So the housewives finally returned this week with a cracking episode to kick off season six. It's no secret that I was not a particular fan of last season overall. Season four felt like it had it all. Each episode felt like as finely constructed masterpiece, so the diffuse, confused fifth season was something of a let down. I felt the usual sense of relief during the finale, but not for the usual reasons. This was more of a 'thank God that's over with' sense of relief. Season six, I prayed, would be a return to form.
And it seems to be shaping up so. Mike has re-married Susan and Katherine is mad about it. I mean, really mad. And not just angry either. Apparently this season's story arc for Katherine will be her descent into madness. Thank Christ for that. Dana Delany as Katherine was outstanding during season four, her sweet and sour demeanour and the final revelation of the terrible secret she had been hiding for years bought a real strength to that season -- especially after the somewhat lacklustre mystery sub-plots we had during the second and third season. But during last season, Katherine fell in love with Mike and rather pathetically spent the entire time trying to keep him from leaving her. Now, however, we see some more of the old Katherine returning. She is out for revenge, and she doesn't care who or what gets in her way, as evinced by her spectacular crash through the door of a cupboard Susan had locked her in.
Elsewhere, Lynette, in a rather heart-wrenching scene, decided she didn't love the babies she was carrying. Halfway through episode one, and already Felicity Huffman is acting her socks off. Brilliant. The most moving part of the episode, I found, was when Gabrielle, in an attempt to show Ana once and for all that she did care for her and was only acting in her best interests, stormed into the house and signed the papers that would make her Ana's legal guardian. This story is going to get very juicy indeed...
Now that I have you attention, we move onto the latest episodes of Medium. Ha! Gotcha. Dear Dad, for a start, was one of the strongest episodes of the season and saw us return to the mystery behind Devalos' daughter Arianna's suicide years before. The last time we touched upon this was in the season three episode Very Merry Maggie, where Arianna left messages that led Lily and Manuel to a field of her favourite flowers. This episode delved deeper into exactly what made her kill herself, and also revealed some major flaws in Devalos' normally irreprehensible character. It was good to see Miguel Sandoval with some major screen time here, as you may recall I had expressed doubts about whether he was departing the show due to his lack of presence in some of the early episodes of the season. Through Allison's dreams, it transpired that Arianna's suicide had to do with a case he had been working on at the time. There were a number of genuinely touching moments as we finally saw the crosses that our upstanding district attorney has had to bear for years. Great.
The season continues...
Peace xx
Saturday, 30 January 2010
Tuesday, 26 January 2010
The Good Wife, Most Good. Most Good.
Hello, etc. So, Channel 4 can always be relied upon to bring us the best of the new American dramas. And last night it did it again. I had heard about The Good Wife as one of the best new shows of the season and was delighted that Channel 4 was going to broadcast it. My heart felt very full with love for the network, as Jane Fonda might say. If she watches 4OD. I don't know if she does because we're not mates. Not yet anyway. I'm still trying to locate her Blackberry pin. And then she will be putty in my hands.
Anyhoo, the show's premise is that a senator has disgraced himself by having affairs with hookers, and paid them with government money. Oops. He winds up in his prison and his 'good wife' (see how clever this show is already?) has to return to work as a junior attorney. Now, in the opening scenes of this pilot episode we may have been led to believe that this would be some sort of family melodrama. However, it soon becomes clear that this is not just the story of a family coping with the fallout of some shocking revelations. Returning to work at a law firm, our good wife plunges us into an extremely involving legal drama as we are invited to work alongside her on a baffling case.
The opening scenes were something of a rollercoaster. As with all great protagonists, the pressure has really been piled on our good wife. Not only is she coping with her husband's betrayal, imprisonment and the attendant publicity, she is also juggling two children, a meddling Mother-in-law, and a return to work after a 13 year absence. And what a workplace: having to compete with another junior attorney for a permanent position in the firm, and all under the steely gaze of a boss who clearly doesn't want her to progress too far. Add to that a case that seems impossible to win, and we know our good wife has her work cut out for her.
The cast here is top notch. Juliana Margulies as the good wife is first-rate. Margulies did sterling work for years as Nurse Carol Hathaway on the magnificent ER, and here she does not disappoint. Her work has not gone unnoticed as in recent days she has won both the Golden Globe and the SAG award for best leading actress in a drama series. An Emmy win later in the year seems a certainty. Her supporting cast is just as good. Chris Noth, aka Mr Big from Sex And The City, as her incarcerated husband suits his role, though hopefully he will be given more screen time as the series progresses, and the consistently excellent Christine Baranski as her tough as nails boss is a joy to watch.
For a pilot episode, the writers, directors and performers seemed confident in what they were doing, and there was a scarcity of false notes that usually plague drama pilots. Both the family story and the procedural drama blended well together and were equally as engaging.
Strength, confidence and wisdom. This is the story of a strong, confident woman, regaining control of her own life. I'm told the series keeps getting better as it goes on, and I just can't wait.
Peace xx
Anyhoo, the show's premise is that a senator has disgraced himself by having affairs with hookers, and paid them with government money. Oops. He winds up in his prison and his 'good wife' (see how clever this show is already?) has to return to work as a junior attorney. Now, in the opening scenes of this pilot episode we may have been led to believe that this would be some sort of family melodrama. However, it soon becomes clear that this is not just the story of a family coping with the fallout of some shocking revelations. Returning to work at a law firm, our good wife plunges us into an extremely involving legal drama as we are invited to work alongside her on a baffling case.
The opening scenes were something of a rollercoaster. As with all great protagonists, the pressure has really been piled on our good wife. Not only is she coping with her husband's betrayal, imprisonment and the attendant publicity, she is also juggling two children, a meddling Mother-in-law, and a return to work after a 13 year absence. And what a workplace: having to compete with another junior attorney for a permanent position in the firm, and all under the steely gaze of a boss who clearly doesn't want her to progress too far. Add to that a case that seems impossible to win, and we know our good wife has her work cut out for her.
The cast here is top notch. Juliana Margulies as the good wife is first-rate. Margulies did sterling work for years as Nurse Carol Hathaway on the magnificent ER, and here she does not disappoint. Her work has not gone unnoticed as in recent days she has won both the Golden Globe and the SAG award for best leading actress in a drama series. An Emmy win later in the year seems a certainty. Her supporting cast is just as good. Chris Noth, aka Mr Big from Sex And The City, as her incarcerated husband suits his role, though hopefully he will be given more screen time as the series progresses, and the consistently excellent Christine Baranski as her tough as nails boss is a joy to watch.
For a pilot episode, the writers, directors and performers seemed confident in what they were doing, and there was a scarcity of false notes that usually plague drama pilots. Both the family story and the procedural drama blended well together and were equally as engaging.
Strength, confidence and wisdom. This is the story of a strong, confident woman, regaining control of her own life. I'm told the series keeps getting better as it goes on, and I just can't wait.
Peace xx
Monday, 11 January 2010
It's Not Complicated. It's Weird And Not Very Good
Greetings, changelings. Now, imagine my fever dreams over the past few months over the news that Meryl Streep was to star in a charming romantic comedy with Alec Baldwin. Meryl, the divine, who's virtues have been extolled many a time previously in this very blog. And Mr. Baldwin, recently reborn as a great comedy actor thanks to one Tina Fey and the excellent 30 Rock.
I was excited.
Recently I have been noticing that Meryl has become perhaps more memorable for her comic roles than her much lauded dramatic ones. Heartburn, Death Becomes Her, and recently The Devil Wears Prada, Mamma Mia! and Julie & Julia seemed to unleash something new within her as an actress. All those torturous roles of the 80's must have really taken their toll on her psyche. The noble suffering, illness, death, tears, wigs and accents of The French Lieutenant's Woman, Sophie's Choice, Silkwood and A Cry In The Dark earnt Meryl her place in the canon of great movie actresses. However, by the late 90's the quality of these scripts had declined and in such t.v-movie-of-the-week fare as The Bridges Of Madison County, One True Thing and Music Of The Heart, she had almost descended into self-parody. Luckily she bounced back with top-notch affairs The Hours, Adaptation and Angels In America, but the comic roles that followed would more suitably sum up her career in the 21st century. Fresh from the joyous campery of Julie & Julia, It's Complicated looked set to continue the trend.
Alas, it was not to be. The original longer version of the trailer seemed to dish up exactly what we wanted: fun and frolics with some old legends. Then, the 'shorts' came -- those 30 second television tasters. Something was definitely wrong. Suddenly it didn't seem so endearing. The world at large seemed to know before I did that this would be utter nonsense. Still, I persevered. I thought that even if it wasn't that great I could at least revel in some comic delights from Meryl and Alec Baldwin.
But no, but no. This film came from the pen of Miss Nancy Meyers. She told us exactly What Women Want, then it was downhill from there. Something's Gotta Give was overlong, meandering, and full of odious characters we wouldn't want to spend five minutes with. And let's not get in too deep with a critique of The Holiday. More loathsome characters, even more loathsome actors (if such a thing was possible), a hideously miscast Kate Winslet and an uninvolving plot that seemed to drag on for several hours. And so it was with this film. Meryl is divorced and should go on a date. Cue an extremely dull Steve Martin, who is meant to form the third part of this love triangle -- but not even Meryl seems interested in him. Full plot details are not worth going into. Suffice to say that if some of our greatest actors cannot pretend to be interested and or/interesting, then how are we, the audience, supposed to invest in them?
The supporting characters were irritating and bland-- Meryl and Alec seem to have been cursed with hideously boring offspring-- and not a wise-cracking best friend in site! So many lost opportunities here. Meryl has a group of girlfriends who get together, drink wine, and talk about men. Middle aged, sassy, no-nonsense friends? Well, yes. On paper. However these scenes were painfully contrived and unfunny. And, as you know, I am quite partial to groups of sassy middle aged ladies, so was doubly disappointed.
The film flopped limply from monotonous set-piece to monotonous set-piece. Steve Martin kept coming back, but Meryl didn't really care. At one point, Meryl was to get stoned. Inside, my heart leapt. Meryl getting high? This could be comedy gold and could save the film. Again, no. Contrived and unfunny. What a waste.
Now, I'm used to seeing cheesy comedies that at least raise a laugh or two and are a not altogether unpleasant way to spend a couple of hours. This film, however, was a trial. I had at least expected Meryl to give us some chuckles, but even she didn't seem too invested in the whole affair.
Which brings me to the most worrying point. If you scroll down these blog posts, you will see my review of the equally disappointing Fantastic Mr Fox, in which I mentioned that it seemed Meryl had 'phoned in' her performance. Well, it seems she did it again here. To be fair, there was not much material to work with, but Meryl has made a career of elevating herself above the material she is given, to startling effect. But these last two misses seem to indicate that maybe...maybe...could it be? Is Meryl getting bored? Is she about to retire? Or is she going to carry on cranking out mediocre films with, frankly, the most mediocre performances of her career? I worry. I worry greatly.
All in all, this was a tragic waste of all the talent involved, and a colossal waste of my time. I'll console myself with the notion that by going to see this, I have contributed to Meryl's box office clout so that she can star in some smaller, far superior independent film. Here's hoping.
To remind ourselves of Meryl Streep, great comedian, please check out Death Becomes Her again. I know I will be, if only to expunge the memory of this trainwreck.
Peace xx
I was excited.
Recently I have been noticing that Meryl has become perhaps more memorable for her comic roles than her much lauded dramatic ones. Heartburn, Death Becomes Her, and recently The Devil Wears Prada, Mamma Mia! and Julie & Julia seemed to unleash something new within her as an actress. All those torturous roles of the 80's must have really taken their toll on her psyche. The noble suffering, illness, death, tears, wigs and accents of The French Lieutenant's Woman, Sophie's Choice, Silkwood and A Cry In The Dark earnt Meryl her place in the canon of great movie actresses. However, by the late 90's the quality of these scripts had declined and in such t.v-movie-of-the-week fare as The Bridges Of Madison County, One True Thing and Music Of The Heart, she had almost descended into self-parody. Luckily she bounced back with top-notch affairs The Hours, Adaptation and Angels In America, but the comic roles that followed would more suitably sum up her career in the 21st century. Fresh from the joyous campery of Julie & Julia, It's Complicated looked set to continue the trend.
Alas, it was not to be. The original longer version of the trailer seemed to dish up exactly what we wanted: fun and frolics with some old legends. Then, the 'shorts' came -- those 30 second television tasters. Something was definitely wrong. Suddenly it didn't seem so endearing. The world at large seemed to know before I did that this would be utter nonsense. Still, I persevered. I thought that even if it wasn't that great I could at least revel in some comic delights from Meryl and Alec Baldwin.
But no, but no. This film came from the pen of Miss Nancy Meyers. She told us exactly What Women Want, then it was downhill from there. Something's Gotta Give was overlong, meandering, and full of odious characters we wouldn't want to spend five minutes with. And let's not get in too deep with a critique of The Holiday. More loathsome characters, even more loathsome actors (if such a thing was possible), a hideously miscast Kate Winslet and an uninvolving plot that seemed to drag on for several hours. And so it was with this film. Meryl is divorced and should go on a date. Cue an extremely dull Steve Martin, who is meant to form the third part of this love triangle -- but not even Meryl seems interested in him. Full plot details are not worth going into. Suffice to say that if some of our greatest actors cannot pretend to be interested and or/interesting, then how are we, the audience, supposed to invest in them?
The supporting characters were irritating and bland-- Meryl and Alec seem to have been cursed with hideously boring offspring-- and not a wise-cracking best friend in site! So many lost opportunities here. Meryl has a group of girlfriends who get together, drink wine, and talk about men. Middle aged, sassy, no-nonsense friends? Well, yes. On paper. However these scenes were painfully contrived and unfunny. And, as you know, I am quite partial to groups of sassy middle aged ladies, so was doubly disappointed.
The film flopped limply from monotonous set-piece to monotonous set-piece. Steve Martin kept coming back, but Meryl didn't really care. At one point, Meryl was to get stoned. Inside, my heart leapt. Meryl getting high? This could be comedy gold and could save the film. Again, no. Contrived and unfunny. What a waste.
Now, I'm used to seeing cheesy comedies that at least raise a laugh or two and are a not altogether unpleasant way to spend a couple of hours. This film, however, was a trial. I had at least expected Meryl to give us some chuckles, but even she didn't seem too invested in the whole affair.
Which brings me to the most worrying point. If you scroll down these blog posts, you will see my review of the equally disappointing Fantastic Mr Fox, in which I mentioned that it seemed Meryl had 'phoned in' her performance. Well, it seems she did it again here. To be fair, there was not much material to work with, but Meryl has made a career of elevating herself above the material she is given, to startling effect. But these last two misses seem to indicate that maybe...maybe...could it be? Is Meryl getting bored? Is she about to retire? Or is she going to carry on cranking out mediocre films with, frankly, the most mediocre performances of her career? I worry. I worry greatly.
All in all, this was a tragic waste of all the talent involved, and a colossal waste of my time. I'll console myself with the notion that by going to see this, I have contributed to Meryl's box office clout so that she can star in some smaller, far superior independent film. Here's hoping.
To remind ourselves of Meryl Streep, great comedian, please check out Death Becomes Her again. I know I will be, if only to expunge the memory of this trainwreck.
Peace xx
Sunday, 13 December 2009
ITV ASSAULT
I was sitting. Relaxing. Minding my own business. There was a baked potato. There was some Come Dine With Me. It was good. I was content. Then, from nowhere, an attack. I was screamed at. I was beaten about the head by a christmas turkey. Joanna Lumley hissed at me. Flashing lights blinded me.
Had I been kidnapped by the government and tortured? Was this my extraordinary rendition?
No. I had sat through the final of The X Factor. I know, I know. But worry not. I just about survived, though I felt like a rape victim. Yes, rape victim. Offended? Tell it to Trisha.
The whole two hours was, of course, punctuated by equally painful christmas ads. In the space of two minutes, there were four, yes four, ads for co-op food. I think they may have even been exactly the same ad. And why? For what? In media training, we are taught not to underestimate our audience. But co-op clearly believed I was a retarded amnesiac who had neither the brain capacity, recollective skills, or attention span, to remember not to shop there.
But how could our attention spans not be fatally shortened? X Factor has an average shot length of less than a second. And, after having so many memorable shartists rammed down our throats over the course of each series, we are then actively encouraged to forget about them so we can embrace their new stable of woefully untalented units when the next series starts just months later. The Jackson-Pollock's-vomit colour palette of the show, combined with thousands of needlessly flashing lights, made me wish I was an epileptic so I could at least have a fit and be excused from proceedings.
Half an hour in, and my painfully-devoted-to-the-cause-on-account-of-drinking-the-special-kool-aid-provided-by-the-reverend housemate offers me a glass of red. The classy stuff, not the two for £5 plonk I normally sup on. This, he thinks, will take the edge off the whole experience. I suggest a bottle of bleach and a straw would suffice, but he declines to indulge me.
And so back to the thunderous platitudes from Cole and Co. 'You tore that from your soul', says Cheryl Cole of a performance by Olly Murs. What soul? He sang the way all of them sing, all the time! Dull, soulless, and occasionally amusing because they can't reach certain notes. If he tore that song from his soul then evidently he can't tear his way out of a single ply Kleenex. This ridiculous remark was only trumped by Simon Cowell remarking that a slow motion black and white montage of Olly's 'best bits' (contradiction in terms) made him 'feel quite emotional actually'. Mr. Cowell, you feel nothing but pure evil. And evil is a compulsion, not an emotion, you idiot. Olly himself then remarked that Joe deserved to win because he has always been 'breathless with his vocal'. The same way I'm pissy with my sperm.
Just to kick me when I was down, Paul McCartney, joined by the previous X-Factor rejects, took to the stage to sing 'Drive My Car'. How dare he cheapen The Beatles back catalogue by fusing it with this show. And why this particular song? Is it because it's currently being used on a shit perfume ad starring that other great shartist, Sienna Miller? I think so. George Michael sang a truly bizarre song about dreaming of christmas. Not in a Bing Crosby aren't-I-nice-and-cuddly-and-an-Academy-Award-winner-to-boot-though-I-secretly-beat-my-kids kind of way. This song was about white sugar from Jesus, a virgin mother, something about sitting in front of the t.v all day, and all sung in a depressing minor key with backing from a creepy choir. And, naturally, Leona Lewis sang an Oasis cover which was in too low a register for her to belt properly, causing her to shoe-horn in some unnecessary ooh-ing and aah-ing in order to get her to the octave change that allowed her to let rip. And for those of you waiting for her to sing with her eyes open, we were once again sorely disappointed. Come on. She would hate for us to see the pound signs in her eyes and spoil the girl-next-door illusion.
But on to my personal highlights. Cheryl began to cry while wearing red, glittery eyeshadow. I'd hoped it would run down her face and at least give me some joy because it could look like someone had scratched her eyes out. Alack, it did not run. Then someone won. That was all. At the very end, it had already begun. They stopped mentioning previous contestants. Even the one that, seconds before, still had a chance of winning it. The process of forgetting was happening again. This is one part of the indispensable X-Factor experience I shall surrender to with relish.
Next year, I might bounce current housemate into the street in order not to do this again. I think making me sit through a whole series of X-Factor is an entirely unfair punishment for us watching Mamma Mia. Especially when he was the one that requested it.
In other news, a dear friend played me some Mumford and Sons the other day. It was good but all I kept thinking was how sad it was that Daniel's wife had died and that Matt would now be Betty's boss at Mode.
Peace xx
Had I been kidnapped by the government and tortured? Was this my extraordinary rendition?
No. I had sat through the final of The X Factor. I know, I know. But worry not. I just about survived, though I felt like a rape victim. Yes, rape victim. Offended? Tell it to Trisha.
The whole two hours was, of course, punctuated by equally painful christmas ads. In the space of two minutes, there were four, yes four, ads for co-op food. I think they may have even been exactly the same ad. And why? For what? In media training, we are taught not to underestimate our audience. But co-op clearly believed I was a retarded amnesiac who had neither the brain capacity, recollective skills, or attention span, to remember not to shop there.
But how could our attention spans not be fatally shortened? X Factor has an average shot length of less than a second. And, after having so many memorable shartists rammed down our throats over the course of each series, we are then actively encouraged to forget about them so we can embrace their new stable of woefully untalented units when the next series starts just months later. The Jackson-Pollock's-vomit colour palette of the show, combined with thousands of needlessly flashing lights, made me wish I was an epileptic so I could at least have a fit and be excused from proceedings.
Half an hour in, and my painfully-devoted-to-the-cause-on-account-of-drinking-the-special-kool-aid-provided-by-the-reverend housemate offers me a glass of red. The classy stuff, not the two for £5 plonk I normally sup on. This, he thinks, will take the edge off the whole experience. I suggest a bottle of bleach and a straw would suffice, but he declines to indulge me.
And so back to the thunderous platitudes from Cole and Co. 'You tore that from your soul', says Cheryl Cole of a performance by Olly Murs. What soul? He sang the way all of them sing, all the time! Dull, soulless, and occasionally amusing because they can't reach certain notes. If he tore that song from his soul then evidently he can't tear his way out of a single ply Kleenex. This ridiculous remark was only trumped by Simon Cowell remarking that a slow motion black and white montage of Olly's 'best bits' (contradiction in terms) made him 'feel quite emotional actually'. Mr. Cowell, you feel nothing but pure evil. And evil is a compulsion, not an emotion, you idiot. Olly himself then remarked that Joe deserved to win because he has always been 'breathless with his vocal'. The same way I'm pissy with my sperm.
Just to kick me when I was down, Paul McCartney, joined by the previous X-Factor rejects, took to the stage to sing 'Drive My Car'. How dare he cheapen The Beatles back catalogue by fusing it with this show. And why this particular song? Is it because it's currently being used on a shit perfume ad starring that other great shartist, Sienna Miller? I think so. George Michael sang a truly bizarre song about dreaming of christmas. Not in a Bing Crosby aren't-I-nice-and-cuddly-and-an-Academy-Award-winner-to-boot-though-I-secretly-beat-my-kids kind of way. This song was about white sugar from Jesus, a virgin mother, something about sitting in front of the t.v all day, and all sung in a depressing minor key with backing from a creepy choir. And, naturally, Leona Lewis sang an Oasis cover which was in too low a register for her to belt properly, causing her to shoe-horn in some unnecessary ooh-ing and aah-ing in order to get her to the octave change that allowed her to let rip. And for those of you waiting for her to sing with her eyes open, we were once again sorely disappointed. Come on. She would hate for us to see the pound signs in her eyes and spoil the girl-next-door illusion.
But on to my personal highlights. Cheryl began to cry while wearing red, glittery eyeshadow. I'd hoped it would run down her face and at least give me some joy because it could look like someone had scratched her eyes out. Alack, it did not run. Then someone won. That was all. At the very end, it had already begun. They stopped mentioning previous contestants. Even the one that, seconds before, still had a chance of winning it. The process of forgetting was happening again. This is one part of the indispensable X-Factor experience I shall surrender to with relish.
Next year, I might bounce current housemate into the street in order not to do this again. I think making me sit through a whole series of X-Factor is an entirely unfair punishment for us watching Mamma Mia. Especially when he was the one that requested it.
In other news, a dear friend played me some Mumford and Sons the other day. It was good but all I kept thinking was how sad it was that Daniel's wife had died and that Matt would now be Betty's boss at Mode.
Peace xx
Thursday, 10 December 2009
Musical Farewell To 2009
And so a quick word here to mark the final gig of the decade for my dear friends, Rob The Rich.
A year ago, I had no idea this band existed. But what a pleasure it has been to see these gentlemen (for they truly are Gentle Men) grow and develop in ways no-one would have thought possible. I recall not my first encounter with their music -- was it that sweaty upstairs room at New Hero, so many months ago, probably only memorable because of a vague recollection of whispering sweet (or sour) nothings into Lizzie's ear for a large portion of it? Well, whenever it was, it can't have made too much of an impression...
...but one year on, and I have impressions aplenty. We have impressions aplenty. You see, these gents have built up a rather loyal following. And last night, all the faces were there. There seemed a time, summertime, in fact, when the faces were together several times a week. Alack, winter set in, everyone went back to uni, or got jobs, and the flower children settled down. But the fact that we had gathered together once again gave this, the final gig of the decade, an added sense of occasion. The mixture of old classics and new, joyous ditties provided a nice counterpoint and highlighted the sheer magnificence of the new direction this band is going in.
There was something in the thick, sweaty, fecund atmosphere of The Hope last e'en that, I think, all the faces felt. There was a sense of an ending, but one entirely devoid of sorrow or loss. This was a culmination, a conclusion of a chapter that would inevitably lead into something greater and even more electrifying. For everyone.
Early memories; they are the abiding ones. I think we shall all remember for a long, long time.
Peace xx
A year ago, I had no idea this band existed. But what a pleasure it has been to see these gentlemen (for they truly are Gentle Men) grow and develop in ways no-one would have thought possible. I recall not my first encounter with their music -- was it that sweaty upstairs room at New Hero, so many months ago, probably only memorable because of a vague recollection of whispering sweet (or sour) nothings into Lizzie's ear for a large portion of it? Well, whenever it was, it can't have made too much of an impression...
...but one year on, and I have impressions aplenty. We have impressions aplenty. You see, these gents have built up a rather loyal following. And last night, all the faces were there. There seemed a time, summertime, in fact, when the faces were together several times a week. Alack, winter set in, everyone went back to uni, or got jobs, and the flower children settled down. But the fact that we had gathered together once again gave this, the final gig of the decade, an added sense of occasion. The mixture of old classics and new, joyous ditties provided a nice counterpoint and highlighted the sheer magnificence of the new direction this band is going in.
There was something in the thick, sweaty, fecund atmosphere of The Hope last e'en that, I think, all the faces felt. There was a sense of an ending, but one entirely devoid of sorrow or loss. This was a culmination, a conclusion of a chapter that would inevitably lead into something greater and even more electrifying. For everyone.
Early memories; they are the abiding ones. I think we shall all remember for a long, long time.
Peace xx
Tuesday, 8 December 2009
Thick Of It Non-Finale
Welcome, welcome. Now, I assumed that episode six of The Thick Of It was to be the series finale and concluded that it was definitely going out on a high note. Imagine my shock, joy, nay, elation at finding another episode online this evening -- and, to learn there is still one more to go. This blog ain't finished yet...
So, episode six played out like a great stage play, with Malcolm Tucker storming onto the scene in the wake of what was perceived to be Nicola's announcement of a leadership bid -- this, of course, being a sly BBC in-joke aimed at Auntie's latent penchant for mis-quoting and 'sexed-up' editing. Malcolm declares a lockdown and so sets in motion the ebb and flow of one of The Thick Of It's better episodes.
I have heard some mixed reviews over this episode. For me, I feel it was a culmination of the mastery that preceded it. Malcolm's rages were spectacular, as usual, but his best scene in the episode was a rather quiet one. More on that in a moment.
I have mentioned several times that the character of Teri has been utilised and developed further than in previous series. I think that this episode in particular was demonstrative of the impact the character can have when given the chance to do so, and Joanna Scanlon rises to these occassions with aplomb. As the current government seems to be going down the pan and everybody acts as ghosts floating around a sunken ship, Teri is the only one who remains smug and rises above the pressure -- as she knows her job is completely safe. Sitcom writers -- or at least good sitcom writers, who aim to challenge themselves and the audience -- always aim to reveal new facets to their characters. After three series and two specials, Malcolm's superiority complex and attendant rages may have begun to wear thin. But, through teasing out, this new water-off-a-duck's-back aspect of Teri's character, we see she is not afraid of him and will challenge him in areas where no one else will. This then facilitates a wider range of actions for his character.
So, Teri takes him to task, and points out, correctly so, that every decision he has made that day has been wrong. ("You're wrong, Malcolm. Like a sultana in a salad."). She does so in her usual patronising manner, but still manages to break Malcolm down completely.
The rest of the office stands back in silence.
Malcolm leads Teri to a side office.
We, the audience, hide behind our hands, afraid to watch...
...but what unfolds is a confession that Malcolm can only, perhaps, reveal to Teri. He confides that he is aware of his position, aboard the sinking ship of the current government -- or, as he puts it, on a terminal cancer ward where all the patients are wandering round blaming each other for their disease. He does not shout or swear at Teri; instead, he rages against what he is starting to realise is the futility of his current state. Having escaped intact, Teri is then dismissive of Malcolm's fears when questioned by Ollie.
Never can it be said that this show is straightforward. Excellent.
More soon.
Peace xx
So, episode six played out like a great stage play, with Malcolm Tucker storming onto the scene in the wake of what was perceived to be Nicola's announcement of a leadership bid -- this, of course, being a sly BBC in-joke aimed at Auntie's latent penchant for mis-quoting and 'sexed-up' editing. Malcolm declares a lockdown and so sets in motion the ebb and flow of one of The Thick Of It's better episodes.
I have heard some mixed reviews over this episode. For me, I feel it was a culmination of the mastery that preceded it. Malcolm's rages were spectacular, as usual, but his best scene in the episode was a rather quiet one. More on that in a moment.
I have mentioned several times that the character of Teri has been utilised and developed further than in previous series. I think that this episode in particular was demonstrative of the impact the character can have when given the chance to do so, and Joanna Scanlon rises to these occassions with aplomb. As the current government seems to be going down the pan and everybody acts as ghosts floating around a sunken ship, Teri is the only one who remains smug and rises above the pressure -- as she knows her job is completely safe. Sitcom writers -- or at least good sitcom writers, who aim to challenge themselves and the audience -- always aim to reveal new facets to their characters. After three series and two specials, Malcolm's superiority complex and attendant rages may have begun to wear thin. But, through teasing out, this new water-off-a-duck's-back aspect of Teri's character, we see she is not afraid of him and will challenge him in areas where no one else will. This then facilitates a wider range of actions for his character.
So, Teri takes him to task, and points out, correctly so, that every decision he has made that day has been wrong. ("You're wrong, Malcolm. Like a sultana in a salad."). She does so in her usual patronising manner, but still manages to break Malcolm down completely.
The rest of the office stands back in silence.
Malcolm leads Teri to a side office.
We, the audience, hide behind our hands, afraid to watch...
...but what unfolds is a confession that Malcolm can only, perhaps, reveal to Teri. He confides that he is aware of his position, aboard the sinking ship of the current government -- or, as he puts it, on a terminal cancer ward where all the patients are wandering round blaming each other for their disease. He does not shout or swear at Teri; instead, he rages against what he is starting to realise is the futility of his current state. Having escaped intact, Teri is then dismissive of Malcolm's fears when questioned by Ollie.
Never can it be said that this show is straightforward. Excellent.
More soon.
Peace xx
Monday, 16 November 2009
Monday
Some quick updates on a couple of shows for you this fair Monday.
Firstly to The Thick Of It, where we welcome the return of the opposition party who, I think, we haven't seen since the release of the specials. Nicola Murray gets to do some breaking down over the fact that her family life is hanging by a thread, and this serves to demonstrate how government policy actually affects real people. This is something we haven't really explored in any real depth on the show before -- and what made it particularly powerful was seeing how a government minister can be bought down by their own over-zealous policy making. Brilliant.
True Blood. I didn't want to believe what happened at the end of Sparks Fly Out. Grandma was everyone's favourite character! The warmth and sympathy of the woman provided a good emotional touchstone for an audience who could perhaps become somewhat bewildered by the show's overarching, and largely theoretical, themes. What baffled me at first was Sookie's lack of emotion. However, the rest of the episode played out beautifully and the funeral was a great cathartic centre piece. Tara and Lafayette, once again, stole the show both as characters and as performers, taking the situation in hand and making sure Sookie was protected.
And, not for the fusty among us, Lemon Mej, Sookie and Bill finally got down to business. Good for them. So, is she now a vampire? Series continues...
On to Medium. Now, after Bite Me turned out to be a little bit too uninvolving compared to the rest of the season, I had high hopes for its successor, New Terrain. Unfortunately, this episode too was rather dull and I began to believe that perhaps season 6 may not quite deliver what it had initially promised.
Firstly to The Thick Of It, where we welcome the return of the opposition party who, I think, we haven't seen since the release of the specials. Nicola Murray gets to do some breaking down over the fact that her family life is hanging by a thread, and this serves to demonstrate how government policy actually affects real people. This is something we haven't really explored in any real depth on the show before -- and what made it particularly powerful was seeing how a government minister can be bought down by their own over-zealous policy making. Brilliant.
True Blood. I didn't want to believe what happened at the end of Sparks Fly Out. Grandma was everyone's favourite character! The warmth and sympathy of the woman provided a good emotional touchstone for an audience who could perhaps become somewhat bewildered by the show's overarching, and largely theoretical, themes. What baffled me at first was Sookie's lack of emotion. However, the rest of the episode played out beautifully and the funeral was a great cathartic centre piece. Tara and Lafayette, once again, stole the show both as characters and as performers, taking the situation in hand and making sure Sookie was protected.
And, not for the fusty among us, Lemon Mej, Sookie and Bill finally got down to business. Good for them. So, is she now a vampire? Series continues...
On to Medium. Now, after Bite Me turned out to be a little bit too uninvolving compared to the rest of the season, I had high hopes for its successor, New Terrain. Unfortunately, this episode too was rather dull and I began to believe that perhaps season 6 may not quite deliver what it had initially promised.
Luckily, Once In A Lifetime restored my faith once again. Directed by David Arquette, who has helmed several episodes before, this was a real family affair -- behind the scenes and in the narrative. The writers have played to the show's strengths and centered the episode's crime story around Allison and her family, while intertwining the subplots taking place within the home. It worked marvellously as we saw how Allison's work, her gift, and her family life occassionally collide for reasons beyond anyone's control. Patricia Arquette has said she likes it when Allison's visions don't quite work out as intended, therefore making her more human, more vulnerable. Having to juggle Joe, Scanlon and Ariel was a great central conflict for the episode.
What really stood out to me was the confrontation scene between Allison and the boy's Mother. Now, episodes of Medium tend to fall down at this point. We have an interesting build up often followed by a clunky and unsatisfactory denouement. But we got to see Allison act like a real detective here. She teased information out of the suspect while simultaneously wrapping up how the crime was commited for the audience. Patricia Arquette gives good sassy detective. More of this please! And what a final scene. Allison vaguely wondering about how the boy could have known all about his dead father followed by a rather tender scene where the Father's ghost visits his baby son. This season definitely has a lot more heart than previous years. Great fun.
However, where the feck is Devalos? He has barely been in this season and most of the detective work has been left to Scanlon. He wasn't even in this episode! Hmm...
Peace xx
What really stood out to me was the confrontation scene between Allison and the boy's Mother. Now, episodes of Medium tend to fall down at this point. We have an interesting build up often followed by a clunky and unsatisfactory denouement. But we got to see Allison act like a real detective here. She teased information out of the suspect while simultaneously wrapping up how the crime was commited for the audience. Patricia Arquette gives good sassy detective. More of this please! And what a final scene. Allison vaguely wondering about how the boy could have known all about his dead father followed by a rather tender scene where the Father's ghost visits his baby son. This season definitely has a lot more heart than previous years. Great fun.
However, where the feck is Devalos? He has barely been in this season and most of the detective work has been left to Scanlon. He wasn't even in this episode! Hmm...
Peace xx
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