Super Gran didn't need special powers in this Scottish TV golden age
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작성자 Christy 댓글 0건 조회 4회 작성일 24-10-26 10:24본문
Born in Milton of Campsie, Stirlingshire, in March 1926, Gudrun Ure died peacefully in London on Monday, in her 99th year.
She was an accomplished actress and, in her prime, strikingly beautiful. But she was of a generation and in an age that was still a tough gig for women.
And, though of such serious acting chops that she played opposite Orson Welles, no less, e marketing in hindi a noted 1951 staging of Othello, Ure will be best remembered for Super Gran, an ITV romp for children thrust upon her when she was nearly 60.
It was very much in the kids' telly tradition of Grandad, Emu and Rentaghost, and was distinctly shortbread tin. Granny Smith, who had acquired magical powers after being struck by some ray, was pretty well Harry Lauder in drag: a vision in tartan and with a bunnet the size of a manhole cover.
But the show, which ran from 1985 to 1987, was a huge hit, centred on Granny Smith's weekly exploits in protecting the residents of Chiselton from Iain Cuthbertson's scheming Scunner Campbell.
Gudrun Ure, who was most famous for playing Super Gran in the 1980s TV show of the same name, has died aged 98
It enjoyed, e marketing examples too, such guest stars as Patrick Troughton, Billy Connolly (who also sang the theme song), strongman Geoff Capes and even, in one episode, George Best.
Super Gran was sold for broadcast in more than 60 countries and, for a sometime Desdemona, Gudrun Ure was proud of the part for the rest of her life, speaking fondly about it with her niece only last December as talk grew of reviving Super Gran for the cinema.
Otherwise, an acting career that had seen rather too much ‘resting, darling' won the spry Ure little parts in the likes of Doctor in the House, Carry On Regardless, Casualty, Midsomer Murders and so on.
But no tributes so far have touched on arguably her most consequential role, as Prentice McHoan's granny in BBC Scotland's 1996 adaptation of Iain Banks's novel about family, secrets, faith and sex and death - The Crow Road. A story most critics had declared unfilmable - and with one of the great lines of all time, ‘It was the day my grandmother exploded...'
Margot McHoan only appears for a few minutes in the first episode of the four-part television drama - before her funeral, and the unforgettable cremation - but she is central to the ‘inciting incident' and you remember her for the rest of the story.
Indeed, she is the inciting incident, sending young Prentice (Joe McFadden) on a quest to find out what really happened to his long missing uncle Rory (Peter Capaldi).
The Crow Road is unusual in the annals of Scottish TV drama because it is unabashedly middle class - the genre generally is of high flats, razors and methadone - and because it was actually filmed where Banks's novel is largely set, around Lochgair, Argyll.
There is a strong ensemble cast and relatable moments for any Scot - an edgy Hogmanay party, leaving a vital package on the ‘Blue Train' as you alight at Partick Station, and a painful morning-after where Dad wordlessly proffers a bottle of Irn-Bru.
It was a rich, thoughtful drama in a decade when the BBC largely played it safe with forgettable police procedurals, tame comedies and lavish costume dramas.
The Crow Road, too, was an enormous network hit, pulling in the sort of viewing figures - five million, regularly, in a BBC2 slot - for which the Corporation would assuredly kill today.
Considering he was then but 20, McFadden does an astonishing job of carrying the tale. ‘Prentice is possibly the most realistic young adult to be portrayed on TV,' mused one critic a decade ago.
‘He's well-meaning and self-obsessed, likable yet frequently irritating, a student everyman who is both the architect of his own downfall (thanks to a failure to attend lectures) and the only person who might be able to keep his family from falling apart.'
In two sad little twists, Prentice lives in constant, simmering rage against his Dad, Kenneth (Bill Paterson) - a kindly, far-seeing man who tries to keep everyone together amid the frustrations of a dead-end teaching job - and is quite overawed by his elder brother Lewis (Dougray Scott).
‘It's one of life's trials to have a brother,' says Prentice, bitterly, e marketing institute ‘who is cleverer, more talented and better looking than you...' But we see, long before Prentice does, that he is the substantial figure - and Lewis is a supercilious jerk.
As Prentice's love interest, too - when he is not besotted with an unattainable and leggy cousin - Valerie Edmond steals every scene she is in, and as an astute and empowered young woman for whom Prentice is less an amusing gallant than a sort of pet.
And it's sad that neither has ever since achieved the career heights which then seemed inevitable.
Joe McFadden fetched up in safe, soapy pay-the-mortage roles in the likes of Heartbeat and Holby City, and may in the end be best remembered for, in 2017, winning Strictly Come Dancing.
Yet such a television triumph as The Crow Road belies the fond myth that the 1980s and 1990s were an extraordinarily benighted time in Scotland.
In fact, the era of Thatcher and Major was one, and in many fields, of explosive cultural activity this side of the Tweed - distinguished fiction, a pulsating rock scene - from Ultravox through Big Country to Deacon Blue and Del Amitri - and, from Gregory's Girl to Tutti Frutti and Taggart, film and television that still stand up extraordinarily well.
Indeed, the hated ‘English Tory government', so blasted regularly at SNP conferences in that era, did far more for the Highlands and Islands than has since been delivered by a quarter-century of devolution.
Vital road bridges were finally built: Kessock, Kylesku, Dornoch and Skye. In 1979 the Caledonian MacBrayne fleet was still backboned by hoist-loaders, flit-boats and a paddle steamer. By 1997, every port had roll-on/roll-off facilities and most were served by a modern drive-through ferry.
For a delirious spell in the early 1980s - everywhere you turned on Lewis was a building site - the government was handing out 98 per cent home-improvement grants. As long as you incorporated a bit of old gable, you could erect a whole new pad for minimal personal outlay.
People could snap up their own council houses, aspiration ceased to be a dirty word, the NHS - by today's standards - was a model of efficiency and, with new confidence at home and overseas, there was a sense that the country was moving again.
Where are we today? As the architects of our own, devolved misfortune, with the leaders we deserve - and a creative realm stifled by point-and-shriek social media, the ‘neverendum' and the clammy hand of cancel culture.
And scant hope, alas, of Super Gran flying to the rescue.
LondonITV
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She was an accomplished actress and, in her prime, strikingly beautiful. But she was of a generation and in an age that was still a tough gig for women.
And, though of such serious acting chops that she played opposite Orson Welles, no less, e marketing in hindi a noted 1951 staging of Othello, Ure will be best remembered for Super Gran, an ITV romp for children thrust upon her when she was nearly 60.It was very much in the kids' telly tradition of Grandad, Emu and Rentaghost, and was distinctly shortbread tin. Granny Smith, who had acquired magical powers after being struck by some ray, was pretty well Harry Lauder in drag: a vision in tartan and with a bunnet the size of a manhole cover.
But the show, which ran from 1985 to 1987, was a huge hit, centred on Granny Smith's weekly exploits in protecting the residents of Chiselton from Iain Cuthbertson's scheming Scunner Campbell.
Gudrun Ure, who was most famous for playing Super Gran in the 1980s TV show of the same name, has died aged 98
It enjoyed, e marketing examples too, such guest stars as Patrick Troughton, Billy Connolly (who also sang the theme song), strongman Geoff Capes and even, in one episode, George Best.
Super Gran was sold for broadcast in more than 60 countries and, for a sometime Desdemona, Gudrun Ure was proud of the part for the rest of her life, speaking fondly about it with her niece only last December as talk grew of reviving Super Gran for the cinema.
Otherwise, an acting career that had seen rather too much ‘resting, darling' won the spry Ure little parts in the likes of Doctor in the House, Carry On Regardless, Casualty, Midsomer Murders and so on.
But no tributes so far have touched on arguably her most consequential role, as Prentice McHoan's granny in BBC Scotland's 1996 adaptation of Iain Banks's novel about family, secrets, faith and sex and death - The Crow Road. A story most critics had declared unfilmable - and with one of the great lines of all time, ‘It was the day my grandmother exploded...'
Margot McHoan only appears for a few minutes in the first episode of the four-part television drama - before her funeral, and the unforgettable cremation - but she is central to the ‘inciting incident' and you remember her for the rest of the story.
Indeed, she is the inciting incident, sending young Prentice (Joe McFadden) on a quest to find out what really happened to his long missing uncle Rory (Peter Capaldi).
The Crow Road is unusual in the annals of Scottish TV drama because it is unabashedly middle class - the genre generally is of high flats, razors and methadone - and because it was actually filmed where Banks's novel is largely set, around Lochgair, Argyll.
There is a strong ensemble cast and relatable moments for any Scot - an edgy Hogmanay party, leaving a vital package on the ‘Blue Train' as you alight at Partick Station, and a painful morning-after where Dad wordlessly proffers a bottle of Irn-Bru.
It was a rich, thoughtful drama in a decade when the BBC largely played it safe with forgettable police procedurals, tame comedies and lavish costume dramas.
The Crow Road, too, was an enormous network hit, pulling in the sort of viewing figures - five million, regularly, in a BBC2 slot - for which the Corporation would assuredly kill today.
Considering he was then but 20, McFadden does an astonishing job of carrying the tale. ‘Prentice is possibly the most realistic young adult to be portrayed on TV,' mused one critic a decade ago.
‘He's well-meaning and self-obsessed, likable yet frequently irritating, a student everyman who is both the architect of his own downfall (thanks to a failure to attend lectures) and the only person who might be able to keep his family from falling apart.'
In two sad little twists, Prentice lives in constant, simmering rage against his Dad, Kenneth (Bill Paterson) - a kindly, far-seeing man who tries to keep everyone together amid the frustrations of a dead-end teaching job - and is quite overawed by his elder brother Lewis (Dougray Scott).
‘It's one of life's trials to have a brother,' says Prentice, bitterly, e marketing institute ‘who is cleverer, more talented and better looking than you...' But we see, long before Prentice does, that he is the substantial figure - and Lewis is a supercilious jerk.
As Prentice's love interest, too - when he is not besotted with an unattainable and leggy cousin - Valerie Edmond steals every scene she is in, and as an astute and empowered young woman for whom Prentice is less an amusing gallant than a sort of pet.
And it's sad that neither has ever since achieved the career heights which then seemed inevitable.
Joe McFadden fetched up in safe, soapy pay-the-mortage roles in the likes of Heartbeat and Holby City, and may in the end be best remembered for, in 2017, winning Strictly Come Dancing.
Yet such a television triumph as The Crow Road belies the fond myth that the 1980s and 1990s were an extraordinarily benighted time in Scotland.
In fact, the era of Thatcher and Major was one, and in many fields, of explosive cultural activity this side of the Tweed - distinguished fiction, a pulsating rock scene - from Ultravox through Big Country to Deacon Blue and Del Amitri - and, from Gregory's Girl to Tutti Frutti and Taggart, film and television that still stand up extraordinarily well.
Indeed, the hated ‘English Tory government', so blasted regularly at SNP conferences in that era, did far more for the Highlands and Islands than has since been delivered by a quarter-century of devolution.
Vital road bridges were finally built: Kessock, Kylesku, Dornoch and Skye. In 1979 the Caledonian MacBrayne fleet was still backboned by hoist-loaders, flit-boats and a paddle steamer. By 1997, every port had roll-on/roll-off facilities and most were served by a modern drive-through ferry.
For a delirious spell in the early 1980s - everywhere you turned on Lewis was a building site - the government was handing out 98 per cent home-improvement grants. As long as you incorporated a bit of old gable, you could erect a whole new pad for minimal personal outlay.
People could snap up their own council houses, aspiration ceased to be a dirty word, the NHS - by today's standards - was a model of efficiency and, with new confidence at home and overseas, there was a sense that the country was moving again.
Where are we today? As the architects of our own, devolved misfortune, with the leaders we deserve - and a creative realm stifled by point-and-shriek social media, the ‘neverendum' and the clammy hand of cancel culture.
And scant hope, alas, of Super Gran flying to the rescue.
LondonITV
Should you liked this information and you want to obtain more information about marketing en queretaro kindly stop by our own webpage.
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