Wallace & Gromit, Biba style and the irrepressible Tracey Emin: what to visit and see this week

When I was growing up there were three channels on the telly, which seems quaint now. You watched what was on, like it or lump it. But I have only good memories of children’s TV in the 1970s. Hiding behind a cushion as we watched Dr Who, singing along to Sesame Street, lots of excellent dramas, and a surprising array of weird trippy stop-motion animation that featured stoned rabbits and talking TVs.

But my favourite was a wonderful art show aimed primarily at deaf children called Vision On. (For anyone who’d like a walk down memory lane, listen to the groovy theme tune below and transport yourself back to your 1970s living room.)

A lovely man called Tony Hart shared simple art techniques, and later got his own spin-off show called Take Hart. It was here in 1977 that I first encountered a charming little Plasticine character called Morph who persisted in interrupting Tony has he tried to make art, generally making a mess and causing chaos. But always in the most endearing way.

It was groundbreaking stuff in those days, watching a ball of plasticine unfurl into this funny little figure with big eyes and a bigger heart. Who would have guessed Morph was the beginning of Aardman, one of the most successful stop-motion animation studios in the world? One that would go on to create beloved characters like Wallace & Gromit and even win Oscars?

That success is surely down to a very British sensibility that celebrates quirk and eccentricity, chewy regional accents, DIY and a heroic sweetness that remains untainted by cynicism. I still marvel at the genius of the long-suffering Gromit’s scowl, conveyed only by two indented thumbprints for eyebrows.

Aardman’s work is now rightly being celebrated in an exhibition at the Young V&A in London. We sent along animation expert Christopher Holliday to give us his take as the studio celebrates almost half a century of hi-octane slapstick, unlikely heroes and comical villains.

Two national treasures

It’s a great week for celebrating quintessential Britishness in film, art and fashion. In Edinburgh The Biba Story has just begun at the wonderful Dovecot tapestry studio. The show is a warm, inclusive and affectionate look at the impact of Barbara Hulanicki’s groundbreaking Biba fashion and lifestyle label that brought a splash of excitement to drab postwar Britain in the mid-1960s. Best of all are the vivid memories of women now in their eighties describing the thrill of high fashion at low prices in their teens.

At the Tate Modern in London, the irrepressible Tracey Emin is back with a restrospective called, appropriately, Tracey Emin: A Second Life after she rose like a phoenix from the ashes of her grim encounter with cancer and the life-changing surgery that followed. I adore Emin (even though I don’t always like her work) because she makes art utterly on her own terms. Complicated, contradictory, uncompromising and fearless, many people find that altogether too much in one woman. But Emin mines her life and experience in ways that make her vulnerable which I find brave, honest and admirable.

Films heading for the Oscars

Wagner Moura and Rose Byrne are each nominated for best actor/actress gongs at this year’s Oscars, and both, according to our reviewers, would be worthy winners.

Set in 1977 during Brazil’s two-decade dictatorship, The Secret Agent is a gripping thriller that features an outstanding performance from Moura. The Brazilian actor plays Armando, an academic forced into hiding after clashing with big business interests aligned with the regime who want to get their hands on his research. Kleber Mendonça Filho’s film makes clear that authoritarianism attacks society not only through violence and repression of civilians, but through the silencing of knowledge and learning. This timely and important film reminds us why academic freedom must be protected.

Rose Byrne gives a relentless performance as Linda, an exhausted resentful mother quickly unravelling in If I Had Legs I’d Kick You. Her husband who works away is unconcerned that she is looking after their seriously ill daughter solo. Her unfulfilling but demanding work as a therapist piles on more pressure and her own therapist is deeply unsympathetic. Unsupported and drowning in despair, she is unable to find respite. This dark and unsettling film, says our reviewer Laura O'Flanagan, “is an example of how cinema has become less interested in saccharine, idealised depictions of mothers and more concerned with their inner lives, however messy”.