30 March 2006
CATCHING SNIPPETS
For some of us, now is the time when our hard-drive recorders come in very handy. Unlike Graham, who was fortunate enough to have attended the Doctor Who press event the other night, us lot had to retune our Sky Digiboxes to BBC Wales last night to catch some of the first glimpses of the new series, or try to see clips on one of the breakfast programmes when we should have been at work.
It is quite bizarre to feel the need that these scraps of news must be captured for posterity, but not having had the chance to do it in the days of old Who (and despite the fact that some of it will probably appear on the DVDs) I still want to get the features on disc myself for some reason.
Heaven knows why I will be recording Ready Steady Cook on the 12 April to keep just because it features David Tennant in the kitchen alongside his Dad ...
Having seen the short sequences broadcast on Wales Today last night, I have to echo Graham's sentiments and say that the CGI effects on display looked very poor indeed. I was surprised to see a large futuristic building that looked as if it had been painted onto glass, and not particularly well composited into a section of the south Wales coastline, while those flying car things put me in mind of something from the kids show ReBoot. We know that The Mill can do better than this because we've seen it.
Perhaps I shouldn't complain on the basis of such a minute exposure to the new season, but then again I am a Doctor Who fan and therefore predisposed to being more critical than the general public.
It is quite bizarre to feel the need that these scraps of news must be captured for posterity, but not having had the chance to do it in the days of old Who (and despite the fact that some of it will probably appear on the DVDs) I still want to get the features on disc myself for some reason.
Heaven knows why I will be recording Ready Steady Cook on the 12 April to keep just because it features David Tennant in the kitchen alongside his Dad ...
Having seen the short sequences broadcast on Wales Today last night, I have to echo Graham's sentiments and say that the CGI effects on display looked very poor indeed. I was surprised to see a large futuristic building that looked as if it had been painted onto glass, and not particularly well composited into a section of the south Wales coastline, while those flying car things put me in mind of something from the kids show ReBoot. We know that The Mill can do better than this because we've seen it.
Perhaps I shouldn't complain on the basis of such a minute exposure to the new season, but then again I am a Doctor Who fan and therefore predisposed to being more critical than the general public.
"I'M THE NEW NEW DOCTOR!"
As expected, the papers are full of Doctor Who stuff today now we've passed the embargo date for news from the Cardiff launch. Naturally, then, I can't resist adding my own thoughts to the rage of info pouring through.
So, where to start? Well, let's talk about the actual screening itself. As per "The Christmas Invasion" press day, it was somehow a given that every mention of the cast or crew in Menna Richards (Controller, BBC Wales) and Jane Tranter's speeches were met with applause ... except for - tellingly - Christopher Eccleston. Yesterday's man!
"New Earth" itself started and ended with more cheering, but upon speaking to various journos on the night, I have to say it got a mixed reaction. Mixed, in that the people I collared immediately afterwards felt it was disappointing, insubstantial and - yes - featured a poor denouement, but a lovely tag scene. Nevertheless, those I spoke to at the very arse-end of the evening were fulsome in their praise. And everyone agreed the three-minute trailer for series two looked brilliant.
Inevitably, here comes My Two Cents: I thought it was pretty below par, and felt more like an episode seven than a series opener. I couldn't escape the impression Russell T Davies (who wrote this one) was more interested in the episode's B-story (Cassandra's emotional journey) than the A-story (plague-carrying zombie-alikes). Thus, the latter was dispatched with a sloppy, unsatisfying resolution, the like of which the show was criticised for last year. Shame. Think "The Long Game" or "Boom Town"; that's pretty much where I'd pitch it.
Oh, and some of the special effects were decidedly ropey, although there was some nostalgic frisson in seeing a matting line visible around a cat person's head.
The episode was followed by two separate press conferences. Downstairs, David Tenant and Billie Piper met the national daily papers and regionals (from whence all of today's quotes came from), while, back in the screening room, RTD took on the mid week-magazines and Sunday nationals. Which is where I found myself.
As expected, this was an enjoyable session, with RTD hinting there are still a couple of icons from the old series he'd like to bring back. I'll pop up a couple of quotes on here when I get the time. Then, he disappeared downstairs and - clutching a small bottle of champagne - David and Billie took their turn. Inevitably, questions flew regarding the scene in which the Doctor and Rose lock lips.
"I think it’s like all these relationships," said David. "Like Mulder and Scully and Moonlighting, you know. Moonlighting jumped the shark when they got together, didn’t it? I think you have to be very careful. Which doesn’t mean to say that we don’t see the relationship developing and becoming something that it maybe hasn’t before. But I think you have to be very careful with those things."
Meanwhile, Billie revealed she had no plans to jump ship just yet ("Yes, I’m sticking with the Who") while David, after some prompting, exhibited his fannish knowledge ("Kasterborous" he muttered, when challenged to name Gallifrey's constellation).
And, well, lots of other stuff.
As for the evening itself, it was fun. All the cast - bar the Doctor and Rose - milled around at the bar afterwards. Mark Gatiss chatted with Gareth McLean, Paul Abbott hung about mysteriously (again), and Lizo off of Newsround was accosted by TV Quick/Choice and Total TV Guide's Jon Peake.
Most excitingly of all, Ian Levine was spotted on the premises, despite the fact a BBC crew member told me he'd heard they'd specifically posted guards on the main entrance to deny the super-fan admittance. The man cannot be denied.
So, where to start? Well, let's talk about the actual screening itself. As per "The Christmas Invasion" press day, it was somehow a given that every mention of the cast or crew in Menna Richards (Controller, BBC Wales) and Jane Tranter's speeches were met with applause ... except for - tellingly - Christopher Eccleston. Yesterday's man!
"New Earth" itself started and ended with more cheering, but upon speaking to various journos on the night, I have to say it got a mixed reaction. Mixed, in that the people I collared immediately afterwards felt it was disappointing, insubstantial and - yes - featured a poor denouement, but a lovely tag scene. Nevertheless, those I spoke to at the very arse-end of the evening were fulsome in their praise. And everyone agreed the three-minute trailer for series two looked brilliant.
Inevitably, here comes My Two Cents: I thought it was pretty below par, and felt more like an episode seven than a series opener. I couldn't escape the impression Russell T Davies (who wrote this one) was more interested in the episode's B-story (Cassandra's emotional journey) than the A-story (plague-carrying zombie-alikes). Thus, the latter was dispatched with a sloppy, unsatisfying resolution, the like of which the show was criticised for last year. Shame. Think "The Long Game" or "Boom Town"; that's pretty much where I'd pitch it.
Oh, and some of the special effects were decidedly ropey, although there was some nostalgic frisson in seeing a matting line visible around a cat person's head.
The episode was followed by two separate press conferences. Downstairs, David Tenant and Billie Piper met the national daily papers and regionals (from whence all of today's quotes came from), while, back in the screening room, RTD took on the mid week-magazines and Sunday nationals. Which is where I found myself.
As expected, this was an enjoyable session, with RTD hinting there are still a couple of icons from the old series he'd like to bring back. I'll pop up a couple of quotes on here when I get the time. Then, he disappeared downstairs and - clutching a small bottle of champagne - David and Billie took their turn. Inevitably, questions flew regarding the scene in which the Doctor and Rose lock lips.
"I think it’s like all these relationships," said David. "Like Mulder and Scully and Moonlighting, you know. Moonlighting jumped the shark when they got together, didn’t it? I think you have to be very careful. Which doesn’t mean to say that we don’t see the relationship developing and becoming something that it maybe hasn’t before. But I think you have to be very careful with those things."
Meanwhile, Billie revealed she had no plans to jump ship just yet ("Yes, I’m sticking with the Who") while David, after some prompting, exhibited his fannish knowledge ("Kasterborous" he muttered, when challenged to name Gallifrey's constellation).
And, well, lots of other stuff.
As for the evening itself, it was fun. All the cast - bar the Doctor and Rose - milled around at the bar afterwards. Mark Gatiss chatted with Gareth McLean, Paul Abbott hung about mysteriously (again), and Lizo off of Newsround was accosted by TV Quick/Choice and Total TV Guide's Jon Peake.
Most excitingly of all, Ian Levine was spotted on the premises, despite the fact a BBC crew member told me he'd heard they'd specifically posted guards on the main entrance to deny the super-fan admittance. The man cannot be denied.
29 March 2006
TIME WAITS ...
So, I'm back from Cardiff and the Doctor Who series two launch. As per the Guardian's grumblings, info about the event is embargoed until tomorrow, so I'll punt some stuff up on here then.
Paul Abbott was there, though.
Paul Abbott was there, though.
27 March 2006
LOUIS LOUIS: SLIGHT RETURN
Well, it's more than a slight return. It's an actual return.
At the very end of last year I was wondering "when did telly go off the boil for [Louis] Theroux?". Then, this weekend I revisited a lot my Louis tapes in that ongoing effort to dub everything I own from VHS on to DVD. It made me wonder yet again how come he fell through the cracks, and - book aside - what he was up to nowadays. Perhaps he was set to become the subject of a tongue-in-cheek documentary, where he'd be rediscovered by a faux-naive young journalist, keen to find out how he lives his life?
Well, reading the Guardian this morning, I was pleased to see BBC2 have commissioned 10 new hour-long films from Mr Theroux, to be broadcast some time in 2006. As long as he's ditched the obsession with tin-pot showbiz types, I feel confident this will be a return to form.
He really is a great broadcaster. Honestly.
At the very end of last year I was wondering "when did telly go off the boil for [Louis] Theroux?". Then, this weekend I revisited a lot my Louis tapes in that ongoing effort to dub everything I own from VHS on to DVD. It made me wonder yet again how come he fell through the cracks, and - book aside - what he was up to nowadays. Perhaps he was set to become the subject of a tongue-in-cheek documentary, where he'd be rediscovered by a faux-naive young journalist, keen to find out how he lives his life?
Well, reading the Guardian this morning, I was pleased to see BBC2 have commissioned 10 new hour-long films from Mr Theroux, to be broadcast some time in 2006. As long as he's ditched the obsession with tin-pot showbiz types, I feel confident this will be a return to form.
He really is a great broadcaster. Honestly.
THE NEVER-ENDING BOTTLE
And so the final dregs have still be to be drained from the vessel containing the Last of the Summer Wine. Tuning in last night for the first time in a while it is refreshing to see little has changed for the old men of the Dales. It is quite incredible to think the show has been running for well over 30 years now, especially considering it was last really funny in about 1984 during the Compo, Clegg and Foggy golden age.
In contrast to a simple trio of characters, these days the programme appears to be some kind of retirement home for elderly sitcom actors, with refugees from George and Mildred, Terry and June, Are You Being Served? and Keeping Up Appearances now making up the numbers.
Howard still hasn't managed to get away from Pearl, Barry is still failing to impress the golf club captain, the women still discuss the faults of men and madcap schemes still prevail. This week the familiar bathtub down a hillside or falling off a ladder routines had been abandoned in favour of a plan to have a fry-up in the woods. Something to do with Robin Hood apparently.
Last of the Summer Wine is now being filmed in high definition, which makes it quite surprising to see that Alan JW Bell and co are still happy to use the extremely ropey-looking chromakey method to show characters travelling in cars.
Still, it's no good complaining. While it remains able to draw a respectable Sunday teatime audience, and as long as the cast and Roy Clarke are still able, the BBC will most likely keep making it.
Good news folks - the next series is already in production ...
In contrast to a simple trio of characters, these days the programme appears to be some kind of retirement home for elderly sitcom actors, with refugees from George and Mildred, Terry and June, Are You Being Served? and Keeping Up Appearances now making up the numbers.
Howard still hasn't managed to get away from Pearl, Barry is still failing to impress the golf club captain, the women still discuss the faults of men and madcap schemes still prevail. This week the familiar bathtub down a hillside or falling off a ladder routines had been abandoned in favour of a plan to have a fry-up in the woods. Something to do with Robin Hood apparently.
Last of the Summer Wine is now being filmed in high definition, which makes it quite surprising to see that Alan JW Bell and co are still happy to use the extremely ropey-looking chromakey method to show characters travelling in cars.
Still, it's no good complaining. While it remains able to draw a respectable Sunday teatime audience, and as long as the cast and Roy Clarke are still able, the BBC will most likely keep making it.
Good news folks - the next series is already in production ...
23 March 2006
SHAFTED: THE RETURN
Ah well, the PA wires seem to be carrying the headline ITV news (see previous post), so what the hell ...
The big announcement at the launch was that Ant and Dec will be hosting a game show which they've devised themselves: "We came up with the idea about two years ago and tried it out on our friends - we played it out in a room upstairs at our local pub", they said, in matching grey jeans.
The programme's called The Con Test and, from the clip of the pilot edition we saw, looks more than a little like Robert Kilroy-Silk's Shafted, only, this is Ant and Dec, so it's going to be a smash. That, and, Simon Shaps was banging on about how it's the only game show around where someone is guaranteed to actually win a million.
The premise seems to be that competitors try and out-bluff each other as to how many questions they've got right. I'm not quite sure of the actual mechanics here, but there's a big red button they can press if they lose their nerve and decide to bail out .
We'll all be watching it, I tell you.
The contestant call number is 0906 4 717273. Beware: if you ring it, you have to spend 20 seconds "selling yourself" down the phone.
The big announcement at the launch was that Ant and Dec will be hosting a game show which they've devised themselves: "We came up with the idea about two years ago and tried it out on our friends - we played it out in a room upstairs at our local pub", they said, in matching grey jeans.
The programme's called The Con Test and, from the clip of the pilot edition we saw, looks more than a little like Robert Kilroy-Silk's Shafted, only, this is Ant and Dec, so it's going to be a smash. That, and, Simon Shaps was banging on about how it's the only game show around where someone is guaranteed to actually win a million.
The premise seems to be that competitors try and out-bluff each other as to how many questions they've got right. I'm not quite sure of the actual mechanics here, but there's a big red button they can press if they lose their nerve and decide to bail out .
We'll all be watching it, I tell you.
The contestant call number is 0906 4 717273. Beware: if you ring it, you have to spend 20 seconds "selling yourself" down the phone.
A BIT OF A DO
I have a love-hate relationship with the big fuck-off new TV season launches. I love going to them, but I hate being there.
The great thing about these events is seeing all the new stuff first, but the truly awful aspect is the tightly packed huddle of TV listings bods, which turns the whole thing into a "stop and chat" minefield of epic proportions. I tend to revert to my student years, fix on a scowl and avoid making eye-contact until I can find a seat in the corner.
Today's big do was ITV's spring season launch, with Simon Shaps taking his turn at reading off the dual autocues and coping with the lack of applause. Actual details are embargoed until tomorrow, but there's only really one stand-out story anyway (apart from the fact that they seem to have unilaterally dropped the word "Celebrity" from the titles of all their many celebrity shows). I guess I'll post about that tomorrow.
Rather excitingly, though, Ant and Dec were in attendance. Halfway through, when Shaps made a crack about his "glamorous assistants" coming up on stage to help him unveil a phone number (about which, more anon), I rather expected Nick Elliot and that old woman who looks like Virginia Bottomley to trot out. But, no, it was PJ and Duncan in person! Ant's quite fat actually.
They traded a few quips with Shaps, and then shuttled off again. It was a shame they hadn't been allowed to do the whole presentation, because that would have been great. "I'm Declan, and I'm presentin'"/"Well, I'm Anthony, and let's talk ITV!".
The great thing about these events is seeing all the new stuff first, but the truly awful aspect is the tightly packed huddle of TV listings bods, which turns the whole thing into a "stop and chat" minefield of epic proportions. I tend to revert to my student years, fix on a scowl and avoid making eye-contact until I can find a seat in the corner.
Today's big do was ITV's spring season launch, with Simon Shaps taking his turn at reading off the dual autocues and coping with the lack of applause. Actual details are embargoed until tomorrow, but there's only really one stand-out story anyway (apart from the fact that they seem to have unilaterally dropped the word "Celebrity" from the titles of all their many celebrity shows). I guess I'll post about that tomorrow.
Rather excitingly, though, Ant and Dec were in attendance. Halfway through, when Shaps made a crack about his "glamorous assistants" coming up on stage to help him unveil a phone number (about which, more anon), I rather expected Nick Elliot and that old woman who looks like Virginia Bottomley to trot out. But, no, it was PJ and Duncan in person! Ant's quite fat actually.
They traded a few quips with Shaps, and then shuttled off again. It was a shame they hadn't been allowed to do the whole presentation, because that would have been great. "I'm Declan, and I'm presentin'"/"Well, I'm Anthony, and let's talk ITV!".
20 March 2006
STELLING TALES
A slight return on Chris' Jeff Stelling comments, here.
Channel 4's new series, TV Heaven, Telly Hell (what a rubbish title!) features celebs slating and rating their favourite small screen moments. The show kicks off on Sunday March 26, with Alan Davies in the hot seat. In later weeks, Johnny Vaughan, David Mitchell, Bill Bailey, Johnny Vegas and Nick Hancock will all have a go. Of the former Big Breakfast anchor (I said, "anchor") the programme's host, Sean Lock, has said in interview ...
"Johnny Vaughan is a very passionate man and he loves Jeff Stelling, you know, who does the results service on Sky Sports, because he's got almost idiot savant levels of dealing with results and the implications of any game. Like Tranmere could draw with Lincoln City and he can work out the implications for about 14 different clubs, their relegation or play-off situation, in seconds. He has this unique mind, we call it."
Channel 4's new series, TV Heaven, Telly Hell (what a rubbish title!) features celebs slating and rating their favourite small screen moments. The show kicks off on Sunday March 26, with Alan Davies in the hot seat. In later weeks, Johnny Vaughan, David Mitchell, Bill Bailey, Johnny Vegas and Nick Hancock will all have a go. Of the former Big Breakfast anchor (I said, "anchor") the programme's host, Sean Lock, has said in interview ...
"Johnny Vaughan is a very passionate man and he loves Jeff Stelling, you know, who does the results service on Sky Sports, because he's got almost idiot savant levels of dealing with results and the implications of any game. Like Tranmere could draw with Lincoln City and he can work out the implications for about 14 different clubs, their relegation or play-off situation, in seconds. He has this unique mind, we call it."
18 March 2006
"BEFORE YOU SEND $30M OF MY MONEY TO MEXICO I WANT TO ASK SOME QUESTIONS!"
The seventh - and last - series of The West Wing has begun transmission on More4. Having previously bailed out from the show on grounds of it no longer being not even a faint shadow of its former mighty self, it's proved impossible not to be drawn back to see how the whole sprawling mess tries to resolve itself.
The penultimate series had blown the whole format apart, ditching what was left of the original structure of carefully plotted self-contained episodes exploring weighty matters of state for an increasingly preposterous sequence of melodramas involving, among other things, yet another Middle East war, someone bringing a blob of plutonium into the White House, Martin Sheen lying on the bathroom floor unable to move his legs, and an asteroid threatening to collide with the Earth.
The thing jumped the shark so many times it got boring reserving a space on the beach. Nobody behaved how they should. Long-established character profiles were ripped to shreds. People who'd spent five series being the closest of friends now had bare-knuckle fights with each other. The press secretary, someone whose career prior to politics had been plugging Hollywood movies, was made Chief of Staff. Alan Alda turned up as a Republican candidate to pontificate like he used to do every week in M*A*S*H. And right at the very very end, Leo McGarry, who'd had two heart attacks in the woods a dozen episodes earlier, was suddenly announced as a candidate for Vice-President.
So what did the new series have to top this? As if pressing on with the main themes of last year wasn't bad enough (everyone hates everyone else and the President is a lame duck, literally) so far we've had one episode begin with - shudder - a dream sequence and another with - ditto - a musical montage. Once the show's writers would have raced a good few country miles before resorting to either of those kinds of winsome cliches. But not now. All the schlock and schmaltz that was once carefully kept in check is now allowed to run amok.
Yet despite it being the last series, the budget appears to be enormous: fighter planes, conference halls, thousands of extras ... The producers are seemingly throwing everything at The West Wing in the hope something sticks in the memory. Unfortunately what does stick is the impression of a once great TV ship of state slipping all-too slowly into quicksand.
There are 100 days of this fictional Presidential campaign left to run. Someone will end up the winner. And it won't be us.
The penultimate series had blown the whole format apart, ditching what was left of the original structure of carefully plotted self-contained episodes exploring weighty matters of state for an increasingly preposterous sequence of melodramas involving, among other things, yet another Middle East war, someone bringing a blob of plutonium into the White House, Martin Sheen lying on the bathroom floor unable to move his legs, and an asteroid threatening to collide with the Earth.
The thing jumped the shark so many times it got boring reserving a space on the beach. Nobody behaved how they should. Long-established character profiles were ripped to shreds. People who'd spent five series being the closest of friends now had bare-knuckle fights with each other. The press secretary, someone whose career prior to politics had been plugging Hollywood movies, was made Chief of Staff. Alan Alda turned up as a Republican candidate to pontificate like he used to do every week in M*A*S*H. And right at the very very end, Leo McGarry, who'd had two heart attacks in the woods a dozen episodes earlier, was suddenly announced as a candidate for Vice-President.
So what did the new series have to top this? As if pressing on with the main themes of last year wasn't bad enough (everyone hates everyone else and the President is a lame duck, literally) so far we've had one episode begin with - shudder - a dream sequence and another with - ditto - a musical montage. Once the show's writers would have raced a good few country miles before resorting to either of those kinds of winsome cliches. But not now. All the schlock and schmaltz that was once carefully kept in check is now allowed to run amok.
Yet despite it being the last series, the budget appears to be enormous: fighter planes, conference halls, thousands of extras ... The producers are seemingly throwing everything at The West Wing in the hope something sticks in the memory. Unfortunately what does stick is the impression of a once great TV ship of state slipping all-too slowly into quicksand.
There are 100 days of this fictional Presidential campaign left to run. Someone will end up the winner. And it won't be us.
17 March 2006
WHEN IS THE END OF YOUR SCHTICK VIC?
There has been heated debate on internet forums this week regarding the BBC3 programme When Comedy Changed Forever. This one-off, 60 minuter put forward the thesis that modern television comedy owes an enormous debt to Vic Reeves Big Night Out. Taking this assumption as its intellectual starting point, the rest of the programme was then bolted round the idea, and presented to us via some ugly graphics that were meant to denote the different ages of TV comedy as distinct geographical locations. The upshot was - a clip of Ben Elton being obsequious to Geoffery Archer on an episode of Wogan aside - there wasn't really much of interest in the programme and its whole point came across a little spurious.
But perhaps this is due to a lack of affinity on this writer's part for the oeuvre of Reeves and Mortimer. Although it's difficult to contest they were groundbreaking in their day (although fans of Frank Sidebottom have attempted to voice a contrary opinion), the kind of comedy they ushered in seemed to me ephemeral in the extreme. 10, even 15 years on, young tykes attempting to perform comedy via the medium of simply being "random" just doesn't cut it. This whole school of "surreal" comedy is surely just one joke; namely, the comedian puts two entirely unconnected things together, and their collective incongruity is amusing. So it might be a satsuma and a refrigerator, or an alsation and a bottle of Vosene, but it is still just one joke ... it's not as if you can retell an Englishman, Irishman and Scotsman gag and make it funny the second time round simply by changing the protagonists' nationalities.
Of course all of this is just a round about way of saying I think The Mighty Boosh is well shit.
But perhaps this is due to a lack of affinity on this writer's part for the oeuvre of Reeves and Mortimer. Although it's difficult to contest they were groundbreaking in their day (although fans of Frank Sidebottom have attempted to voice a contrary opinion), the kind of comedy they ushered in seemed to me ephemeral in the extreme. 10, even 15 years on, young tykes attempting to perform comedy via the medium of simply being "random" just doesn't cut it. This whole school of "surreal" comedy is surely just one joke; namely, the comedian puts two entirely unconnected things together, and their collective incongruity is amusing. So it might be a satsuma and a refrigerator, or an alsation and a bottle of Vosene, but it is still just one joke ... it's not as if you can retell an Englishman, Irishman and Scotsman gag and make it funny the second time round simply by changing the protagonists' nationalities.
Of course all of this is just a round about way of saying I think The Mighty Boosh is well shit.
13 March 2006
DOCTOR, DOCTOR, CAN'T YOU SEE I'M BURNING, BURNING?
So, it's official, then. And once more I'm gearing up to go Doctor Who nuts as the new series' press launch has been confirmed for March 28 in Cardiff. The invites are ebay-ably attractive - David T, Billie P and an in-a-spin TARDIS on one side, some generic landscape shot on the other; both adorned with Photoshop whispy bits of business.
The timing of the event seems to tie in with the notion the series will return to BBC1 on Easter weekend, which seems as good a slot as any. I, for one, am excited.
It feels weird to be talking about Doctor Who in the present tense. I'd grown so used to the thing being dead that even one year after its return to telly, it seems odd to be ringing up the Beeb press office with Doctor Who queries. "Yes," you say self-consciously, "it's about Doctor Who." Not only that, but hearing people talk casually about the show - which they do, loads - still seems a little bit unsettling. My skin prickles.
Nearly six years ago I wrote a borderline-obnoxious piece on the fans' relationship with the series, and speculated at the time that, "It's [the casual viewer] who will cope best if - when - the Doctor returns". It does seem to be the case, doesn't it?
The timing of the event seems to tie in with the notion the series will return to BBC1 on Easter weekend, which seems as good a slot as any. I, for one, am excited.
It feels weird to be talking about Doctor Who in the present tense. I'd grown so used to the thing being dead that even one year after its return to telly, it seems odd to be ringing up the Beeb press office with Doctor Who queries. "Yes," you say self-consciously, "it's about Doctor Who." Not only that, but hearing people talk casually about the show - which they do, loads - still seems a little bit unsettling. My skin prickles.
Nearly six years ago I wrote a borderline-obnoxious piece on the fans' relationship with the series, and speculated at the time that, "It's [the casual viewer] who will cope best if - when - the Doctor returns". It does seem to be the case, doesn't it?
12 March 2006
THE BEST A MAN CAN GET
Simon Hattenstone has been eulogising Sky Sports' Jeff Stelling in The Guardian this week, and rightly so. There simply isn't a better sports presenter on British television at the moment, and Gillette Soccer Saturday never fails to deliver. Panellist Charlie Nicholas has been the star for two Saturdays now, first entering into raptures over Arsenal's win at Fulham, then conveying at high volume the drama of Portsmouth's last-minute winner against Manchester City.
It's been said that Soccer Saturday is the closest thing football has ever had to Test Match Special, weaving the scores and statistics with bonhomie and humour. Stelling has made the name of Kenny Deuchar, a prolific Scottish lower-league striker who combines his football career with his day job as a medic, branding him "the good doctor" and hailing Deuchar's granny Mae, a confirmed Stelling fanatic.
Meanwhile, over on the BBC, Ray Stubbs makes a serious face, frowns, and says, "Garth, what's your take on the events at Middlesbrough this week?"
Which brings us to Gary Lineker. Having attracted a horde of admirers in his new career as a football broadcaster, he now seems intent on losing them as fast as possible. As Hattenstone says, he's become obsessed with tedious jokes ("Why the long face, Ruud?" - unfunny and unoriginal), tiresome wordplay ("Crouch comes off the couch to prove he's no slouch" - what?) and smirking innuendo ("England has gone Bent!").
The nadir came at the start of a recent Match Of the Day, featuring several matches from the Premiership relegation zone. Introducing his pundits, Lineker announced, "two men who know all about their bottom - of the table, that is - are Alan Hansen and Lee Dixon".
The prospect of a month of all this during the World Cup isn't exactly an enticing one.
It's been said that Soccer Saturday is the closest thing football has ever had to Test Match Special, weaving the scores and statistics with bonhomie and humour. Stelling has made the name of Kenny Deuchar, a prolific Scottish lower-league striker who combines his football career with his day job as a medic, branding him "the good doctor" and hailing Deuchar's granny Mae, a confirmed Stelling fanatic.
Meanwhile, over on the BBC, Ray Stubbs makes a serious face, frowns, and says, "Garth, what's your take on the events at Middlesbrough this week?"
Which brings us to Gary Lineker. Having attracted a horde of admirers in his new career as a football broadcaster, he now seems intent on losing them as fast as possible. As Hattenstone says, he's become obsessed with tedious jokes ("Why the long face, Ruud?" - unfunny and unoriginal), tiresome wordplay ("Crouch comes off the couch to prove he's no slouch" - what?) and smirking innuendo ("England has gone Bent!").
The nadir came at the start of a recent Match Of the Day, featuring several matches from the Premiership relegation zone. Introducing his pundits, Lineker announced, "two men who know all about their bottom - of the table, that is - are Alan Hansen and Lee Dixon".
The prospect of a month of all this during the World Cup isn't exactly an enticing one.
THAT'S AFTER YOUR OWN PROGRAMMES ...
As Ian pointed out before Christmas, Nationwide, or something like it, is due for an experimental return to BBC1 this summer.
Of course, the main implication of this is a load of badly-written broadsheet features about the original programme, featuring, naturally, the magic words "skateboarding duck", and the searing revelation that "Frank Bough will not be involved". Well, thanks for that.
The problem that clueless media journalists always have when seeking to paint Nationwide as a 1970s joke (Clunky sets! Cheesy news agenda!) is that sooner or later, the name Diana Gould rears its head. That nice lady from Cheltenham who put Margaret Thatcher on the spot over the legitimacy of the sinking of the Belgrano during the Falklands War.
That a programme where the public could question the political leaders of the day can be written off so lazily by so many is a crying shame. Nobody ever mentions "Down and Out", the feature in which Tony Wilkinson slept rough for a month to expose the nightmare of homelessness. Exactly where does that fit into a "cheesy news agenda"? Of course, there was Richard Stilgoe's "Pigeonhole" and Bob Wellings looking at follies, but that's what made Nationwide great - 25 minutes of British life, both serious and trivial. Like a newspaper.
I'm not sure that it's necessarily right for today, though. This exercise seems like a desperate attempt to find something to fill BBC1's troublesome 7pm slot. And who really needs 90 minutes of news, regional news and current affairs in the early evening? Imagine George Alagiah reading the news, handing to Natasha Kaplinsky in the Nationwide studio, then to "your own programmes", then back to Natasha again. It could be Sixty Minutes all over again. And there's the very real prospect of endless irritating Breakfast-style stilted banter.
But still, it'll be interesting to see how it works out. Especially if they decide to update some of those old Nationwide staples. For "Pigeonhole" with Stilgoe, read "Inbox" with Bill Turnbull?
Of course, the main implication of this is a load of badly-written broadsheet features about the original programme, featuring, naturally, the magic words "skateboarding duck", and the searing revelation that "Frank Bough will not be involved". Well, thanks for that.
The problem that clueless media journalists always have when seeking to paint Nationwide as a 1970s joke (Clunky sets! Cheesy news agenda!) is that sooner or later, the name Diana Gould rears its head. That nice lady from Cheltenham who put Margaret Thatcher on the spot over the legitimacy of the sinking of the Belgrano during the Falklands War.
That a programme where the public could question the political leaders of the day can be written off so lazily by so many is a crying shame. Nobody ever mentions "Down and Out", the feature in which Tony Wilkinson slept rough for a month to expose the nightmare of homelessness. Exactly where does that fit into a "cheesy news agenda"? Of course, there was Richard Stilgoe's "Pigeonhole" and Bob Wellings looking at follies, but that's what made Nationwide great - 25 minutes of British life, both serious and trivial. Like a newspaper.
I'm not sure that it's necessarily right for today, though. This exercise seems like a desperate attempt to find something to fill BBC1's troublesome 7pm slot. And who really needs 90 minutes of news, regional news and current affairs in the early evening? Imagine George Alagiah reading the news, handing to Natasha Kaplinsky in the Nationwide studio, then to "your own programmes", then back to Natasha again. It could be Sixty Minutes all over again. And there's the very real prospect of endless irritating Breakfast-style stilted banter.
But still, it'll be interesting to see how it works out. Especially if they decide to update some of those old Nationwide staples. For "Pigeonhole" with Stilgoe, read "Inbox" with Bill Turnbull?
07 March 2006
"HOW BADLY DO YOU NEED THE MONEY?"
Stuart Ian Burns has been in touch again, pointing out the nuttiness of the US version of Deal or No Deal?.
As you'd expect, it's infused with a sense of razmatazz, a world away from Noel, that Ikea showroom and shoe boxes. Most notably, instead of the motley collection of fellow contestants revealing the sums of cash, the show employs a fleet of models, opening executive-style briefcases. There's up to $1 million to be won, and the whole thing is presided over by Dr Fiscus from St Elsewhere.
Rather fantastically, the show goes out back-to-back with the US version of The Apprentice, and to capitalise on that, it started off its second season with a special appearance from Donald Trump, advising the contestant on whether or not he should take the banker's offer. See here to find out if The Donald's advice held good.
As you'd expect, it's infused with a sense of razmatazz, a world away from Noel, that Ikea showroom and shoe boxes. Most notably, instead of the motley collection of fellow contestants revealing the sums of cash, the show employs a fleet of models, opening executive-style briefcases. There's up to $1 million to be won, and the whole thing is presided over by Dr Fiscus from St Elsewhere.
Rather fantastically, the show goes out back-to-back with the US version of The Apprentice, and to capitalise on that, it started off its second season with a special appearance from Donald Trump, advising the contestant on whether or not he should take the banker's offer. See here to find out if The Donald's advice held good.
01 March 2006
SPRING HAS SPRUNG
Just back from the Channel 4 Spring 2006 launch. To be honest, there's not a huge amount to report, bar a potentially interesting season titled "The Trouble With Old People" and - can it be true? - the end of Property Ladder? Well, nothing was actually said on this point, but it wasn't included in the line-up of new housing programmes alongside Grand Designs and Location, Location, Location as has previously been the norm.
Gathering in a hotel in South West London, Kevin Lygo was as supply teacher-like as ever, requiring a compartively burly colleague to call for silence from the makeshift stage before he got up to give us the banter.
"So far it's been another embarrassingly brilliant year for Channel 4," he quipped. "It can't last". Crowing further about the 15% rise in audience share across C4's portfolio, he admitted part of this was down to "general chaos and mayhem on the other networks".
He then went on to detail how Friday night was once more comedy night, with a third series of The Friday Night Project currently in the works. "It's a lot better now". Hmm. There was no sign of any new comedic offerings, however.
The other emphasis was on drama, with C4 committed to producing more one and two-part projects. Of these, the big-hitter will undoubtedly be All in the Game, starring Ray Winstone as a (what else?) foul-mouthed football manager.
And that's it, really. That, and the canapes were pretty crap.
Gathering in a hotel in South West London, Kevin Lygo was as supply teacher-like as ever, requiring a compartively burly colleague to call for silence from the makeshift stage before he got up to give us the banter.
"So far it's been another embarrassingly brilliant year for Channel 4," he quipped. "It can't last". Crowing further about the 15% rise in audience share across C4's portfolio, he admitted part of this was down to "general chaos and mayhem on the other networks".
He then went on to detail how Friday night was once more comedy night, with a third series of The Friday Night Project currently in the works. "It's a lot better now". Hmm. There was no sign of any new comedic offerings, however.
The other emphasis was on drama, with C4 committed to producing more one and two-part projects. Of these, the big-hitter will undoubtedly be All in the Game, starring Ray Winstone as a (what else?) foul-mouthed football manager.
And that's it, really. That, and the canapes were pretty crap.
THEY ARE THE EGGMEN
"Is this the last really good thing that Tony Marchant ever wrote?" said Jack, a couple of months back, musing on the merits of Holding On.
Er, yes. And things aren't about to change with The Family Man, which comes to BBC1 at the end of March. In typical Marchant style, what we've got here is a seemingly disparate cast of people, whose lives all overlap on the same Very Important Issue.
At the centre of things is a stiffly coiffured Trevor Eve, the titular "Man" who runs a fertility clinic. Through a series (I originally wrote "serious" there, a telling slip) of laborious staff meetings - partially enlivened by the cast all eating Chinese takeways - Eve and his colleagues painfully hammer out the various ethical issues surrounding the topic, before he unilaterally decides to go ahead with what he considers to be the right course of action, with heavily signposted dramatic fall-out ensuing.
The plot-strands are quite clever, including a typically neat tie-up between two seemingly unrelated characters in episode two (I really should have seen that coming). However the characterisation is painful. Working class types dimly reacting to circumstance, one would-be mother screeching: "It ain't easy, you know - just to give half your eggs away!". Meanwhile, Eve and his chums live in a Habitat world, where every meal is taken with a glass of wine and icy teenage kids lord it around the house, punching holes in dad's sanctimoniousness.
But, it's got Lee Ross in it and Nick Stringer, so it's not totally without appeal.
Er, yes. And things aren't about to change with The Family Man, which comes to BBC1 at the end of March. In typical Marchant style, what we've got here is a seemingly disparate cast of people, whose lives all overlap on the same Very Important Issue.
At the centre of things is a stiffly coiffured Trevor Eve, the titular "Man" who runs a fertility clinic. Through a series (I originally wrote "serious" there, a telling slip) of laborious staff meetings - partially enlivened by the cast all eating Chinese takeways - Eve and his colleagues painfully hammer out the various ethical issues surrounding the topic, before he unilaterally decides to go ahead with what he considers to be the right course of action, with heavily signposted dramatic fall-out ensuing.
The plot-strands are quite clever, including a typically neat tie-up between two seemingly unrelated characters in episode two (I really should have seen that coming). However the characterisation is painful. Working class types dimly reacting to circumstance, one would-be mother screeching: "It ain't easy, you know - just to give half your eggs away!". Meanwhile, Eve and his chums live in a Habitat world, where every meal is taken with a glass of wine and icy teenage kids lord it around the house, punching holes in dad's sanctimoniousness.
But, it's got Lee Ross in it and Nick Stringer, so it's not totally without appeal.