Brave Sir Tony Robinson set off last week in search of the Holy Grail. “It’s going to be a hell of a journey,” he said, although the impact of these words was dulled by the accompanying footage of Sir Tony pulling away in a Vauxhall Astra saloon.
His quest as presenter of The Real Da Vinci Code (C4, Thursday) was to discover whether there is any truth in Dan Brown’s controversial bestselling novel. Did Leonardo da Vinci know secrets of a faith-shattering nature, or is it all just a clever way to sell an intriguing thriller? The plot of The Da Vinci Code is a little complicated, but it centres on a conspiracy within the Catholic church to cover up the fact that Christ and Mary Magdalene were not only married, but had a child, who later assassinated President Kennedy to cover up the fact that the moon landings were being faked by the freemasons.
The trouble with modern television is that it can be complicated or it can be entertaining, but it can’t usually be both. The Real Da Vinci Code managed to pull off this rare trick. It looked at the elements that are central to The Da Vinci Code — the Grail, the descendants of Christ, the Knights Templar, the Priory of Sion secret society — and demolished them one by one. The Grail legend, according to the experts consulted, was created by the French poet Chrétien de Troyes in 1180. The Knights Templar did not grow rich because they had discovered the grail secrets; they grew rich because they invented an international banking service. Best of all, the shady Priory of Sion secret society — supposedly the guardians of the knowledge that the French kings were descended from Christ — was apparently created as a practical joke by a journalist, a minor French aristocrat and an eccentric, in 1967.
The most remarkable revelation to emerge from this was Robinson’s skill as an interviewer. The main source for The Da Vinci Code appears to be the 1982 book Holy Blood, Holy Grail, which first suggested God might have had grandchildren. Robinson politely but firmly suggested to the book’s co-author that this was a bit on the unlikely side, and that perhaps the evidence for the secret societies might also be sketchy. He then allowed the author to put his case without interruption, leaving the long pauses and uncomfortable smile to speak for themselves.
Of course, the fact that Baldrick has compiled a strong case against The Da Vinci Code will make absolutely no difference to the success or influence of the book. These myths are like God, Santa and Queens Park Rangers winning the European Cup: either you believe, or you don’t.
Which was the dilemma faced by viewers of Ahead of the Class (ITV1, Sunday), a heart-warming example of what is glibly referred to in the newspaper world as a triumph over tragedy. It was a dramatised account of the way the headteacher Marie Stubbs turned around St George’s school, the inner-city comprehensive notorious for the murder of a previous headmaster, Philip Lawrence. As drama, it was excellent in every way. What I had expected was this: opening shot of rioting children and Julie Walters marching down corridor with determined expression. She meets initial resistance, but everything ends tearfully as grateful children chorus “Thanks, Miss”. There was all that — plenty of corridor-marching, certainly — but the bits in the middle were more subtle and complicated, built around Walters’s fine performance.
Still, it is impossible to watch a drama based on real life without doubts. Surely it can’t have been this easy? Did thuggish, surly teenagers, dragged reluctantly to school, suddenly become eager young students after a few wise words from Lady Stubbs? Almost as soon as you are moved to admiration by a scene, you wonder whether it really was like that, or whether it has simply been dropped in for dramatic effect. I notice that former teachers at St George’s have already objected to the way they have been portrayed, and cast doubt on at least one incident.
By the way, it was good to see Tony Slattery back in a decent role on mainstream television, as a disillusioned teacher. About 10 years ago, he was in everything. Then, suddenly, he was gone. Let’s hope he paces his career a little more carefully this time round.
Slattery’s successor as the man you can’t seem to switch off, no matter how hard you try, is Lord Winston, who last week presented How to Sleep Better (BBC1, Wednesday). Ironically, there was absolutely no chance of dozing off in front of this. It was breathless in its quest for the secrets of sleep. We’ve got surveys, it yelled. We’ve got experts! And people in white coats! And people with clipboards! Quick, over here! We’ve got some people doing stuff on computers! Look, look! Hurry, hurry! Busy, busy! I’ve never seen a programme that was so frightened of letting the viewer’s attention wander.
Eventually, it settled down to examine the sleeping problems of five volunteers, which proved unexpectedly cheering. A lady from Middlesbrough who snored like an elephant with adenoids was given a mouth brace, and so slept in the same bed as her husband for the first time in nine years. There was similar relief for a stiff-upper-lipped retired RAF officer who had suffered from insomnia for a quarter of a century. It struck me that the encounter between this sceptical old man and the attractive young psychologist who treated him — was she Spanish? — could be turned into a good film. It even had a happy ending: now that he is getting a decent night’s sleep, he feels fits enough to travel to Canada to see his son and grandchildren.
If all else fails to get you to sleep, I normally find a documentary about the European parliament does the trick. In Kilroy — Behind the Tan (BBC3, Monday; BBC2, Saturday), we followed Robert Kilroy-Silk as he tried to take over the UK Independence Party (UKIP). The producer, Emeka Onono, spent six months with the former chat-show host, but what did we learn for his efforts? We learnt that Roger Knapman, the leader of UKIP, would probably look unconvincing as chairman of Lilliput District Council, and that his party has a lot to learn about politics. We learnt that Kilroy-Silk is sometimes charming, sometimes rather less so. And we learnt that he seems very fond of Mrs Kilroy-Silk.
The whole point of spending so much time with a public figure is to win their trust and encourage them to lower their guard. But Kilroy’s guard seems to be operated by a 24-hour Securicor service, and Onono never really managed to find his way through to the real man, if such a thing exists. Neither did Onono have Louis Theroux’s knack of asking a cheeky question at precisely the right moment. Kilroy always seemed to be hiding his irritation when the cameras were present.
That is not to say there was not the odd amusing moment. “I could not be less interested,” Neil Kinnock said when asked if he was looking forward to working with the new MEP. Moments later, the two men were sharing a lift together, shuffling from foot to foot and looking embarrassed.
