A talent to amuse

Now Britain has officially got talent. Or so we are led to believe due to the success of an engaging television programme which is well into its third series.

Once upon a time, variety was the thing. Up and down the country, theatres in virtually every town and city boasted a variety theatre where, weekly shows, outside of the summer and winter when summer seaside seasons and Christmas pantomimes took away the bigger names, gave opportunity for all that was variety and entertainment. Jugglers, magicians, dancers, comics singers, dog acts and animal impersonators filled bills up and down the country.

Artists hoped that there was some form of progression up the bill and up the range of theatres in which they could work. Like professional football today, the Premiership is the height to aspire to but there were dozens, if not hundreds of acts kicking around the provinces hoping to be spotted.

It is said that the whole thing died away because of television. People were not bothered to go out when the big names could be seen on TV. Acts on TV were seen by millions in one go, instead of a few hundred nightly. Some acts suffered because television demanded acts to come up with new material whereas touring the theatres allowed an act to keep the same format for year on year.

Now variety is back though the irony is that it happens on television. The breaks are there and the rewards are those elusive and ethereal rewards - fame and success.

I love the programme - well aspects of it. Its not as formulaic as some of the dancing competition shows for a start. There are the tedious shots of ecstatically waving hopefuls as well as those closer shots of acts going through their paces surrounded by what seems like hundreds doing exactly the same. I love the people whose talents are completely in inverse proportion to the belief in their ability. I wish had an iota of their certainty in being the next best thing. The bigger the belief and the smaller the talent makes me smile. But I also love the ones whose talent is beyond their appearance and audience expectation and who effortlessly and modestly do the stuff and knock you out.

There are short shots of those acts who we never see, but who are successfully and, naturally, jubilantly boisterous as a result. We see glimpses of other acts on stage. But there is something manipulative going on which tells you that we are being controlled in what we are allowed to see. How does such basic crap get to the front for us to enjoy the disappointment and gasp at their temerity that they thought the Queen would really think they were entertainment?

And I guess that is the shows success. OK, it throws up much the same kind of talents for the phone in vote - and ugly adult who can belt out a song with the best of them, a group of dancers who have worked, untrained and untutored, for years on the streets, a waif of a child with cute gaps in their dentition who can sing with power and accuracy, groups of made up and costumed groups from dance schools, and a few odd old style variety acts such as a juggler who defies gravity or an acrobat with sublime skill making it look easy.

But that's what I like. Anyone who makes it look easy, natural and as natural to us as we find simply walking or breathing, are the ones with real talent. And I like, too, the cash register smile of Simon Cowell. You don't need dials or score sheets with this programme. Simply watch his eyes and his smile. You know when he sees true talent. It's there in the wink.

The play was the thing.

I have been to several theatres but walking into and down the Quarry Theatre of the West Yorkshire Playhouse is a really sublime experience tinged with anticipation and excitement.

Laid out below is the set. This time, as the play was When We Are Married, you looked down upon a wealthy living room of someone who has made it. From the entrance, the scale was like gazing upon the set designers model, but once your seat was reached the true intimate scale was revealed.

Being a classic Northern comedy and just to set the tone, brass band music was played as house music, as I gazed over the photographs of imaginary lives, the carpets, potted plants and furniture that stated quality and status.

Then comes that magic moment of blackout accompanied by an equally sudden hushing of the chatting audience. You know that the beginners are assembled somewhere behind the set waiting for the music and lighting cue to bring the performance to life. It is an intense moment of anticipation.

And then you're away. Cleverly, this set had more dimension that expected and initially indicated. Behind a set wall of screens, which appear solid with light upon them and transparent with light behind them, the main characters were seen beyond the living room, across a corridor and in the illuminated dining room behind. All three couple enjoying themselves as they each celebrate jointly 25 years of marriage.

Of course, there is a story ahead. The sky, like the the light in the dining room, is darkening with distant pigeons are coming home to roost. As the light fades in the dining room, the light comes up in the living room. The play has begun, but all's well that ends well, but that's another play altogether.