If my being a big cheese in the media world ends up more Babybel than Camembert, I think I’ll
give peace-making a whirl. I’ve always had a knack for tempering tempers, for
diffusing situations that might make others quiver. Robbie and Gary? I’d have
had it all mopped up before you could say "Angel". I’m guessing it goes back to when I was five: the day Lily Lewis nabbed Beth
Simpson’s Pocahontas pencil case. My
Year 1 teacher nearly had a revolt on her hands that would rival the afternoon
the water fountain packed-up (bet she still has nightmares), but, luckily, I
swept into the fray. Five minutes on, Beth had her cherished Disney case back
in her arms. I don’t know why the UN doesn’t bribe all volatile countries with
a few extra milk cartons and the promise of double-time with a class
skipping-rope.
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| Awkward family photo? Graham with last week's guests |
Now, prodigious as I am at navigating my way through tricky
terrain, even I had to applaud the way Graham Norton danced his way through
what might have been a coma-inducingly awkward show last Friday night. Joining
Graham on the sofa were actors Mark Wahlberg and Michael Fassbender, as well as
US funny-woman Sarah Silverman. A stellar-line up and an easy night for Mr.
Norton, if it hadn’t been for the fact that Wahlberg was more sozzled than a
post-lash Tulisa. Tweeters were quick on the uptake, noting the way Wahlberg
sloshed his way through the bulk of the interview, interrupted the spiel of his
fellow guests and even (Scout’s honour) started stroking Graham’s chest. What
most commentators failed to pick up on, though, was the way Graham dealt with
it all with all the aplomb of a seasoned pub-landlord. This guy made Alfie Moon
look bumbling, Peggy Mitchell a pussycat.
The first hurdle for Graham, after getting the guests out on
stage, was getting Wahlberg to talk about his new flick Broken City, or, more accurately, getting him to stop talking about it. Mark launched
into a synopsis the length of a Tolkien trilogy, only pausing to comment on how
the plot about an ex-cop is really quite poignant in its portrayal of corrupt
modern life. It was like watching a drunk uncle at a funeral, and when a clip
showing the film in all its darkness ran, Wahlberg looked set to put a big,
fat, melancholy dampener on the whole show. Cue Graham: ‘Oh, it all kicks off!’
he buzzed, before prodding Wahlberg onto the subject of family and drawing
Silverman and Fassbender in on the effort. Deftly done, Norton.
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| A break with etiquette: Graham wasn't in the mood for snuggling |
Alas, though, Wahlberg wasn’t to be silenced into sobriety
that easily, and swiftly moved on to the next stock character of inebriation:
the egoist. When Fassbender (finally) got a chance to showcase his almost
inhuman flair for sound effects, Mark butted in with some inane comment about
being able to do the same; halfway through a story from Silverman (about
bed-wetting, and all), Wahlberg shuffled to Graham’s chair and sat on his knee; and during the show’s culminating Big Red Chair sequence, which sees audience
members attempt to win over host and guests with their stories, Mark refused to
compromise even an ounce of the attention he’d sought so studiously. I admit,
even I’d have cut my losses at this point, but Mr. Norton pressed on. ‘I’m
still being host over here,’ he jibed each time Mark cut-in over Sarah; ‘Don’t
touch the man there,’ was his nimble reply to having his nipples rubbed; and
when songstress Laura Mvula prepared to take to the stage with new single Green Garden, ‘It’s a great song. Don’t
join in’ was all he had to say.
What makes Graham great is the way he straddles the roles of
host and guest simultaneously; it’s the rarity of that talent that’s cost Come Dine With Me competitors point upon
point when they ‘just weren’t present enough.’ Norton clutched his cue cards
for forty-five solid minutes, steered Wahlberg off of his lap and back into
position, and (somehow) made sure Silverman and Fassbender got their dues
without once seeming like a killjoy. A lot of it has to do with the format of
the show (Graham begins with a quip in the audience, and literally becomes our
envoy on stage), but equally important is this host’s trick of always staying
one comedic step ahead of whoever’s sat opposite him. Watching a tanked
Hollywood star could very easily have become the main event, had it not been
for the assurance that whatever Graham had to say would always be doubly funny.
Of course, the fact that the show whips out all of its
guests at once, and keeps them all on stage throughout, didn’t hurt last week,
either. Had they come one after the other, Wahlberg would have been harder
graft, Silverman might have threatened Graham’s position as droll-in-chief and Fassbender
would have been hard-pushed to fill up a fifteen-minute slot. Thanks to production,
too, Norton also had a prop or two on-hand each time conversation with the
glazed-Wahlberg dried up: an oversized talking-Ted toy (from Wahlberg’s last film) and a Silverman-voiced doll
from her current one (Wreck-It Ralph) at one point provided
witter repartee than even a stone-cold sober Wahlberg could muster.
In all, we can at least be thankful to the Shiraz for
highlighting what a gift Graham Norton is to Friday nights. Plus, if previous interviews with Mark are anything to go by, he’s better when he’s been on the
hard stuff, anyway.
