THERE was a cast of thousands of talking heads on The Trump Show (BBC2, Thursday, above), and what a din they made, all those jaws clattering to the floor at the US President’s latest outrageous move.
That’s the trouble with the Trump presidency: it moves so fast, and is often so preposterous, that it is hard to get a handle on what any of it means. It is like trying to live commentate a clown act at the circus.
Lavishly shot, well researched, measured but with a good ear for a juicy quote, this three part documentary, airing up to the US election on November 3, was clearly aiming to be “the” first televisual draft of Trump history. There were few new faces here, but the old ones were able to talk in more detail about events as they unfolded. That many of them had been sacked by the President only sharpened their recollections and wit. Hell hath no fury than an aide scorned.
All the “greatest hits”, or rather misses, of the early days were covered in the first episode, including press secretary Sean Spicer’s first media briefing, when he falsely claimed Mr Trump had drawn the biggest inauguration crowd in US history.
It was the minor details that generated the biggest wows, such as the President telling Apprentice contestant turned aide Omarosa that he was going to take the oath of office on his book, The Art of the Deal, rather than the bible. With anyone else you might have considered that a joke.
Jon Sopel, the BBC’s North America editor, was good value, even dropping an F-bomb during one anecdote. He was quoting someone else, so keep your wig on Auntie. Next week it’s Russia and women. Certainly not the last word on the Trump phenomenon, but an entertaining summation in the meantime.
Every so often a cry goes up among Her Majesty’s TV Reviewing Corps (we’re like the White House corps, but in slippers and cardigans) to bring back Play for Today. Given the number of theatres currently in the dark, reviving PFT, as it was never known in the biz, seems an idea whose time has finally come. Ah, but was it as good as we remember? Drama out of a Crisis (BBC4, Monday), a documentary marking 50 years since the start of the strand, was a fine way to find out.
More than 300 single act dramas were aired before the plug was pulled in 1984, so odds on some were lemons. But look at the riches among the writers, producers, directors, and actors: Bennett, Bleasdale, Potter, Leigh, Loach. Why, sometimes they even had folk who were women and non-white.
Like its subject, this retrospective was a touch hand-knitted and worthy at times. Luvvie and lefty, too. Abigail’s Party, for instance (given another airing on Wednesday on BBC4), was described as “a precisely pitched satirical portrait of the aspirational materialism of the middle classes”, which is correct, but would you have rushed to tune in?
Millions did at the time. Even though viewers then were hardly spoiled for choice when it came to channels, the ratings were still remarkable. For some, including your correspondent in the cheap seats, Play for Today was an introduction to drama that started a lifelong love. Some of the best pieces, including Scum (banned by the Beeb initially, natch) stand the test of time. Abigail’s Party did, just about. Leigh said he could not watch it now because he thought it was a “technical, visual mess.”
Portrait Artist of the Year (Sky Arts, 8pm) was back. Of all the competition programmes on television today – Great British Bake Off, Great British Sewing Bee, Great British Rioting in the Streets over Lockdown (coming soon) – this has to be the most civilised.
The format was simplicity itself. Three celebrity sitters (yes, afraid there has to be a celeb somewhere; it’s the law) sat for nine artists, a mix of professional and amateur (but all excellent, so no-one humiliated). Judges who knew what they were talking about chatted us through the technical stuff, and host Stephen Mangan made dad jokes. Everyone was nice to each other, and you learned things besides. Who knew watching paint dry could be so enjoyable.
Confession: I had never watched Taskmaster (Channel 4, Thursday) but kept hearing it was the bees’ whatsits. Greg Davies was the host, we like him, and he was as delightfully sarky as I had been led to believe as he gave five celebs (them again) silly things to do. The tasks began with knocking a coconut off a post and grew more difficult. Think a cross between a trendy Generation Game and a village fete.
As per, everyone was socially distanced, and the audience was next door. “Nothing to do with recent events,” said Davies, “I just don’t like being near members of the public.” Imagine if the Pointless hosts were so unkind. I don’t think the country could take it.
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