Clive Anderson is a little baffled by his latest TV project. Starting on
Monday, the Angel of the North creator Antony Gormley’s mammoth One &
Other artwork will take over the fourth plinth in Trafalgar Square for 100
days. A total of 2,400 “plinthers”, most drawn from the general public, will
have total freedom to express themselves for one hour each.
The entire enterprise is being relayed on webcam, while Sky Arts is covering
it with a weekly show, filmed on location and hosted by Anderson. But given
the 56-year-old former barrister’s default mode of dry, deadpan, gently
sarcastic wit, will his role be to mock or to celebrate Gormley’s 24-hour
rolling art experiment?
“I hope I’ll be celebrating,” Anderson says. “But of all the projects I’ve
done, this is one of the most open-ended. I don’t know whether the crowd
will throw rotten eggs at the plinthers, or applaud them. I don’t think
anybody knows, not me and not Antony Gormley.”
Maybe the crowd will do both: applaud the plinthers while throwing eggs at
Clive? “They could do!” he says, laughing nervously. “We’re in a sort of
semi open-air studio a little bit away from the actual plinth . . . but, er,
I don’t want to encourage that.”
In a way, of course, One & Other is the ultimate improvised stand-up show.
Given Anderson’s roots as a performer at the nearby Comedy Store, has he
considered mounting the plinth himself?
“It hasn’t been suggested,” he says. “I’m rather hoping there’s a
disqualification rule, ha! I used to present Whose Line Is It Anyway?, and I
was quite glad the producer never let me get up and perform.”
Anderson is perhaps an odd choice to host One & Other. Though not guilty
of clichéd Grumpy Old Man outrage towards modern art, his tastes are more
middlebrow — Turner, Monet, Van Gogh — than conceptual.
“I’m very happy for people to experiment,” he nods. “But when something is an
interesting idea, I worry sometimes how I’m supposed to deal with it as an
observer. Like Damien Hirst’s formaldehyde sheep — that’s an interesting
idea, that anything can be a work of art. But do I want to have a slowly
rotting sheep in a tank in my front room?”
Second only to Stephen Fry, Anderson has amassed an impressively broad
portfolio of radio and TV credits. Yet history will probably always remember
him, perhaps unfairly, as the man who made the Bee Gees flounce out of an
interview in 1996.
“People only remember chat-show things that go wrong,” Anderson sighs. “One of
the great moments of TV, I’m sure to his great annoyance, is Parky being
attacked by Emu. It wouldn’t be as funny if he’d attacked me or Jonathan
Ross. It was funny because he attacked the highly respected Michael
Parkinson. Terry Wogan did hundreds of interviews, but the one people
remember is when George Best happened to be drunk. Who did I interview the
week before the Bee Gees? Nobody remembers.”
One & Other, Sky Arts 1, Mon, 8.15am; Clive also presents BBC Two
coverage of The First Night of the Proms on July 17 along with other Proms
during the season
Name your . . .
Favourite artists
Picasso I went to the Picasso exhibition at the National Gallery, and
it was full of interesting ideas that translated really well on to the
canvas. His range of skills was so wide.
Emily Young She’s quite a prominent sculptress. I happen to have one of
her earlier works (top right), so I’m pleased to see she has become more
prominent!
Turner You could almost call him the first Impressionist. Like Monet,
you’re on the borderline between knowing and not knowing what you’re looking
at.
Van Gogh The agony in the paintings was so strong. A simple bunch of
flowers was imbued with all the angst of the world.
Suzie Zamit Another sculptress, but she’s best known for designing a
commemorative two-pound coin. She is the daughter of a friend. I’m nakedly
promoting somebody I know.
Best chat-show guests
Mikhail Gorbachev A bit of a challenge. He came on with his translator,
so we had to make that work within the context of an entertaining chat show.
But he was very good at it, and we got a kind of triple whammy out of every
joke.
Robin Williams I can’t really claim credit for this but with Robin
Williams you just say: ‘Hello Robin, what’s your latest film about?’ Then at
the end you say ‘Thank you very much.’ As long as he’s on good form, it’s
brilliant.
Björk I did two interviews with Bjork. The first one was very bad,
because of me, the second was better. But she was good in both.
Dusty Springfield I asked her a lot of pretty stupid questions but she
came across really well. Which I now realise is the whole point of chat
shows. I finally worked it out.
Peter Cook A special programme where he played four fictional
characters. I particularly liked that, not just because I got to work with
Peter Cook, but, in an egotistical way, it was also my idea.
Worst chat-show interviews
The Bee Gees The second half of the Bee Gees interview was going to be
great! But unfortunately I misjudged that badly and they walked out. I was
just bantering.
Jeffrey Archer Sometimes you just say the wrong thing, you trample on
the wrong area. The problem with Jeffrey Archer is there are so many wrong
areas.
Richard Branson He ended up pouring water over me. He didn’t seem that
relaxed during the interview, and I think he just wanted to jolly it up at
the end.
David Bailey He came on with the idea that he wasn’t going to say
anything other than yes or no, and he stuck to that rigidly. It ended up
more comedy monologue than interview.
Barry Manilow It went well for about five minutes, then I think I did
too many jokes. A bit depressing. I always try to ask questions that people
at home are thinking, then smooth it out with a joke. But I now realise, of
course, that putting a joke in makes it worse.
Favourite comedians
Peter Cook I’ve mentioned Peter already but, as everyone in comedy will
tell you, he had an amazing ability to go off on imaginative flights of
fancy.
Alexei Sayle Alexei is a much more relaxed figure now. But when I was
first performing at the Comedy Store he was the compere, and absolutely
jam-packed with energy.
Frankie Howerd I wrote jokes for Frankie for a while. As a performer he
was brilliant, funny in a way I don’t think he even knew he was funny. He
got jokes round the wrong way quite often, but they sort of came out
funnier.
Jack Dee I’ve always liked the concentration and tightness of his
jokes, and also that miserable, grumpy thing. The line between tragedy and
comedy is often just down to whether people laugh or not.
Tony Hancock Talking about miserable comedians, with Hancock the line
between comedy and tragedy was sort of rubbed out towards the end of his
life. Galton and Simpson, who wrote for him, were experts at getting under
his skin.
