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The Wedding: Good, old-fashioned Royal Family (production) values.

By Michelene Wandor.

‘THE WEDDING’. FOR SOME time to come, those words will mean only one thing: Prince William and Kate Middleton, April 29, 2011. Along with (apparently) two billion people round the world, I watched from dawn until dusk and beyond. The lead-up brought ideological and retail opportunity. All the websites offering me deals and bargains had woven the royal wedding into their spiels. Every newspaper was covered with pre- and post- pictures. Speculation was rife about ‘the dress’, virtually the only remaining mystery about the oh-so-public event of the twenty-first century, although there were enough unofficial leaks for pre-wedding commentators to lay educated bets on Sarah Burton, for Alexander McQueen. And so it proved to be. Photographs of Grace Kelly in the 1950s were dusted off, to reinforce one of the Cinderella mantras: a prince marrying a commoner. More accurately, in this case, it was a wealthy middle-class graduate. The critical point is that Catherine doesn’t come from hereditary aristocracy, but from upwardly mobile, self-made paternal success.

BUT ENOUGH OF MANTRAS. I won’t rehearse those of which we have probably had enough. The Cinderella story. Just an ordinary couple. A love match. We Brits do pomp and ceremony better than anyone else. Spot the difference between this and Charles and Di in 1981. A quasi-rehearsal for the Olympics in 2012. A new era for the British monarchy. Very occasionally there was a whisper about the succession – will it skip a generation, and if so, when?

My attention was, like everyone else’s, largely on the spectacle, on the superb production values, and then, as the day went on, my focus was directed to the televisual foreground. I had decided to go with ITV, rather than the BBC, because, on the whole I prefer their newsreaders and presenters.

Alastair Stewart and Mary Nightingale, outside the palace and Abbey, took the sycophantic ceremonial line. Fair enough. But in the specially constructed studios, we had more relaxed commentators. Philip Schofield and Julie Etchingham made a decent double act. Schofield, as one of the hosts of ‘Dancing on Ice’ is exemplary. He is relaxed, reliable, cheeky and irreverent at times. But he carries gravitas in his fresh face and grey hair. Andrew Neil, drafted in to give some sceptical comments on royal family’s need to be rebranded, provided a bit of welcome ideological muscle. In the end, of course, they all capitulated, but it was a far cry from the olden days of wall-to-wall elder-Dimbleby reverence.

I NOTED ALSO, WITH interest, how many of our regular TV commentators are so evidently part of our comfortable aristo classes. You could tell, because they had official invitations: Tom Bratby and Ben Fogle, to name but two. I took pleasure in the absence of Blair and Brown, I noted the way Elton John didn’t put much gusto into his hymn singing, and sympathised with reporter Mark Austin’s grumpiness, because he seemed to have drawn the short straw of the day. Unceremoniously kicked off the Mall, as I think he put it, he ended up uncomfortably surrounded by rowdy royalists.

Finally, it is salutary to note the similarities and differences between this and the standard Italian Renaissance marriages. These were always arranged as political alliances, with the bride, plus dowry, imported to the husband’s city state. Virginity (on the woman’s side) was necessary, and night-time consummation witnessed by friends and family. The birth of a male heir was essential, otherwise the faulty wife risked annulment, dismissal to a convent, or (as in the case of our own dear Henry V111) execution.

On Friday, April 29, 2011, our couple are friends. They have lived together – as one royal biographer said, without mentioning the word ‘sex’:  ‘This is a woman who knows exactly what to do.’ And yet, a guest agony aunt on TV, asked for her advice to the bride said: ‘Have a son quickly, and don’t take any lovers.’ Plus ca change?

Michelene Wandor’s two most recent poetry books are published by Arc Publications: Musica Transalpina (a Poetry Book Society Recommendation), and The Music of the Prophets. She writes about the arts for The Fortnightly Review.

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