Sir Bruce Forsyth dies at 89.
What can possibly be said? The world of showbusiness has lost its most sparkling and iridescent of natural all round talents. Brilliant pianist, wonderful all round entertainer, a consummate comic, funny to his fingernails, supremely versatile and a man with a perfect sense of occasion, Sir Bruce Forsyth dominated the world of light entertainment. How can one even begin to document the passing of one of Britain's most outstanding of showbiz performers? Bruce Forsyth, in the words of the great man, it was nice to see you to see you nice. Sadly, Bruce Forsyth died today at the grand old age of 89.
For years and years, decade after decade, this smooth, dapper, improvisational and quick witted man entertained and amused vastly to millions across Britain with that rather rib tickling wit, a gifted turn of phrase and much that brought unalloyed pleasure to families and children across the nation.
Bruce Forsyth, full of comic originality and humorous observations on both the world and society had all of those vital ingredients that are somehow essential in any comic's repertoire. But Forsyth had much more than one string to his bow. He was the most supple and stylish dancer, light as feather on either feet, fleet flooted indeed and a lively presence in his memorable role of Sunday Night at the London Palladium host during the late 1950s and 60s. Forsyth embraced showbiz as if life and nature had intended it. In fact he may well have been crying desperately for a place at the Palladium in his cot.
After years of hoofing it and tripping the light fantastic on the boards of the great West End music halls, the Mighty Atom, the Boy Bruce, promptly served his apprenticeship with a touch of class. Soon the lad from Edmonton found himself on much bigger stages before soaring to the pinnacle of fame and celebrity at the much loved and vaunted London Palladium. The world has never known such an innately talented all around entertainer.
Soon Forsyth was quickly tip tapping on the shiniest of shoes with lightning speed and fulsome flair. Then after another arduous round of cabaret performances in the West End the big break arrived in the most glamorous circumstances. The London Palladium, the West End's most beautifully appointed of all theatres, was looking for a replacement for the cheeky chappie who always seemed to smile and overnight graced the corridors of Fulham football club with that inimitable toothy grin that lit up West London. His name was Tommy Trinder.
Shortly Bruce Forsyth would be the shining light of that well populated showbiz community where razzamatazz collided with pizazz. For what seemed like the West End's most halcyon years, Forsyth would stride out onto the Palladium stage with that swaggering stroll and that lovely lantern jaw, smiling warmly for audiences that would for ever take him to their heart. Soon the catch phrases would be swiftly delivered, gems of brevity that would win the life long affection of millions of British families.
There were the famous Palladium quizzes such as Beat the Clock where Forsyth would employ those sharply honed skills that would enshrine him permanently in the role of the quiz master. Beat the Clock was almost the perfect vehicle as contestants from all social classes would carry around the heaviest objects or awkwardly negotiate the most bizarre obstacles before finally ending the game in a much quicker time than their opponents. Beat the Clock was almost the perfect forerunner for future generations of TV quiz games and Forsyth had become the quiz game trailblazer without even trying.
But Forsyth was much more than the ultra cool quiz show host or archetypal family entertainer. When Sunday Night at the London Palladium began to lose its lustre and prime time popularity, Forsyth decided to spread his wings, branching out and diversifying into different areas of his profession. Briefly there were the films, the fruitless attempt at cracking the American market but his heart was still in the quiz game format.
In the early 1970s a Dutch quiz show called the Generation Game had been bandied about as a potential idea on British TV. The Generation Game fitted Forsyth like a glove, its format simple and wonderfully effective. Two contestants would participate in the silliest and daftest games ever conceived. There was the the enduringly funny Potters Wheel where members of the public would try their hand, quite hilariously, at moulding anything in clay into something that vaguely resembled a bowl or plate. None ever took the Generation Game seriously and as the title suggested, here was a show that never ever offended nor was anybody remotely insulted or humiliated.
For the next 10 years and more the Generation Game would capture the imagination of a TV audience that threatened to be turned completely away by badly made entertainment shows. It fulfilled its remit of making us laugh and making the nation feel that an emotional involvement had been achieved. Who would ever forget those farcical plays at the end of the Generation Game where Forsyth's obvious charisma would reduce the BBC studio to gales of laughter? There was the prolific conveyor belt with what seemed the most dreadful prizes such as cuddly teddy bears and woks. We still though kept the faith and even the prizes had a certain quaintness and quirkiness about them.
As the 1980s arrived Forsyth began to look in other directions and privately felt he was being pigeon holed into the quiz show role. Play Your Cards Right, the London Weekend Television quiz show, as the title obviously implied, was about choosing the right cards in a deck of cards and the value of those cards being either higher or lower. In theory it didn't really seem the best idea that TV had ever come up with but it still attracted that hard core of followers whom Forsyth could always rely. Play Your Cards Right ran for a while although to call it an overnight sensation may have been an exaggeration.
Still the boy from Edmonton in North London could always go back to his singing, dancing and high jinks tomfoolery for guaranteed success. His singing voice was pleasantly modulated and his career as a early evening crooner was about to become established for ever more. Wearing the regulation smart black suit, shirt and bow tie, Forsyth fulfilled a lifetime ambition to sing alongside his heroes. His friendship with Sammy Davis Junior had been confirmed and that classic cabaret compatibility was a perfect match.
And yet Forsyth's talents as a pianist may have been criminally overlooked. His handling of some of the greatest jazz standards was absolutely impeccable. His lightness of touch over the keys seemed to come naturally to this exceptional song and dance man. There was an effortless ease about his piano playing that might have escaped some of us.
From his earliest days in the music hall, dancing had always regularly featured in the Forsyth act. He could tap dance, waltz and cha cha cha with the great and good and now he was the frequent subject of late night shows such as Parkinson. He was a shameless extrovert, the brightest of personalities, comfortable in any TV environment and never flustered when the going may have got tough. He was an outrageous prankster and joker, manipulating the limelight and making it abundantly clear that he was the star of the show without ever descending into vanity or pretence.
Then as old age began to take its toll on him, Forsyth hit back again when some may have assumed that the stamina had gone, his fitness and sprightliness had deserted him and it was time to take a back seat. Certainly not or so it seemed. When footballers reach a specific age the assumption is that once they reach their early 30s the twinkle in their feet can no longer function in quite the way they used to be able to.
In the early opening years of the 21st century a dance programme had been planned for a prime time slot on a Saturday evening. To some of us this seemed the most extraordinary of coincidences but 40 years after the Generation Game on a Saturday evening, now Strictly Come Dancing had appeared on the Forsyth radar. This was almost like a gift from somewhere for Brucie and how he capitalised on the big time opportunity.
Now he was the man in charge once again, compere of a show whose central theme had once stolen his heart as a young man. With fellow presenters Tess Daly and Claudia Winkleman, he grabbed the baton and ran with it. Soon the Forsyth tap shoes were gainfully employed in a whole variety of dance routines. There were the tap dancing cavortings, the graceful waltz, the military two step and the flying feet that flourished with every show.
Soon though and regrettably the light would begin to fade, his health would, albeit gradually, fail and no longer would the old gushing vitality stir him into life. At the beginning of this year a serious illness would become progressively worse and today the Mighty Atom from Edmonton would peacefully pass away beside his doting family.
It is hard to believe that Sir Bruce Forsyth is no longer with us. Bruce Forsyth seemed indestructible, a tireless bundle of dynamism and the epitome of showbiz brilliance. For those who were brought up with the frivolous frolics of the Generation Game during the 1970s there is now a yawning gap, a hollow chasm that may never be adequately filled.
One day a talent will be discovered who may come marginally close to the heights that Sir Bruce Forsyth reached so stunningly. Maybe a quiz show host will one day walk out in front of a TV audience and ask them quite categorically whether they had done well or not. It is a deeply sad day for British light entertainment. Still we can readily cherish the catch phrase and still believe that sometimes legends can never be forgotten. It was great to see you Bruce. Great to see you.
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