Wednesday 27 November 2013

Bruce Almighty

“Good evening ladies, gentleman and children welcome to Strictly Come Dancing…”
With these lines the great entertainer Bruce Forsyth introduces the latest in a long line of prime time television shows he has presented since his career begun almost half a century ago.

Yet, I wonder, do you notice anything unusual about this otherwise seemingly functional welcome…?

The inclusion of the word ‘children’.

Only Bruce would care to make the distinction. Only Bruce would think to address children directly for the sake of inclusivity. Admittedly, those children watching will undoubtedly pay it no heed, they probably think Bruce a doddery, odd character, well-meaning but somewhat jarring with their preconceived, if fledgling, idea of what constitutes light entertainment in the modern age. They’re probably right!

Nonetheless, to me this seemingly inconsequential nicety speaks volumes as to why Brucie’s continuing appearance on our televisions should be cherished dearly by us all.

His skill at fostering a warm and genuine environment for family entertainment is unsurpassed. For example: taking time to lead the studio audience in an impromptu chorus of ‘Happy Birthday’ for ‘former Bond girl’ Fiona Fullerton; breaking off in the middle of a link to chastise the floor manager for pointing him in the direction of the correct camera — “I know which camera it is, I’m not an idiot”; pretending to be caught unawares in mid-conversation with a member of the studio audience as his co-host hands back to him — all surprisingly anarchic but loveable elements of his repertoire that no doubt drive those behind the cameras to distraction.

Of course, not even his greatest fan could ever truly suggest his presentation is slick and refined, fumbling as he does every other line, regularly emphasising the wrong word in sentences and occasionally fluffing a punch line to the miffed reaction of a silent crowd. The autocue is certainly not his friend.

Yet none of this matters, partly because of his inherent charm but also because, when he lets loose - improvising and reacting to events unfolding before him - he produces spontaneous moments of pure, unadulterated rapport.

His genius (and it is a genius) is to be constantly aware of the inherent absurdity bred of live television, of the constructs that can be bent and sometimes broken in the otherwise necessarily restrictive format of a live game show. Despite his seemingly old fashioned approach, he’s an incredibly subversive presence, yet always showing an empathy towards his contestants as well as maintaining an air of irreverence.

During his time presenting ‘The Generation Game’ in the 1970s — a show where members of the public attempted various skilful acts, from creating a clay pot on a potter’s wheel to acting famous parts in parodies of stage plays — he was particularly adept at walking the fine line between affected sympathy and outright condescension.

Anyone witness to his perennial trope of making notes in a notebook as over excited contestants unveil their embarrassing foibles see this dynamic at work, muttering audibly under his breath “This one’s trouble”.

For he is at once for the contestant and the audience, sharing the latters desire to laugh at those making fools of themselves whilst also respecting the contestants courage in willingly doing so. That takes an especially rare and delicate touch.

In the age of the hectoring bully of a presenter or, worse still, the chummy, anodyne best friend, Forsyth walks a middle path, one that shows an honesty, sensitivity and affinity with the public and, above all, an acute fondness for the medium in which he operates.

His enduring career has weaved from association with the Trans-Atlantic giants of entertainment — Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Sammy Davis Jnr — to the home grown UK totems of British comedy — Barker, Corbett, Cooper and Dawson for instance. He clearly idolises them, studies them, is in love with their oeuvre. It shows. He now embodies the heritage of over half a century of the best of light entertainment.

His inevitable final curtain call will sever us eternally from that heritage, no longer evident on contemporary Saturday night television but confined to the BBC Four retrospective, the youTube video and the satire of the impressionist.

Mock him, of course, how could you not? His distinct voice, mannerisms, catchphrases—let alone his chin—all demand it. Yet, don’t ever be under the misapprehension you’re witnessing a flummoxed old has-been. Here is a master at work; a special talent that defines an age soon to be lost forever.
“Apologies for missing last week’s show. As you know, I’ve been ill recently and I’d just like to say, Craig [Strictly Come Dancing judge], thank you for the flowers… they were the most beautiful wreath I’ve ever seen.”