Strictly hard work and raw talent behind all the glitz and glamour

Published on Sunday 23 December 2007 20:18

FOR those who like their columnists hard-bitten, cynical and immune from the blandishments of popular culture – even on Christmas Eve – look away now

.

Until this weekend, my critical credentials were good. I've never bought a lottery ticket, scratch card or premium bond. I've studiously ignored Big Brother, easily bypassed I'm a Celebrity… and cannot debate the impact of Leon's recent X-Factor win on the Scottish psyche because I've no idea who he is.

But for the last ten weeks I've watched Strictly Come Dancing and on Saturday, for the first time ever, I voted. Not just to confound Len Goodman, one of the four judges, who predicted that "bloated" middle-aged women would back finalist Matt Di Angelo as "a bit of eye candy and a hunky young dude". Though it was useful provocation to make sure a fabulous female performer (Alesha Dixon) actually won.

Nor just because the surprise presence in the audience of Jeremy Paxman and David Walliams confirmed Strictly as the thinking person's acceptable bit of fluffy fun.

But principally because Strictly has managed to bring 30 years of ever more nasty, sarcastic, combative, pointless, effortless and air-headed Saturday night "entertainment" to a (sadly temporary) end.

BBC1's Strictly Come Dancing has not just been viewer-friendly – pulling in an estimated audience of 12 million on Saturday night to watch singer Dixon beat EastEnders star Di Angelo – it's the popular prime-time TV spectacular that has finally put the old-fashioned values of effort and enthusiasm back into mainstream light entertainment.

I'm a Celebrity… tests only the willingness of celebrities to perform and recover from the most humiliating tasks. Strictly tests the ability of non-dancing "civilians" to accept the strange rules and disciplines of ballroom dancing. It proves that great performance relies on hard graft, teamwork and planning. And demonstrates, week after week, that only massive "behind-the-scenes" effort gives performers that relaxed air of having fun – not "effortless" pouting, pontificating or petulance.

All those who regularly despair about the "I want it now" generation should sit teenagers in front of Strictly re-runs for a night. Wannabe presenters should also park themselves before the TV and watch the 79-year-old Bruce Forsyth in full flow to unlearn the stilted, autocue- driven behaviour that passes for "live" performance these days. Looking not a day older than in his 1970s Generation Game heyday, the ageing Bruce has given TV a much-needed facelift. His stubborn inclusion of "children" in the opening gambit and use of that old catch-phrase ("nice to see you") shows a man performing without any fear of sounding dated. Here is an old-fashioned song-and-dance man – telling corny jokes, slipping tap-dance routines into momentary gaps, ad-libbing wildly and successfully, but above all putting the contestants first. Bruce works a live audience to raise the spirits of the performers, not to crush them. No Weakest Link brutality here. Bruce is using skills gained over a lifetime to create the generous kind of crowd atmosphere that makes it easier for younger performers to achieve live excellence. And as for the judges – they've been like mini-performers themselves. Not stealing the show, but analysing it with humour, passion and spontaneity. Yip. I'm a total fan.

And that's strange from a feminist.

The reason so few of my generation can actually ballroom dance is that we balked at the gender stereotypes involved. "Highland" dancing was at least fairly feisty and equal. But for young women educated to believe we were any man's equal, the notion of "being led" in a passive and simpering ballroom dance routine just didn't appeal. For a 70s generation determined to "do our own thing", set dances and ordered moves were also philosophically repellent. Line dancing appeared mindless and doing anything by rote, by number or in serried ranks was anathema.

And the result? A lot of middle-aged former bohemians who can't get into clubs … and can't get into wedding waltzes either.

Of course, Strictly does uphold sexist stereotypes. Men lead, women follow. Men carry and twirl, women are thrown and juggled. And although just about every size, shape and age group has been squeezed into dinner jackets and ball-gowns, the larger, older and untwirlable gals were voted out first.

But niggling worries about ballroom sexism simply evaporate watching these dancers. Male and female, professional and amateur – they radiate drug-free, hype-free happiness, exhilaration and exuberance. Indeed, the powerful physicality of Alesha Dixon on the dance floor is as close as a woman will ever get to scoring the winning goal in a cup final. And we don't see women perform brilliantly on screen nearly often enough. Or see programme-makers willing to depend on the abilities of live performers.

The Strictly singers and musicians play live – delivering everything from rock 'n' roll thumpers to schmaltzy waltz classics. That's great news for entertainment – because "as live" TV shows have opted to rely on pre-packaged celebrity sound rather than relatively unknown live talent. Elsewhere brand is all – and if you don't believe that look at the latest list of favourite girls' names. Three names in the top five are there simply because of inclusion in recent chart hits – "Grace" for example is back in fashion, not because of Ms Kelly's timeless beauty or acting ability but because Grace was mentioned in a high-pitched Mika song.

The Noughties have been the Decade of Decadence and the Season of the Celebrity. But the popularity of genuine personality is making a comeback.

Cynicism is catching, but so is enthusiasm – and strictly speaking, that's good news for dancers and dreamers in 2008.