Before we start, a quick reminder that the My 70s TV Childhood Theme Tune Game is launching very soon. We are planning some very special events to mark the occasion that you may be able to take part in. It is a nostalgic family game based on the classic British TV theme tunes we all remember, designed to be played around the table with family and friends. The perfect gift for anyone who grew up with 1970s British television.
If you would like to hear more, pop your name and email address below and we will keep you updated.
It is 1978. Saturday afternoon. BBC One. The theme music begins and you recognise it immediately. And then, suddenly, there she is, spinning around. One moment a smart businesswoman in a pair of spectacles. The next, Wonder Woman wearing considerably less. For those of us who grew up in Britain in the late 1970s, it frankly did not get much better than that.
There is an important point to make at the outset. The original American series had actually begun earlier, with its first season set during the Second World War. But for British viewers, the Wonder Woman we remember was the contemporary version set in the 1970s, because the BBC made the decision to begin showing the series from its second season. We had no knowledge of the wartime heroics. She was simply a very good-looking woman in smart suits who took off her glasses, spun around, and ended up wearing a sort of US flag-themed bathing suit and tight-fitting boots.
And that, for a ten-year-old in Warrington, was absolutely magnificent.
Of course, there is one person we need to talk about, because without her there would be no television Wonder Woman as we remember it. Lynda Carter. Casting a superhero is a difficult business. The actor has to look convincing in the costume. They need physical presence. They need charisma. And they need to make the audience believe that they could defeat a gang of international criminals before lunch wearing not very much. Lynda Carter had all of those things, and more importantly, she seemed completely comfortable in the role. She did not appear embarrassed. She did not look as though she was thinking she could not believe they had asked her to wear this. She simply was Wonder Woman.
She played Diana Prince as intelligent, warm and capable. And she played Wonder Woman as commanding and physically confident. That she managed to make those two identities feel genuinely different, while the disguise consisted mainly of a pair of spectacles, is one of the great achievements of 1970s television acting. Although it does raise questions about Steve Trevor, who worked alongside Diana every day and never quite joined the dots. Surely at some point, sitting down with a drink at the end of a long day of saving the world, he must have thought: hang on a minute.
The transformation itself was perhaps the most elegant in television history. No laboratory accident. No terrifying mutation. No bionic sound effects every time she moved. Wonder Woman simply spun around several times and there she was. As a child you accepted it entirely. It was only as an adult that questions began to arise. How exactly did this work? Where did the glasses go? What happened to the handbag? How did she spin without becoming immediately dizzy or being violently sick?
The costume, the tiara, the bracelets and the lasso completed the picture. The bracelets could deflect bullets, which was enormously useful and looked absolutely spectacular. The villains would fire, Wonder Woman would raise her arms, and ping, ping, ping, the bullets would go somewhere else. Superhero action without the hero needing to fire back. And then there was the lasso of truth, which forced people to tell the truth. That is a superpower we could probably use today in any number of situations.
There is another important reason why Wonder Woman remains significant, beyond the costume and the spin and the theme tune that is still going round in your head right now. She was a female superhero at the centre of her own major network television series. She was not the sidekick. She was not there to be rescued. She did the rescuing. And crucially, the programme never stopped every five minutes to make a speech about it. She simply was the most powerful person in the room.
Was Wonder Woman occasionally silly? Yes, of course it was. And that was the point. Part of the joy of 1970s television was its willingness simply to entertain. Not everything had to be dark and gritty. Not every superhero needed a traumatic childhood and three hours of psychological backstory. Sometimes a woman in a spectacular costume defeating a criminal organisation and then flying away in an invisible aircraft was all we needed.
For those of us who were children when the programme appeared in Britain, Wonder Woman is not simply an old television show. It is another one of those programmes we look back on fondly not just because of the show itself, but because of the memories it provides. Sitting with our parents and siblings on a Saturday afternoon, simply enjoying the experience together. Those were different times, and television programmes became shared experiences. We were all watching the same thing, and the next day at school, everybody talked about it.
The recent film versions are perfectly fine. But for those of a certain age, when someone says Wonder Woman, there is only one image that comes to mind. Lynda Carter, in that spectacular costume, spinning around. And then getting on with saving the world.
Did you watch Wonder Woman on Saturday afternoons? Did you attempt the spin? I would love to know. Leave a comment below or join the conversation on any of our social media pages.
If you have not already done so, pop your name on the waitlist above and you will be the first to hear when our theme tune game launches.
Take care,
Oliver
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