Sir Michael Parkinson (1935-2023)

There have been many tributes today following the passing of chat-show king Michael Parkinson, celebrating his style, his intelligence, and his humour – all of which is much deserved.

There were two eras of the Parkinson show, the first running from 1971 to 1982, and the second from 1998 to 2007. While the format of the programme remained exactly the same in these two different eras, the show itself was quite different, for, in its second incarnation, most guests were only going on TV to sell something – they were promoting an album, a book, or a film. That wasn’t the case the first time around. While Parky was always more than capable of getting the best out of a guest on any particular occasion, those guests had to be willing to want to talk, and talk in a serious fashion.

If the 1970s/early 1980s incarnation of Parkinson was a talk show, the 1998-2007 return was more a light chat show on the majority of occasions. This wasn’t Parkinson’s fault, of course. Times had simply changed, and the star system had changed, too. Tom Cruise, Madonna, and Tom Hanks are not Orson Welles, Peter Ustinov, or Bette Davis. By the time of the second run of Parkinson, the age of the raconteur, of the serious conversation on prime time television, was pretty much dead. There were still names that could deliver, and who would simply go on the show for the right reasons: to talk. But there were fewer, and the conversations rarely seemed so deep as they were first time around.

Orson Welles talking candidly about his experiences of Hollywood.

There were still many highlights in the 1990s and 2000s, but it is probably fair to say that it was the earlier run where Parkinson’s really important interviews took place (although as someone in love with the first five or six decades of cinema, perhaps I’m just a tad biased). I say “important” because lengthy, serious interviews of great stars and characters whose careers often dated back to the 1910s were few and far between. There was Dick Cavett in the US, but it’s fair to say that Parkinson’s more relaxed, genial front probably got people talking more candidly. The great stars such as Gloria Swanson, Orson Welles, James Stewart, Shirley Temple, David Niven, Ingrid Bergman, and Bing Crosby opened up in a remarkable way in front of Parkinson. He was intelligent with his questioning, and they were intelligent and thoughtful in their answers. And those interviews really are a goldmine for fans and scholars of film and music from the first 60 or 70 years of the 20th century – far more important than the scores of interviews they would have done at the height of their stardom under strict instructions from their studios.

It’s remarkable to look at the list of stars that appeared in, for example, the 1972 series: Robert Mitchum, Tony Curtis, James Mason, Shirley Temple, Gore Vidal, John Gielgud, W. H. Auden, Annie Ross, Jack Lemmon. As the years pass,ed we must assume that Parkinson got a name for himself not amongst audiences but amongst stars, and that’s when the older stars flocked to his swivel seats for an hour-long chat: Duke Ellington (not long before he passed away), Gene Kelly, Bette Davis, Fred Astaire (on three occasions), Gloria Swanson (twice), Mickey Rooney, Dirk Bogarde. It’s probably quicker to list the people who didn’t appear on the show during that era than those who did. It’s also probably fair to say that the only two major stars he never got to chat to were Frank Sinatra and Elvis Presley. Parky viewed Sinatra as the “holy grail,” and not interviewing him was a big regret, he but didn’t the feel the same way about Elvis. We all have our faults.

The reason why those interviews are so essential is because Parkinson was so damned good at what he did. He learned early on that the key to being a talk show host is to listen. So many interviewers on TV today could learn from that (particularly political ones). Check out the interview with Joseph Bronowski, and how little Parkinson says during it.

Dr Joseph Bronowski and the largely silent interviewer.

But he also loved and encouraged debate, such as that wonderful moment where he gets embroiled in a political argument with Kenneth Williams. It’s a stunning, classic piece of television. Who could imagine Jonathan Ross or Graham Norton getting involved in such a discussion, or even encouraging an intelligent conversation like that in the first place. Ross and Norton are great at what they do, but sadly there is no-one really doing what Parkinson did back in the 1970s and early 1980s – not just with Kenneth Williams, but also with Mohammed Ali, of course…and many others. There’s also the fact, of course, that the show often put together the most unlikely mix of guests, and then sat back to see what happened. Here we have Kenneth Williams with Maggie Smith and Sir John Betjeman. A Carry On star with the poet laureate – hardly the most obvious combination in most circumstances, but Williams was talk show gold – well-read, feisty, funny, intelligent, and quite happy to be controversial. And who else would have Muhammad Ali and Freddie Starr sitting next to each other?

Those interviews keep getting wheeled out on the BBC and on YouTube because they were must-see television, they are classics of their kind, and it’s unlikely we will ever see their like again. Is that because stars of today want to mould their image so carefully – and probably have to, as any slip they might make in a serious interview would haunt them forever on YouTube and Twitter? Would Tom Cruise ever share his feelings on an important matter in the way that Williams did? Or is it because audiences don’t want to see that kind of interview? Do audiences want to hear Tom Holland’s thoughts on life and politics, or do they just want to hear him name-dropping and telling us about how he felt in a spider-man suit for the first time? It’s probably a case of both. And I should add that I’m not singling Holland out there for any reason other than he popped into my head. He’s an intelligent guy, but what we want from our stars seems to have changed. We do occasionally see those kinds of interviews with actors on Sunday morning politics shows in the UK, but they are banished from prime time television.

Fred Astaire, 1976.

Somehow, in some way, Parkinson knew almost instinctively how to bring out the best from his guests, whether they were classical actors, comedians, or scientists. It didn’t matter. In a lengthy interview with Barry Humphries (screened again recently following Humphries passing), he even manages to get the creator of Dame Edna Everage to speak candidly and openly.

Parkinson interviewing the late Barry Humphries in a rare talk show appearance as himself.

When Michael Parkinson passed away today aged 88, he didn’t just leave behind hundreds of hours of entertaining television, but a contribution of hundreds of hours of social and cultural history. That is his real legacy. No doubt, the BBC will wheel out the same six episodes of the Parkinson show that it always does as a kind of tribute (edit: they are doing exactly that!). But what Parkinson really deserves is an uploading of ALL episodes from that long first run to iplayer or, even better, a succession of series by series DVD boxed sets. It is about time, and he deserves it.

Red, White and Royal Blue: A Review

Last week, I was singing the praises of the second series of Heartstopper, a series that remains fresh, fun, and relevant. This week, Amazon Prime have released Red, White and Royal Blue, and it couldn’t be more different.

It’s great that Amazon are behind a film with two gay protagonists, but is this limp and insipid piece of filmmaking the best that they could manage? What we have, basically, is a Hallmark-type movie that barely has a scene that rings true. Taylor Zakhar Perez and Nicholas Galitzine star as Alex, the son of the US president, and Prince Henry. At first hating each other, they soon become friends and then lovers, but what will happen when the world finds out?

Added in to the mix is Uma Thurman, with an awful Texan accent, and Stephen Fry as the king. Even Stephen Fry doesn’t come out of this very well, and I say that as someone who would be over the moon if he were suddenly king. Perhaps someone could start an online campaign.

There’s very little chemistry between the two leads, although, with this bland and insipid script, one can hardly blame them for their performances. What could have been a witty, fun and incisive take on the subjects of celebrity, royalty, privacy, and the media, is a limp lettuce of a film that only comes to life in the final half an hour or so, when it finally shows some signs of being relevant, and there is finally some emotional connection with the viewer. Even the much publicised “cake” scene at the beginning of the film is completely without any real humour. The art of slapstick appears to have been forgotten in this instance. Sadly, the pictures of the two leads covered in cake is a rather apt summing up of how much of a mess this film is.

The budget also holds the film back, with the movie having a “fake” feel throughout its running time. None of the locations or sets really convince us, and there appears to have been money saved at each and every opportunity – most notably in the crowd/balcony scene towards the end of the movie. Surely Amazon could have coughed up enough money to employ something resembling an actual crowd rather than stock footage reflected in a window?

With the exception of the final half hour, which at least has some merit, it is just a completely ineffective film. The couple of sex scenes are just as uninspired as the rest of the movie – although how and why they caused the film to be R-rated in the USA is anybody’s guess. But the truth is that there are better films out there about how horrible it is to be a prince and fall in love with the wrong person – go check out The Student Prince (1954), it’s far more effective. And there are better films out there about being the gay son of a politician. The superb gay low-budget indie movie Poster Boy (2004) is a far more interesting way to spend your evening than watching the awfully-titled Red, White and Royal Blue. And, of course, there’s also Young Royals on Netflix, which is, for the most part, very good indeed.

I’m told the novel of Red, White and Royal Blue is quite the success, and I can only hope that the writing and characterisation within it are better than in the film version. In short, not the most exciting way to spend two hours.

The “Good Old Days” are Now: Heartstopper, season Two

This blog posts contains some spoilers for Heartstopper season 2.

Those of us who spend time on social media, particularly Facebook and Twitter, often see posts shared by friends and family (as well as total strangers) of a certain age, where they declare that their childhoods were better because they played outside instead of on the computer, or because we spoke to friends face to face instead of on messenger, etc.   They are posted with an air of nostalgia, of course, rather than through any real belief that our childhoods were better – and, it’s fair to say, that to say that they were is total bollocks. 

Who would want to go back to a time where most queer kids would never dream of coming out, knowing full well that they would be beaten each day at school if they did?

Who would want to go back to time where even being suspected of being gay would result in a beating, too? 

Who would want to go back to a time where disabled kids were not properly catered for in the school system and didn’t have the same rights as the rest of us? 

If we look back at our childhoods with a sense of reality rather than through rose-coloured glasses, would anyone really wish them on today’s kids?

And LGBTQ teenagers twenty, thirty, or forty years ago didn’t have anything remotely like Heartstopper, the second season of which dropped on Netflix this week.  The first time I saw anything close to a positive portrayal of male homosexuality on TV was when Beautiful Thing was first shown on Channel 4 somewhere around 1997 or 1998.  I was twenty-four.  Prior to that, most gay characters I saw on screen were dying of AIDS, being murdered, or committing suicide.  

Beautiful Thing (1997)

The BBC did try in the late 1980s with their then-controversial drama Two of Us (see pic, below) – a kind of hour-long Heartstopper of its day, and originally intended to be shown as part of the schools daytime programming of the time.  Around the same time, Section 28 was brought in by the Tory government.  This legislation officially banned “promotion of homosexuality” in schools.  By “promotion” they basically meant “don’t say anything remotely positive about it.”  The BBC got cold feet about Two of Us and pulled the programme, eventually showing it late at night instead when the people it was aimed at would have been in bed – and it was only shown then with a revised ending where the two gay teenagers didn’t get together after all.  Ah yes, the good old days.

Two of Us (BBC, 1987)

LGBTQ teenagers of the time (such as myself) had no-one on TV or film that they could relate to.  If only we’d had a film or a show like Heartstopper to relate to, and to convince us that everything was going to be fine, and that we’d get through whatever life was throwing at us.  I’ve seen criticism of the second season on social media, with people (mostly of my age) saying it is unrealistic because of its lack of sex (or references to sex).  I can only assume their minds have somehow been programmed to think such a thing after enduring the gay-themed indie films of the 1990s onwards, where it was thought that showing full frontal nudity every ten minutes or so was the only way of getting a gay man to sit through a film.   Any adult watching Heartstopper and wanting a sex scene is rather missing the point of the series in the first place.   

Season two continues pretty much where season one left off.  Nick and Charlie are, by and large, happy, and this season follows Nick’s journey through the coming out process – and it’s nice to see that journey depicted as not one “coming out” moment but the realisation that people keep coming out for the rest of their lives.  Also nice is that Nick isn’t forced to come out.  But, as with the first season, there is more going on than that.  Tao and Elle are working through a will they/won’t they relationship.  Tara and Darcy are going through various stresses in their own relationship – although I would like to have seen Darcy’s home life explored more.  The strand focussing on that doesn’t even appear until episode seven.  Perhaps there will be more next season.  Isaac is slowing working out how he fits in (or doesn’t fit in) to the whole relationship thing, and we also get to see more Mr. Ajayi’s personal life, which is really nice, too.   

It is a busy series (and includes a very charming three-episode jaunt to Paris), but none of it seems rushed, with the exception of the Darcy subplot, and, perhaps, the rather strange situation that homophobic rugby player Harry doesn’t make any play after finding out Nick and Charlie an item.  There are some wonderful put-the-arrogant-idiots in their place moments in this series, where Harry, Nick’s brother, and Ben all basically get told where to go – although it would have been interesting to see one of those moments not work out so well for the one putting them in their place. 

But, for the most part, this remains a series about good people doing good things and looking after each other.  It’s still surprising, perhaps, that a series based on that premise has been so welcomed in our cynical times – and that it’s just so damned good.  If there was an Emmy for Most Charming Series, it would win, hands down.   And it shouldn’t be surprising that adults are watching the series and being moved by it, too.   

Heartstopper, season two

Ten years ago, I wrote a novel called Breaking Point, dealing with a pair of teenaged boys who are friends but realise their friendship is becoming something more.  At the same time,  a bully and his friends do what they can to drive them apart.   But I confess that, while I am very proud of Breaking Point and its sequel, Breaking Down (both still available, I might add!!), I’d much rather have written Heartstopper.   There is almost an audaciousness and daring in writing something so simply driven by nice people doing good things.  What other drama series or book series does that?  It’s an utter masterstroke, and so what we need right now as the country continues to tear itself apart.

The writing this season is both sharper and more subtle, and the acting has also improved – although the slightly rough-around-the-edges element to the first season in that regard was rather beguiling.   There are also sequences that appear to be improvised, giving the show such a natural feel, helped by how well the cast clearly gel with each other.  Talking of which, don’t miss the recap of the last season before episode one, which is narrated by the cast as themselves, and is very sweet. 

The reviews for this second season have largely been excellent, although it appears the reviewer in The Independent has a heart of stone.  Perhaps he has forgotten that the show is actually aimed at young teenagers, and not middle-aged men – although there is plenty for adults to enjoy, I might add, including the appearance of Olivia Colman (stunning as always), but also that feeling of watching it and being thankful that today’s kids have Heartstopper instead of Section 28. 

We should never forget how much of a good thing that is.