stood up to a government that sought to censor, even publicly defending the programme before Thames, the company that had made it...[but] this was regarded as the death knell for the IBA...the government would replace it with a 'lighter touch' body...The loss of the Authority's powers over the quality of the ITV schedule would prove one of the most damaging aspects of the law eventually passed in 1990. Deregulation would promote a collapse in standards."

That process began in earnest with the abolition of the IBA at the beginning of 1991, replaced by the much less powerful ITC (Independent Television Commission), and Thames lost their franchise to broadcast the following year, the price that was paid for Death On The Rock and its challenge to the establishment. Around the same time, David Plowright was ousted as the chairman of Granada, replaced as he was by Gerry Robinson and Charles Allen as the main men in charge, who after gaining power clearly were more interested in making a profit above all else, that actual quality programming. The integral standards of Plowright, Denis Forman, and the company's founder Sidney Bernstein, were now a thing of the past as Fitzwalter stated:

"[Plowright's] dismissal was a symptom of a crisis that had been developing in Brirish broadcasting and from which it never recovered as regulation was weakened and raw commercial forces were let loose."

Allen himself had a specific request by John Cleese at the time of his Granada takeover to "F*** Off out of it, you upstart caterer..." (a reference to previous business interests). With the benefit of hindsight, Cleese's advice should have been heeded, but Allen, Robinson, and others throughout the ITV regions remained long enough to change the basic thesis of British TV, that of profit over quality. Never mind if such broadcasting is sleazy, exploitative, unintelligent, tabloidal or sensationalist, as long as it brings the money in and incredulous viewers, it has done as what is said on the tin.

 

 The Word, the notorious 'yoof' magazine programme from Channel 4 that perhaps really began the descent into 'Trash TV'

The process of 'trashification' really started with the notorious Youth-orientated magazine show 'The Word' on Channel 4, around the same time that the 1990 Broadcasting Act was being passed in Westminster. Inept interviews by Manc-in-residence Terry Christian were the least of its problems; "Wannabes" who would do absolutely anything to get on TV, such as licking sweaty armpits and french kissing elderly women, made the previous excesses of OTT eight years earlier seem like a children's birthday party that had lemonade as its strongest drink, but the process was somewhat gradual, as Madchester in the early 90's and Britpop in the mid-late part of the decade were at least cultural fightbacks, albeit musical and very little to do with television itself, though at least the main players were prominently featured on the box when both movements took off. But such excesses were now beginning to make their presence felt as the 90's progressed, not especially at peak-time viewing, but late-night as 24 hours a day programming had begun on ITV early in 1988. It initially consisted of repeats of American TV shows from the 60's such as 'Route 66', 'The Fugitive', 'I Spy', 'Time Tunnel' and others, innocuous quiz shows, job adverts, Classical Hollywood films and obscure low-budget British 'B' movies usually from the 50's and 60's, some of which were rather interesting in a cultish sort of way, particularly the slightly nasty if suspenseful 'Cover Girl Killer' (1959), featuring Harry H Corbett in his pre-Steptoe days, as a serial killer of young fashion models, with one of them, played by Christina Gregg (a model in real life), having a heartbreaking impact in the film's most effective scene; this lower-rent hybrid of Michael Powell's controversial 'Peeping Tom', which was released at around the same time, became a familiar staple of these early days of late night TV, and in truth was showing some promise with its quirky variety and diversity, sometimes actually more interesting than peak time TV in this period, with perhaps the most diverting show on offer being the often very funny American sitcom 'Sledge Hammer', made in 1987-88, a clever parody that mostly utilised Clint Eastwood's Dirty Harry series of movies, but also other subjects such as Peter Weir's 'Witness' (1985) and Hitchcock's 'Vertigo' (1958). The blond and handsome comic actor David Rasche gave a wickedly accurate impersonation of Eastwood's Harry persona, with the beautiful Canadian actress Anne Marie Martin a worthy foil (although for some years before she was billed under her real name of Edmonda 'Eddie' Benton), with Harrison Page as the irascible Captain Trunk, hating Hammer's methods and barely able to cope with them, in a slightly over-the-top portrayal which became more restrained and more enjoyable as the series went on. ITV appeared to have successfully conflated a mixture of the retro and the present in the late 80's and early 90's with this late night/very early morning broadcasting, and all seemed to be boding well. Or at least that's what we thought at this stage, not forgetting 'The Hit Man and Her' of course, an excuse to mainly promote music from host Pete Waterman's stable in various tacky nightclubs around the country with the help of a young Michaela Strachan.

'Sledge Hammer' (1987-88), perhaps the best show to emerge from the early days of ITV's 24 hour programming

The Beginning of The End of Trash TV? (Part 1)

"Tomorrow I'll be berating multi-billionaires over their tax affairs (and personal affairs if our legal advisers allow us)"

The demise of "The Jeremy Kyle Show" last month probably justified my long break from writing about all things TV. It is now well documented that one of the participants committed suicide after failing the show's infamous lie detector test, which was too much for TV bosses after nearly one and a half decades' worth of mocking, sneering, provocation, aggression and occasional violence involving the incredulous underclasses, all MC'eed by its well-educated, middle class host, displaying his special brand of moral superiority.

In truth, the programme should never have been considered for broadcast in the first place. We all thought the excesses of American talk/debate shows like that of Jerry Springer would never adorn our small screens, didn't we? But the London-born Springer is actually a first-class presenter/writer/journalist and his show often came across as a self-conscious parody despite the chaos that often took place, with his inevitable 'final thought' in the end. 

The concept of the parallel talk/debate show was extant well before Kyle, Springer, Phil Donahue or Kilroy. David Frost brought this kind of thinking onto television as early as the 60's, and considerable controversy sometimes followed even then. Publisher Felix Dennis was thought to have been the first person to say the C word on British TV during a live broadcast in 1970, much to Frost's chagrin, and three years earlier, he was accused of encouraging 'Trial by Television' when confronting the insurance fraudster Emil Savundra, with a number of his clients in the audience that had been defrauded. Savundra contemptuously described such as "peasants", but it was obvious Frost had won this particular battle with the cries of "Well done Frostie!" ringing in his ears at the programmes' end.

An increasingly fractious Emil Savundra on "The Frost Programme" (1967)

It's interesting that such a programme brought an individual who had accumulated wealth via criminal behaviour to be shouted at and berated by its host and the audience (Savundra was tried, convicted and jailed shortly afterwards for his crimes), but this was 1967 when such depictions had never really been screened before, with the vain, egotistical Savundra presumably thinking he could sail through such a facade flawlessly, but the clever and well-informed Frost had other ideas . The millionaires and billionaires of the present day are now too worldly wise to even remotely consider such an enterprise, crooked or otherwise. Any media appearances are rare or carefully stage-managed, if they bother to say anything in public at all, so having a host ask them about their financial or tax affairs along with a hostile audience is simply a pipe dream, and if they did, legal action would certainly follow suit. So the easiest solution is to search for uneducated lower class oiks with no money and exploit their incredulity by sneering at their immoral personal lives and reinforce stereotypes of lazy, promiscuous, aggressive and violent scroungers and skivers who deserve our scorn and don't deserve money off the welfare state. Kyle and his producers knew exactly what they were doing, and were given carte blanche by ITV bosses regarding such freak shows. I myself had brief contact with the programme when a mature student at university, not to watch but to help other fellow students who expressed an interest in attending recordings. Several problems ensued, and the show rather brusquely told me they didn't want any more contact. It was rather typical of the contemptuous attitudes the programme encouraged in its lengthy 3,000 shows plus existence, so seeing it taken off the air for tragic reasons described means that it got its well overdue comeuppance in the end after years of complacency and arrogance. If we were to look a generation or so back at how it used to be on morning/daytime TV, the contrasts are like being from another universe. The schedule for Yorkshire TV from May 23 1975 is sedate, mild, uncontroversial, perhaps dull, but thankfully inoffensive; no Breakfast TV, just Schools programmes from 9.30 am until 12 noon, followed by a few innocuous children's shows from Granada TV, a light entertainment show, then two short international and local news broadcasts, followed by another Granada programme, the much-missed and near legendary "Crown Court". This was an era when the unions were all powerful with stagflation and industrial unrest signalling the last stages of the Keynesian post-war consensus, so any remote possibility of a Kyle-like dressing down of the working classes at this time was a way-out fantasy, though it eventually came into fruition three decades later when trade union influence was all but dead, corporatism had replaced industrialism, and deregulated TV was now a sponsored, money-making commodity of hundreds of channels rather than a carefully regulated collection of just three channels (ITV, BBC 1 and 2), a communal not fragmented viewing experience. 

After the Kyle controversy, one may have thought ITV would have looked twice or more at last year's ratings champion "Love Island". There have been two suicides that could be directly associated to the programme by former contestants Sophie Gradon and Mike Thalassitis, or perhaps even a third, if the suicide of Ms Gradon's grief-stricken partner may also be taken into account shortly after her passing. This programme and Kyle claim to have after care and psychological support mechanisms for those more vulnerable participants, but in these days of Social Media that can easily have hundreds if not thousands of media trolls berating such with vicious personal abuse, and the return to ordinary life after being under a national microscope, it appears such support has failed. The programme makers desire for increased hype and viewing figures is deemed more of importance than the well-being of discarded participants. What is the criteria of psychological profiling in the application process? Are vulnerable individuals told it would be in their own interests to be rejected? There have been obvious failures in such a process, and even the technicians union, BECTU, are now expressing their concerns behind the scenes, implying they could ask members not to operate cameras and walk away if other similar tragic incidents happen again.

Both programmes and others have been accused of encouraging the penchant of 'Trash TV' on our screens, particularly since the dawn of the 21st Century. The origins of so-called Trash TV are not entirely clear. In TV's apparent golden age of the 60's and 70's, there was certainly classic and seminal TV, but it was mostly dull if not disposable television that was broadcast. Trash and sensationalism were virtually non-existent, aside from the odd lapse into nudity and bad language being broadcast live (the most notorious example being the interview between Bill Grundy and The Sex Pistols in 1976). Perhaps the first genuine stirrings were in 1982 with the 'adult' version of the childrens' show 'TISWAS, namely the controversial 'OTT', both made in Birmingham, with much of the same cast (Chris Tarrant, Lenny Henry, John Gorman). The crude slapstick of the former, mainly comprising buckets of water thrown over anybody or anyone in sight, came across as anarchic and actually well-timed punctuation; in the latter more explicit counterpart that followed, it appeared like the stupid, drink-fuelled antics of youths on an Ibiza bender, with the added distraction of custard powder being mixed in with water and scantily-clad young women mostly on the receiving end. Yet in the midst of predictable outrage, Clive James, perhaps the most respected TV critic of the time, praised it in his Observer column as "..a real television breakthrough...the...performance from the OTT dance group Greatest Show on Legs was one of the funniest routines I have ever seen on television" (i.e. when the naked men involved covered up their intimate regions with rapidly deflating balloons). James perhaps envisaged the future of TV as his opinion on the show was very much against the grain of general thought; OTT was soon cancelled after further disgust was expressed, but the show was clearly ahead of its time.