OTD in early British television: 27 February 1939
John Wyver writes: Before the war The Times did not employ a regular television critic, but occasional anonymous columns offered acute reflections on the development of the new medium. These included a piece published on Monday 27 February 1939 headed ‘The progress of television: the theatre as an ally’.
Taking its cue from three recent outside broadcasts, including one of a variety bill from the Coliseum featuring the French clown George Dorlis, as well as a studio appearance by the same artist (above), the writer reflected on the differences between entertainment broadcast from a theatre and that mounted in the studios at AP.
The article, with no byline like all Times pieces then, began by praising three recent OBs, including ‘the big fight at Harringay’ and a visit to Hanworth to watch autogiros in flight. The third location was the London Coliseum, Oswald Stoll’s variety house, from where on the previous Tuesday Coliseum Night had come.
A regular monthly visit was now planned, to present the first of the variety bill being presented there, and The Times was enthusiastic about the set-up:
Cameras were mounted in the dress circle and one near to the stage, and if the pictures were not quite so cler as in the studio the sight of the big stage, the great swinging curtains, the excited sound of applause from the regular audience, and the effect of the big, animated house on the artists themselves more than made up for the loss in this direction.
It proved that variety from the theatre has a quality that variety from the studio lacks.
As it happened, George Dorlis, ‘a French clown in the great tradition’, was on the Coliseum bill before visiting the AP studio two days later. From the stage…
He gave us the origin of the dance — oriental, Spanish, classic, rumba, what you will, and an impression of a French music hall complete in every detail, with the Girls, the Strong Man, the Mystery Man, etc, all achieved with no properties to speak of: a spoon and fork, a handkerchief, a piece of string and a bit of sacking. It was delciously funny, even seen at a distance.
When the artist repeated the routine at AP, the conditions were better for the cameras, but…
there was no great bare stage to throw into relief the significance of the little man, no ripples or bubbling laughter to warm him up and act as a running commentary to his performance, while a frigid silence took the place of rapturous applause at the end.
The act was the same, the effect very different. For this writer, the moral of the comparison was clear.
This seems to point to the future of television variety lying in the theatre rather than in the studio. The BBC have long recognized that Saturday night Music Hall for radio listeners must be given before real spectators if the unseen audience is to enjoy itself.
They represent listeners by proxy, and if the audience cannot be brought to television at present, then television does well to descend into the West End arenas from the northern heights, and do the best it can with the ever-improving cameras, for certain programmes seem to demand an audible audience.
From the cramped studios at AP, bringing the audience to television was an impossibility, although once post-war television began to inhabit larger premises, that was exactly what producers did – and as they continue to do for The Masked Singer and many more.
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