31 October 2006
THE MAGIC WORDS HERE ARE "NIGEL KNEALE"
OTT was very sad to learn of the death of one of television's true greats - Nigel Kneale. Three years ago this month, we were lucky enough to run an interview with the man himself, and I was particularly lucky in that it was me putting the questions to him. All of this came about when our friends at BBC4's Timeshift contacted us to let us know they had a documentary on his life and times in the works. Being the impudent souls we are, we harassed Timeshift's Tom Ware into agreeing to take part in an interview with us. But in the course of our finagling, Tom let it be known Kneale himself might even spare us a few minutes for a chat over the telephone.
After a convoluted process that, if I recall correctly, required us to send various faxes to Kneale to advise him of our intentions, a date and time was arranged. Having interviewed him already, Tom advised us that due to advancing years, we shouldn't expect too much, either in terms of time or anecdotage. Thus, with expectations of a brief chat in mind, I placed the call. Upon getting connected, I explained who I was and why I was ringing and Nigel responded, "Yes. Of course you see they've got a new one opening up the road now so that's fine." If truth be told, my heart sank a little and my expectations dipped.
However with that curious false start out of the way (I later managed to ascertain that Nigel was referring to a new cinema that had opened nearby - I think perhaps he had been expecting a call from someone else on that subject), he proved to be an utterly enthralling chap. Admittedly, at times you had to be quick to follow the route of his train of thought, but he was fascinating, open and welcome to talk about anything I cared to mention.
Over the years he developed a reputation for being something of a spiky interviewee, but although I found him to be forthright (he didn't much care for my assertion that his body of work suggested an interest in the paranormal), all he was doing was exercising his formidable ability to verbalise his thoughts in a clear and concise manner. This, to me, is a long way from being rude or difficult, and actually I felt rather flattered that he thought he didn't need to soft soap his opinions for my benefit.
Anyway, having estimated a chat of about 10 minutes or so, I found myself still sitting there caught up in our conversation an hour later. At the end of the interview he asked various questions about OTT - not that he was seeking reassurances as to how and where his words might be used - he was just interested in what it was all about. I suppose you can't really tell that much about someone from just a one hour phone call, but I did get the sense that this summed him up pretty well - an insatiable curiosity and interest in things simply for their own sake.
His clear thinking and ability to take a premise on a fascinating "what if" walk, marked him out as one of our most visionary television screenwriters. Here's hoping that television marks his passing in an appropriate manner.
After a convoluted process that, if I recall correctly, required us to send various faxes to Kneale to advise him of our intentions, a date and time was arranged. Having interviewed him already, Tom advised us that due to advancing years, we shouldn't expect too much, either in terms of time or anecdotage. Thus, with expectations of a brief chat in mind, I placed the call. Upon getting connected, I explained who I was and why I was ringing and Nigel responded, "Yes. Of course you see they've got a new one opening up the road now so that's fine." If truth be told, my heart sank a little and my expectations dipped.
However with that curious false start out of the way (I later managed to ascertain that Nigel was referring to a new cinema that had opened nearby - I think perhaps he had been expecting a call from someone else on that subject), he proved to be an utterly enthralling chap. Admittedly, at times you had to be quick to follow the route of his train of thought, but he was fascinating, open and welcome to talk about anything I cared to mention.
Over the years he developed a reputation for being something of a spiky interviewee, but although I found him to be forthright (he didn't much care for my assertion that his body of work suggested an interest in the paranormal), all he was doing was exercising his formidable ability to verbalise his thoughts in a clear and concise manner. This, to me, is a long way from being rude or difficult, and actually I felt rather flattered that he thought he didn't need to soft soap his opinions for my benefit.
Anyway, having estimated a chat of about 10 minutes or so, I found myself still sitting there caught up in our conversation an hour later. At the end of the interview he asked various questions about OTT - not that he was seeking reassurances as to how and where his words might be used - he was just interested in what it was all about. I suppose you can't really tell that much about someone from just a one hour phone call, but I did get the sense that this summed him up pretty well - an insatiable curiosity and interest in things simply for their own sake.
His clear thinking and ability to take a premise on a fascinating "what if" walk, marked him out as one of our most visionary television screenwriters. Here's hoping that television marks his passing in an appropriate manner.
"THAT'S WHY RESTAURANTS HAVE MENUS" ...
... That's Donald Trump's philosophy on homosexuality, and something that came out (if you'll pardon the expression) during the fourth series of The Apprentice USA. I love this show, and have been greedily devouring episodes of it as quick as I can get 'em (thank you, World Wide Web).
To put things in context, the most recent series aired by the BBC was the third, whereas I'm now sailing through the fifth, and the quality doesn't let up. Take that aforementioned discussion on sexuality, which - naturally - took place in Trump's teak-veneered boardroom. With one contestant embarrassing a colleague by calling him a "tight-assed Jew" during a task involving running an adult education seminar (their topic: "Sex in the workplace!"), discussion roved on to the offender's sexual orientation. Yes, he was gay - something that surprised Trump, who immediately sought to clarify this revelation by asking the would-be mogul to confirm, in turn, that he didn't find each of his female teammates attractive.
Indeed he didn't.
The Apprentice is blessed with off-the-wall moments like this all the time. A camera lingering on a player's declaration of love for another just long enough for us to see the first traces of a second-thought fluttering across his face; a winning team being sent off to record a rap record by way of a reward - and said tune then being cheekily played instead of the usual stirring fanfare that accompanies the non-fired candidates' return to the suite; a quartet of apprenti silently and uncomfortably squeezing together on the back seat of that cab, following the show's biggest-ever mass firing; and The Donald inviting one of the wannabes to inspect his hair so he can finally quash those rumours about his rug ("You didn't check the back!" chided her colleague when they subsequently retreated to the lift).
Trump is clearly TV gold. My missus summed him up best when she said he's like a gleeful two-year-old who feels compelled to tell his mum about every toilet trip he takes. No thought seems to cross his mind which he doesn't verbalise. After every sacking, he turns to his Greek Chorus of Carolyn Kepcher and George Ross/Bill Rancic/Trump Jr (whomever) and advises them he's made the right decision - and that it was good. In fact, in the episode I watched last night we had, "I think you agreed with that Carolyn, did you Bill?". "Absolutely," returned Bill. "Good," said Trump. "I agree too".
As my stock of unseen Apprentice thins, inevitably I've already started to check out the ill-fated spin-off series featuring Martha Stewart. There's no boardroom - it's "the conference room" - and come the pay-off, no-one is fired, just told, "You don't fit in". It's really not the same.
And then there's this: "'George [Ross] has been around a long time. He's seen everything. He didn't get excited even when women on the street started screaming when they saw him on his way to work ... But Carolyn took it very seriously. She thought she was a freaking movie star.'" More here, and it's spoiler free.
UPDATE: "Ain't hard to find if you've got the mental power, you can find me in the suite at the Trump World Tower" - slightly spoilerific, as it shows who gets past the first few rounds of series four.
To put things in context, the most recent series aired by the BBC was the third, whereas I'm now sailing through the fifth, and the quality doesn't let up. Take that aforementioned discussion on sexuality, which - naturally - took place in Trump's teak-veneered boardroom. With one contestant embarrassing a colleague by calling him a "tight-assed Jew" during a task involving running an adult education seminar (their topic: "Sex in the workplace!"), discussion roved on to the offender's sexual orientation. Yes, he was gay - something that surprised Trump, who immediately sought to clarify this revelation by asking the would-be mogul to confirm, in turn, that he didn't find each of his female teammates attractive.
Indeed he didn't.
The Apprentice is blessed with off-the-wall moments like this all the time. A camera lingering on a player's declaration of love for another just long enough for us to see the first traces of a second-thought fluttering across his face; a winning team being sent off to record a rap record by way of a reward - and said tune then being cheekily played instead of the usual stirring fanfare that accompanies the non-fired candidates' return to the suite; a quartet of apprenti silently and uncomfortably squeezing together on the back seat of that cab, following the show's biggest-ever mass firing; and The Donald inviting one of the wannabes to inspect his hair so he can finally quash those rumours about his rug ("You didn't check the back!" chided her colleague when they subsequently retreated to the lift).
Trump is clearly TV gold. My missus summed him up best when she said he's like a gleeful two-year-old who feels compelled to tell his mum about every toilet trip he takes. No thought seems to cross his mind which he doesn't verbalise. After every sacking, he turns to his Greek Chorus of Carolyn Kepcher and George Ross/Bill Rancic/Trump Jr (whomever) and advises them he's made the right decision - and that it was good. In fact, in the episode I watched last night we had, "I think you agreed with that Carolyn, did you Bill?". "Absolutely," returned Bill. "Good," said Trump. "I agree too".
As my stock of unseen Apprentice thins, inevitably I've already started to check out the ill-fated spin-off series featuring Martha Stewart. There's no boardroom - it's "the conference room" - and come the pay-off, no-one is fired, just told, "You don't fit in". It's really not the same.
And then there's this: "'George [Ross] has been around a long time. He's seen everything. He didn't get excited even when women on the street started screaming when they saw him on his way to work ... But Carolyn took it very seriously. She thought she was a freaking movie star.'" More here, and it's spoiler free.
UPDATE: "Ain't hard to find if you've got the mental power, you can find me in the suite at the Trump World Tower" - slightly spoilerific, as it shows who gets past the first few rounds of series four.
30 October 2006
THIS LIFE'S FAREWELL TOUR
The Independent have a detailed report from the set of the new episode of This Life which they're suggesting will be broadcast at Christmas time. Annoyingly, it's very spoilery, and the kind of thing you'd want to save until you've seen the episode so that everything is a surprise - as I suggested here part of the fun of the episode will be discovering what has happened the gang since the mid-'90s. But if you cover up the first column, the second is a good discussion of the flavour of the new episode if not the details and why now seemed like the right time [via].
24 October 2006
WANTED: YOUR MEMORIES. OFFERING: A NEW EPISODE OF SWAP SHOP
Well, here's an interesting appeal, received through the OTT catflap. Spread the word ...
Calling all Swap Shop fans!
The Multicoloured Swap Shop is returning to your screens for one night only this December 2006!
To celebrate its 30th anniversary, the original team are reunited in an exclusive, fun-packed Christmas special for BBC TWO called It Started with Swap Shop.
The special will be celebrating the very best of Saturday morning television and will include the stars of Saturday Superstore, Going Live! and Live & Kicking.
Do YOU remember those glory days of Saturday morning television? Did YOU actually appear on any of these shows?
Were YOU one of the lucky ones to get your name on the Top 10 Swap Board? Or did you go to one of Keith Chegwin’s Swaparama’s around the UK?
Are YOU one of the Saturday Superstore generation?
Did you take part in Superstore’s "Search for a Superstar?" (who could ever forget It’s ‘Orrible Being in Love When you’re Eight and a Half ...??)
Remember "Swing your pants!"c? Were you fans of Trevor and Simon, Phillip and Sarah, Andi and Emma and Zoe and Jamie from the days of Going Live! and Live and Kicking?
Did YOU win a competition?
Did YOU have a film crew in your house?
Whatever the show, whatever your age, we want to hear from YOU!
Or if you didn’t make an appearance would YOU like to be part of our special studio audience and bring along an item to swap. We’re recording this special this December.
Email us now with your contact details swapshop@ucgtv.com
Calling all Swap Shop fans!
The Multicoloured Swap Shop is returning to your screens for one night only this December 2006!
To celebrate its 30th anniversary, the original team are reunited in an exclusive, fun-packed Christmas special for BBC TWO called It Started with Swap Shop.
The special will be celebrating the very best of Saturday morning television and will include the stars of Saturday Superstore, Going Live! and Live & Kicking.
Do YOU remember those glory days of Saturday morning television? Did YOU actually appear on any of these shows?
Were YOU one of the lucky ones to get your name on the Top 10 Swap Board? Or did you go to one of Keith Chegwin’s Swaparama’s around the UK?
Are YOU one of the Saturday Superstore generation?
Did you take part in Superstore’s "Search for a Superstar?" (who could ever forget It’s ‘Orrible Being in Love When you’re Eight and a Half ...??)
Remember "Swing your pants!"c? Were you fans of Trevor and Simon, Phillip and Sarah, Andi and Emma and Zoe and Jamie from the days of Going Live! and Live and Kicking?
Did YOU win a competition?
Did YOU have a film crew in your house?
Whatever the show, whatever your age, we want to hear from YOU!
Or if you didn’t make an appearance would YOU like to be part of our special studio audience and bring along an item to swap. We’re recording this special this December.
Email us now with your contact details swapshop@ucgtv.com
19 October 2006
"YOU'RE NOT A JOURNALIST, SO FUCK OFF"
Dateline: 18 October, 2006, The St David's Hotel & Spa, Cardiff. Russell T Davies and Chris Chibnall are hosting a Q&A session, following a press screening of episode one of Torchwood.
IAN LEVINE: Russell, if Captain Jack is coming back to the last three episodes of season three of Doctor Who, what happens when …
RUSSELL T DAVIES: [Cutting him off] This is a Doctor Who question.
IAN LEVINE: It's not about Doctor Who! It's a Torchwood question! What happens if you go to Torchwood series two - which I hope you will - and he's in Doctor Who?
RUSSELL T DAVIES: I can't tell you that now! [Laughs] You'd wouldn't ask Agatha fucking Christie whodunnit! Next question!
IAN LEVINE: But in Torchwood series two …
RUSSELL T DAVIES: Ian, no offence, you're not a journalist, so fuck off.
Anyway, the news is, Torchwood is ace. And there was I expecting not to be wowed by the notion of a Cardiff-based killing-aliens division - assuming a homogenous line-up of square-jawed heroes would leave me cold (too macho, too clinical, too goal-orientated). But not a bit of it. The team of characters just feel right. Aside from there being a finely judged mixture of archetypes, we're also shown insights into their personal lives pretty much from the off. And that's maybe where the This Life references have sprung from. This is an ensemble show, populated with interesting people the viewer wants to be with.
If I had one reservation - and, contractually, I must - I'd say it's a shame the show hasn't been pitched at a family audience. Why? Simply because some of the concepts (a particular "magic" paving stone outside Cardiff's Millenium Centre, for one) are exactly the right mix of the mundane and fantastic to excite a child's imagination. The eight-year-old me would have gone nuts over some of the ideas here.
But then, the thirtysomething me is going nuts too, but that's because of the news Chris Chibnall reads OTT. Not just that, he actually looks in on this blog. Regulary. Quick, everyone, look busy! Truthfully, though, I dunno what's more gob-smacking - the fact he was kind enough to tell me so at the post-screening shindig (and secure his mention here today), or that I was actually standing in a room with two people who read this thing!* To me, that's science-fiction.
* Nick Setchfield from SFX magazine, your continued patronage is also greatly appreciated.
IAN LEVINE: Russell, if Captain Jack is coming back to the last three episodes of season three of Doctor Who, what happens when …
RUSSELL T DAVIES: [Cutting him off] This is a Doctor Who question.
IAN LEVINE: It's not about Doctor Who! It's a Torchwood question! What happens if you go to Torchwood series two - which I hope you will - and he's in Doctor Who?
RUSSELL T DAVIES: I can't tell you that now! [Laughs] You'd wouldn't ask Agatha fucking Christie whodunnit! Next question!
IAN LEVINE: But in Torchwood series two …
RUSSELL T DAVIES: Ian, no offence, you're not a journalist, so fuck off.
Anyway, the news is, Torchwood is ace. And there was I expecting not to be wowed by the notion of a Cardiff-based killing-aliens division - assuming a homogenous line-up of square-jawed heroes would leave me cold (too macho, too clinical, too goal-orientated). But not a bit of it. The team of characters just feel right. Aside from there being a finely judged mixture of archetypes, we're also shown insights into their personal lives pretty much from the off. And that's maybe where the This Life references have sprung from. This is an ensemble show, populated with interesting people the viewer wants to be with.
If I had one reservation - and, contractually, I must - I'd say it's a shame the show hasn't been pitched at a family audience. Why? Simply because some of the concepts (a particular "magic" paving stone outside Cardiff's Millenium Centre, for one) are exactly the right mix of the mundane and fantastic to excite a child's imagination. The eight-year-old me would have gone nuts over some of the ideas here.
But then, the thirtysomething me is going nuts too, but that's because of the news Chris Chibnall reads OTT. Not just that, he actually looks in on this blog. Regulary. Quick, everyone, look busy! Truthfully, though, I dunno what's more gob-smacking - the fact he was kind enough to tell me so at the post-screening shindig (and secure his mention here today), or that I was actually standing in a room with two people who read this thing!* To me, that's science-fiction.
* Nick Setchfield from SFX magazine, your continued patronage is also greatly appreciated.
17 October 2006
SOME ORDINARY JOE
The Stage are reporting that Kudos, the independent production company behind, Spooks, Hustle and Life On Mars have been commissioned by ITV1 to create a new drama.
Ordinary Joe is about: "life and the ramifications of decisions you make and what determines your destiny. It follows one man’s life in four different ways but each narrative takes place in the same timescale. It will use the same cast to tell the different stories. It explores to what extent you can shape your own future."
Bizarrely this isn't a completely new idea -- it sounds very similar to range of films including Krzysztof Kieslowski's Blind Chance (1987), Tom Tykwer's Run Lola Run (1998) and the underrated 11:14 (2003) - oh and all right Sliding Doors (1998). But the genius of Kudos' other work has been distilling a range of influences to create something that still feels fresh and new.
The real story here is probably that ITV1 are going out on a limb and actually commissioning something with such an experimental concept. It's not clear from the description the extent to which the fantasy elements will lead the story, but the channel's recent flirtations with genre have been mixed. The Eleventh Hour with Patrick Stewart and Ashley Jenson was dulled by bizarre directorial choices, imagery and a publicity campaign that tried to describe the series as speculative drama rather than science fiction (oh really, and the difference is?). After Life with Lesley Sharp and Andrew Lincoln is better and currently enjoying a second series.
The real trick for Ordinary Joe will be selecting the correct time slot - let's just hope they don't do something silly, like play it opposite Life On Mars as a spoiler ...
Ordinary Joe is about: "life and the ramifications of decisions you make and what determines your destiny. It follows one man’s life in four different ways but each narrative takes place in the same timescale. It will use the same cast to tell the different stories. It explores to what extent you can shape your own future."
Bizarrely this isn't a completely new idea -- it sounds very similar to range of films including Krzysztof Kieslowski's Blind Chance (1987), Tom Tykwer's Run Lola Run (1998) and the underrated 11:14 (2003) - oh and all right Sliding Doors (1998). But the genius of Kudos' other work has been distilling a range of influences to create something that still feels fresh and new.
The real story here is probably that ITV1 are going out on a limb and actually commissioning something with such an experimental concept. It's not clear from the description the extent to which the fantasy elements will lead the story, but the channel's recent flirtations with genre have been mixed. The Eleventh Hour with Patrick Stewart and Ashley Jenson was dulled by bizarre directorial choices, imagery and a publicity campaign that tried to describe the series as speculative drama rather than science fiction (oh really, and the difference is?). After Life with Lesley Sharp and Andrew Lincoln is better and currently enjoying a second series.
The real trick for Ordinary Joe will be selecting the correct time slot - let's just hope they don't do something silly, like play it opposite Life On Mars as a spoiler ...
16 October 2006
"NO PROCEDURE ANYMORE - IT'S A FUCKING DISGRACE!"
That's less than five minutes in to episode one of Torchwood.
14 October 2006
LIKE A ...
Matthew's comments on Lead Balloon are, at least for me, a sobering demonstration of how not everyone can agree on the quality of a programme. He's correct in saying that it has had generally favourable reviews, although this is what I wrote on my own blog the night of the first episode, after banging my head against a table trying to come up with something longer:
"It reminded me of Ken Campbell's word, Jokoid - something which has all the trappings of being a joke without being funny. The performances were all perfectly fine, great in the case of Raquel Cassidy (one of the few survivors from the equally disappointing According to Bex) and in places the tragedy and desperation worked very well. But this had the appearance of being a sitcom without raising a laugh. Which is a shame because the (apparently) specially prepared trailers were very good indeed. Maybe I've missed something - that the title is supposed to be ironic, for example."
And I stand by that. It seemed overly derivative without transcending its influences - I'm yet to see the second episode, although I'm not sure it will change my opinion. As to why the programme is initially on BBC4 - despite my reservations I think it's part of the process that BBC TV appear to be spearheading of attempting to spread the view the public have of digital and multi-channel television. That in the digital broadcasting world, there aren't "main" channels just lots of choice, and after the big switch off I don't see a reason why these things would transfer to those main channels because by then the originating station will be available to everyone.
If anything this might actually a good thing for the consumer, since it will allow each channel to have its own flavour ala the BBC Radio stations rather than the unfocused mish-mash that BBC1 and 2 have become.
"It reminded me of Ken Campbell's word, Jokoid - something which has all the trappings of being a joke without being funny. The performances were all perfectly fine, great in the case of Raquel Cassidy (one of the few survivors from the equally disappointing According to Bex) and in places the tragedy and desperation worked very well. But this had the appearance of being a sitcom without raising a laugh. Which is a shame because the (apparently) specially prepared trailers were very good indeed. Maybe I've missed something - that the title is supposed to be ironic, for example."
And I stand by that. It seemed overly derivative without transcending its influences - I'm yet to see the second episode, although I'm not sure it will change my opinion. As to why the programme is initially on BBC4 - despite my reservations I think it's part of the process that BBC TV appear to be spearheading of attempting to spread the view the public have of digital and multi-channel television. That in the digital broadcasting world, there aren't "main" channels just lots of choice, and after the big switch off I don't see a reason why these things would transfer to those main channels because by then the originating station will be available to everyone.
If anything this might actually a good thing for the consumer, since it will allow each channel to have its own flavour ala the BBC Radio stations rather than the unfocused mish-mash that BBC1 and 2 have become.
DEE-LIGHTFUL
Regarding Matthew's comments below, Broadcast magazine reports that Lead Balloon will be screened on BBC2 in two weeks' time.
13 October 2006
DEE-VINE
The first two episodes of Lead Balloon on BBC4 have been nothing but a joy.
Jack Dee might be playing Jack Dee with a sillier name, but his performance in a programme scripted with beauty and precision makes you forgive any element of typecasting or taking the easy option which the unduly churlish could launch his way. After all, the best writers write about what they know best. It's logical.
The character of Rick Spleen, a deadpan comic who is getting too reliant on highly-paid but lowbrow corporate and commercial events, draws on all the modern annoyances of your average grumpy man who is deeply dissatisfied with his working life. Despite the support of a partner who grafts very hard as a publicity dogsbody to the C-list, a matter-of-fact European au pair and American co-writer, Spleen manages to show as little appreciation for them as possible due to his own deep self-loathing.
Episode one showed him demeaning himself by dressing as the globe for an environmental awareness ad campaign, for which he was recompensed too handsomely for the sniping press, who proceeded to rummage through his dustbins (should have done an ad about identity theft instead, like that nice Mr McGowan) and expose all Spleen's own environmental shortcomings (paper, cans) as well as digging up other items of waste which he had thrown out to protect the feelings of family and friends.
And a week on, we saw the character trying to avoid buying a new toaster, stealing teaspoons from his local eaterie and whingeing about the noise his walnut-brained paper boy makes of a morning, all while trying to script a new DVD called People do the Dumbest Things: 3. There is nothing but joy in Spleen's perennial despair and apathy about all around him, not least in an outstanding scene in which he goes to the newsagent to complain about the lad, only to be greeted with a wholly disinterested woman who didn't look up from a copy of a magazine throughout their conversation, during which she tried to anticipate - wrongly and profligately each time - what he wanted.
I'm glad the critics I have read have reacted warmly to the programme. It's like all the best comedy - the right characterisation will take you through the right plot, not vice versa, and Lead Balloon works on this level. The writing is superb; the performances are suitably understated; the absence of a studio audience, the shooting on film rather than video, the adoption of swinging camerawork and the regular use of locations rather than sets all add gravitas to the project. It's a complete hit.
So it now begs the question as to why the BBC have aired it on BBC4. Comedy on all levels has taken a battering of late - especially sitcom - and there seems to be little in the way of instinct or "feel" for a show when it comes to a scheduling question. Some new comedies might be garbage, some certainly are; but it seems jolly indecent of the Corporation to use the raising of the comedy bar as a reason to keep quality projects like Lead Balloon away from the masses. Yet there have been trailers for it everywhere - BBC1, BBC2, News 24, Radio 5 Live - so the contradiction is clear: watch this, watch this, oh do watch this, but as it's on BBC4, if it's rubbish it won't matter. Okay?
Lead Balloon is anything but rubbish. If the BBC has any sense, it'll let the series end, then immediately bang it on BBC1 at 9.30pm one night a week. It's so obviously good, why wait?
Jack Dee might be playing Jack Dee with a sillier name, but his performance in a programme scripted with beauty and precision makes you forgive any element of typecasting or taking the easy option which the unduly churlish could launch his way. After all, the best writers write about what they know best. It's logical.
The character of Rick Spleen, a deadpan comic who is getting too reliant on highly-paid but lowbrow corporate and commercial events, draws on all the modern annoyances of your average grumpy man who is deeply dissatisfied with his working life. Despite the support of a partner who grafts very hard as a publicity dogsbody to the C-list, a matter-of-fact European au pair and American co-writer, Spleen manages to show as little appreciation for them as possible due to his own deep self-loathing.
Episode one showed him demeaning himself by dressing as the globe for an environmental awareness ad campaign, for which he was recompensed too handsomely for the sniping press, who proceeded to rummage through his dustbins (should have done an ad about identity theft instead, like that nice Mr McGowan) and expose all Spleen's own environmental shortcomings (paper, cans) as well as digging up other items of waste which he had thrown out to protect the feelings of family and friends.
And a week on, we saw the character trying to avoid buying a new toaster, stealing teaspoons from his local eaterie and whingeing about the noise his walnut-brained paper boy makes of a morning, all while trying to script a new DVD called People do the Dumbest Things: 3. There is nothing but joy in Spleen's perennial despair and apathy about all around him, not least in an outstanding scene in which he goes to the newsagent to complain about the lad, only to be greeted with a wholly disinterested woman who didn't look up from a copy of a magazine throughout their conversation, during which she tried to anticipate - wrongly and profligately each time - what he wanted.
I'm glad the critics I have read have reacted warmly to the programme. It's like all the best comedy - the right characterisation will take you through the right plot, not vice versa, and Lead Balloon works on this level. The writing is superb; the performances are suitably understated; the absence of a studio audience, the shooting on film rather than video, the adoption of swinging camerawork and the regular use of locations rather than sets all add gravitas to the project. It's a complete hit.
So it now begs the question as to why the BBC have aired it on BBC4. Comedy on all levels has taken a battering of late - especially sitcom - and there seems to be little in the way of instinct or "feel" for a show when it comes to a scheduling question. Some new comedies might be garbage, some certainly are; but it seems jolly indecent of the Corporation to use the raising of the comedy bar as a reason to keep quality projects like Lead Balloon away from the masses. Yet there have been trailers for it everywhere - BBC1, BBC2, News 24, Radio 5 Live - so the contradiction is clear: watch this, watch this, oh do watch this, but as it's on BBC4, if it's rubbish it won't matter. Okay?
Lead Balloon is anything but rubbish. If the BBC has any sense, it'll let the series end, then immediately bang it on BBC1 at 9.30pm one night a week. It's so obviously good, why wait?
11 October 2006
MYRA
"Minority Report star slams 'luxury' accommodation for paedophiles in jail". That'll be in your evening papers tonight, and the tabloids tomorrow.
I'm back from an extraordinary morning spent in the Channel 4 cinema. It's in a circular pit in the bowels of the company's HQ, and it was here the press were treated to a screening of Longford a new feature-length drama about the Lord (of Derek and Clive "gives me the fucking horn" infamy) who spent the last three decades of his life battling to win parole for Myra Hindley.
Written by Peter Horgan (The Deal, The Queen, Frost/Nixon) it stars Jim Broadbent in the title role, and Samantha Morton - that Minority Report star - as Hindley. And it's a stunningly well-made drama, that prods at huge issue without ever really showing its hand. Was Longford a naive fool whose religious beliefs allowed him to be manipulated? Or was he blessed with a profound capacity for forgiveness and an admirable faith in humanity? Both arguments are well made in the course of its 90 minutes, but whichever side you favour, it's still a crushing moment when Hindley latterly confesses to further murders, making a mockery of Longford's support for her.
"It must be a nice place," she says to him during their last meeting. "Where?". "In your head".
Following the screening, John Snow - who worked for Longford in a youth charity at the start of the '70s - chaired a Q&A session with the film's writer, cast (Broadbent, Morton and Lindsay Duncan, who plays Elizabeth Longford), the director (Tom Hooper) and Longford's grandson (Tom Pakenham, who's on the board of the Longford Trust, along with Snow). The Channel 4 News anchor kicked off by revealing he'd regularly taken dinner with the lord since the '70s, but would never engage in discussions about Hindley, despite his friend's enthusiasm for the subject.
The press then had a chance to put their questions, many - understandably - enquiring about the sensitivities around dramatising aspects of the Moors Murders. Hooper conceded they'd all felt uncomfortable recreating the recording of Lesley Ann Downey's last moments, but it provided an integral - if mercifully brief - moment to the film which he didn't want to dodge (although, he did state they had always stipulated they wouldn't go as far as including any of Downey's words). The Sun wanted to know if the relatives affected by the crimes had seen the film - they had - and if they'd watched it all the way through - they had.
The Guardian felt the Lord was portrayed as an idiot, while another tabloid attempted to prompt a personal comment from Broadbent and Morton about their feelings for Hindley. Both side-stepped the question - as they should.
And then, as the session neared its end, the cast were asked for their reflections upon filming in real prisons. It was here Morton - who became quite emotional - talked about her horror having walked through an enclave in one of the institutes which was decked out with quality furniture, a handsome communal kitchen, and Sky TV in every cell. Having just come through an area that was overcrowded and squalid, she was interested to know which prisoners were situated on this wing. Who was getting the special treatment? "It's the paedophiles" she was told.
Having been brought up in a series of children's homes of vastly inferior condition, Morton had been shaken by this revelation. Her story was undeniably poignant, but I sense it blurred the whole focus of the event. Former Conservative MP Jonathan Aitken had sat in for the film, but left before the Q&A. Nevertheless, his diminutive and aged media representative was still present, and she chirped up that some of her boss's old lags had also made similar claims, saying it annoyed them that paedophiles were given better food than the rest of the prisoners.
Bringing matters to a close on this point, Snow asked if there were any final questions. A rotund fellow at the back stepped forward: "I met Longford a couple of weeks before he died - around the time Jeffrey Archer had been put in prison. 'So,' he'd said to me, 'what are we going to do about Archer?'. 'Oh, I'd much rather talk about Myra!' I told him".
The room was quiet, then Snow harrumphed. It was time to go.
Longford is on Channel 4 on Thursday October 26.
UPDATE: You see?
I'm back from an extraordinary morning spent in the Channel 4 cinema. It's in a circular pit in the bowels of the company's HQ, and it was here the press were treated to a screening of Longford a new feature-length drama about the Lord (of Derek and Clive "gives me the fucking horn" infamy) who spent the last three decades of his life battling to win parole for Myra Hindley.
Written by Peter Horgan (The Deal, The Queen, Frost/Nixon) it stars Jim Broadbent in the title role, and Samantha Morton - that Minority Report star - as Hindley. And it's a stunningly well-made drama, that prods at huge issue without ever really showing its hand. Was Longford a naive fool whose religious beliefs allowed him to be manipulated? Or was he blessed with a profound capacity for forgiveness and an admirable faith in humanity? Both arguments are well made in the course of its 90 minutes, but whichever side you favour, it's still a crushing moment when Hindley latterly confesses to further murders, making a mockery of Longford's support for her.
"It must be a nice place," she says to him during their last meeting. "Where?". "In your head".
Following the screening, John Snow - who worked for Longford in a youth charity at the start of the '70s - chaired a Q&A session with the film's writer, cast (Broadbent, Morton and Lindsay Duncan, who plays Elizabeth Longford), the director (Tom Hooper) and Longford's grandson (Tom Pakenham, who's on the board of the Longford Trust, along with Snow). The Channel 4 News anchor kicked off by revealing he'd regularly taken dinner with the lord since the '70s, but would never engage in discussions about Hindley, despite his friend's enthusiasm for the subject.
The press then had a chance to put their questions, many - understandably - enquiring about the sensitivities around dramatising aspects of the Moors Murders. Hooper conceded they'd all felt uncomfortable recreating the recording of Lesley Ann Downey's last moments, but it provided an integral - if mercifully brief - moment to the film which he didn't want to dodge (although, he did state they had always stipulated they wouldn't go as far as including any of Downey's words). The Sun wanted to know if the relatives affected by the crimes had seen the film - they had - and if they'd watched it all the way through - they had.
The Guardian felt the Lord was portrayed as an idiot, while another tabloid attempted to prompt a personal comment from Broadbent and Morton about their feelings for Hindley. Both side-stepped the question - as they should.
And then, as the session neared its end, the cast were asked for their reflections upon filming in real prisons. It was here Morton - who became quite emotional - talked about her horror having walked through an enclave in one of the institutes which was decked out with quality furniture, a handsome communal kitchen, and Sky TV in every cell. Having just come through an area that was overcrowded and squalid, she was interested to know which prisoners were situated on this wing. Who was getting the special treatment? "It's the paedophiles" she was told.
Having been brought up in a series of children's homes of vastly inferior condition, Morton had been shaken by this revelation. Her story was undeniably poignant, but I sense it blurred the whole focus of the event. Former Conservative MP Jonathan Aitken had sat in for the film, but left before the Q&A. Nevertheless, his diminutive and aged media representative was still present, and she chirped up that some of her boss's old lags had also made similar claims, saying it annoyed them that paedophiles were given better food than the rest of the prisoners.
Bringing matters to a close on this point, Snow asked if there were any final questions. A rotund fellow at the back stepped forward: "I met Longford a couple of weeks before he died - around the time Jeffrey Archer had been put in prison. 'So,' he'd said to me, 'what are we going to do about Archer?'. 'Oh, I'd much rather talk about Myra!' I told him".
The room was quiet, then Snow harrumphed. It was time to go.
Longford is on Channel 4 on Thursday October 26.
UPDATE: You see?
TWOWOOD
In fact - Mr Chris Orton - as per the confirmed TV schedules this lunchtime, Torchwood is not being simulcast on BBC1 and 3, it's being repeated later in the week on BBC2 on Wednesday at 9pm, when two episodes will be going out back-to-back.
TORCHSETTLED
The new DWM has settled the troublesome Torchwood issue once and for all. Apparently. It says that Episode One of Torchwood will be shown on Sunday 22nd October, with a simultaneous broadcast on BBC1 and BBC3. Episode Two will be shown immediately afterwards on BBC3 only, with the series continuing on BBC3 every Sunday night. The entire series will then be shown on BBC1 in the New Year.
So there.
So there.
10 October 2006
DROP DEAD FRED
"Be happy; I say, be happy." The last words, as they turned out, of Frederick Handel Elliott, master butcher of Weatherfield, publican to the masses and one of Coronation Street's finest entertainers. And now he's dead.
John Savident's decision to retire prompted a typically far-out soap exit (collapsing on your wedding day at the house of a woman you had proposed to years earlier) even though the quality of character-mindful writing and exquisite acting from all concerned did, as ever, make Corrie the yardstick example of how proper continuous drama should be executed.
As he issued those last words to Audrey Roberts and turned to go back to the church, we didn't actually see Fred's demise. We heard a shatter of glass (sadly this wasn't the awful yellow tinted glazing in Audrey's front door - she should have chosen better after Steve McDonald kicked the last one in to save her from the Hillman house fire) and then Audrey found Fred motionless in the hallway. Meanwhile, his son and best man Ashley, and usher Dev were desperately trying to keep bride Beverley away from the church, until Audrey herself turned up to tell a distraught Ashley what had happened.
Fred's decade or so down Coronation Street has been a credit to everyone responsible for fleshing out and developing the character. Initially a loudmouthed businessman of locally lofty ambition, he became a rounded (figuratively and literally), caring and humble fellow, especially after his reputation as a serial proposer (Audrey said yes, then no; Maureen said yes, and then ran off with Kevin Webster's dad after a week; Evelyn said yes, then turned out bigamous; and didn't he also propose to Rita at some point?) was allowed to be crushed by a more obvious trait of being a man with real, unconditional affection to give. He couldn't give it to Ashley, his so-called nephew, until the truth about the lad's parenthood really emerged, and so it was eventually his community to which he mainly became betrothed.
The humour in Fred - from his hushed over-enunciation when trying to be subtle with people, to his glorious and much-mimicked habit of repeating himself ("I'm sick to death of repeating myself; I say, I'm sick to death of repeating myself") - will be greatly lost as the Street picks itself up. Of course it will carry on - it always does - but until another massive comic character emerges, work will have to be done to make sure the likes of Kirk, Blanche, Eileen and that superb pairing of Rita and Norris get to hog the scripts for a few weeks ahead.
I'll miss Fred. The laughter he could produce was just explosive at times. When he took Audrey to a Parisian jewellers to buy an engagement ring, he opened the door and declared, "There's more carats in here than in Bugs Bunny's pantry!" And as Ashley and Maxine toyed with the idea of turning vegetarian, the haughty butcher remarked, "If God hadn't meant us to eat animals, he wouldn't have made them meat flavoured."
Savident has also brought out all the early potential in Steven Arnold, whose depiction of the ever-troubled Ashley should now earn him a job for life if he wants it. That character has dealt with all sorts of familial crises - finding out his uncle was his dad; losing his first wife to a crowbar killer; discovering his first-born isn't his; forcing his post-natally depressed second wife into a mental home; and now losing his dad and influence. The new master butcher is due some happiness. Sadly, the Street's happiest character - both in cause and effect - is now dead meat himself.
John Savident's decision to retire prompted a typically far-out soap exit (collapsing on your wedding day at the house of a woman you had proposed to years earlier) even though the quality of character-mindful writing and exquisite acting from all concerned did, as ever, make Corrie the yardstick example of how proper continuous drama should be executed.
As he issued those last words to Audrey Roberts and turned to go back to the church, we didn't actually see Fred's demise. We heard a shatter of glass (sadly this wasn't the awful yellow tinted glazing in Audrey's front door - she should have chosen better after Steve McDonald kicked the last one in to save her from the Hillman house fire) and then Audrey found Fred motionless in the hallway. Meanwhile, his son and best man Ashley, and usher Dev were desperately trying to keep bride Beverley away from the church, until Audrey herself turned up to tell a distraught Ashley what had happened.
Fred's decade or so down Coronation Street has been a credit to everyone responsible for fleshing out and developing the character. Initially a loudmouthed businessman of locally lofty ambition, he became a rounded (figuratively and literally), caring and humble fellow, especially after his reputation as a serial proposer (Audrey said yes, then no; Maureen said yes, and then ran off with Kevin Webster's dad after a week; Evelyn said yes, then turned out bigamous; and didn't he also propose to Rita at some point?) was allowed to be crushed by a more obvious trait of being a man with real, unconditional affection to give. He couldn't give it to Ashley, his so-called nephew, until the truth about the lad's parenthood really emerged, and so it was eventually his community to which he mainly became betrothed.
The humour in Fred - from his hushed over-enunciation when trying to be subtle with people, to his glorious and much-mimicked habit of repeating himself ("I'm sick to death of repeating myself; I say, I'm sick to death of repeating myself") - will be greatly lost as the Street picks itself up. Of course it will carry on - it always does - but until another massive comic character emerges, work will have to be done to make sure the likes of Kirk, Blanche, Eileen and that superb pairing of Rita and Norris get to hog the scripts for a few weeks ahead.
I'll miss Fred. The laughter he could produce was just explosive at times. When he took Audrey to a Parisian jewellers to buy an engagement ring, he opened the door and declared, "There's more carats in here than in Bugs Bunny's pantry!" And as Ashley and Maxine toyed with the idea of turning vegetarian, the haughty butcher remarked, "If God hadn't meant us to eat animals, he wouldn't have made them meat flavoured."
Savident has also brought out all the early potential in Steven Arnold, whose depiction of the ever-troubled Ashley should now earn him a job for life if he wants it. That character has dealt with all sorts of familial crises - finding out his uncle was his dad; losing his first wife to a crowbar killer; discovering his first-born isn't his; forcing his post-natally depressed second wife into a mental home; and now losing his dad and influence. The new master butcher is due some happiness. Sadly, the Street's happiest character - both in cause and effect - is now dead meat himself.
TORCHMAYBE
This'll all be put to bed tomorrow, so one last piece of speculation about Torchwood's scheduling - and the latest whisper is the programme is going to get a regular repeat slot on BBC2 some time later in the week after its BBC3 showing.
09 October 2006
OPERATION WINKLE
So, blog favourite Strictly Come Dancing is back, but as someone whose enjoyment of daring routines is tempered by the desire to avoid all potential for car-crash telly (I always left the room when Fiona Phillips took to the floor last year), I find myself in my usual mixed state of enthrallment and discomfort when it transmits.
However, the return also means the nightly magazine of Strictly Come Dancing: It Takes Two, a fabulously showy, indulgent, shameless, daring and - most of all - funny spin-off, consisting of interviews, analyses, flirtatious gimmicks and previews. The manner of this programme's chucklesome, engaging manner is down almost entirely to arguably the most underrated hostess on television.
I'm a massive fan of Claudia Winkleman. I think she works cameras, earpieces and guests with a togetherness and sharpness which puts better-paid, higher-profile anchors to absolute shame. The first episode of It Takes Two saw her take on the assessment of icy judge Craig Revel Horwood ("One word Craig - 'uhhhhh!'") after his scathing attack on the over-exposed Matt Dawson's opening routine, while also chirpily allowing ex-contestant Bill Turnbull - whose personality underwent a superb makeover through his participation last year - to reminisce about his own period under the choreographic gaze of many millions of dancing fanatics.
As we'll undoubtedly see over the 13 further weeks ahead, Strictly Come Dancing will win in terms of viewers, skill, gloss, drama and actual talent, but will lose in terms of column inches. While the guff about The X-Factor (a show I cannot bear to watch under any circumstances whatsoever) will rule the tabloids, Strictly Come Dancing will supply the entertainment without heading for insult or bluster beyond the scripted idiocies of Revel Horwood and the equally hypercritical-for-effect Arlene Phillips. And at least these two are faced with a right to reply from celebs with nothing to lose and a partisan studio audience, as opposed to the fearful wannabes whom Cowell and co will destroy from top to bottom without any prospect of an argument or back-up.
Ray Fearon, a natural performer whom Coronation Street should have cherished more, is my early tip to win Strictly Come Dancing. As for Claudia, she could yet get the "promotion" to the role of Bruce's stooge ahead of the clearly guileless (although not useless) Tess Daly. But frankly, holding your leg up to Brucie and asking Spoony if he danced differently when DJ-ing isn't rocket science, even for the caveat of Saturday night primetime on BBC1. If you have a talent for conversation, then the big Saturday night billing isn't the right vehicle for you.
So, Claudia should stay where she is. She is in command and control, and is utterly brilliant. The proof of that is the amount of laughter heard behind the scenes when she issues a curt one-liner; the type of which we only heard via Phillip Schofield whenever Trevor & Simon were doing a turn. The whole half-hour is based on fun, and it produces such every time - and for that the hostess needs all the credit she so far doesn't seem to get.
However, the return also means the nightly magazine of Strictly Come Dancing: It Takes Two, a fabulously showy, indulgent, shameless, daring and - most of all - funny spin-off, consisting of interviews, analyses, flirtatious gimmicks and previews. The manner of this programme's chucklesome, engaging manner is down almost entirely to arguably the most underrated hostess on television.
I'm a massive fan of Claudia Winkleman. I think she works cameras, earpieces and guests with a togetherness and sharpness which puts better-paid, higher-profile anchors to absolute shame. The first episode of It Takes Two saw her take on the assessment of icy judge Craig Revel Horwood ("One word Craig - 'uhhhhh!'") after his scathing attack on the over-exposed Matt Dawson's opening routine, while also chirpily allowing ex-contestant Bill Turnbull - whose personality underwent a superb makeover through his participation last year - to reminisce about his own period under the choreographic gaze of many millions of dancing fanatics.
As we'll undoubtedly see over the 13 further weeks ahead, Strictly Come Dancing will win in terms of viewers, skill, gloss, drama and actual talent, but will lose in terms of column inches. While the guff about The X-Factor (a show I cannot bear to watch under any circumstances whatsoever) will rule the tabloids, Strictly Come Dancing will supply the entertainment without heading for insult or bluster beyond the scripted idiocies of Revel Horwood and the equally hypercritical-for-effect Arlene Phillips. And at least these two are faced with a right to reply from celebs with nothing to lose and a partisan studio audience, as opposed to the fearful wannabes whom Cowell and co will destroy from top to bottom without any prospect of an argument or back-up.
Ray Fearon, a natural performer whom Coronation Street should have cherished more, is my early tip to win Strictly Come Dancing. As for Claudia, she could yet get the "promotion" to the role of Bruce's stooge ahead of the clearly guileless (although not useless) Tess Daly. But frankly, holding your leg up to Brucie and asking Spoony if he danced differently when DJ-ing isn't rocket science, even for the caveat of Saturday night primetime on BBC1. If you have a talent for conversation, then the big Saturday night billing isn't the right vehicle for you.
So, Claudia should stay where she is. She is in command and control, and is utterly brilliant. The proof of that is the amount of laughter heard behind the scenes when she issues a curt one-liner; the type of which we only heard via Phillip Schofield whenever Trevor & Simon were doing a turn. The whole half-hour is based on fun, and it produces such every time - and for that the hostess needs all the credit she so far doesn't seem to get.
PETROLHEAD PURGATORY: A COUNTERBLAST
Friend of OTT Ian Sparham has contributed this fantasically well constructed counterblast to Paul Stump's Top Gear demolition which is currently gracing the front page of the site.
The thing that Paul Stump completely fails to see with current Top Gear is that there are only three things which it has in common with the program I used to turn over when I was a lad.
1. It's called Top Gear
2. It has Jeremy Clarkson in it
3. It has some cars in it.
Modern Top Gear is essentially the good bits out of Clarkson's chat-show, mixed with a hint of The Goodies, a sprinkling of Last Of the Summer Wine, and yes, a bit of arsing about with cars. Of course if you want to know which Vauxhall is for you this is not the show to watch, and it' s now very much a vehicle (no pun intended) for Jeremy Clarkson.
He is a very divisive figure - the living epitome of Marmite - but I would happily refute claims of those who bracket him with the Gary Bushells or James Whales of this world. For one, Clarkson is a very intelligent journalist, as anyone who has read the compilations of his Sunday Times articles will be able to testify, and for another, he justifies his opinions and stances in a way which at least has logic to it. That's not to say you necessarily agree with him - I vehemently oppose his views on the environment for example - but I do always find him entertaining and thought-provoking both in print and on television. He's certainly a figure who, in my eyes, deserves a vehicle, and it would seem that several million viewers and various international award panels agree.
But yes, Top Gear is unashamedly, unreconstructedly and unapologetically laddish. This is not a show for the new man, for those still living in a 1980s haze of political correctness or for those Rethian purists who feel the BBC should not spend any money on entertaining us (or more accurately, money on entertainment with which they personally disapprove) This is a show, as Richard Hammond put it, which is, "on the cutting edge of cocking about". This is a show which is about male friendship and playground rivalries. In short, this is a show about three overgrown schoolboys and their entertaining adventures. It's also a show which I can sit down and watch with my wife - and there a very few of those these days.
I'll put my cards on the table here too - no petrolhead am I. My car history is one at which Clarkson would hang his head in shame. Lada, Proton, Citroen, Fiat (Multipla - you know - the one that looks lika bug-eyed frog). Cars generally bore me. As long as mine goes and doesn't burst into flames or hit any others (or stationary objects) I am relatively happy.
So what's the appeal of Top Gear? Well it's no coincidence that last christmas saw a show called James May's Top Toys where one of the presenters took us through a nostalgic and leisurely trip through the playthings of his childhood. This just supports the idea that Top Gear is about little boys and their love of toys and gadgets. Of course it's always dangerous to generalise - but I will anyway. Men like to remember being little boys, women find the mix of childishness and machismo appealing, and of course, little boys can watch because they are little boys. (I can only assume little girls are reasonably ambivalent without access to viewer demographics)
Richard Hammond's accident was of course, tragic, but there have always been accidents in the making of television. The Late Late Breakfast Show, most famously saw a member of the public killed during a stunt, but there was no outcry for an end to light entertainment. Had a stuntman, or even the Stig been driving the Jetcar, would there have been the same outcry and calls for Top Gear to be cancelled ? Well yes, probably - because those cries weren't driven by a concern for Hammond's welfare or even any real worries about the BBC's health and safety record. They were driven by the same people who tut that the show shouldn't waste our money entertaining us by showing three idiots (hilariously) trying to sail cars. The same people who complain when Clarkson suggests that if you see a fox you should try to run it over. The same people who resent any of "their" licence fee being spent on anything which they personally do not "get". The same people who regard Top Gear viewers as "the plebs" and ... oh let's be honest about it - Daily Mail readers.
Even being a risk-taking professional is no guarantee. In 1993 a TV stuntman called Tip Tipping was killed in a parachuting accident. He took part of his own freewill, and died in an accident. That's tragic - but he was a professional risk-taker and he still couldn't be 100% safe. Richard Hammond's participation in the Top Gear feature which led to his current condition was also of his own freewill - he is an adult and he knew the risks. He also fully supports the continuation of Top Gear. It's sad that those with axes to grind about the BBC, with Clarkson and with the right of grown men to occasionally be very silly, have hijacked this accident to make their own political points. It's sad, but it's not surprising.
Ultimately Top Gear is about the presenters. It's about their dynamic, it's about their love of stuff that is shiny and of things which go fast and make good noises.
I like Top Gear.
The thing that Paul Stump completely fails to see with current Top Gear is that there are only three things which it has in common with the program I used to turn over when I was a lad.
1. It's called Top Gear
2. It has Jeremy Clarkson in it
3. It has some cars in it.
Modern Top Gear is essentially the good bits out of Clarkson's chat-show, mixed with a hint of The Goodies, a sprinkling of Last Of the Summer Wine, and yes, a bit of arsing about with cars. Of course if you want to know which Vauxhall is for you this is not the show to watch, and it' s now very much a vehicle (no pun intended) for Jeremy Clarkson.
He is a very divisive figure - the living epitome of Marmite - but I would happily refute claims of those who bracket him with the Gary Bushells or James Whales of this world. For one, Clarkson is a very intelligent journalist, as anyone who has read the compilations of his Sunday Times articles will be able to testify, and for another, he justifies his opinions and stances in a way which at least has logic to it. That's not to say you necessarily agree with him - I vehemently oppose his views on the environment for example - but I do always find him entertaining and thought-provoking both in print and on television. He's certainly a figure who, in my eyes, deserves a vehicle, and it would seem that several million viewers and various international award panels agree.
But yes, Top Gear is unashamedly, unreconstructedly and unapologetically laddish. This is not a show for the new man, for those still living in a 1980s haze of political correctness or for those Rethian purists who feel the BBC should not spend any money on entertaining us (or more accurately, money on entertainment with which they personally disapprove) This is a show, as Richard Hammond put it, which is, "on the cutting edge of cocking about". This is a show which is about male friendship and playground rivalries. In short, this is a show about three overgrown schoolboys and their entertaining adventures. It's also a show which I can sit down and watch with my wife - and there a very few of those these days.
I'll put my cards on the table here too - no petrolhead am I. My car history is one at which Clarkson would hang his head in shame. Lada, Proton, Citroen, Fiat (Multipla - you know - the one that looks lika bug-eyed frog). Cars generally bore me. As long as mine goes and doesn't burst into flames or hit any others (or stationary objects) I am relatively happy.
So what's the appeal of Top Gear? Well it's no coincidence that last christmas saw a show called James May's Top Toys where one of the presenters took us through a nostalgic and leisurely trip through the playthings of his childhood. This just supports the idea that Top Gear is about little boys and their love of toys and gadgets. Of course it's always dangerous to generalise - but I will anyway. Men like to remember being little boys, women find the mix of childishness and machismo appealing, and of course, little boys can watch because they are little boys. (I can only assume little girls are reasonably ambivalent without access to viewer demographics)
Richard Hammond's accident was of course, tragic, but there have always been accidents in the making of television. The Late Late Breakfast Show, most famously saw a member of the public killed during a stunt, but there was no outcry for an end to light entertainment. Had a stuntman, or even the Stig been driving the Jetcar, would there have been the same outcry and calls for Top Gear to be cancelled ? Well yes, probably - because those cries weren't driven by a concern for Hammond's welfare or even any real worries about the BBC's health and safety record. They were driven by the same people who tut that the show shouldn't waste our money entertaining us by showing three idiots (hilariously) trying to sail cars. The same people who complain when Clarkson suggests that if you see a fox you should try to run it over. The same people who resent any of "their" licence fee being spent on anything which they personally do not "get". The same people who regard Top Gear viewers as "the plebs" and ... oh let's be honest about it - Daily Mail readers.
Even being a risk-taking professional is no guarantee. In 1993 a TV stuntman called Tip Tipping was killed in a parachuting accident. He took part of his own freewill, and died in an accident. That's tragic - but he was a professional risk-taker and he still couldn't be 100% safe. Richard Hammond's participation in the Top Gear feature which led to his current condition was also of his own freewill - he is an adult and he knew the risks. He also fully supports the continuation of Top Gear. It's sad that those with axes to grind about the BBC, with Clarkson and with the right of grown men to occasionally be very silly, have hijacked this accident to make their own political points. It's sad, but it's not surprising.
Ultimately Top Gear is about the presenters. It's about their dynamic, it's about their love of stuff that is shiny and of things which go fast and make good noises.
I like Top Gear.
TORCHWON'T
Apparently the Beeb have now dropped plans to simulcast the first episode of Torchwood on both BBC1 and BBC3. Which is a shame, cos it would have made for ident hell.
STUNTED GROWTH
Two years ago, Arrested Development arrived on British screens to a blaze of publicity telling us this was the best sitcom to come from America for years. The scheduling matched this, with a 10pm slot on BBC2 and the next episode straight after on BBC4. Now we're in the middle of the third and final series, and when did BBC2 screen the latest edition? At 1am on Monday morning.
Obviously, Arrested Development has joined the band of imports that ended up attracting a loyal but resolutely tiny audience in the UK (see also Family Guy, or rather don't see it as it's on BBC3 at midnight), although even Seinfeld, the patron saint of badly-scheduled Americana, never managed to fall out of favour quite so much as to ensure its fans had to stay up to 1.40am on a school night.
The thing is, though, you can see where BBC2 are coming from, as at this stage in the series' history, its appeal to casual audiences must be zero. I've been watching it since episode one and even I sometimes lose track of who's gone out with who, and where the story has got to - so for anyone tuning in now, it may as well be performed in Swahili for all the sense it would make. Why has Buster only got one hand? Why is Gob continually talking through a badly-made black hand puppet? Why is George Sr contributing to family arguments via another man repeating his comments made down an earpiece while George watches on TV locked in the bedroom? It all makes sense, honest.
Arrested Development is a very funny series, rattling along at 100 miles an hour and stuffed with gags. There's character-driven humour, like Gob's fruitless attempts to avoid speaking to his newly-discovered son. There's well-crafted jokes, like Tobias trying to make a living as both an analyst and a therapist, but finding his business cards describing him as an "analrapist" got him arrested. And there's shameless silliness, like calling a character Bob Loblaw simply because it sounds stupid said out loud. Indeed, this frantic pace is probably what makes it completely impenetrable to a new audience. Fox axed it after three series, but I'm amazed it even lasted three weeks on prime time network TV in the US.
It's probably compulsory at this stage to suggest that BBC2 are idiots, and you must watch Arrested Development, but really, at this stage, you'd be better off getting the DVD of Season 1. Meanwhile BBC2 can be assured that at least the three of us still watching will be there at the end, however late it gets.
Obviously, Arrested Development has joined the band of imports that ended up attracting a loyal but resolutely tiny audience in the UK (see also Family Guy, or rather don't see it as it's on BBC3 at midnight), although even Seinfeld, the patron saint of badly-scheduled Americana, never managed to fall out of favour quite so much as to ensure its fans had to stay up to 1.40am on a school night.
The thing is, though, you can see where BBC2 are coming from, as at this stage in the series' history, its appeal to casual audiences must be zero. I've been watching it since episode one and even I sometimes lose track of who's gone out with who, and where the story has got to - so for anyone tuning in now, it may as well be performed in Swahili for all the sense it would make. Why has Buster only got one hand? Why is Gob continually talking through a badly-made black hand puppet? Why is George Sr contributing to family arguments via another man repeating his comments made down an earpiece while George watches on TV locked in the bedroom? It all makes sense, honest.
Arrested Development is a very funny series, rattling along at 100 miles an hour and stuffed with gags. There's character-driven humour, like Gob's fruitless attempts to avoid speaking to his newly-discovered son. There's well-crafted jokes, like Tobias trying to make a living as both an analyst and a therapist, but finding his business cards describing him as an "analrapist" got him arrested. And there's shameless silliness, like calling a character Bob Loblaw simply because it sounds stupid said out loud. Indeed, this frantic pace is probably what makes it completely impenetrable to a new audience. Fox axed it after three series, but I'm amazed it even lasted three weeks on prime time network TV in the US.
It's probably compulsory at this stage to suggest that BBC2 are idiots, and you must watch Arrested Development, but really, at this stage, you'd be better off getting the DVD of Season 1. Meanwhile BBC2 can be assured that at least the three of us still watching will be there at the end, however late it gets.
06 October 2006
TORCH BEARING
Who (no pun) knows quite what's going on with Torchwood? The BBC have released their press info for the week, but as yet, they're not confirming a day.
Nevertheless, as far as I know, it'll be going out on Sunday, October 22 - but just to add to the complication, there are now rumours episode one will simulcast on BBC1 and 3. We'll have to see.
But what about the show itself? I've heard comment it's gone over budget and over deadline. Personally speaking, I'm not hugely bowled over by some sort of ensemble alien-busting gang, and yet, I will definitely be there - whenever and wherever it's on - to see what lies behind the big T. Obviously, the fact it's Doctor Who-related makes it must for me, but also co-star Eve Myles has been talking up a storm.
"Some episodes are about people dealing with, er, situations. And then the next episode will be absolutely barking mad: cannibals or meteorites or aliens or weevils. It’s so unpredictable.
"And it’s so hard to try and describe it, because it’s not about sitting around a table, talking about problems. You know. Your corny little drama. It’s not. Every episode is like a movie."
Asked if she was - just perhaps - a little enthused by it all, she replied: "Oh, I am! Oh, goodness me? Are you serious. Oh my God! From day one I’ve been incredibly excited about this. And when you start getting these scripts coming through, and you’re going, ‘Oh come on! There’s got to be a weak link here!' They can’t keep getting better and better!’"
Nevertheless, as far as I know, it'll be going out on Sunday, October 22 - but just to add to the complication, there are now rumours episode one will simulcast on BBC1 and 3. We'll have to see.
But what about the show itself? I've heard comment it's gone over budget and over deadline. Personally speaking, I'm not hugely bowled over by some sort of ensemble alien-busting gang, and yet, I will definitely be there - whenever and wherever it's on - to see what lies behind the big T. Obviously, the fact it's Doctor Who-related makes it must for me, but also co-star Eve Myles has been talking up a storm.
"Some episodes are about people dealing with, er, situations. And then the next episode will be absolutely barking mad: cannibals or meteorites or aliens or weevils. It’s so unpredictable.
"And it’s so hard to try and describe it, because it’s not about sitting around a table, talking about problems. You know. Your corny little drama. It’s not. Every episode is like a movie."
Asked if she was - just perhaps - a little enthused by it all, she replied: "Oh, I am! Oh, goodness me? Are you serious. Oh my God! From day one I’ve been incredibly excited about this. And when you start getting these scripts coming through, and you’re going, ‘Oh come on! There’s got to be a weak link here!' They can’t keep getting better and better!’"
"AN INTELLECTUAL REACH-AROUND"
Apparently, there is such a thing as a blogging community (the ... "blogosphere", is that right?). My guess is that one of their central tenets is that blogs must, at some point in their life, mention the work of Aaron Sorkin. Consider this, then, OTT Blog's coming of age, as I've been watching Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip.
Appropriately enough, that's thanks to the power of the internet, and a certain file-sharing site, which has currently got the first two episodes available for download.
I'm not a whole-hearted Sorkin convert, although I will get round to watching series four of The West Wing sometime between now and Christmas 2007, I promise. And yet I have become quite enthused by Studio 60. Granted, a lot about it feels familar. Episode two kicks off with the newly-appointed, straight-talkin' network boss fire-fighting criticism at a press conference, while her colleagues watch on muttering, "She's good". Later, himoff Friends leads a brain-storming session as the gang try to come up with a suitably spectacular opening sketch for his debut show (er, I'm going to assume you know what Studio 60 is, Matthew Perry's role, who Josh is playing and - well - everything. If not, look at this) and, gradually, ideas coalesce and form together, triumphantly proving how clever everyone is. It's just that Martin Sheen's not there to amble in at the end and say so.
In this instance, the bravura moment is instead a musical number, parodying The Major General's Song from The Pirates of Penzance, from which that "intellectual reach-around" comes from.
But, I like it. The show does enough to get you onside and warming to the characters so you're rooting for them to succeed - to be funny - despite the fact it's Sorkin's own script that declares if they are or not (with critics, penned by the writer, penning criticism of the fictional Studio 60 revue show ... penned by the writer). As such, it's less of a reach-around, and something more masturbatory.
Oh. How did I end up saying that?
"Don't worry, you're good. This is a good blog entry."
Great.
So, you see how that works?
Anyway, Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip is good. It's funny. It's complicated, it's warm and - best of all - it's all about making a TV show. And I love show's about shows.
Appropriately enough, that's thanks to the power of the internet, and a certain file-sharing site, which has currently got the first two episodes available for download.
I'm not a whole-hearted Sorkin convert, although I will get round to watching series four of The West Wing sometime between now and Christmas 2007, I promise. And yet I have become quite enthused by Studio 60. Granted, a lot about it feels familar. Episode two kicks off with the newly-appointed, straight-talkin' network boss fire-fighting criticism at a press conference, while her colleagues watch on muttering, "She's good". Later, himoff Friends leads a brain-storming session as the gang try to come up with a suitably spectacular opening sketch for his debut show (er, I'm going to assume you know what Studio 60 is, Matthew Perry's role, who Josh is playing and - well - everything. If not, look at this) and, gradually, ideas coalesce and form together, triumphantly proving how clever everyone is. It's just that Martin Sheen's not there to amble in at the end and say so.
In this instance, the bravura moment is instead a musical number, parodying The Major General's Song from The Pirates of Penzance, from which that "intellectual reach-around" comes from.
But, I like it. The show does enough to get you onside and warming to the characters so you're rooting for them to succeed - to be funny - despite the fact it's Sorkin's own script that declares if they are or not (with critics, penned by the writer, penning criticism of the fictional Studio 60 revue show ... penned by the writer). As such, it's less of a reach-around, and something more masturbatory.
Oh. How did I end up saying that?
"Don't worry, you're good. This is a good blog entry."
Great.
So, you see how that works?
Anyway, Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip is good. It's funny. It's complicated, it's warm and - best of all - it's all about making a TV show. And I love show's about shows.
04 October 2006
LAWSON THE LISTENER
There is a fashion currently to scorn Mark Lawson over the sporadic set of elongated interviews he is doing for BBC4, but frankly, I think each one I've seen has been brilliant. With the restricted, experimental format of both channel and programme giving him a whole 60 minutes to question his guest, it's a hark back to "proper" televisual interviewing and has proved for the first time in a generation that famous folk can happily and freely talk about themselves without having to gratuitously plug some project or other.
My argument there may wane a tad as I'm writing this on the back of Lawson's talk with Jack Dee, as part of "Jack Dee Night" (yes) on BBC4 as the channel sets itself to launch its new audienceless comedy, Lead Balloon, which Dee co-writes, as well as appears in. There have been numerous trailers right through the Corporation - the audio from BBC1 and 2's promos have also been heard on Radio 1 and 5 Live - with BBC4 pinning much on Dee's national comic popularity and growing reputation as a decent actor to make their network just that bit more of a choice for the channel-hoppers.
So, naturally, the first 10 minutes of Lawson's polite gossip with Dee was about the making of the series and Dee's own feelings as an actor and the writer of a semi-autobiographical sitcom (he stars as a deadpan comic whose career has become too reliant on corporates). But this was only 10 minutes of a one-hour chat on a commercial-free network. Whether Lawson's guests have had anything to plug or not - and in the main, they haven't - is only incidental, as proved by the case of Dee, through whom we got a fascinating, candid 50-minute insight into a complicated life and career.
I chuckled and listened intently as Dee - always a favourite comic of mine in any event since I heard his jokes about water supply conservation leaflets on The Mary Whitehouse Experience in 1990 - told of conning his way into sixth form, telling careers advisors he wanted to change the Church of England and being the only career waiter in Covent Garden who wasn't a RADA undergraduate (but was a dipsomaniac who wrote chronic poetry). Some of it was stuff I dimly recalled from Deadpan magazine a decade ago, but it was still intriguing nonetheless.
Then there was the successful side, and the revelation that Dee only developed his winning dour delivery when he'd decided to give it all up and therefore went into his pre-booked, final gigs with a couldn't-care-less attitude, and got the biggest laughs he'd ever had. From here we got clips of Paramount City ("A man back by popular demand", I remember Arthur Smith saying introducing him at the time, and I can believe it when I consider some of the other guff which went on that show) and The Jack Dee Show and the higher ground he gained from winning a British Comedy award for Best Newcomer and then, of course, advertising John Smith's beer and overpowering the egos of Madames Feltz and Turner to win the inaugural Celebrity Big Brother.
Lawson is a lucky interviewer in that he has a lot of time to fill so he can ask numerous supplementary questions dependant on the initial answer, but as a proper journalist should, he is doing so in the right way. He is respectful to his guests, doesn't miss anything out, reacts to discomfort in a subject (when Dee said he refused to allow any of his Celebrity Big Brother clips to be re-shown, Lawson moved on) and, most of all, he listens, and listens properly. As a consequence, Dee - not known at all as a difficult interviewee, but certainly a man with a persona which could prompt assumptions - was able to project himself as an articulate and decent chap who isn't afraid to graft, but also not afraid to reveal the more embarrassing traits of his life and work.
The guest must obviously know that they're going to be asked about everything, but just maybe they agree to it - even with nothing to plug, like Jilly Cooper, David Baddiel, Terry Gilliam - because they know Lawson will ask them everything in the right way.
My argument there may wane a tad as I'm writing this on the back of Lawson's talk with Jack Dee, as part of "Jack Dee Night" (yes) on BBC4 as the channel sets itself to launch its new audienceless comedy, Lead Balloon, which Dee co-writes, as well as appears in. There have been numerous trailers right through the Corporation - the audio from BBC1 and 2's promos have also been heard on Radio 1 and 5 Live - with BBC4 pinning much on Dee's national comic popularity and growing reputation as a decent actor to make their network just that bit more of a choice for the channel-hoppers.
So, naturally, the first 10 minutes of Lawson's polite gossip with Dee was about the making of the series and Dee's own feelings as an actor and the writer of a semi-autobiographical sitcom (he stars as a deadpan comic whose career has become too reliant on corporates). But this was only 10 minutes of a one-hour chat on a commercial-free network. Whether Lawson's guests have had anything to plug or not - and in the main, they haven't - is only incidental, as proved by the case of Dee, through whom we got a fascinating, candid 50-minute insight into a complicated life and career.
I chuckled and listened intently as Dee - always a favourite comic of mine in any event since I heard his jokes about water supply conservation leaflets on The Mary Whitehouse Experience in 1990 - told of conning his way into sixth form, telling careers advisors he wanted to change the Church of England and being the only career waiter in Covent Garden who wasn't a RADA undergraduate (but was a dipsomaniac who wrote chronic poetry). Some of it was stuff I dimly recalled from Deadpan magazine a decade ago, but it was still intriguing nonetheless.
Then there was the successful side, and the revelation that Dee only developed his winning dour delivery when he'd decided to give it all up and therefore went into his pre-booked, final gigs with a couldn't-care-less attitude, and got the biggest laughs he'd ever had. From here we got clips of Paramount City ("A man back by popular demand", I remember Arthur Smith saying introducing him at the time, and I can believe it when I consider some of the other guff which went on that show) and The Jack Dee Show and the higher ground he gained from winning a British Comedy award for Best Newcomer and then, of course, advertising John Smith's beer and overpowering the egos of Madames Feltz and Turner to win the inaugural Celebrity Big Brother.
Lawson is a lucky interviewer in that he has a lot of time to fill so he can ask numerous supplementary questions dependant on the initial answer, but as a proper journalist should, he is doing so in the right way. He is respectful to his guests, doesn't miss anything out, reacts to discomfort in a subject (when Dee said he refused to allow any of his Celebrity Big Brother clips to be re-shown, Lawson moved on) and, most of all, he listens, and listens properly. As a consequence, Dee - not known at all as a difficult interviewee, but certainly a man with a persona which could prompt assumptions - was able to project himself as an articulate and decent chap who isn't afraid to graft, but also not afraid to reveal the more embarrassing traits of his life and work.
The guest must obviously know that they're going to be asked about everything, but just maybe they agree to it - even with nothing to plug, like Jilly Cooper, David Baddiel, Terry Gilliam - because they know Lawson will ask them everything in the right way.