A week when nostalgia was the tonic we needed
Dancing With The Stars - The Final RTÉ One, Sunday
The Boys In Green RTÉ One, Monday
All Round To Mrs Brown’s RTÉ One/BBC One, Saturday
Belgravia UTV, Sunday
IN what may have been the strangest programme of the year, the final of Dancing With The Stars unfolded with no studio audience present. The professional dancers, socially distanced around the banquettes like exhausted waiters in a posh restaurant after closing time, supplied as many whoops and cheers as they could, but what should have been the chef’s legendary soufflé couldn’t help but fall flat. Mind you, it should have been the semi-final, not the final, but the decision was made late in the day to tie up all the loose ends early because of the increase in Covid-19 cases.
Needless to say, the dancers couldn’t socially distance, or we’d have ended up with two hours of Irish dancing, with everyone’s hands by their sides. That said, I’m not sure we needed to go the other extreme, as was the case when hurler Aidan Fogarty ended up with Laura Nolan’s legs wrapped around his neck and Emily Barker swinging from his hips. He looked like a human crane.
All the smart money said Fair City’s Ryan Andrews and partner Giulia Dotta would win, but it was RTÉ’s own Lottie Ryan who triumphed in the end, giving her partner Pasquale a double victory, since he had already won the Belgian version of the show.
For once, Nicky Byrne didn’t get to tell dreadful dad jokes, though ironically they probably would have got a better reception than usual with no audience there to groan. The real star of the show is Jennifer Zamparelli, who always comes across as having genuine empathy with the cast, and who doesn’t need an autocue to be wickedly funny. It wasn’t the best series of DWTS to date – all through, it felt like something was lacking, and Lottie and Ryan already had dance experience, which rather blunts the point. I know that a cast of all beginners very likely would lead to boring television, but I still would have been happier to see Aidan or Gráinne Gallanagh win, because they made the most improvement since January.
The highlight of the week was
The Boys In Green, the second of a two-parter telling the story of the Jack Charlton era, expertly assembled by director Ross Whittaker. It’s amazing how even when you know every archive clip, seeing them all run together in service of a story made them feel as fresh as ever. The good vibes of two great summers, in 1990 and 1994, hurtled into every living room in Ireland.
Nostalgia is a powerful force, and never more so than when we face the challenges we’re facing now. Excellent interviews with the likes of John Aldridge and Jason McAteer put everything in context, and even Eamon Dunphy, Charlton’s nemesis, softened his stance and acknowledged that while the football and the tactics often were not pretty, the buoyancy of the national mood was and remains a thing of great beauty. An hour to wallow in past glory, the era when we gained confidence and felt anything was possible, was just the tonic I needed on Monday, and I’m sure that was true for the entire country. I get myself into endless trouble defending anything to do with Mrs Brown, but I just can’t stand the sneery dismissiveness of those who think they’re above a little seaside postcard humour. . All Round To Mrs Brown’s returned last night and his kitchen table chat with Caitlyn Jenner was an absolute hoot. What annoys me about those who frame Brendan O’Carroll as sexist and homophobic is that they very likely never have watched a single one of his shows. They should do. His banter (note correct use of word, millennials) with Jenner was hilarious, and I suspect for many will have disarmed what might be their inner feelings on transgender. Jenner even made jokes about, er, sexual prowess when she was Bruce, and gamely had a shot putt competition with Agnes while wearing stilettos.
It was all jolly fun, and that too is exactly what’s needed right now.
Finally, what actor wouldn’t remortgage his or her house to be asked to star in a Julian Fellowes drama? Over the course of six series, Downton Abbey went from 1912 to 1925 without any apparent impact on the health, or even the complexion, of its characters. Thirteen years and not a single wrinkle. Miraculous. Fellowes was back on Sunday with Belgravia, UTV’s new period drama that opened on the eve of the Battle of Waterloo in 1815, and progressed by 26 years over the first episode. If that were to continue over the six episodes, we would find ourselves at the end of the Second World War.
Of course, it won’t, because we simply got a scene setter for what was to come, and pretty dull fare it promises to be too. At this stage, surely everyone is fed up of the British class system, the upstairs conniving and outward gentility of the nobles, and the sneering petulance of those below stairs.
Tired of the dialogue too. It is quite astonishing that any actor was asked to describe Thomas Cubitt, who built the posh London district of Belgravia thus: ‘He started as a carpenter. He devised a new method for building and took in employ all the different trades involved – bricklayers, plasterers – so the people he worked for had only to give the commission. He and his brother saw to everything.’ There are people home-schooling their children this week who won’t do exposition quite as clunkily.
Period drama really isn’t my thing anyway, and this won’t change my mind. A live show with no audience really was more exciting.