What we learned from the weekend's TV: Graham Norton and Eurovision rule supreme
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Version 0 of 1. If the Eurovision doesn’t put a smile on your face, you are dead inside This was Graham Norton’s verdict on the adorable 16-year-old Israeli in golden “winged messenger” boots during Saturday night’s proceedings at the Eurovision in Vienna (Saturday, BBC1). And he was right. Related: Swedish Eurovision win spares Russian conservatives an awkward moment The highlight was, of course, Norton’s utterly fabulous commentary. On Armenia (the Game of Thrones goddess-cult number): “That was worse than I remembered. I would have warned you. It wasn’t that bad in rehearsal.” On Norway: “They are dressed like people who work in a very posh private hospital in the future.” On Azerbaijan: “At points you’ll think they’ve had a bad oyster. But truly it’s choreographed.” Mr Montenegro got the worst of it, and deservedly so: “The song is called Adio. It means ‘goodbye’. So now I know what to say to him later when I see him.” And this: “If you were thinking of going to Montenegro to get some Botox done, apparently there’s a real shortage.” Threatening to outshine even Graham was Nigella Lawson, announcing the UK’s votes and busting out her German, Italian and French (“Les douze points vont a ... la Suede!”) whilst looking suitably frightened. It is obligatory to look frightened during the judging unless you are Macedonian. The whole shebang? Superb. The original motto of the host nation: “It is Austria’s destiny to rule the world.” For one night they did. The Aussies are made of stern stuff … And that’s just the nurses. Episode 4 of this Australian first-world-war drama Anzac Girls (Friday, Channel 4) just gets stronger and more addictive. This week it was the turn of Olive, the practical one, to have her mettle and heart – tested. “For goodness sake, Alice, there is a war on. Not everyone has love on the brain,” she spluttered to Nurse Ross-King, as Orderly Doolie rigged up a shower so that Olive could wash her hair. And you still think he doesn’t fancy you, Olive? This delightfully realistic dramatisation, by turns witty, poignant and hard-hitting, is based on Peter Rees’ book The Anzac Girls and is all the more affecting for how autobiographical it feels from the nurses’ point of view. Frankly, it makes Call the Midwife look like Carry On Matron. Tonight’s weepy finale was interspliced with documentary photographs of trenches at the battle of Fromelles in 1916, a battle later described as “the worst 24 hours in Australia’s entire history”. Respect. Music hall is not dead There is something incredibly weird about Sunday Night at the Palladium (Sunday, ITV1) – and that is saying something on a weekend when we had three hours of Eurovision. Is it not a bit odd that in 2015 we are devoting a major television (and stage) slot to Jason Manford performing a section from The Producers as if he were Bruce Forsyth circa 1967, followed by a deaf Chinese dance troupe of (admittedly extraordinary) hand dancers and two Croatian cellists accompanied by pianist Lang Lang, playing Live and Let Die? And that is before the man with the budgies came on. (“My wife does bird impressions. She watches me like a hawk.”) I’m torn by this programming. On one hand, it seems distressingly old-fashioned and I keep expecting Marti Caine to rush onto the stage in a sequinned flared jumpsuit and shout, “Press your buttons now!” On the other hand, I would absolutely love this to happen. I miss Marti. I wonder if maybe this is exactly the sort of slightly rubbish 1980s nostalgia TV that we all really want now, after bingeing on the sophistication of Netflix and Danish box sets for too long. Like I said: torn. As Manford put it: “If there’s one thing this show gives you, it’s variety.” |