David Cassidy on the Web
From the Listener archive: TV & Radio
September 29-October 5 2007
www.listener.co.nz
TV Review
Moving right along
by Diana Wichtel
Whatever happened to . Paul Holmes?
She's a tough mistress, Lady Fame, as Paul Holmes constantly informs us. But he isn't about to trade her in for Lady Relative Obscurity just yet. His latest, slightly wobbly vehicle, TV1's Whatever Happened to .?, is, appropriately enough, about relics of times past. History started repeating itself like a dodgy curry as Holmes did his triumphal march back through the corridors of TVNZ. The show is, he declared, about fame. Which, by a happy coincidence, means it's also about Holmes: "Your humble host," he murmured Uriah Heepishly. "Not, it seems, forgotten."
No chance of that. Holmes has done everything short of ritually disembowel himself on air to keep our attention over the years, as he reminded us. The singing, the dancing, the olive oil. The laughter and the tears - he's been bottling those and flogging them to us for years.
The show isn't a bad idea. It's about people we haven't seen since the last time someone trawled through the archives instead of coming up with an original idea. "The moments that carve themselves into the nation's psychology," ruminated Holmes. "People we thought we could never live without. Where are they now?" mused Holmes, possibly recalling the woman from his autobiography who handed her panties to him in a restaurant. I don't think we'll be seeing her on the show.
The camera still loves him, almost as much as he loves himself. But the first show had all the pace and grace of Holmes doing the quickstep with his pants on fire. Five stories were galloped through, from the poignant to the pointless to Ray Columbus. Everyone, even the tragic tartan-clad women for whom the Bay City Rollers had been a lifetime highlight, had a story to tell. If only they were allowed to.
First up were Shirley Young and Royd Kennedy, the firefighter who rescued her from beneath that burning tanker. Young has grown into a lovely, shy young mother. Fixing Holmes with beautiful, sad eyes, she said she suffered from depression. "Do you?" said Holmes briskly. "It was a big night, Royd, wasn't it?"
It was left to the firefighter to do what the moment demanded: say something kind. "I think the biggest miracle is that Shirley survived to create further life." At which Young visibly brightened. But we were already moving on. Bring on the ageing Bay City Roller.
Reactions on the NZ Herald website suggest that it's not just carping critics who found this very dispiriting viewing. Holmes can't seem to decide whether he is Oprah or Dame Edna. In the first show Dame Edna was winning and the guests were props.
Later in the show, Geeling Ng was on to talk about starring with David Bowie in that famous video. "Inscrutable!" said Holmes at one point. Well, no, she wasn't. She kept giving him leads that he dropped like hot potatoes. She's good talent and, given half a chance, might have had something interesting to say about being a groupie. But enough of that. On to some dancers from C'mon - "Wild women in hotpants!" Then Ray Columbus seemed to want to talk about his health. Fat chance.
Still, you have to admire Holmes. There he is, back on TVNZ in primetime, raving about himself while being Charter-funded to the tune of $1.2 million to do so. Despite his own best efforts, it seems he's indestructible.
The second episode began with a Wahine rescue story - "A Titanic-like tragedy!" The disaster theme continued as most of the rest of the show turned into train-wreck viewing. Chloe of Wainuiomata was back, sharing her new husband's dental misadventures. And her memories of when television first came calling: "I actually thought they were from Work and Income."
Then the show examined the hitherto little-known role of 70s teen singing sensation David Cassidy in the formation of a generation of terrifying local women. Louise Wallace, Suzanne Paul and April Ieremia were there. Cassidy looked even scarier than they did. He slipped his key down Louise Wallace's cleavage. She cried. Which rather overshadowed the ordinary fans who'd come along. One of them delivered the only words of wisdom on offer: "There are some things you don't touch. You leave them where they belong."
Poor old David Cassidy wasn't even asked to sing. "You were so lovely," one of the fans said wistfully. "I was," he agreed, with only the suggestion of a flinch. History repeating itself as farce.
The final episode of The Sopranos divided the world in two. Half were yelling in impotent rage at their television. The rest of us thought it was brilliant. And we've spent hours ever since wresting meaning from every detail. Which is why it was brilliant, so stop whining about closure. And pray that David Chase will make the movie.
**WHATEVER HAPPENED TO .?, TV1, Tuesday, 8.30pm.**
