James Walton

Like much jazz, it might have benefited from being less solemn: BBC4’s Ronnie’s reviewed

Plus: a winning reminder of a once ubiquitous, now entirely vanished television genre, the song and dance spectacular

Did we learn what really went on at Ronnie Scott's in this reverential BBC4 doc? Image: BBC / Goldfinch Entertainment / Reel Art Press / Dave Brolan 
issue 21 November 2020

Ronnie’s: Ronnie Scott and His World-Famous Jazz Club was like the TV equivalent of an authorised biography: impressively thorough, often illuminating, certainly long — and perhaps a bit too reverent for its own good.

The programme began with some of today’s jazz musicians testifying to just how great the club is. From there, we cut to the story of Scott himself, with his Jewish East End background and his early love of the saxophone. By 16, he was accomplished enough to cross the frontier from East End to West, and played in various swing bands. But then he and his fellow 1940s hipsters discovered bebop, a reaction against commercialised swing that preferred its audiences to listen earnestly rather than merely dance. And with that, Scott started performing on liners going to New York — mainly on the grounds that they were going to New York, where he could see Thelonious Monk, Charlie Parker and Dizzy Gillespie playing in different clubs on the same night.

There was a strong sense that, even in happier times, the programme was opting for discretion wherever possible

Back in Britain, he decided there should be a New York-style jazz club in London — although only once he’d started inviting American musicians over did the punters really start showing up. And watching the terrific clips on Sunday, you could certainly see why: Ella Fitzgerald in surprisingly flirtatious mood with the audience; Buddy Rich giving his drum kit the sort of pounding that shouldn’t be achievable with only two arms; Gillespie proving once again that it’s impossible to watch him without thinking: ‘Blimey, look at that bloke’s cheeks!’

Towards the end the programme darkened, as the full extent of Scott’s depression — a closely guarded secret at the time — emerged. Never far below the surface, it took over more and more in his later life, especially after a botched dental operation meant he couldn’t play his beloved saxophone anymore.

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