Comedy ain't what it used to be Richard Morrison Oh dear. The critics are being beastly about the latest cinematic exploits of Mr Bean. via Times Online
What have we done to comedy? The appeal nowadays seems to be pointing towards the rough, the blue and the downright border line. Gone are the days of wholesome family viewing when we would reach out to our friend, the telly, and welcome The Two Ronnies with open arms. We still do to a point, when we are celebrating 70 years of them. Will we still be housing this ritual for French and Saunders in 50 years time? We may well be, but 120 years of the Two R’s?
Certainly! So where was the turning point from the era of cosy, ‘know-where-you-are’ TV, to in -your-face, smack -me -with -a -kipper, Oh -my-God, did-he-just say-that? Kind of humour? I guess we could trace the roots of all that is alternative back to cheeky little chappies, ‘Not The Nine O’clock News’ when just about everything was in the firing line and much of Britain was left reeling in guilt. When we had laughed at Eric Morecombe dressed as a Roman with a bad script and Glenda Jackson wrestling with her flat lines of Cleopatra, we found ourselves the next week giggling at hedgehogs being flattened by hefty trucks and vicars getting the bashing treatment by little known comedian, Rowan Atkinson. Oh how did the world go completely wrong? It didn’t. Not really, we just allowed more freedom with script writers.
Not The Nine was one of the first sketch shows post Python which allowed young and unsolicited writers to come in and take a shot at a three minute slot. Many took the bull by the balls and sent in tonnes of the stuff. This was, for a few, the start of life long careers within either the BBC or a giant trampoline into other areas of comedy. It started up a whole new slant to the way comedy was written and performed. Up until then, it had either been stand up, Python or men standing around in front of BBC microphones putting on silly voices. The age of the general muck around was here to stay. Leaping forward some twenty years or so, we can look back and see a definite pattern, but where is comedy going to take us in the future?
The dreaded ugly head of the statutory situation comedy is back on the prowl leaving us with a few years left of Robert Lindsay in ‘My Family’ to endure, having said that, we would not have seen the talent of Kris Marshall come to the fore, if it wasn‘t for this piece of domestic aptitude. The world of comedy has also seen the stand up come back, then to fade, then to come back again. It would occur to me that the art of stand up goes around in stages, depending on which way the wind is blowing. Just when we thought we could happily snuggle with bliss to the wit and integrity of Eddie Izzard on stage, he suddenly turns tail and heads for the bright lights of Hollywood in search of a bigger pay packet.
So what are we left with in the meantime? It would seem that right now, we are waning somewhat with not so much as a repeat of Porridge to look forward to when sitting down to beans on toast. The Office has lost it’s cringe effect after too many re runs of David Brent finding the dildo, and we are left with a desperate feeling of hankering after an episode of ‘Bless This House’ just for something familiar to watch. The world is an open stage right now for British comedy since selling the very last of our talents or script ideas off to the other side of the pond. At the same time we find ourselves hanging most affectionately on to such historical figures as Stephen Fry and John Sessions hoping that they will forever stay British.
Mr Fry has a passion for Radio Four. So long as we can hold down Woman’s Hour for a few more years, we should be okay….
mduffy 2007
Certainly! So where was the turning point from the era of cosy, ‘know-where-you-are’ TV, to in -your-face, smack -me -with -a -kipper, Oh -my-God, did-he-just say-that? Kind of humour? I guess we could trace the roots of all that is alternative back to cheeky little chappies, ‘Not The Nine O’clock News’ when just about everything was in the firing line and much of Britain was left reeling in guilt. When we had laughed at Eric Morecombe dressed as a Roman with a bad script and Glenda Jackson wrestling with her flat lines of Cleopatra, we found ourselves the next week giggling at hedgehogs being flattened by hefty trucks and vicars getting the bashing treatment by little known comedian, Rowan Atkinson. Oh how did the world go completely wrong? It didn’t. Not really, we just allowed more freedom with script writers.
Not The Nine was one of the first sketch shows post Python which allowed young and unsolicited writers to come in and take a shot at a three minute slot. Many took the bull by the balls and sent in tonnes of the stuff. This was, for a few, the start of life long careers within either the BBC or a giant trampoline into other areas of comedy. It started up a whole new slant to the way comedy was written and performed. Up until then, it had either been stand up, Python or men standing around in front of BBC microphones putting on silly voices. The age of the general muck around was here to stay. Leaping forward some twenty years or so, we can look back and see a definite pattern, but where is comedy going to take us in the future?
The dreaded ugly head of the statutory situation comedy is back on the prowl leaving us with a few years left of Robert Lindsay in ‘My Family’ to endure, having said that, we would not have seen the talent of Kris Marshall come to the fore, if it wasn‘t for this piece of domestic aptitude. The world of comedy has also seen the stand up come back, then to fade, then to come back again. It would occur to me that the art of stand up goes around in stages, depending on which way the wind is blowing. Just when we thought we could happily snuggle with bliss to the wit and integrity of Eddie Izzard on stage, he suddenly turns tail and heads for the bright lights of Hollywood in search of a bigger pay packet.
So what are we left with in the meantime? It would seem that right now, we are waning somewhat with not so much as a repeat of Porridge to look forward to when sitting down to beans on toast. The Office has lost it’s cringe effect after too many re runs of David Brent finding the dildo, and we are left with a desperate feeling of hankering after an episode of ‘Bless This House’ just for something familiar to watch. The world is an open stage right now for British comedy since selling the very last of our talents or script ideas off to the other side of the pond. At the same time we find ourselves hanging most affectionately on to such historical figures as Stephen Fry and John Sessions hoping that they will forever stay British.
Mr Fry has a passion for Radio Four. So long as we can hold down Woman’s Hour for a few more years, we should be okay….
mduffy 2007
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