Be it her pioneering approach to consumer injustice or her extraordinary tackling of systemic social issues, the broadcaster was at the forefront of what television could be
Esther Rantzen’s early CV reads like a chronicle of the world working as the 1960s thought it should. A smart young woman, privately educated in north London from the age of 10 (the Rantzens had previously lived in New York), then at Somerville College, Oxford, she started on the bottom rung and had exactly the right mixture of graft and luck. Having trained as a radio studio manager, she got her first TV production job as a researcher for BBC-3, Ned Sherrin’s satirical show in the mid-60s. From there, she went to Braden’s Week, a magazine show hosted by Bernard Braden, a serendipitous connection for two reasons – first, he put his researchers on screen, then he decided to return to his native Canada. From there, That’s Life! was born, with Rantzen as the main presenter. It was 1973, and it was conceived as a new, revamped Braden’s Week. In reality, it was nothing like it.
That’s Life! ebbed and flowed over its 21 years, but at its various peaks, it would draw in audiences of more than 22 million. It definitely became more searching and serious as it went on, but even from the start, it would have bizarre and audacious gear changes, from an item about funny-shaped vegetables to another on lethal patio doors without skipping a beat. That is not to cast shade on the lighter material: there was a dog called Prince that could say “sausages”, and a generation of us have not been able to eat sausages without saying “sausages” in Prince’s voice at least once since. It was delightful to watch partly because there was so much texture to the studio audience’s laughter: there’s one part affection for the dog, one part affection for the owner, five parts, dude, your dog is not saying “Anthony”, and then this mad overflow of excitement when the Yorkie says something that definitely sounds like “sausages”. Then, wham, the next story would be a toddler with life-changing injuries from a poorly surfaced playground, then Victoria Wood would come on and be funny.
Continue reading...