How to save the BBC

Towards the end of his life the art critic Hilton Kramer was overheard leaving a cinema with his wife. One of them said to the other: ‘Darling, from now on could we only see films that we’ve seen?’ I know the feeling. I find it almost impossible to watch most of the films that now come out, and have spent quite enough hours with serial killers on Netflix. In the same way that there comes a time when it is a greater pleasure to reread than to always read a new book, so perhaps it is the same with film and television.

Yet I soon realised that there is a vast chasm in place of what I want to see. This first became clear when I was talking with a friend about Anthony Blunt. ‘Do you know A Question of Attribution?’ I asked, and it turned out he’d never heard of it. I started to rhapsodise about how wonderful it was – vintage Alan Bennett – how subtle it is, how beautiful the performances by James Fox and Prunella Scales. So I looked and looked and there was no way at all to watch it. There was a secondhand VHS of it somewhere online, but who still has a VHS player?

Anyhow, I realised how many things there are from not that long ago (this was only 1991) which have effectively disappeared. And – without wanting to bash the BBC in this festive season – the hole is a BBC-shaped one.

Bashing the BBC is something of a leitmotif for non-lefty columnists, and I don’t especially like doing it, mainly because like most of us I have certain happy memories of the broadcaster. I remember television plays that were wonderful, concerts and interviews I would never have had a chance to see if it had not been for the BBC.