Review

In the afterglow of the success of last year's Perry Como and Dinah Shore shows, the TV networks are taking a high shine to popular singers in jumbo productions. In fact, the TV season threatens to be, in the phrase of one critic, a case of "the bland leading the bland." TV's Pepsi-Cola girl, Polly Bergen, got mired down in embarrassingly labored exchanges with a shrill, scenery-chewing "panel" of other show folk, and only when she used her high but lilty voice did her seductive talents poke through. The Hit Parade was back (in stunning color for the 200,000 color-set owners), with a bevy of new performers led by young, moist-eyed Jill Corey, whose vocal renderings come with a lush, built-in sob. On the densely populated show called The Big Record, moonfaced Patti Page was mostly what the late Fred Allen called a Pointer, i.e., someone who points at someone else doing an act and says "Watch him"--the sort of trick that "you could teach a dog to do by smearing meat on the actors." But when Patti lent her big, plain voice to the color-drenched proceedings, she was as pretty and wholesome as a milkmaid. The new George Gobel-Eddie Fisher songfest was not exactly the "wonderful show" Eddie called it, but shy, impish Lonesome George again proved himself the master of the minor key--even when delivering a monologue plugging NBC color. Of all the new musicals, the best was the simplest: The Lux Show (replacing the old Lux Theater), with blonde, willowy Rosemary Clooney. Whether delivering barrelhouse or blues, Songstress Clooney's voice has a distinctive cello quality that makes her refreshingly different from the sound-alike mass.

CBS's Playhouse 90, TV's only 1 1/2-hour show, was last year's best dramatic program. So far this year it is only the longest. Last week the show tried an adaptation of Topaze, Marcel Pagnol's tart comedy about a naively idealistic French teacher who is gulled by a grafting politician until he turns the tables, learning at last that vice is its own reward. The preposterous little fable is funniest when played in deadly earnest. Playhouse 90 pitched it in a mood of self-conscious farce with blackouts to end each act, played it with an ill-starred cast. Comedian Ernie Kovacs as Topaze and Carl Reiner as the swindler heightened the effect of a rambling revue skit, did not so much dominate as swamp their roles with their familiar TV personalities. Still, in a medium that mines so much of its comedy from mothers and fathers who know best, even this production of Topaze had the rare virtue of a refreshingly cynical point of view.

As the second edition of its 26-part Wisdom series, NBC presented a perceptive glimpse of Israel's Prime Minister David Ben-Gurion, 70, in his Tel Aviv library. Notable quote from the man who built a new country: "I'm living in a house and I know I built it. I work in a workshop which was constructed by me. I speak a language which I developed. And I know I shape my life according to my desires by my own ability. I feel I am safe. I can defend myself. I am not afraid. This is the greatest happiness a man can feel--that he could be a partner with the Lord in creation. This is the real happiness of man--creative life, conquest of nature, and a great purpose.''

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