Culture That Made Me: Brendan Courtney on Dallas, Fatal Attraction, and Davina McCall
Brendan Courtney is part of the Irish-language campaign Creidim Ionat.
Brendan Courtney, 52, grew up in Coolock and Tallaght in Dublin. In 1999, he began the dating game show, Wanderlust, on RTÉ television, the first of several TV shows he has created and presented. He runs a women’s fashion label, Lennon Courtney, with his business partner Sonya Lennon; the pair have also co-authored books on confidence and style. He’s partaking in the Irish language campaign Creidim Ionat, which runs until May 8. See: www.forasnagaeilge.ie/creidim-ionat.
Like all teenagers in the 1980s, V was an appointment to view. Everybody ran home, or out of the park, to watch it at eight o’clock. We were addicted to it. It was a sci-fi drama. Spaceships landed over the world’s major cities, trying to take over the world. It was terrifying for kids – aliens coming to get us in the night. They pretended to be our friends, but they weren't our friends – they were lizards with human masks on. The character Diana had a baby alien. It was amazing.
I was obsessed with Dallas. I loved the glamour. I used to take out the good Waterford crystal tumbler and put my lemonade and ice in it so it would clink when I watched Dallas.
Sue Ellen was my favourite character – tragic, nuts, with a great figure, gorgeous clothes. She was JR’s abused wife. She was relatable to many women of the time who were dominated by horrible husbands, women who buried their heads in alcohol because they were in abusive relationships, coercively controlled. It was very good.
The only album I actively bought in the last 10 years was Sarah Vaughan because of the Amy Winehouse documentary a few years ago, where she mentioned her as being one of her favourite singers. I knew Motown singers – who she was also influenced by – well as a teenager, but I'd never heard of Sarah Vaughan. The album was a jazz collection, entitled 150 Songs. I bought it for $1.50 because it's over 40 years old. I played it a lot. I loved it.
Growing up, comedy was the most important part of television for me. Ruby Wax was a big influence. Ruby Wax being the first person to interview people in an awkward way by rummaging through their drawers, for example, the famous Sarah Ferguson interview where she went through the kids’ drawers and found Post-it Notes on their T-shirts.
I loved the original Big Brother, the way it used people's personalities to score, to win. The beautiful thing that can never be repeated – with the first season – is the contestants didn't know how big the show was when it was on. They didn't think anybody was watching; we loved that. Anna Nolan, who is a friend of mine now, was in it. She should have won. She was a gay nun from Ireland. She was funny, likeable. It was the first time you saw cool, nice, different kinds of people on television being themselves.
The greatest book of all time is A Confederacy of Dunces by John Kennedy Toole. The central character is a fat hater, and he describes himself as that. He lives at home with his mother in New Orleans. He hates everybody, and you're in his head, this constant dialogue of him hating everyone. The writer wrote this character to show him up – to show that hating doesn't work. It's all quite reflective. I was on a tube in England reading the book and I elbowed the stranger beside me: “Wait till I tell you what he's saying here.” You want to share it, it's so funny.
Arrogant, cocky me read the book in 2003 and, knowing John Kennedy Toole won the Pulitzer for it posthumously in 1981, wondered how it wasn’t made into a film. I went to the family foundation to buy the rights. I had a bidding war with Drew Barrymore. When I say “bidding war”, effectively, I made an offer and they laughed at me. The lawyer said to my lawyer, “Tell him it's Drew Barrymore. Tell him to go home.”
Growing up, there was no presenter who was good. They were all pretending. Then Davina McCall happened and everything changed.
She was the first presenter – apart from comedians – who appeared to be herself, like your mate down the pub. It was like you knew her. I remember thinking that’s how I’ll be, that’s how I’ll present; you'll know who I am.
Making a Murderer is a well-told story of confusion where nobody knows the answers. As a viewer, you speculate along with the documentary maker. Even though we're not specialists, what the Internet has done is given people this sense they can [investigate and judge crimes]. Everybody has an opinion. As an armchair psychologist, you watch a whodunnit, you think you know the answer, then you don't, then you do. It’s genius programming. Making a Murderer, or any brilliant crime series, doesn't answer questions, it asks questions, but allows you to assume you might know the answers. It’s compelling.
My favourite documentary maker is Jon Ronson. He does his research. It's all about prep. He’s so smart. In that Guardian reader kind of way, I agree with his politics. I find him incredibly entertaining. His new podcast series Things Fell Apart is on culture wars. It’s the best. You won't be able to stop listening to it. He wrote the screenplay for the movie Frank. He played the keyboard in Frank Sidebottom’s band. He wrote The Men Who Stare At Goats book. He’s a very interesting guy.
I’m a huge fan of Louis Theroux. Jon Ronson and Louis Theroux are frenemies. He’s more populist than Jon Ronson, more goofy and awkward. He's more attractive on screen – Jon Ronson has a high-pitched Welsh accent and is academic-looking; Louis Theroux is more camera friendly.
There's a great episode of Louis Theroux’s podcast where he interviews Jon Ronson. I’ve devoured the last two podcast series that Louis Theroux has done; I’ve always aspired to do what he does in some way.
Matthew Broderick stars in Torch Song Trilogy as a young, handsome gay man, alongside Harvey Fierstein, this gay, camp Jewish guy with a husky voice. The movie is based on his three plays about his life as a drag queen in the 70s, early 80s in New York. As a young gay man coming out at the time it was released in the late 80s was phenomenal. In the movie, his lover is killed on the mean streets of New York for being gay. It flits between the club where the drag queen entertains, and meeting Matthew Broderick’s character, who's a model. Anne Bancroft plays his mother.
I first watched Fatal Attraction aged 14. It was a moment when I realised what cinema could do. It was sexual, barbaric and beautiful. I'd never seen a story told in that way. Glenn Close was so hot and interesting-looking. Michael Douglas was so cool. It was New York. She boiled a bunny. The scene where she's running up to the house and the pot is bubbling and the way that made you feel. The casting of the wife is clever, because she's beautiful, nice and soft whereas Glenn Close is hard, difficult and weird. I saw it in the cinema six times. I loved the shock element. I believed it. I wanted to meet those people.
