So how fares The Assembly, the interview show where a group of learning disabled, autistic and neurodiverse people interview a celebrity, the only rule being that no subject is out of bounds?
I reviewed it favourably in Community Living last summer, impressed by its freshness, the interviewers’ disarming of their prey with direct questions and the impressive mix of honesty, seriousness and humour.
The show is now in series 2, a danger zone for any new format, where the participants become more knowing and are pre-warned. Series 2 was when The Apprentice started its descent from a group of people interested in setting up businesses to a gaggle of poor souls desperate to be on the television.
Will The Assembly suffer from second series syndrome, descending into a chat show with invited celebs expertly skirting and resisting the devastatingly direct questions?
Stephen Fry might have watched the first series of Assembly but still walked into an expertly constructed giant elephant trap. A young man read (beautifully) a Wordsworth poem, one of Fry’s favourites. Fry reacted emotionally to the concept of material wealth and “getting and spending”: “We are out of tune, don’t you agree?”
The next questioner immediately started to list all the products Fry had advertised: “Twinings Tea, Pioneer Hi Fi, Walkers Crisps, M&S…” (there were 11 more). “Is there anything you wouldn’t do for money?” was the follow-up. “Thanks for reminding me,” groaned Fry, head buried in hands. Gotcha. Out of tune indeed.
There were moments when Fry came out better – talking movingly about cocaine addiction, being bipolar and being a Jewish atheist in a world where anti-Semitism is bubbling alarmingly. But there were also a couple of lengthy anecdotes more suited to a conventional interview format where celebrities are given free rein to talk about how marvellous they are (and deflect more searching questions).
I had the same mixed feelings about Nicola Sturgeon (others have told me they were very moved by this episode), who also seemed pre-prepared.
Asked about her arrest under caution, corruption charges against her husband (he has since pleaded guilty) and their subsequent estrangement, she appeared to answer honestly and earnestly. But, however many times you watched – and I did, several times – her answers gave away little. It felt like an astute political operator at work.
As with Fry, there were also moments of honest sadness and humour. Sturgeon talked openly of her miscarriage and subsequent decision not to adopt.
Asked what she would say to her younger self she said it would be to lighten up, but added that her younger self didn’t like advice “so would probably have told me to f*ck off”.
Then, in episode 3, enter Lenny Henry, who for me, along with these brilliant interviewers, gave us the best episode yet. Respectful and taking every question seriously, it felt that he was engaged in a discussion rather than fending off questions.
He was reminded that in the past he has named Michael Jackson and Bill Cosby as his idols. “Who are your idols now – and should we put them on a watchlist?” Maybe we should appreciate people’s talents, Henry suggested, but perhaps we shouldn’t have idols. Put people on a pedestal, he implied, and all they can do is fall off.
The room warmed to his thoughtful responses.
There was much more. He seemed to seek answers with the group when he spoke about his bizarre time as a 16-year-old on the Black and White Minstrel Show, among blacked-up white performers.
And there was his trademark wit. “What’s happened to your waxwork in Madame Tussauds?”
“I think they’ve melted it down and made two Will Smiths.”
So, the format still works, but the interviewers face new challenges. They seem to rise to them, framing sequences of questions expertly to draw out the underlying truth, not allowing themselves to be knocked off course by celeb chat.
Keep going, The Assembly – you’re winning.
