Black, White and Blue

"Tonight at 8:30, television loses its virginity!" proclaimed the ad in Sydney's Daily Mirror. An irresistible come-on, and most sets in Australia's largest city probably flicked to Channel 10 that night in March to see what the action was. Most of them have stayed there ever since, and No. 96, a kind of salacious Peyton Place, has not only jumped to the top of the ratings but changed Australian nighttime habits. Even at posh parties hostesses expect half their guests to hover around the set while the show is on.

No. 96 is the address of an apartment house in Sydney's swinging Paddington district, and the story, which runs five nights a week, tells what goes on inside. It is mostly sex--in various forms and combinations. The daughter of the delicatessen owner on the ground floor gets gang-raped, hooked on drugs and pregnant, more or less in that order. A woman about to have a baby discovers her schoolteacher husband in bed with another woman and, impulsively running away, falls down a flight of stairs and suffers a miscarriage. The druggist downstairs is seen kissing his mistress, who everybody thinks is his sister, and whispers of incest fly up and down the stairwells.

Familiar Backsides. Though the sex would be considered tame enough by TV audiences in some European countries, it is far more vivid than anything seen on home screens in America. The blonde playgirl in Apt. Six is usually glimpsed half nude, sometimes with nipples showing beneath a see-through blouse. A husband runs his hand under his wife's dress in one episode, and in another, one of the two homosexuals in Apt. Five walks on camera in bikini briefs. Full frontal nudity is out, but both female and male backsides are a familiar sight.

The script, which sometimes rises to the level of banality, suggests--even in the title--much more than is seen. The result is often unintended humor. Vera, the sexy 40-year-old, sits up in bed with her uncovered back to the audience and says to her husband, who is standing naked against the wall: "Harry, you could get arrested for what you just did." "Love," says Harry, "can make you do strange things." Replies the violated Vera, with almost maidenly temper: "Give me hate any time!"

Says Don Cash, who created the series along with fellow American Bill Harmon: "We're not making great television. We were asked by a commercial TV station to produce a program that appeals to a mass market and makes money. That is all we set out to do." In fact, the production is amateurish, with spotty acting and poor camera work and direction to match the inane script. Still, so overwhelming has been its Australian success that the producers are looking for export markets. Because the show is black and white--and slightly blue --the U.S., perhaps fortunately, is not on the sales list.

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.