No programme-maker is more in touch with the wonder and the rhythms of infancy, nor is better able to express that wonder and those rhythms in audio-visual terms than Andrew Davenport. As a constant viewer of CBeebies with my daughter Hanna (as I have explained previously), I have been fortunate to have been immersed in his world and to have appreciated just what a brilliant and innovative contribution to the genre of preschool television he has given us with the three shows he has created over the past two decades, the latest of which arrived in February. But he is not only the creator – he produces, writes and composes the music for each episode.

 

There is no doubt that his greatest impact was with Teletubbies (BBC2, CBeebies, 1997-), which changed the landscape of what was possible in a programme for very young children. There was plenty of controversy about it: the limited language which mimicked that of very young children perfectly, but was criticised for normalising it at a time when the main function of such programmes was meant to be education and progression; the generally surreal setting and atmosphere which led some to wonder whether the makers were on drugs and attracted a cult student audience; even Tinky Winky’s sexuality! But its main and greatest innovation was repetition. This applied not only to the filmed stories of different children’s lives which appeared on the Teletubbies’ stomach monitors and which they immediately demanded to be repeated in full, but to segments of the show itself – dances, adventures, domestic life in the Teletubby house, which could be shuffled around to comprise parts of different editions.

 

Teletubbies starts with a sunrise and ends with a sunset, so each episode takes place over the course of a day, but Davenport’s next creation, In the Night Garden (CBeebies, 2007-) begins with a small child (a different one for each episode) in bed and being coaxed to sleep with a story, so it can best be interpreted as a dream (as the title suggests). It is a very beautiful and comforting beginning, which is probably more emotionally resonant for any watching adults than children. Once the dream world of the night garden has been reached, the stars in the sleepy night sky having bust into the flowers of the bright garden, familiar characters arrive and have various adventures, all of them once again interchangeable from episode to episode.

Where Teletubbies was hallucinatory and surreal, In the Night Garden seems to be exploring the world of the early subconscious, and Davenport has taken this further with his new series, Moon and Me (CBeebies, 2019-). Again it starts with a child preparing for bed, this time by closing down the dolls’ house she has been playing with and putting her toys to bed, but now it is the same little girl every time and the similarity of their hairstyles indicates that her favourite toy, Pepi Nana, is her surrogate once she has gone to sleep and the toys have come to life. So, it can again be interpreted as her dream, though the Storyland sections indicate that it may also be a bedtime story. CBeebies’ scheduling of the series at 5.45 backs this up, though In the Night Garden retains its 6.30 bedtime slot.

The similarities between the characters In Moon and Me and In the Night Garden are also obvious – Pepi Nana is like Upsy Daisy, Collywobble resembles Makka Pakka. My favourite has to be Mr Onion, who constantly says “onions” with a chuckle in his voice. Indeed, all the characters have their own catchphrases, which they repeat ad nauseam, though with variations of tone and stress to indicate attitude; Pepi Nana has a multitude of different ways of saying “tiddle toddle”. Mind you, having spent the last weeks (months!) listening to the same politicians saying precisely the same things about Brexit over and over again, day after day, this is clearly not confined to the world of pre-school television.

One striking difference between Moon and Me and Davenport’s two previous series is the use of colour; muted pastel shades replacing bright primary colours, even in the pastoral Storyland, which has echoes of both Teletubbyland and the Night Garden. Davenport’s music is again a major factor, in fact even more so this time as it is integrated by having the characters play their own instruments: Moon Baby’s hand harp is key. The narration is consequently less important than in the Night Garden, where Sir Derek Jacobi’s actorly tones are so perfect for the nonsense rhymes he is asked to recite:

 

Ombliboo, Tombiboo, knock on the door.

Ombiiboo Tombliboo, sit on the floor.

Ombliboo, Tombliboo, here is my nose.

Ombliboo, Tombliboo, that’s how it goes.

The characters in Moon and Me are animated to move the way they would if a child was playing with them; just watch the way Little Nana moves up and down as though being picked up and placed down. There is no tea in the teapot or cups, but they are moved just as if a playing child were moving them. Davenport did a lot of research on play patterns to get this right. When Pepi Nana comes downstairs, or crosses a bridge, you see her do it in real time, or, through clever editing including the beginning and end of the journey, the complete process of the action is conveyed so that it seems it has been shown in full. This is a style associated with the great French director Robert Bresson, and Davenport also uses close ups of characters’ hands or feet in a similar way to Bresson. (Is that comparison worthy of Pseud’s Corner or what?) The overall effect is a feeling of immersion – the sort you get from listening to minimalist music or watching a piece of “slow TV” like The Canal Journey. It is very relaxing and reassuring.

I hope this may inspire you to watch the odd episode or two of Moon and Me, even if you don’t have a pre-schooler to watch it with. It would be twenty minutes of your time well spent on the BBC i-Player. Both Moon and Me and In the Night Garden work for adults who may like occasionally to regress to the world of infancy, not as any sort of perversion, but as a relaxing break from the ugliness of so much everyday public discourse.

 

Tiddle toddle! Poop poop!

 

Onions.