Thanks to the shenanigans of Brit-art superstars like Messrs Emin and Hirst, Art has become a lucrative appendage of pop culture, so it’s only logical that it should be given its own version of X Factor, with a bit of Apprentice-style authoritarianism bolted on for good measure. In School of Saatchi, a panel of judges sifts through a long list of hopefuls who are whittled down to 12, then six, then finally to the chosen one who will be installed in a London studio for three years under Charles Saatchi’s patronage.
Saatchi (“one of the most influential and enigmatic figures in the world of modern art”) eschews the camera and monitors the operation at arm’s length, sending in his trusted aide Rebecca Wilson to relay his comments, and delivering his imperious verdict on who’s in and who’s out over the phone. Rumour has it that an early treatment for the show proposed to have Saatchi’s disembodied voice coming out of a loudspeaker, like Charlie in Charlie’s Angels.
In approved reality TV style, School of Saatchi commenced with a preamble where we could have a good scoff at the really crap candidates who were dismissed out of hand, like the sculptor who wanted to convey the concept of “connecting with an artist” via two crumpled balls of paper containing email messages. But soon we were meeting and greeting more plausible contenders, such as Hong Kong-born video artist Suki Chan, sculptor Samuel Zealey or the amusingly excitable multimedia artist Saad Qureshi.
Nobody wanted to be Simon Cowell, though theartsdesk’s favourite critic Matthew Collings kept putting contestants on the spot by asking them, “Why is it art?”, but Tracey Emin boldly embraced the Cheryl Cole role. Not the legs and the spangly micro-dresses, obviously, but she exhibited an unsuspected empathy for the nervous candidates, and stepped in decisively to rescue installation artist Eugenie Scrasce from expulsion. Before Tracey’s divine intervention, art curator Kate Bush thought Eugenie had something fake and superficial about her. Afterwards, and having witnessed Eugenie’s challenging juxtaposition of an Ikea door-handle and a lipstick-stained whistle, Kate was hailing her as an heir to Marcel Duchamp. Collings warned us that the age of Rubens and Picasso is behind us, never to return, but with explosive talent like this on display, we are surely poised to celebrate the dawn of a new Belle Epoque.
BBC Four's Women We Loved series continued with Gracie!, in which Jane Horrocks mined her Lancastrian roots to portray World War Two-vintage caterwauler Gracie Fields. Fields was one of Britain's biggest stars just as the lights started to go out all over Europe, but time has displayed a somewhat jaundiced attitude to her singular brand of entertainment. Horrocks possesses an authentic set of singing tackle, and is renowned for her impersonations of the likes of Shirley Bassey and Judy Garland, so Fields' terrifying arsenal of squawks and cackles were well within her compass (Jane Horrocks as Gracie, pictured below).
You'd have thought the piercing ghastliness of "Wish Me Luck as You Wave Me Goodbye" or "Walter, Walter, Lead Me to the Altar" would have driven the citizenry screaming from the theatre, but apparently they paid money to listen.Musical taste aside, Gracie! concentrated on her marriage to Italian film director Monty Banks, who would have been interned as an enemy alien if Fields hadn't managed to persuade Winston Churchill to send her, with Monty in tow, off to Canada to boost Britain's war effort abroad. This provoked accusations that she'd abandoned Blighty in its darkest hour, and her popularity never fully recovered.
Fields had a complicated and rather interesting life, but this wasn't the film to do it justice. It looked like a series of scenes from the kind of stage musical that closes during the interval on opening night, and was hamstrung by cardboard characterisation and risible efforts at period detail. Sequences like the one where Fields, visiting British troops in France in 1940, was implored by an eager squaddie to "sing a song to remind me of my sweetheart - her name's Sally" wouldn't have made the cut in a junior school panto.
To add insult to injury, Tom Hollander played Monty Banks as the twin brother of David Suchet's Poirot, all silk scarves, pomaded hair and an effete Continental lisp. The real "hardy lass from the North" would have been aghast.
Gracie! repeats on BBC Four on Thursday November 26 at 10pm, Friday November 27 at 12.50am and Saturday November 28 at 9pm
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