Stand
Up And Vote For Nigel Barton
For
a modest collection of eleven plays, which concluded James
MacTaggart's tenure as producer of The Wednesday Play,
the list of contributing writers makes mouth-watering reading
by comparison to some of the dour output which plagues contemporary
British Television schedules. Three plays by Dennis
Potter, coupled with offerings from James O'Connor, Dawn
Pavitt and Terry Wale, Fred Watson, Neil Dunn and Julia
Jones. The collection of this creative powerhouse was thanks
largely to the powers of persuasion of Tony Garnett, the
newly-appointed story editor for the series and a man with a keen
eye on the developing state of British drama, as presented
for television.
The reliable state of affairs with BBC Television programmes
had always been to rest on one's laurels when the pinnacle of
success had been achieved, as exemplified by long-running serials
such as Dixon Of Dock Green, Doctor Finlay's Casebook, Maigret
and Z-Cars, all of which brought fresh ideas to an untimely
end when a rudely healthy audience base had been mustered, and
started producing standard comfort-zone viewing which remained
standardised throughout their respective runs. By its very nature,
The Wednesday Play had produced controversial plays - often penned
by figures of controversy - which were presented to audiences
in brash, exciting and novel ways and to much critical acclaim.
Yet now the programme had established a benchmark which it would
be required to further advance with each successive season, and,
on the evidence of the third series, both the writing and production
teams rose admirably to the challenge at hand. |
The
Mad Hatter's Tea Party in Alice |
On
October 13th 1965, the programme returned with Dennis
Potter's Alice, a moving portrait of Lewis Carroll (as
portrayed in this instance by the wonderful George Baker).
Whilst the play itself appeared on the surface to be a run-of-the-mill
offering, Potter's deftness of touch - which was healthily
cultivated in his contributions to this vehicle - ensured that the
story captivated audiences with a renewed vigour for the tales of
Alice In Wonderland whilst exploring Victorian values
and the need to express one's innermost feelings and desires through
the mouthpiece of fiction. |
Garnett
notably used the launching-point of this play to espouse the virtues of
the forthcoming series in the Radio Times, proclaiming that
"Each week will be a surprise, because each
of these writers is as individual as the people who will watch their plays.
This means that the series will not run to a set formula - pace, style,
setting, and subject will vary from week to week. The series as a whole,
however, will have a personality of its own, and all the plays do have
some things in common. Whether we are in the year 1865 or 1970, in a mining
village or an Oxford college, with an aristocrat or an astronaut, we shall
try to face things as they really are. We are not in the wish-fulfilment
business. We will try to show the real hopes and conflicts of some ordinary
- and some extraordinary - people, honestly and directly. To tell our
stories, we shall have to break a lot of old rules about what is permissible
in television drama; and although we shall not set out to offend people,
we may be provocative - but out of a compassion that comes from a concern
for human beings. We invite you to join us tonight and hope you will be
with us every Wednesday".
Whilst Alice was hardly mould-breaking in terms of its delivery
to audiences, The Wednesday Play would once again make the headlines
with four of its plays from this third season cited as having changed
the face of British drama - and British television - permanently
(a grand claim which would only be bettered by an internationally-recognised
success in 1968).
Up
The Junction |
For
whilst Peter Everett's The Girl Who Loved Robots and Julia
Jones' A Designing Woman proved diverting fare, it would be
Neil Dunn's Up The Junction, as directed by the legendary
Kenneth Loach, which would see The Wednesday Play
emerge from its studio-bound confines to produce a play in and around
the streets of South London in a manner not since previously
approached. Contemporary drama with a view to the exploration of
the social issues of the age had become the programme's trademark,
but for the most part these plays had been produced in the studio
and lacked the gritty social realism that Garnett and Loach
would later become so famous for pioneering. |
The undoubted strength of presenting a play in the real world - as opposed
to a fictional setting in a studio - in which a pseudo-documentary style
could be employed upon the plays, blurring the distinguishing line between
fact and fiction so as to present audiences with a "this-could-actually-happen-to-you"
scenario, became their mutual target. Up The Junction, a play concerning
itself with working-class life in a south London community, became the
beneficiary of their endeavours by: "initiating
a technological breakthrough by moving over to film and location shooting
with Up The Junction (BBC-1, 3 November 1965), the play which took television
drama out of the studio and into the real world … in order to make
a drama about contemporary life among ordinary working-class people in
south London, Garnett and Loach wanted to get out onto the streets, into
the real world, as much as possible. After the battle with James MacTaggart
over the script and the whole conception of the drama, Garnett then fought
another battle with BBC management, and with the BBC Film Department,
to be allowed to use sixteen-millimetre cameras to go out and shoot the
drama on the streets … they wanted to achieve the look of `immediacy'
to be found in news footage, in order to reinforce the veracity of the
drama that they wanted to put on screen. They wanted to turn `drama' into
`news'" (Lez
Cooke - British
Television Drama: A History).
If the controversy over blurring the lines between news and drama were
not enough, the scene featuring the execution of a backstreet abortion
disturbed viewers and "stuffed-shirts" in the BBC hierarchy
alike, but Garnett and Loach prided themselves on not turning
a blind eye when it came to depicting the realities of contemporary life
in all its unedifying glory. Unquestionably, their dogged determination
in by-passing numerous obstacles placed before them by the various BBC
Television departments and by James MacTaggart himself, secured
a shower of praise from the critics and from writer Troy Kennedy Martin,
who extolled the virtues of the production at every available opportunity.
Such controversial fare could never be sustained for a prolonged period
of time, however, and more standard - yet equally diverting - plays such
as The Trial And Torture Of Sir John Rampayne, The End Of Arthur's
Marriage, Tomorrow, You Just Wait and The Bond continued the
high-calibre production values of the series. Predominately studio-based,
these plays were nevertheless effective in terms of their gentle blend
of high comedy and high drama, eliciting memorable performances from the
likes of James Hawkins, Faith Brook, Ian McKellen and Hannah
Gordon under the directorial expertise of Loach, Peter Duguid,
James Ferman and Mary Ridge. Dennis Potter's swansong
was then launched upon an unsuspecting public, with Garnett's specially
commissioned prequel, Stand Up, Nigel Barton, being followed a
week later by Vote, Vote, Vote For Nigel Barton (this episode having
previously fallen through the cracks of the second series of plays).
 |
A
joyous exploration of political chicanery, based in part on Potter's
own personal experiences, the impact of the play on the public and
critical psyche has lived long in the memory; the elevation of Keith
Barron to stellar status, the consolidation and confirmation
of Potter as a playwright of considerable pedigree, and the
resounding success of The Wednesday Play having fostered
and nurtured such a creative force, were all by-products of having
spent two weeks in the company of the somewhat naïve Nigel
Barton.
Left:
The Nigel Barton Plays |
The series came to a close three days prior to Christmas 1965 with
James O'Connor's festive offering, The Coming Out Party.
The experimental nature of The Wednesday Play had continued unabated
throughout this third season, in-keeping with Newman's original
vision and ensuring that an air of notoriety continued to surround the
programme's dramatic output. A brief festive recess would permit a changing
of the guard in the production staff, with Peter Luke enjoying
a welcome transition period from James MacTaggart as producer of
the series for the second time.
|
