trust the British viewing public to make the right choice and to pick a Nancy they’d fork out to see. In many ways, with these programmes, it almost doesn’t matter what the West End show is, as the public are voting for the performer and they’re going to sell out the production because of that performer.
Denise and I decided that we’d give our opinions strongly in the first show, 15 and then we would back off during the second one and let the viewers make their own decisions. In the second programme, we decided to give positive feedback to both Jessie and Jodie.
Honestly, this final contest was one of the best I’ve participated in since Maria . Both Jessie and Jodie sang really well. Their performances made for incredibly competitive and compelling TV.
When Graham Norton, the show’s presenter, asked us for our comments after the contestants’ final songs, both Denise and I praised them equally. Barry knocked Jodie and boosted Jessie. Cameron cut down Jodie and boosted Jessie. Andrew did the same. I looked at Denand shrugged, because we knew that it was out of their hands and maybe, just maybe, they had hurt Jessie’s cause.
After the phone lines closed and before the winner was announced, Graham asked us to make our choice.
‘John, who is your Nancy?’
‘Jodie.’
‘Denise?’
‘Jodie.’
Barry, the Lord and Cameron all picked Jessie.
‘The winning Nancy is …’ – twenty-minute-long dramatic pause – ‘… Jodie!’
Denise and I jumped up so fast, I felt dizzy. We threw ourselves into each other’s arms. I was in tears and was punching the air like a madman.
After the excitement calmed, and the show ended, I did what I’d done every week in every one of the shows on which I’d been judging: I went over to the family and the supporters of the performer who had lost and I told them that I thought their daughter or son was talented and would go far. I did this to every Maria and to every Joseph and to every Nancy who lost.
Only twice have my condolences gone badly. Once, I had a parent lash out at me. You know what? I’d likely behave in the same way if it were my son or daughter. It was always a hugely emotional moment for everyone involved.
What’s really important for all of us to remember about these particular talent shows is that they put bums on theatre seats and 90 per cent of the finalists find work in musical theatre. Jessie was no exception. She was not Nancy, but she was good enough to perform in Stephen Sondheim’s A Little Night Music in the West End, and she was wonderful.
CHAPTER SEVEN
‘MAKE THE DIRT STICK’
★
‘I want you all to know that I’m writing this … stark naked, with my knees behind my ears, and I’m using only one hand.’
A. A. Gill
A few good lessons learned from a really bad week
1 Sometimes going along for a ride can take you in the wrong direction (especially if it’s in a wheelbarrow on the radio).
2 Apologize first, analyse later.
3 Just because I have confidence in me, doesn’t mean my blues don’t get black.
4 Being ‘seen’ on the radio is an oxymoron.
W hen I was growing up in America in the late seventies and eighties, I adored TV series like The Donny and Marie Show , The Sonny and Cher Show and Barbara Mandrell and the Mandrell Sisters because they had spectacle, surprises, banter and lots of music. Little-known fact: when I was performing at Opryland USA in Nashville in the eighties, my first TV gig was as a backing dancer and singer on Barbara Mandrell’s Opryland Special , and, might I say, she was a treat to work behind.
About two years ago, when the BBC and I first began serious discussions regarding a possible series for a Saturday night, even before we imagined Tonight’s the Night , I knew I wanted two things: firstly, that the programme hark back to those variety shows of my youth; and secondly, that the company set up by Gavin and me, Barrowman Barker Productions (BBP), be part of the production team.
Oh,
Denise and I decided that we’d give our opinions strongly in the first show, 15 and then we would back off during the second one and let the viewers make their own decisions. In the second programme, we decided to give positive feedback to both Jessie and Jodie.
Honestly, this final contest was one of the best I’ve participated in since Maria . Both Jessie and Jodie sang really well. Their performances made for incredibly competitive and compelling TV.
When Graham Norton, the show’s presenter, asked us for our comments after the contestants’ final songs, both Denise and I praised them equally. Barry knocked Jodie and boosted Jessie. Cameron cut down Jodie and boosted Jessie. Andrew did the same. I looked at Denand shrugged, because we knew that it was out of their hands and maybe, just maybe, they had hurt Jessie’s cause.
After the phone lines closed and before the winner was announced, Graham asked us to make our choice.
‘John, who is your Nancy?’
‘Jodie.’
‘Denise?’
‘Jodie.’
Barry, the Lord and Cameron all picked Jessie.
‘The winning Nancy is …’ – twenty-minute-long dramatic pause – ‘… Jodie!’
Denise and I jumped up so fast, I felt dizzy. We threw ourselves into each other’s arms. I was in tears and was punching the air like a madman.
After the excitement calmed, and the show ended, I did what I’d done every week in every one of the shows on which I’d been judging: I went over to the family and the supporters of the performer who had lost and I told them that I thought their daughter or son was talented and would go far. I did this to every Maria and to every Joseph and to every Nancy who lost.
Only twice have my condolences gone badly. Once, I had a parent lash out at me. You know what? I’d likely behave in the same way if it were my son or daughter. It was always a hugely emotional moment for everyone involved.
What’s really important for all of us to remember about these particular talent shows is that they put bums on theatre seats and 90 per cent of the finalists find work in musical theatre. Jessie was no exception. She was not Nancy, but she was good enough to perform in Stephen Sondheim’s A Little Night Music in the West End, and she was wonderful.
CHAPTER SEVEN
‘MAKE THE DIRT STICK’
★
‘I want you all to know that I’m writing this … stark naked, with my knees behind my ears, and I’m using only one hand.’
A. A. Gill
A few good lessons learned from a really bad week
1 Sometimes going along for a ride can take you in the wrong direction (especially if it’s in a wheelbarrow on the radio).
2 Apologize first, analyse later.
3 Just because I have confidence in me, doesn’t mean my blues don’t get black.
4 Being ‘seen’ on the radio is an oxymoron.
W hen I was growing up in America in the late seventies and eighties, I adored TV series like The Donny and Marie Show , The Sonny and Cher Show and Barbara Mandrell and the Mandrell Sisters because they had spectacle, surprises, banter and lots of music. Little-known fact: when I was performing at Opryland USA in Nashville in the eighties, my first TV gig was as a backing dancer and singer on Barbara Mandrell’s Opryland Special , and, might I say, she was a treat to work behind.
About two years ago, when the BBC and I first began serious discussions regarding a possible series for a Saturday night, even before we imagined Tonight’s the Night , I knew I wanted two things: firstly, that the programme hark back to those variety shows of my youth; and secondly, that the company set up by Gavin and me, Barrowman Barker Productions (BBP), be part of the production team.
Oh,
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