On the front line of satire
Frontline is a pitchperfect pastiche of current affairs journalism that still holds up today and deserves to find a whole new audience, writes James Croot.
Without it, there would arguably have been no The Office, The Castle, The Dish, The Games or, rightly or wrongly, The Project.
A scathing satire of current affairs journalism that still holds up more than 25 years after it debuted, Frontline (which is available to stream on Netflix) is one of Australia’s best exports and its greatest TV comedy of all time.
Created by Working Dog productions – which later went on to make those two cult antipodean movie hits Castle and Dish, and came up with the concept for Have You Been Paying Attention? – the series is set in the production offices and studio of Australian current affairs show Frontline.
Hosted by the gaff-prone Mike Moore (Rob Sitch), the programme careers from one crisis to another, as they try to compete with betterresourced, more established rivals like A Current Affair.
Playing out in a kind of flyon-the-wall mockumentary style, interspersed with snippets and segments from the show, its fast production turn-around meant it could rip from and parody real-life current affairs, their scandals and attract celebrities like Pat Cash, Pauline Hanson, Merv Hughes and Ian ‘‘Molly’’ Meldrum. Moore even made appearances, within the show, on then-iconic programmes like Burke’s Backyard and The AFL Footy Show.
Aside from the brilliant writing, from the founding quartet of Sitch, Jane Kennedy, Santo Cilauro and Tom Gleisner, which manages to consistently offer a combination of brilliant oneliners, fabulous conceits, some hilarious physical comedy and pitch-perfect timing, Frontline’s real strength is its ensemble.
From the reporters, ambitious Brooke Vandenberg (Kennedy) and antagonistic Marty Di Stasio (Tiriel Mora), to exasperated line-producer Emma (Alison Whyte), wildhaired receptionist Domenica (Anita Cerdic), toadying weatherman Geoffrey (Cilauro) and cynical chief cameraman Stu (Pip Mushin), the Frontline staff are all – in their own ways – a joy to watch.
Special mention, of course, has to go to our own Bruno Lawrence, who is a scenestealer as executive-producer Brian ‘‘Thommo’’ Thompson during the first of the show’s three-season run (Lawrence sadly died of lung cancer before the second season was shot). Better known for his dramatic roles in things like Smash Palace and The Quiet Earth, Lawrence delivers a masterclass in deadpan comedy.
Looking back at the 39-episodes now, what is striking is just how relevant – and even prescient – the show still feels. Sure, some of the humour and language might be outside today’s ‘‘accepted’’ norms, but the critiques and cracks at current affairs are truly on the nose.
In the opening episode, The Souffle Rises, Moore hilariously attempts to shed his ‘‘lightweight’’ image by offering up his own ‘‘hardhitting’’ opinions on international politics. An onair diatribe criticising the Greeks in their dispute with the Macedonians results in death threats and humiliation, as he tries to cover his lack of knowledge.
‘‘Who makes the dips again?’’ he asks, while revealing that he did one of ‘‘Pythagoras’ plays at school’’.
One instalment that’s definitely worth seeking out is season 2’s 10th episode, Changing the Face of Current Affairs. Here, The Simpsons’
Harry Shearer guest stars as a US consultant drafted in to help the team boost their ratings. His suggestions include Brooke co-hosting, discarding tripods, liberal wardrobe use of the colour orange (‘‘the truth colour,’’ as he puts it) and commentary style subtitles in stories. Unfortunately, the old truism that ‘‘change is the enemy of current affairs’’ comes home to roost, as a linguistical difference between Australia and America results in a potentially damaging lawsuit.
This is whip-smart, bellyachingly funny, truly bingeworthy television that deserves to be both rediscovered and enjoyed by a whole new audience.
Frontline is now streaming on Netflix.