TELEVISION REVIEW: The box seat

The regular scheduling of a royal variety performance or similar confection on New Year's Eve is a stroke of psychological brilliance on the part of our TV programmers. Whatever it brings, the audience inevitably feels, the new year has to be better than this.

The 2007 RVP noted the monarch's diamond wedding anniversary and as if further frisson were needed had a Kiwi undercurrent. It featured people who began their TV careers here, such as co-host Philip Schofield; people from here, such as headliner Dame Kiri; and, um, lots of people who've been here. Like the Queen.

Kiri got things off to a rousing start with "God Save the Queen" a rather safe choice, I thought. The performance was marred only by the choice of a metallic-looking, copper-coloured suit that made her appear as though she was playing the Tin Man in The Wizard of Oz up the road and had just popped in between scenes. The show had the predictable slew of musicians, popular singers, ballet dancers, novelty acts, comedians and Joan Rivers.

By the time co-host Kate Thornton introduced the new wonder pianist, Lang Lan, by damning him with faint enthusiasm "even if you don't think you like classical music" Her Majesty was probably thinking a night out at the Diana inquest would have been more fun than this. It certainly would have felt shorter.

Perhaps, like us, the Queen uses these occasions to reflect on the state of variety, whose death has long been promised but never confirmed. For all its mediocrity and length this, the 79th such do, showed some life in the old genre yet. It proved the first rule of variety: the wackier the act the better. I for one little suspected to be seduced by the hand shadow puppetry of Raymond Crowe (Australian, so technically a New Zealander) whose interpretation of Louis Armstrong's "What a Wonderful World" brought a lump to my throat especially when he made the little bunny hop away into the distance (it's all over YouTube, if you missed the show). Schofield and Thornton kept their links to a pace that never exceeded the pedestrian. Schofield had us spellbound at one point with his story of how he told the producers they should get Crowe on and they told him they already had. The English National Ballet is "committed to keeping the classical ballet repertoire fresh and alive"; Bon Jovi have "played more than 2500 concerts in over 50 countries which means a staggering 32 million people have seen them play live". These weren't links they were mission statements. And then, just when you hope you've seen it all, a sexagenarian soprano performing one of the most shop-worn items in the operatic repertoire dazzles you with sheer musicianship. The Wizard of Oz presumably having finished early, Kiri returned, whipped out "O Mio Babbino Caro" and made it sound as though it had never been sung before.

The contrast could hardly have been greater with the ghastly Paul Potts. Why, you might have wondered, was he introduced with the story of his discovery on Britain's Got Talent, that story being told by the show's three judges. The answer is simple: Potts the entertainer is not about his ability as signer; he is about the story. The tale of his discovery and trajectory from phone salesman to superstar is what entertains us. Because there's precious little entertainment to be had in listening to the appalling noise he makes when he opens his mouth.

"What an amazing night it's been," enthused Thornton at the show's end, with scant regard for accuracy. Let's hope 2008's viewing is a little more inspiring.

- © Fairfax NZ News