27 September 2006
CUBING THE CIRCLE
The ident-related fun continues with OTT reader Neil Golightly providing a masterclass in economics.
"Set your calculators to 'maths'," comes the instruction.
"The Beeb have spent £1.2m on those new logos. Let's assume they last as long as the previous set: 4 1/2 years. The BBC's TV Licensing Review 2005 gives a figure of 24.6m for the number of licences.
"So, writing off the cost of the idents over their estimated lifetime gives a figure of 1.08p per licence per year. This amounts to about 43 minutes worth of each year's licence.
"Write that down in your copybooks now.
"In a not necessarily fair comparison, an hour of drama costs £500k, according to the Governors' Annual Report."
Okay, thanks Neil, I'll take it from here.
[Clears throat, and presses mouse button to reveal the next PowerPoint slide] All of which equals the following surprising conclusion: Good grief, there are people out there actually reading the OTT Blog?!
"Set your calculators to 'maths'," comes the instruction.
"The Beeb have spent £1.2m on those new logos. Let's assume they last as long as the previous set: 4 1/2 years. The BBC's TV Licensing Review 2005 gives a figure of 24.6m for the number of licences.
"So, writing off the cost of the idents over their estimated lifetime gives a figure of 1.08p per licence per year. This amounts to about 43 minutes worth of each year's licence.
"Write that down in your copybooks now.
"In a not necessarily fair comparison, an hour of drama costs £500k, according to the Governors' Annual Report."
Okay, thanks Neil, I'll take it from here.
[Clears throat, and presses mouse button to reveal the next PowerPoint slide] All of which equals the following surprising conclusion: Good grief, there are people out there actually reading the OTT Blog?!
SEE YOU CITV
PM are reporting (I'm just listening to it now) that ITV have confirmed their decision to close Granada Kids which means they will no longer be producing new ITV children's programmes, and have cancelled all commissioned shows from independents which includes My Parents are Aliens. This means that any children's programmes appearing on ITV1 and the CITV channel will be repeats or imports. ITV are apparently refusing interviews about the decision although the assumption is that it's in reaction to the denial of their petition to Ofcom to remove the programming from their main channel and the new regulations regarding fast food advertising during such programmes.
One of the fundamental decision I had to make as a child was whether I was a BBC kid or ITV - Blue Peter or Magpie? Swap Shop or Tiswas? Think of a Number or How? This was one of the life choices I think we all made so that we could find out what kind of people we are. Obviously this has disolved in the multi-channel world, and no wonder most kids look so confused and restless. But it also used to be that this brand loyalty would continue into adulthood - if ITV aren't grabbing people when they're young, who will be watching in a decade's time?
One of the fundamental decision I had to make as a child was whether I was a BBC kid or ITV - Blue Peter or Magpie? Swap Shop or Tiswas? Think of a Number or How? This was one of the life choices I think we all made so that we could find out what kind of people we are. Obviously this has disolved in the multi-channel world, and no wonder most kids look so confused and restless. But it also used to be that this brand loyalty would continue into adulthood - if ITV aren't grabbing people when they're young, who will be watching in a decade's time?
SQUARING THE CIRCLE
OTT reader Nick Hutchings has been on the Blog Phone, to contribute to the discussion about BBC1's new look.
"Interesting stuff about the new BBC idents," says Nick, generously.
"Is it just me, or is some of the 'waste of money' fury going on on 'Have Your Say' a bit reactionary?
"1.2 million quid isn't that much in the grand scheme of things, is it? How much do these things usually cost?"
"Interesting stuff about the new BBC idents," says Nick, generously.
"Is it just me, or is some of the 'waste of money' fury going on on 'Have Your Say' a bit reactionary?
"1.2 million quid isn't that much in the grand scheme of things, is it? How much do these things usually cost?"
DEPRESS TO IMPRESS
It's not often television, especially in documentary form, makes me feel humble or lucky, even though through my own reasons of health and happiness (though the fortune has yet to turn up), I know I am. But watching Stephen Fry's two-part examination of the bipolar condition with which he and four million others live made me feel just lucky to be me, warts and all.
Stemming from Fry's own diagnosis after he scarpered from Cell Mates in 1995, The Secret Life of the Manic Depressive followed him around as he examined methods of diagnosis, identification of symptoms and somewhat indelicate methods of treatment and, most touchingly of all, interviewed numerous sufferers of varying social and intellectual standing, the majority of whom were, thankfully, not famous.
Fry is, of course, a colossal brain on two long legs, so I was grateful when he found himself listening carefully, without interruption or anticipation, to folk with the same illness as he, but without his cerebral power, finance or public profile to protect, tell their own horrific stories about living life on the edge of suicide or self-harm without any discernible reason for it. These people weren't mad, or even coping with a dual personality. They were largely normal folk, educated to one extent or another, with careers and families who had seen their own helpless manic depression eat away at everything they had worked for.
The American mother whose two teenage sons were both bipolar and routinely attacked people and inanimate objects at school, and were on a peppermill-sized daily cocktail of drugs. The ex-Royal Yacht commander whose condition had him thrown out of service and eventually led him to walk in front of a truck, causing such severe compound fractures to his legs that they were now merely lumps of random skin and bone attached to his pelvis. The bright Oxford student, whose depression was so extreme that it wiped her memory just prior to her finals, yet in moments of mania prompted outstanding pieces of creative writing. The ex-lawyer and TA sergeant who now lives on drugs, unable to walk without aids nor leave her house. The brain surgeon who became a patient three separate times in a mental hospital and had to tell fibs about her past to return to the medical profession as a GP once her condition eased. I felt for them all. So did Fry.
Rick Stein told of how his father threw himself off a cliff in Cornwall in front of him, while Tony Slattery re-told his tales of chucking all his electrical equipment into the Thames while the river police, with megaphone, politely asked him to desist. All these stories - and more from the likes of Robbie Williams and Carrie Fisher - were taken on by Fry as he sought answers to his own condition.
Whether we got answers or not is debatable. There is no outright cure - sufferers can use drugs for the rest of their life and never show symptoms again, but this is no cure - but ultimately the main answer was to the question of how much public sympathy can this particular type of mental illness garner? After all, some of our unforgiving press will tell you that a mentalist is a mentalist is a mentalist, and no closer examination of symptoms or diagnosis will stop them being a danger to themselves, you, your family and - to quote Will Self's Daily Mail parody - your house's value.
Having a major player like Fry, a man of few enemies in public or private despite an antecedence which includes school expulsion, imprisonment and Stalag Luft, present the documentary so nakedly (we got two uses of the "c"-word entirely uncensored during his own lowest moments) clearly helped. His obvious vulnerability, despite his enormous intelligence quotient, was both sweet and alarming as he shopped for his 14th Mackintosh computer and DVDs he would never watch during extreme moments of mania (accompanied by a cognitive therapist who tried and failed to dissuade him) while also reeling at the realisation that he causes so much perennial worry to his family in depressive states (through his sister and diary organiser's admission) even when he seems happy on the surface.
Ultimately Fry is a clown who we want to be a little mad, but now we realise he really is to an extent. But yet again he is associated with a piece of utterly compelling television, and boy do I wish well every person he interviewed.
Stemming from Fry's own diagnosis after he scarpered from Cell Mates in 1995, The Secret Life of the Manic Depressive followed him around as he examined methods of diagnosis, identification of symptoms and somewhat indelicate methods of treatment and, most touchingly of all, interviewed numerous sufferers of varying social and intellectual standing, the majority of whom were, thankfully, not famous.
Fry is, of course, a colossal brain on two long legs, so I was grateful when he found himself listening carefully, without interruption or anticipation, to folk with the same illness as he, but without his cerebral power, finance or public profile to protect, tell their own horrific stories about living life on the edge of suicide or self-harm without any discernible reason for it. These people weren't mad, or even coping with a dual personality. They were largely normal folk, educated to one extent or another, with careers and families who had seen their own helpless manic depression eat away at everything they had worked for.
The American mother whose two teenage sons were both bipolar and routinely attacked people and inanimate objects at school, and were on a peppermill-sized daily cocktail of drugs. The ex-Royal Yacht commander whose condition had him thrown out of service and eventually led him to walk in front of a truck, causing such severe compound fractures to his legs that they were now merely lumps of random skin and bone attached to his pelvis. The bright Oxford student, whose depression was so extreme that it wiped her memory just prior to her finals, yet in moments of mania prompted outstanding pieces of creative writing. The ex-lawyer and TA sergeant who now lives on drugs, unable to walk without aids nor leave her house. The brain surgeon who became a patient three separate times in a mental hospital and had to tell fibs about her past to return to the medical profession as a GP once her condition eased. I felt for them all. So did Fry.
Rick Stein told of how his father threw himself off a cliff in Cornwall in front of him, while Tony Slattery re-told his tales of chucking all his electrical equipment into the Thames while the river police, with megaphone, politely asked him to desist. All these stories - and more from the likes of Robbie Williams and Carrie Fisher - were taken on by Fry as he sought answers to his own condition.
Whether we got answers or not is debatable. There is no outright cure - sufferers can use drugs for the rest of their life and never show symptoms again, but this is no cure - but ultimately the main answer was to the question of how much public sympathy can this particular type of mental illness garner? After all, some of our unforgiving press will tell you that a mentalist is a mentalist is a mentalist, and no closer examination of symptoms or diagnosis will stop them being a danger to themselves, you, your family and - to quote Will Self's Daily Mail parody - your house's value.
Having a major player like Fry, a man of few enemies in public or private despite an antecedence which includes school expulsion, imprisonment and Stalag Luft, present the documentary so nakedly (we got two uses of the "c"-word entirely uncensored during his own lowest moments) clearly helped. His obvious vulnerability, despite his enormous intelligence quotient, was both sweet and alarming as he shopped for his 14th Mackintosh computer and DVDs he would never watch during extreme moments of mania (accompanied by a cognitive therapist who tried and failed to dissuade him) while also reeling at the realisation that he causes so much perennial worry to his family in depressive states (through his sister and diary organiser's admission) even when he seems happy on the surface.
Ultimately Fry is a clown who we want to be a little mad, but now we realise he really is to an extent. But yet again he is associated with a piece of utterly compelling television, and boy do I wish well every person he interviewed.
26 September 2006
PERFECT CIRCLE
I reckon the new BBC1 idents are absolutely smashing.
Bright, colourful, exciting and imaginative, they're quite possibly the best ones since - well, since a long time. The current bunch of "dancers", depsite being based a neat concept, quickly lost their appeal by virtue of being so bland. Once you'd seen them a few times they became boring and predictable. There were too many faces, doing too many carefully chereographed stunts and shenanigans, and they ultimately ended up losing impact and resonance by dint of being too forced and stylised.
The floating globes were better, albeit somewhat curmudgeonly, because they commanded a sense of authority and dignity. They called attention to themselves without going over-the-top, and could establish an atmosphere befitting whatever programme they were preceding. They also gave you some space to think.
This new set, however, could be even better thanks to the way they combine that essence of authority with a quirky, almost cheeky imagination that doesn't especially rely on faces or places to set a tone.
They get a resounding thumbs-up as far as this writer is concerned, and even better, the idents are debuting the day BBC1 launches its killer double bill of Saturday night entertainment, Robin Hood and Strictly Come Dancing.
Bright, colourful, exciting and imaginative, they're quite possibly the best ones since - well, since a long time. The current bunch of "dancers", depsite being based a neat concept, quickly lost their appeal by virtue of being so bland. Once you'd seen them a few times they became boring and predictable. There were too many faces, doing too many carefully chereographed stunts and shenanigans, and they ultimately ended up losing impact and resonance by dint of being too forced and stylised.
The floating globes were better, albeit somewhat curmudgeonly, because they commanded a sense of authority and dignity. They called attention to themselves without going over-the-top, and could establish an atmosphere befitting whatever programme they were preceding. They also gave you some space to think.
This new set, however, could be even better thanks to the way they combine that essence of authority with a quirky, almost cheeky imagination that doesn't especially rely on faces or places to set a tone.
They get a resounding thumbs-up as far as this writer is concerned, and even better, the idents are debuting the day BBC1 launches its killer double bill of Saturday night entertainment, Robin Hood and Strictly Come Dancing.
YOU SPIN ME RIGHT ROUND BBC
The new BBC1 idents have finally been unveiled, and it looks as though they might be quite good (compared to the last set anyway). Following in the footsteps of the famous globe, the red balloon and the "ethnic" dancers, design agency Red Bee Media has concocted a series of idents, of which there will ultimately be 16. The red colour scheme has been retained but a new lower-case typeface has been created, a move away from the current uniform use of Gill Sans by the BBC.
It appears that the lead has been taken from the BBC4 idents which use everyday backgrounds with overlaid text, although each of the new BBC1 efforts is based around the theme of a circle (but there is no globe amongst them!) which is apparently "a symbol of community and unity" according to Charlie Mawer of Red Bee.
The eight initial idents are entitled: Bikes, Ring-a-Roses, Kites, Moon, Surfer, Windows, Football and Hippos. Each ident will be used to correspond with the type of programme that it is trailing, for example the Hippos ident might be used in conjunction with a wildlife programme. Expect to see them on your screens from 7 October ...
It appears that the lead has been taken from the BBC4 idents which use everyday backgrounds with overlaid text, although each of the new BBC1 efforts is based around the theme of a circle (but there is no globe amongst them!) which is apparently "a symbol of community and unity" according to Charlie Mawer of Red Bee.
The eight initial idents are entitled: Bikes, Ring-a-Roses, Kites, Moon, Surfer, Windows, Football and Hippos. Each ident will be used to correspond with the type of programme that it is trailing, for example the Hippos ident might be used in conjunction with a wildlife programme. Expect to see them on your screens from 7 October ...
25 September 2006
NATAL ATTRACTION
Contrast the two storylines in our main soaps right now involving the aftermath of childbirth.
As ever, while EastEnders chooses to go with shock tactics at the expense of relatable drama, allowing the viewer no respite from the idea that all family events have to be tinged with tragedy, the glitterati on Coronation Street have got it spot on. The decision to give the fluttery, angelic character of Claire Peacock a dark side through the onset of acute post-natal depression has proved inspired from all the angles with a box to tick - it is well-researched, acted from the textbook by Julia Haworth, able to educate the viewer without going for the jugular of extremities, and has been approached with an air of developed subtlety, allowing the viewer to guess or anticipate what lay ahead.
The journey from maternity ward to mental hospital has developed magnificently. The character's initial inexhaustible ability to juggle motherhood with dinner parties and redecoration, while maintaining her public smile; through to her defensive, spiteful argument over her condition with her desperate husband while at the same time shoving the poor mite in front of a lorry, has been compelling, moving and entirely followable, even for the unitiated.
While a storyline of giving a newborn baby Down Syndrome is not dramatically heretical, even in soap, it still prompts righteous reactions of favouring downbeat and depressing storylines without any idea that something positive can emerge. And if the baby, born to Billy and Honey, is to develop as a character, then an actress with that particular condition is going to be required. Of course, EastEnders won't go that far. You can bet your life that mother and baby, father and baby, or all three (but definitely the baby) will be written out within 12 months, allowing a storyline to peter out in the name of short-termism. There's no doubt that the actors playing the parents will suffer in drama to high standards, but there doesn't seem to be a way out that doesn't involve some kind of twee or predictable escapism.
Coronation Street's angle on the perils of bringing children into the world has, by contrast, allowed the baby to remain safe from winning ratings and has brought a darker, colder and more sinister side to a character who was of a much sunnier and fluffier disposition up to the day she brought the mite home. Post-natal depression has been discussed on all the radio phone-ins and doleite TV blabs as a consequence, but wouldn't have been had the plot not carried authenticity in both its research and execution. Nobody's talked about Down Syndrome half as much.
And of course, as Claire and Ashley Peacock and their immediates dig deep into their souls for their art of shade, the viewers get the required light which has been stamped through every Coronation Street episode since day one. The hoots of laughter via Norris and Rita's petty arguments over freebie pens have eased the viewer's pangs of sympathy further down the cobbles. EastEnders does shade rather too thoroughly, if not necessarily well; their light always consists of someone having a do at the Vic with a piano out, and even then there's usually a life-changing phone call for whoever happens to be singing.
As ever, while EastEnders chooses to go with shock tactics at the expense of relatable drama, allowing the viewer no respite from the idea that all family events have to be tinged with tragedy, the glitterati on Coronation Street have got it spot on. The decision to give the fluttery, angelic character of Claire Peacock a dark side through the onset of acute post-natal depression has proved inspired from all the angles with a box to tick - it is well-researched, acted from the textbook by Julia Haworth, able to educate the viewer without going for the jugular of extremities, and has been approached with an air of developed subtlety, allowing the viewer to guess or anticipate what lay ahead.
The journey from maternity ward to mental hospital has developed magnificently. The character's initial inexhaustible ability to juggle motherhood with dinner parties and redecoration, while maintaining her public smile; through to her defensive, spiteful argument over her condition with her desperate husband while at the same time shoving the poor mite in front of a lorry, has been compelling, moving and entirely followable, even for the unitiated.
While a storyline of giving a newborn baby Down Syndrome is not dramatically heretical, even in soap, it still prompts righteous reactions of favouring downbeat and depressing storylines without any idea that something positive can emerge. And if the baby, born to Billy and Honey, is to develop as a character, then an actress with that particular condition is going to be required. Of course, EastEnders won't go that far. You can bet your life that mother and baby, father and baby, or all three (but definitely the baby) will be written out within 12 months, allowing a storyline to peter out in the name of short-termism. There's no doubt that the actors playing the parents will suffer in drama to high standards, but there doesn't seem to be a way out that doesn't involve some kind of twee or predictable escapism.
Coronation Street's angle on the perils of bringing children into the world has, by contrast, allowed the baby to remain safe from winning ratings and has brought a darker, colder and more sinister side to a character who was of a much sunnier and fluffier disposition up to the day she brought the mite home. Post-natal depression has been discussed on all the radio phone-ins and doleite TV blabs as a consequence, but wouldn't have been had the plot not carried authenticity in both its research and execution. Nobody's talked about Down Syndrome half as much.
And of course, as Claire and Ashley Peacock and their immediates dig deep into their souls for their art of shade, the viewers get the required light which has been stamped through every Coronation Street episode since day one. The hoots of laughter via Norris and Rita's petty arguments over freebie pens have eased the viewer's pangs of sympathy further down the cobbles. EastEnders does shade rather too thoroughly, if not necessarily well; their light always consists of someone having a do at the Vic with a piano out, and even then there's usually a life-changing phone call for whoever happens to be singing.
20 September 2006
"SHIT HAIRCUTS AND TERRIBLE JUMPERS"
Following on from Stuart's This Life musing, in April, Jack Davenport was promoting his role in the two-part ITV1 drama The Incredible Journey of Mary Bryant. Inevitably, he was asked about the reunion. At that stage, the whole notion was very much up in the air ...
"We did talk about it," he said. "We all met, the five of us from the first series, and Amy the writer and Tony Garnett, and they kind of mooted it and kind of polled us on it. We were all up for it - and so we should, because we wouldn’t have careers of any description whatsoever if it wasn’t for that show.
"The difficult thing is, because Tony Garnett so elegantly killed it at the moment of maximum demand – which is one of his very cool traits as a producer – to find the entry point to revive it, even for an hour, without it looking a bit tacky, is quite difficult. Amy had suggested a couple of things, which were pretty damn good, I have to say. But, nonetheless, it’s really, really difficult.
"My favourite thing about that show was when it ended, everybody – expect for two characters – was fucking miserable. Well, isn’t that just like life? It’s arguably quite subversive for a television drama to go, ‘Fuck this’. Usually it’s a big old car crash, people not getting what they want. It’s a bit of a kind of a downer."
He was then asked why, over the last 10 years, demand for the show hasn't abated.
"It is weird having been in something which is held in that much affection, that much after the event. It’s not like movies, where people carry their love for a particular film around for years and the rest of their lives. Let’s face it, Casablanca it ain’t.
"It’s just a series about a load of lawyers with shit haircuts and terrible jumpers. But, you know it’s still written about … you guys [journalists] refer to it all the time! But nobody saw it – not really. It was on BBC2, and it got five million people. That’s less than one in 10 of this country. No-one else has ever fucking seen it.
"To be honest with you, to begin with, never had a show been so roundly ignored. When it was first broadcast, there was no advertising - but that was actually part of the brilliance of it. Nowadays, Channel 4 have these huge billboards in Vauxhall. I can see why they do it, but I don’t know about you, sometimes that makes me much more resistant to watching a show. ‘Don’t fucking tell me what to watch. If I find it, I find it. If I don’t, I don’t’.
"So This Life just completely slipped into the schedules, late. Pretty late at night. And no-one watched it. The reason I think it picked up is somehow we got recommissioned, and they re-ran the first series and then went straight into the second. They showed it twice a week. We were on television twice a week for 32 weeks. Now that’s a lot of television. We beat people over the head! People could not avoid it after a while.
"But the writing was fantastic, let’s not forget that. I’m being a bit facetious. It’s the Holy Grail in TV to make something that’s relevant to ABC1s, and it was, because everyone loves to see things about themselves, basically, and not feel patronised. It’s a high-risk thing to do - something that talks about ‘contemporary issues’ without sounding like a public information film. I don’t know how they managed to pull it off, but they did.
"We had it all. We had sex, we had disease, we had homosexuality, we had lesbians, we had robbery – you name it. And it didn’t feel like some issue-led, pious, holier-than-thou show. And maybe that’s why it's endured."
"We did talk about it," he said. "We all met, the five of us from the first series, and Amy the writer and Tony Garnett, and they kind of mooted it and kind of polled us on it. We were all up for it - and so we should, because we wouldn’t have careers of any description whatsoever if it wasn’t for that show.
"The difficult thing is, because Tony Garnett so elegantly killed it at the moment of maximum demand – which is one of his very cool traits as a producer – to find the entry point to revive it, even for an hour, without it looking a bit tacky, is quite difficult. Amy had suggested a couple of things, which were pretty damn good, I have to say. But, nonetheless, it’s really, really difficult.
"My favourite thing about that show was when it ended, everybody – expect for two characters – was fucking miserable. Well, isn’t that just like life? It’s arguably quite subversive for a television drama to go, ‘Fuck this’. Usually it’s a big old car crash, people not getting what they want. It’s a bit of a kind of a downer."
He was then asked why, over the last 10 years, demand for the show hasn't abated.
"It is weird having been in something which is held in that much affection, that much after the event. It’s not like movies, where people carry their love for a particular film around for years and the rest of their lives. Let’s face it, Casablanca it ain’t.
"It’s just a series about a load of lawyers with shit haircuts and terrible jumpers. But, you know it’s still written about … you guys [journalists] refer to it all the time! But nobody saw it – not really. It was on BBC2, and it got five million people. That’s less than one in 10 of this country. No-one else has ever fucking seen it.
"To be honest with you, to begin with, never had a show been so roundly ignored. When it was first broadcast, there was no advertising - but that was actually part of the brilliance of it. Nowadays, Channel 4 have these huge billboards in Vauxhall. I can see why they do it, but I don’t know about you, sometimes that makes me much more resistant to watching a show. ‘Don’t fucking tell me what to watch. If I find it, I find it. If I don’t, I don’t’.
"So This Life just completely slipped into the schedules, late. Pretty late at night. And no-one watched it. The reason I think it picked up is somehow we got recommissioned, and they re-ran the first series and then went straight into the second. They showed it twice a week. We were on television twice a week for 32 weeks. Now that’s a lot of television. We beat people over the head! People could not avoid it after a while.
"But the writing was fantastic, let’s not forget that. I’m being a bit facetious. It’s the Holy Grail in TV to make something that’s relevant to ABC1s, and it was, because everyone loves to see things about themselves, basically, and not feel patronised. It’s a high-risk thing to do - something that talks about ‘contemporary issues’ without sounding like a public information film. I don’t know how they managed to pull it off, but they did.
"We had it all. We had sex, we had disease, we had homosexuality, we had lesbians, we had robbery – you name it. And it didn’t feel like some issue-led, pious, holier-than-thou show. And maybe that’s why it's endured."
MORE MILES TO GO
It had been rumoured as early as last year, but now the BBC have released information about plans for a 10 year reunion episode of Amy Jenkins' This Life - although little has been said other than the whole original cast will be returning and some plot details:
"One of the group has become a commercial success after writing a book based on their friendship and a TV production company is keen to film the group's reunion."
Whilst I loved the original series, I'm not entirely thrilled by the prospect, especially since it is going to be in the form of a 90-minute film rather than a new series. Part of the attraction of the show was the slow burn - like any drama series the storylines that ebbed and flowed from week to week, the sexual tension between Anna and Miles; the lack of such with Milly and Egg; and Warren (later Ferdy) stuck in the middle. Although there is something seductive in finding out what happened after the glorious finale, I can't help but feel that whatever Jenkins has in mind can only be less thrilling that what we of a certain age all have in our collective imagination.
Over the short form, and with a reunion plotline it'll have to work wonders not to spend much of its duration explaining how they were broken assunder. Films that have previously used this formula such as Peter's Friends, The Big Chill and Return of the Secaucus 7 have very clearly demonstrated that this is just one of a number of reunions and that they've stayed in touch. This seems like the best policy here, although it's a shame that the new episode won't simply supply a slice of the character's lives now rather than creating a "special event" drawing them back together.
"One of the group has become a commercial success after writing a book based on their friendship and a TV production company is keen to film the group's reunion."
Whilst I loved the original series, I'm not entirely thrilled by the prospect, especially since it is going to be in the form of a 90-minute film rather than a new series. Part of the attraction of the show was the slow burn - like any drama series the storylines that ebbed and flowed from week to week, the sexual tension between Anna and Miles; the lack of such with Milly and Egg; and Warren (later Ferdy) stuck in the middle. Although there is something seductive in finding out what happened after the glorious finale, I can't help but feel that whatever Jenkins has in mind can only be less thrilling that what we of a certain age all have in our collective imagination.
Over the short form, and with a reunion plotline it'll have to work wonders not to spend much of its duration explaining how they were broken assunder. Films that have previously used this formula such as Peter's Friends, The Big Chill and Return of the Secaucus 7 have very clearly demonstrated that this is just one of a number of reunions and that they've stayed in touch. This seems like the best policy here, although it's a shame that the new episode won't simply supply a slice of the character's lives now rather than creating a "special event" drawing them back together.
COMIC ASIDES
Just lately there appears to have been an increasing jocular nature to continuity announcements on television, particularly on BBC2. Last night while talking over the end credits (a particular bugbear of many, along with the dreaded credit squashing) of Have I Got News For You, the announcer gave details of a programme that was going to be on later in the evening. That programme was Dragon's Den. Now, instead of just telling us the time it was going to start, he attempted to make a joke in relation to the show. His words were: "I'm developing a chocolate teapot, but just can't get a handle on it." Bizarre eh? This isn't like the BBC! It's getting to be like listening to the comedic announcers on BBC3.
Gone are the days when the only non-programme announcement following a show was something along the lines of: "And Christopher Biggins is now appearing in Don't Forget Your Underpants Vicar, at the Apollo Theatre in Shaftesbury Avenue". Perhaps it's a good thing, but I don't suppose we will ever have a return to the time when BBC announcers spoke soberly with "proper" accents, or the days when credits were not spoken over at all ...
Gone are the days when the only non-programme announcement following a show was something along the lines of: "And Christopher Biggins is now appearing in Don't Forget Your Underpants Vicar, at the Apollo Theatre in Shaftesbury Avenue". Perhaps it's a good thing, but I don't suppose we will ever have a return to the time when BBC announcers spoke soberly with "proper" accents, or the days when credits were not spoken over at all ...
19 September 2006
FITZ OF BRILLIANCE
"Here's the rules," said Robbie Coltrane to his fellow cast members, as they readied to face-off a room full of journos following the Cracker screening, "don't say 'fuck' and pretend we like each other".
Yup, Cracker's back, but the question is, is it any good? Years and years ago, Jack had the audacity to rank the existing Cracker canon in order of any-good-ness. So where would 2006's episode sit? A new entry at number six, I think - nudging in ahead of "Brotherly Love" and just behind "To Be a Somebody". In parts, it feels like McGovern-by-numbers, but when McGovern hasn't been able to join the dots for ages, that's something to be celebrated.
The main concerns - the "Troubles" in Northern Ireland and Bush's "War on Terror" - both feel a little tired. In fact, at the post-screening Q&A, producer John Chapman admitted: "When we were making it, we were quite worried that the situation might have disappeared". The killer of the piece, too, treads familar territory: A loner with a sympathetic grievance (deaths in Northern Ireland being overshadowed by the events of 9/11) who's on first-name terms with the Samaritans.
But, you know, it's still great telly. Fitz's character is nailed utterly from the first appearance, and his relationship with Judith unravels just as it should when he's back on home soil and sniffing out his old vices again. Performances throughout are fantastic, the plot is engaging (although slightly too hinged on coincidence), but most of all, we get a nice head-to-head scene near the end.
It's a Cracker must that our hero ultimately confronts the killer, but because of changing police procedure, we're told early on that nowadays the psychologist has no access to the suspect once charged. Hence the scene takes place before the authorities know who the murderer is, and in the pleasingly bland environs of what looks like a staff canteen - echoey and unclaustrophobic. This is a new twist for the show.
Final points: Ouch! Nasty logo and titles! Ouch! Fitz, Judith: get young Jimmy a haircut!
Yup, Cracker's back, but the question is, is it any good? Years and years ago, Jack had the audacity to rank the existing Cracker canon in order of any-good-ness. So where would 2006's episode sit? A new entry at number six, I think - nudging in ahead of "Brotherly Love" and just behind "To Be a Somebody". In parts, it feels like McGovern-by-numbers, but when McGovern hasn't been able to join the dots for ages, that's something to be celebrated.
The main concerns - the "Troubles" in Northern Ireland and Bush's "War on Terror" - both feel a little tired. In fact, at the post-screening Q&A, producer John Chapman admitted: "When we were making it, we were quite worried that the situation might have disappeared". The killer of the piece, too, treads familar territory: A loner with a sympathetic grievance (deaths in Northern Ireland being overshadowed by the events of 9/11) who's on first-name terms with the Samaritans.
But, you know, it's still great telly. Fitz's character is nailed utterly from the first appearance, and his relationship with Judith unravels just as it should when he's back on home soil and sniffing out his old vices again. Performances throughout are fantastic, the plot is engaging (although slightly too hinged on coincidence), but most of all, we get a nice head-to-head scene near the end.
It's a Cracker must that our hero ultimately confronts the killer, but because of changing police procedure, we're told early on that nowadays the psychologist has no access to the suspect once charged. Hence the scene takes place before the authorities know who the murderer is, and in the pleasingly bland environs of what looks like a staff canteen - echoey and unclaustrophobic. This is a new twist for the show.
Final points: Ouch! Nasty logo and titles! Ouch! Fitz, Judith: get young Jimmy a haircut!
13 September 2006
PRIMED AND READY
I moan. I moan too much on here about TV shows. So, let's redress the balance, albeit with the usual guarded grumbles along the way.
Today was the press screening for the last-ever Prime Suspect (titled "The Final Act"). We journos were treated to the first of two four-hour episodes, and I was impressed. Over the years, the PS franchise has waxed and waned - that period where they did a stretch of self-contained, one-hour (or so) episodes being the nadir (a murder at a golf club! What's this, A Touch of Frost?).
The last outing in 2003 certainly tickled the critics, and I seem to recall thinking it was okay, albeit with a theme about people trafficking slapped onto it in the most unsubtle way possible: Look, there's the immigrant girl! Let's cue in some wailing music!
But this was different. A taut, thoughtfully-made tale pitching Tennison into a straight-forward case (a girl goes missing). The subtext about aging and alcohol abuse flows easily and - inevitably - Helen Mirren is fantastic. But topping her performance is the return of Tom Bell, who looks astonishingly frail these days. Watching him sharing a coffee with his former sparring partner is touching ... he seems so near death, and so wise.
Alas, I still don't know how Jane will sign-off from her final case. Retirement in Florida, or death? At the Q&A afterwards, Dame Mirren hinted at the latter ("Who knows, she could return from the grave! Oh ... I've let the cat out of the bag!") - but I think she was only being playful.
Today was the press screening for the last-ever Prime Suspect (titled "The Final Act"). We journos were treated to the first of two four-hour episodes, and I was impressed. Over the years, the PS franchise has waxed and waned - that period where they did a stretch of self-contained, one-hour (or so) episodes being the nadir (a murder at a golf club! What's this, A Touch of Frost?).
The last outing in 2003 certainly tickled the critics, and I seem to recall thinking it was okay, albeit with a theme about people trafficking slapped onto it in the most unsubtle way possible: Look, there's the immigrant girl! Let's cue in some wailing music!
But this was different. A taut, thoughtfully-made tale pitching Tennison into a straight-forward case (a girl goes missing). The subtext about aging and alcohol abuse flows easily and - inevitably - Helen Mirren is fantastic. But topping her performance is the return of Tom Bell, who looks astonishingly frail these days. Watching him sharing a coffee with his former sparring partner is touching ... he seems so near death, and so wise.
Alas, I still don't know how Jane will sign-off from her final case. Retirement in Florida, or death? At the Q&A afterwards, Dame Mirren hinted at the latter ("Who knows, she could return from the grave! Oh ... I've let the cat out of the bag!") - but I think she was only being playful.
08 September 2006
BOYZ N THE HOOD
Last night it was the launch of BBC1's new Robin Hood adaptation at the Curzon cinema, Mayfair. Peter Fincham did the honours ...
"I think there's something very special about Robin Hood, something unique," he vouchsafed. "It's like a folk memory that exists in all of us ... One of the themes of Robin Hood is liberty. Although it's timeless, there's something oddly modern about it too. The starting point is Robin of Loxley comes back from a controversial war in the Middle East to a country where the government is in trouble. It's raising taxes, it's losing touch with the people. These are dark and troubled times."
These sentiments were later echoed by Keith Allen - the Sheriff of Nottingham - who described his character as, "A combination of Blackadder and Gordon Brown".
And it was all fun and lusty stuff ... but why was I the only person walking out at the end of the screening who felt decidedly unimpressed and grumpy come the final quivering arrow? I'm not sure. Perhaps it's just me, but I really didn't get what this new version of Robin Hood was for. Swashbuckling political allegory for a Saturday night? I dunno.
Perhaps it was the casting. Jonas Armstrong as the titular thief was fine, but physically uncharismatic and flat. Keith Allen was okay - but terribly, terribly Keith Allen (not a single note of his performance surprises). Marian, meanwhile, seemed little more than a Cornish Pasty squeezed into girdle. Her rapport with Robin? Well, maybe that's for episode two.
And then there was the oddly off-kilter script, which jumped between olde worlde-not-speaking-in-contractions ("I do not make the law, I do not decide"), to chatty modern-day vernacular ("Pop your hand on there"), to toe-curling '80s buddy cop parlance ("I knew that!" murmured comedy sidekick Much, every time he was re-directed from taking the wrong route).
But ... well ... like I said, don't listen to me. Really. Everyone else seemed to think it was pretty good. Lizo off of Newsround was in attendance, so I daresay if you log onto Outpost Gallifrey in a moment, he'll be able to fill you in on everything that was good about it. As for me, Saturday nights will once more become the domain of my Thriller DVD boxset.
"I think there's something very special about Robin Hood, something unique," he vouchsafed. "It's like a folk memory that exists in all of us ... One of the themes of Robin Hood is liberty. Although it's timeless, there's something oddly modern about it too. The starting point is Robin of Loxley comes back from a controversial war in the Middle East to a country where the government is in trouble. It's raising taxes, it's losing touch with the people. These are dark and troubled times."
These sentiments were later echoed by Keith Allen - the Sheriff of Nottingham - who described his character as, "A combination of Blackadder and Gordon Brown".
And it was all fun and lusty stuff ... but why was I the only person walking out at the end of the screening who felt decidedly unimpressed and grumpy come the final quivering arrow? I'm not sure. Perhaps it's just me, but I really didn't get what this new version of Robin Hood was for. Swashbuckling political allegory for a Saturday night? I dunno.
Perhaps it was the casting. Jonas Armstrong as the titular thief was fine, but physically uncharismatic and flat. Keith Allen was okay - but terribly, terribly Keith Allen (not a single note of his performance surprises). Marian, meanwhile, seemed little more than a Cornish Pasty squeezed into girdle. Her rapport with Robin? Well, maybe that's for episode two.
And then there was the oddly off-kilter script, which jumped between olde worlde-not-speaking-in-contractions ("I do not make the law, I do not decide"), to chatty modern-day vernacular ("Pop your hand on there"), to toe-curling '80s buddy cop parlance ("I knew that!" murmured comedy sidekick Much, every time he was re-directed from taking the wrong route).
But ... well ... like I said, don't listen to me. Really. Everyone else seemed to think it was pretty good. Lizo off of Newsround was in attendance, so I daresay if you log onto Outpost Gallifrey in a moment, he'll be able to fill you in on everything that was good about it. As for me, Saturday nights will once more become the domain of my Thriller DVD boxset.
05 September 2006
THE PERFECT BLEND?
Do you know anybody who still watches Neighbours?
Glenn Aylett mailed OTT in response to last month's article about when soaps die, wondering whether the next big casualty might not necessarily be EastEnders (given it would "leave a huge gap in the BBC schedules and cause huge embarassment to the Corporation" he forsees "a long, slow death") but our Antipodean friends instead.
And he's got a point. After all, when was the last time you or anybody you knew made a point of catching an episode? When was the last time you saw the BBC do anything by way of promotion or publicity for the show? And who, if anyone, could you name as being one of the star "faces" of Neighbours? (Harold and Lou don't count - we're talking the next big thing here).
When you think about it, Neighbours is a huge anachronism in today's BBC. As Glenn mentions, it sits in precisely the same slots as it did nearly 20 years ago. Yet its ratings are neglible compared to the late '80s when it would even beat Coronation Street in terms of viewing figures. "This badly made, forgettable and cheap-looking relic must cause embarrassment among BBC executives like Mark Thompson," Glynn argues, "who want to move the BBC upmarket. Even ITV has long given up on Aussie imports."
He predicts a logical step-by-step culling of the programme from BBC1's schedules. "First to go will be the 1.40 slot, as its target younger audience is mostly in school at this time. It would probably be replaced by Bargain Hunt or something similar. Then, if Neighbours doesn't improve in its 5.35 slot against the chat shows on ITV1 and Channel 4, I can see it being moved to BBC3, which after all is the BBC's youthful network, and dying a slow death."
It feels a very likely chain of events, especially given Thompson's willingness to ditch numerous other long-running BBC "brands". But it's one that will surely only come to pass if the Beeb doesn't decide to flog the whole show to five first. Which it may well do.
The idea of an Australian "hour" on five with Neighbours seguing gently into Home and Away sounds, at least initially, practical and credible for all parties - a neat disposing of assets for the Beeb, a neat readymade audience for five. Albeit an audience of around two million and falling. And that's the real point. Is it still a programme worth paying good money to snatch off a rival if its viewers are in freefall anyway?
You almost feel that it doesn't matter whether the BBC dumps it on BBC3 or lets five take it. Either way nobody would really notice.
Glenn Aylett mailed OTT in response to last month's article about when soaps die, wondering whether the next big casualty might not necessarily be EastEnders (given it would "leave a huge gap in the BBC schedules and cause huge embarassment to the Corporation" he forsees "a long, slow death") but our Antipodean friends instead.
And he's got a point. After all, when was the last time you or anybody you knew made a point of catching an episode? When was the last time you saw the BBC do anything by way of promotion or publicity for the show? And who, if anyone, could you name as being one of the star "faces" of Neighbours? (Harold and Lou don't count - we're talking the next big thing here).
When you think about it, Neighbours is a huge anachronism in today's BBC. As Glenn mentions, it sits in precisely the same slots as it did nearly 20 years ago. Yet its ratings are neglible compared to the late '80s when it would even beat Coronation Street in terms of viewing figures. "This badly made, forgettable and cheap-looking relic must cause embarrassment among BBC executives like Mark Thompson," Glynn argues, "who want to move the BBC upmarket. Even ITV has long given up on Aussie imports."
He predicts a logical step-by-step culling of the programme from BBC1's schedules. "First to go will be the 1.40 slot, as its target younger audience is mostly in school at this time. It would probably be replaced by Bargain Hunt or something similar. Then, if Neighbours doesn't improve in its 5.35 slot against the chat shows on ITV1 and Channel 4, I can see it being moved to BBC3, which after all is the BBC's youthful network, and dying a slow death."
It feels a very likely chain of events, especially given Thompson's willingness to ditch numerous other long-running BBC "brands". But it's one that will surely only come to pass if the Beeb doesn't decide to flog the whole show to five first. Which it may well do.
The idea of an Australian "hour" on five with Neighbours seguing gently into Home and Away sounds, at least initially, practical and credible for all parties - a neat disposing of assets for the Beeb, a neat readymade audience for five. Albeit an audience of around two million and falling. And that's the real point. Is it still a programme worth paying good money to snatch off a rival if its viewers are in freefall anyway?
You almost feel that it doesn't matter whether the BBC dumps it on BBC3 or lets five take it. Either way nobody would really notice.