Any Queen Will Do…
I try not to miss too much of Any Dream Will Do, or Any Queen Will Do, to give it its more popular title, the BBC1 Saturday night talent show in search of a new Joseph, but as the decibel level rises and John Barrowman and Bill Kenwright compete in the race to make the most ridiculously over the top glutinous back slapping, arse tickling compliments to the quite ordinary young singers on show, I’m beginning to long for it to come to an end. I guess the casting people are pretty certain that Lee will come through as the winner. I enjoyed the search for Maria much more, and through both programmes I have watched in awe as Andrew Lloyd Webber has shed his ugly duckling chat show skin and reinvented himself as a gutsy, fluent and very funny television performer; the thing is, of course, he is doing what he almost does best, live and breathe not only his own music but the best of show tunes and pop hits of other people. He knows what he’s talking about. He also managed a bit of crafty in-house promotion of Bill Kenwright’s long-running Blood Brothers by making two of the Josephs sing Willy Russell’s tear-jerking ballad “Tell Me It’s Not True.” Shame the song is meant to be sung by a woman, but who cares about details in these dog days of what passes for television entertainment?
I also enjoy catching glimpses of well-rounded musical director Nigel Wright bossing the band, which really has been first class throughout both sets of programmes. And what about Graham Norton’s suits? The shiny rust orange one on Saturday night, worn with a mauve shirt, was extremely smart, but where could Graham possibly next wear it without everyone remembering they saw it on the telly? I suspect he just wears something different every day and every night now, and good luck to him. Mind you, now we know he has almost as many houses around the world as Andrew, he must find that “buy, flaunt and dispose” is the easiest dress code policy, as it would be impossible to keep up with what suit was where and in which wardrobe. I don’t know many drama critics with a similar problem. In fact, I think Ben Nightingale sleeps in his sports jacket so he knows where it is when he has to go off and see another show the next night… but then, drama critics, as far as I know, don’t have to schmooze pretty young wannabe male West End stars come the weekend.