Totally Dublin

 Every year. Every year I say, “I’m not watching Lost this year. I’m done with it. I don’t care if they ever get off the island, get back on the island, turn it into a holiday resort or whatever it is they’re trying to do with the damned island now.” 

But as soon as a trailer appears on Youtube or someone starts theorising on IMDB, my cynicism melts away and kicks my arse into submission. And I end up sitting in on whatever night it’s on, screaming at the TV for it to GIVE ME SOME BLOODY ANSWERS! 

And in effect, that’s what Lost has done for the last 5 years, hooked a suitable audience of people to keep it on TV and then dragged them along behind, what seemed in series 3, like a never ending story. Like say, The X Files for the late 90s and early noughties, fans have spent countless hours online theorising over JJ Abram’s time-consuming but ultimately intriguing Lost. Is the island heaven? Unlikely. Is it all a dream? I bloody hope not. But while something like The X Files assured us that the truth was out there and then slowly drew it out over 9 series (where thankfully, the episodes had something else going on plot wise) Lost uses more of the carrot on a stick approach, except they leave the audience on the ground and strap the carrot to a rollercoaster that we can’t possibly follow and by the time it gets to the end we’ve forgotten which turn we threw up at. 

So, in the spirit of the compulsive viewing spectacle that is Lost, this review is going to be short on answers or information, and high on speculation, questions and your average tomfoolery and high jinks. 

An extended first episode shows the aftermath of the bomb blast at the end of series 5 – have the writers resorted to simply pushing a reset button like so many before them? Will our heroes/zeroes get home and forget it ever happened? Well of course they won’t! But the writers have done something different this series. Having informed fans that the flashing forward and backwards was finished (and moved on to Lost’s cousin programme Flashforward), they’ve now decided to embark on what they call a flash-sideways, a plotline which shows what would have happened had the flight never crashed. It certainly looks to be setting up a plot focusing on the whole idea of destiny and how sometimes the worst thing that can happen is actually the best thing for our characters to grow. 

And grow these characters have, most notably Sawyer, who has gone from self assured conman to noble gentleman though it does seem like he may revert back to his original character later in this series. The stand out performance of the episode though had to be Terry O’Quinn as Locke/Un-Locke (see what I did there?). O’Quinn has gone from playing a character who struggled with issues of faith to an unknown entity who is cold, ruthless and merciless – in a phrase, the anti-Locke. The best scene of the episode is the one in which anti-Locke explains to Ben what the real Locke was thinking as he died.  

 Like always, we have more questions than answers. Actually we have very few answers and given that we have five years worth of questions, the writers really ought to be giving out about three with every episode rather than adding more to the questions column. What saved Sayid? Who is the mysterious Jacob? Is the island the set of a reality TV show? Will Kate end up with Sawyer or Jack? Why don’t nightclubs invest in black smoke monsters instead of bouncers? Are those my feet? Are we there yet? 

And now that the series has made its triumphant return, it’s only a matter of time before Lost becomes the most searched topic in our search engines again. It’s where the show’s greatest asset lies, the fact that people can’t help but talk about it, can’t help but try to figure it out. The most interesting idea I’ve heard recently refers back to Lost’s baby cousin Flashforward, in which something called a “Many Worlds” interpretation is mentioned. The theory decrees that all of our choices play out whether we make them or not, so in another world, we are living out the choices we didn’t make. This is what Lost does to an otherwise happy, sane audience – gets them looking for theories and clues that don’t even exist within the actual show. 

Lost could be accused of blowing a hole in an audience’s space-time continuum, tricking us into giving up five years of our lives for it. When the series does finally end in May, one thing is for sure, there will be a gaping TV void in a lot of people’s schedules. 

ITV2 got a bit raunchy last Thursday. Well, no, not really. Not to any over indulgent sense anyway. But it seemed to be a recurring theme because Channel 4 did the same thing with the return of teen shenanigans chronicler Skins. I found that a bit dull though which is why, this week, I’ve decided to take a look and see what London call-girls get up to.

Secret Diary of a Call Girl, the series based on the best selling true story and blog of Dr. Brooke Magnanti, a doctor of forensic pathology returned on Thursday night, with a double bill opening its third series. This was followed by an interview with Magnanti, carried out by Billie Piper who portrays her in the series. And both programmes were quite enjoyable.

I was quite impressed with Series 1 of Secret Diary when it came out. It was quirky and likeable, and although I thought Billie Piper was a bit awkward when it came to addressing the camera and the audience, it was still something fresh and funny. The second series dipped a bit, not least because Billie Piper was trying to play a high class call girl while clearly pregnant. Also the casting of Callum Blue, an actor with such similar physical features to David Tennant that I felt like I was watching Doctor Who – The Bits We Couldn’t Show the Kids…

The third series returns to the form of the first, with a nice narrative structure that will likely permeate the rest of the series. James D’Arcy is the new man of interest for Belle, or Hannah as she’s known to her friends, and it might just be me but I still think there’s a bit of a Tennant-like quality about him. It’s clear to see what audience demographic the producers are aiming for.

The usual supporting cast return: Iddo Goldberg as best mate (with complications) Ben; Ashley Madekwe as cockney call-girl Bambi and Cherie Lunghi as Belle’s original and Bambi’s current boss. The story is set just after the launch of Belle’s first book and her editor (James D’Arcy) is now pressuring her to begin a second. Belle’s response of “I’m going to have to do some serious whoring” sets the tone for the rest of the series.

In addition to this, Belle’s sister Jackie arrives to stay with her after splitting with her husband, with no knowledge of her sister’s true occupation. Her discovery of Belle’s collection of sex toys results in their visit to a very visual fetish club, where a silent midget wielding a giant dildo on a drill steals the scene.

Where the series works best is its source material. Not just a diary entry show in the way Sex and the City was, Secret Diary is based on real events, some of which are detailed on the real Belle De Jour’s blog (which incidentally is quite an interesting read). The show claims to highlight the diverse sexual encounters of the London elite but, considering we’re in the 21^st century, it’s not really telling us anything we didn’t already know.

The scripting of the material is good though. There is a quirk and a charm to the writings of the real Belle De Jour just as there is a quirk and a charm to Billie Piper’s portrayal of her, and it translates very well to screen. A lot of the dialogue is funny in its simplicity and that’s probably the most appealing part of the show. It’s a simple A-B-C plot that’s perfect for a half hour comedy. It might not be as stimulating (no pun intended) as some of the issues raised by other more serious programming but it is undoubtedly entertaining.

ITV lives in the BBC’s shadow in terms of comedy and drama programming. While the BBC works off a huge budget and plays it relatively safe; ITV can be seen to do the opposite, despite it not always paying off (Case in point – last year’s Demons)

Every so often though, they get it right and Secret Diary of a Call Girl is one such occasion.

Secret Diary of a Call Girl airs on ITV2 on Thursday nights at 10pm.

“It was a costume drama, it needed a costume drama budget, and it didn’t get that.” 

So says Rodney… I mean Nicholas Lyndhurst.  

It’s always been said that the BBC do costume dramas better than anyone in the TV industry, and it’s true enough – Pride and Prejudice, Sense and Sensibility, Much Ado… I could go on, but that’s generally what the costume dramas do. So naturally, when the prequel to Only Fools and Horses, Rock and Chips received less than the usual allocated budget, Lyndhurst wasn’t impressed. 

The feature length spin-off was shot in just 19 days after waiting months to get the green light. Of the show, Lyndhurst stated, “We thought, ‘we haven’t got the budget we want, we haven’t got the schedule we want, so we’re going to have to make it as brilliant as we can’”. 

And in terms of the production of the show, there really wasn’t any cause for concern - the 60s-set prequel does look fantastic, from the replicated London streets to a nostalgic scene in the Nelson Mandela flat towards the end. Clearly a lot of effort was made to make the show as authentic-looking as possible. 

The performances, too, are excellent. Kellie Bright is the stand-out player as Joan, the Trotter matriarch, working two jobs to feed her extended family, which includes Ted Trotter, (Phil Daniels) whom we know better as Grandad. Nicholas Lyndhurst, cast as his original character’s father Freddie, is also excellent, exuding a sort of cockney charm but at the same time always making an audience wary of his criminal background and intentions towards Joan. The young Del Trotter, played by James Buckly of The Inbetweeners is also a good choice. Though I don’t think anyone can ever picture anyone but David Jason in the role, Buckly does well in capturing the mannerisms and attitude of the character he would become. 

Plotwise, there isn’t really a lot going on in Rock and Chips. The story mainly revolves around the release of Freddie ‘The Frog’ Robdal from prison and his subsequent pursuit of the seldom-happily married Joan Trotter. Amidst this main plotline, we see some early signs of Del’s wheeling and dealing. One amusing scene shows the various members of the Trotter house electrocuting themselves on door handles after Del installs a nylon carpet in the whole house. Elsewhere, Freddie returns to his safe-cracking routine but not enough time or plot is dedicated to this. 

At its simplest, the show is a tale of origin, the story of how Rodney came to be. And after watching ten minutes of Joan’s lacklustre relationship with her husband Reg (Shaun Dingwall, once again playing a cockney chancer – does he ever feel typecast, I wonder?) it becomes clear that her relationship with Freddie will be in the vein of a romance drama, which one might find a tad boring (or sickening) from the writer who wrote one of the BBC’s most popular comedies of all time.  

But it doesn’t turn out that way at all, though the lack of decent subplot does diminish the show. With the scenes between Freddie and Joan effectively telling the only story of the piece, all other scenes between them are somewhat redundant. It’s almost like a fan film, focusing mostly on what could have been the schmaltzy stuff but throwing in a bit of the humour we saw in abundance in Only Fools.  

There’s no denying the charm in John Sullivan’s writing. Rock and Chips has two very important things going for it: the nostalgia and the writing. You probably would struggle to pick a selection of better loved characters than Del and Co, and this certainly helps to distract us from the giant holes where a subplot should sit. The writing similarly, though not dedicated in this case to an extravagant or original plot still exudes the charm that John Sullivan nailed in Only Fools. The trademark quirky dialogue might seem a bit like “Guess the catchphrase” but that never bothered us in the original series so it would seem petty to complain about it now. 

Rumours of a commissioned sitcom are abound but I’m hoping Sullivan adheres to the principle of quality over quantity. After all, do we really want the whole detailed story from 1960 to the present?  

Only Fools and Horses diehards will probably write pages on why this show was a travesty. But if you just want something light and unchallenging with an occasional laugh then you could do a lot worse than Rock and Chips. 

Being Human’s much anticipated second series is two episodes old and it’s already starting to take shape, although it must be noted that that shape is, as of yet, unclear.

The series ended on a high last year, one of the BBC’s biggest hits, telling the story of a ghost, a werewolf and a vampire, living together in a rented house, attempting to embrace and practice humanity. (Sounds like 2^nd Year of college to me…)

The new series begins a couple of weeks after where it left off. Mitchell (Aidan Turner) is his usual brooding vampire self, but not in an annoying, pretentious way like Twilight; Annie (Lenora Crichlow) the ghost is becoming more and more confident and decides she wants to get a job despite Mitchell disapproving, “The disembodied spirit of a dead woman is getting a job in the service industry. What could possibly go wrong?”

The most notable character however, is George (Russell Tovey). He’s been getting a hard time from the vampires since killing their leader, and is clearly a much darker, more intense character than he was in Series 1. His girlfriend Nina (Sinead Keenan) has moved in but it’s no bed of roses - more like War of the Roses in fact. Then again, it must be a killer in a relationship, trying to figure out how to tell your boyfriend he may have turned you into a werewolf.

A suspicious new villain is introduced in the opening episode. Working for a company that investigates paranormal creatures such as vampires, werewolves and ghosts, the continuing story arc has already taken on a much darker tone than last series – this being effectively shown in a gory experiment scene set in a pressure chamber.

But while this direction is interesting and potentially vast, writer Toby Whithouse has also introduced two new characters – vampires named Ivan and Daisy who Mitch is acquainted with. Seemingly reeling over the death of their former leader, their main purpose so far seems to be to torment George. Daisy’s character feels like we’re watching Ophelia on a cocktail of pep-pills and Prozac, while Ivan is more grounded and aware of the world around him. He is also gifted with some truly hilarious dialogue in the second episode.

But while these characters are welcome in that they are certainly developing our main characters, they are also advancing a subplot in the series which is clearly too big to be a subplot. While it is easy to see that these two plots will eventually correlate later in the series, the problem will lie in how effectively the writer can do so, without making it seem contrived or borrowed from one of the other 7 million vampire movies of late.

There are hints of inconsistency in the first two episodes - George and Nina’s relationship seems to swing vicariously from extreme coldness to a loving thaw and back again, without much in the line of rational reasoning. The plotline surrounding the threat to the vampires’ existence is sprung upon an audience quite suddenly and developed by the characters in such a way that it seems Bristol is the all important centre of the vampire universe. And here we all thought it was just a breeding ground for teenage shenanigans in Skins.

As was the case with the first series, the beauty of the show lies in the small, quiet moments when we see the title of the series coming into play – our characters learn what it is to be human despite their supernatural ailments. And despite the darker elements, the writer has not lost the ability to convey humanity in a very real way.

From Annie’s excitement about her job, to George’s guilt and Mitchell’s solitude, Whithouse has the ability to create utterly charming scenes. Most notable is the one in the street where our three characters bring tea to the neighbours to the soundtrack of The Accidental’s Time and Space, while inside their apartment is being bugged.

Perhaps a mixed bag in terms of opening episodes, the strength of the first series of Being Human lay in its character interaction, which, despite narrative kinks, still draws a viewer to this much-hyped second series.

There’s always a fear attached to the second series of shows. Will the novelty have worn off, has the wow factor gone and if so what do we replace it with? Where Being Human succeeded in its first series is that, along with the aforementioned wow factor, it already had what it needed to assure longevity.

Series 2 still has it; even if it is a little bit muddled up at the moment.

Being Human airs on BBC 3, Sunday nights at 9:30pm

Daytime TV just ain’t what it used to be, at least not on RTE1. At least, not since Blathnaid Ni Chofaigh hung up her cue cards earlier in the year, in a storm of controversy, leaving The Afternoon Show forever. Suddenly, housewives and hungover students found a huge gap in their midday schedule, with a survey I’ve just made up suggesting that 40% more stay at home mothers now need to have a go of an aerosol to get themselves through the dwindling daylight hours. In Ms. Ni Chofaigh’s place, producers have paraded a plethora of professional and perfectly capable young presenters, from ex-newsreaders to Seoige Minor, but none that have possessed that particular sparkle, that Eau de Balthnaid if you will. She may be a figure that you either love or hate, but for my money she’s one of RTE’s best assets, possessed of a down-to-earth charm and unself-conscious wit. A friend was once interviewed by her, and found her to be both diligent and tenacious. Admittedly, he was 11 years old back then, and this was on Echo Island, so those probably aren’t the words he would’ve used at the time, but none-the-less he remains a fan to this day.

It’s a pity then that RTE have so far only been able to redeploy her in the new series of the All Ireland Talent Show, a vehicle that may definitely suit her personality but is probably unsuitable for showcasing it. In last Sunday’s first episode, Blathnaid took to Munster, where as a returning judge she vetted the best the province had to offer, hoping the unearth the next Susan Boyle or George Sampson. They may very well have, but in a frenetic hour it was difficult to keep track of the actual talent, as performances were cut short for personal back-stories, informal chats wth Seoige Major, and Ni Chofaigh’s perpetual handwringing over who was and wasn’t good enough. There was also an enormous amount of time devoted to cut-aways, detailing what a great season this will be or giving the judges a platform to smack talk each other. This mock rivalry is pretty grim to be honest, ranging from cringe-worthy to downright ludicrous. It’s very difficult to feel respected as a viewer when Dana Rosemary Scallon is offering to hand Shane Lynch his own ass, and downright unnerving when the roles are reversed.

When the final cut was eventually made, you realized that the next time you’d see these contestants would be in a month in the live finals, in a rush to the bright lights that leaves little chance to build any kind of relationship with the chosen few. At that pace, you may not even remember the acts come the live shows, evinced by the fact that I had forgotten the majority by the time the credits rolled and the continuity announcer was lying to me about what a great new show Val Falvey TD was going to be.

Don’t get me wrong here, there probably will be a lot of talent on offer, but the show itself seems unwilling to capitalize on it. Rather, more is made of where you’re from than what you can actually do. “The Pride of the Parish” is discernibly the ethos, and perhaps with good reason. Local pattern voting plagued You’re a Star, and virtually every other talent show RTE have run over the last few years. By putting it front and centre, perhaps producers are making the intelligent choice of incorporating an obstacle they could never overcome.

At the end of the day, the All Ireland Talent Show can’t compete with the big boys of the reality talent search. It can’t command the budget of BBC productions like Joseph, Maria and Strictly, nor does it hold the draw for the gutsier, nuttier acts that flock to Britain’s Got Talent. Moreover, even if the diaspora and its Manhattan dry cleaner rolled up at Holyhead in the morning, we still couldn’t match the audience figures or talent pool for X-Factor. Playing to it’s strengths and demographic has the potential to separate it out from the pack, but ultimately it may have to decide to take a leaf out of Simon Cowell’s book and actually critique it’s contestants. When even the most unhinged of applicants are being patted on the back and told how lovely their dress is, you can’t help feeling you’ve wandered into some anonymous community centre on school play night, full of smiles and Sunday best. It’s not that we believe all those rumours Blathnaid, but surely you have a bit more in you than that. Taking the odd swing won’t hurt; in fact it’ll probably help the show. Hell, start with this review. Come on. Make it count.

Words: Padraig Moran

Put yourself in a fictional universe where everything’s gone a bit nutty. Now picture Matthew Broderick’s head on a pike. Does that do it for you? It’s there as a result of his dangerous driving conviction, if that helps? How about Winona Ryder getting her sticky fingered hands cut off for shop-lifitng, streamed live and gruesome online? Or Lily Allen being beaten to death with her own iPhone for crimes against twittering?

Ok, the last one may be a bit of a stretch, but if this kind of celebrity capital punishment does it for you, maybe you should check out “The Execution of Gary Glitter“, a docu-drama broadcast this week on Channel 4 and still available online. It’s set in an imaginary Britain, where public pressure has led to the reinstatement of the death penalty for crimes of murder and child abuse, as well as widening the powers of the police in detaining suspects and pursuing their conviction. When Gary Glitter is extradited from Vietnam to face fresh charges in London, he becomes the first person to face hanging in over forty years.

As far as celebrity snuff goes, it’s top notch, but unfortunately that doesn’t seem to have been the intention. Written, produced and directed by Rob Coldstream, it claims rather to engage the audience on topics of capital punishment and how modern society deals with its most reviled offenders. Worthy subject matter, no doubt, and the real world celebrity court cases of R. Kelly and Roman Polanski could just be enough to back up the premise, but it fails miserably in the realization.

The whole set-up is completely outlandish, relying on a set of conditions so tight and specific they fail to ring true. What’s hardest to swallow are the massive changes to British law, in particular the Metropolitan police’s new ability to prosecute seemingly anyone for crimes committed in foreign territories, disregarding like a playground bully any authority or interest of foreign governments.

Coldstream has tried to cover this up with the standard docu-drama methods, talking heads and archive footage to blur the lines between fiction and reality. It works well in places, especially when authentic Glitter, fresh out of prison from his 1999 conviction, breaks down in front of a media sharktank. His blubbering makes for uncomfortable, conflicted viewing, as does the heavy reliance on footage from the 2002 Soham murders. In the latter case especially though, you can’t help feeling a tinge of exploitation, as Coldstream constructs his entire narrative from a sparse and selective retelling of the horrific events.

Through scripted interviews, Coldstream uses talking heads to drag up every possible facet of the problem, as actors bleat and attack each other over everything from human rights to class divide. The passion is clearly evident, but at the unfortunate cost of clarity. The celebrity variants do equally little to add to proceedings, as Anne Widdecombe preaches charmlessly on the existence of evil, an excitable Gary Bushnell shouts from the cheap seats and Mirada Sawyer offers the perspective of a music journalist inexplicably assigned to the highest profile court case of the young century. Each is under the yoke of Coldstream’s formulaic courtroom script, trotted out in turn to patronize the audience. No, no, Glitter taking the witness stand while everyone gasps isn’t an enormous cliche, it’s actually really clever and quite a big deal. Etc. Etc. Throughout, you’re left to wonder what exactly has motivated these people to get involved, but under no illusions that it had anything to do with social advocacy.

This overbearing condescension is endemic, in a narrative that claims to know the answers but certainly isn’t telling. What we’re left with is not so much an exploration of social policy as a particularly shouty snuff film, an ugly and charmless mess of an affair, lacking in both integrity and relevance. If there is one redeeming feature however, it’s Hilton McRae’s performance as Glitter. I’m not sure how many actors can claim “dole queue clown” and “aging Ming the Merciless” among their signature looks, but however big the Glitter look-alike casting call was, they struck gold with McRae. He gives an compelling performance of Glitter’s vulnerability and dwindling defiance, as the convicted popstar faces into his final days. If you are into celebrity snuff, and you need an excuse to watch this truly awful docu-drama with your friends, Hilton McRae provides an excellent cover. Failing that, call it research.

‘The Execution of Gary Glitter’ aired Monday 9th november on Channel 4, and will be available for a limited time on 4oD.

http://www.channel4.com/programmes/the-execution-of-gary-glitter/4od

Words: Padraig Moran

Size matters. We might as well just admit that. Granted, it’s not the be all and end all, and the motion of the ocean is just as important, but when there’s something large and lunar commanding the tide, it certainly makes a difference. But fear not, intrigued yet somewhat alienated male readership, because while being very well equipped may sound spiffy, it’s certainly no guarantee for success. At least not according to HBO’s new prime-time show, Hung.  

Starring Thomas Jane in the, eh, eponymous role, Hung is based on the misfortunes of Ray Drecker, a high school basketball coach whose life takes one wrong turn after another. From his heyday as a college sports star, he now finds himself living in a tent outside the fire-damaged house he grew up in. Middle age has brought a dead-end teaching job, financial ruin, and divorce in the form of runaway wife Anne Heche (I hear she methods). When Drecker loses custody of his oddball teenage twins, he’s forced to consider his options. Luckily for the plot, Ray is hung like a pair of Persian curtains, and just about desperate enough to try and make use of the fact. Reinventing himself as a male prostitute, he and ex-lover Tanya form a business relationship, intent to make their fortunes as ‘happiness consultants’, by marketing his particular talents to the lonely and unsatisfied women of Detroit, Michigan. 

It may sound like a recipe for a Rob Schneider film, but bear in mind this is HBO. Provocative quirk is a prerequisite, but rarely at the cost of an intelligent production. Thomas Jane is excellently cast, not least because he looks as if he may actually be a bit V. to the W. E., but he also brings a big guy, dufus vulnerability to the role, making it near impossible for the audience not to root for him. This down to earth underdog is perfectly counter-pointed by Tanya, the complicated poet-cum-pimp in Laura Ashley floral print. The mismatched energy between the two drives the understated imagination of the show, as Ray begins an odyssey from average joe to gigolo, par excellence.  

There’s not a shiny shirt in sight however, nor a sleazy jacuzzi party where suggestible 19 year olds brandish their cocaine be-speckled thighs as flotation devices. Ray and Tanya’s fledgling enterprise actually looks more like a cottage industry, set against the bland and rusting industry of Detroit’s faltering economy. Ray still makes it to school every morning to teach first period history, he still cooks for his kids on the barbeque, and delivers inspirational speeches to the basketball team he coaches. At the end of the day, and like the show itself, he’s an all American kind of guy.  

What Hung depicts then, is a very American kind of crisis. Longing for an idealized past, whether personal or historical, the characters are left to deal with the realities of contemporary economic and social fallout, where the materialism of their middle class lives is no longer self-justifying. Disillusioned with the life left out for him, Ray is a new kind of frontiers-man, facing into America’s mid life crisis with the gritty determination to survive and prosper. This is a man willing to pull himself up by more than just his bootstraps.  

Even though the premise may seem slightly ludicrous, the show’s clever enough to bring the audience in on the joke from the beginning. Hung is above all accessible, and refuses to take the condescending or didactic tones that have become so prevalent in American TV drama (take note, Wisteria Lane). There’s nothing breathtakingly original perhaps, particularly not in terms of exposition and narrative technique, but Hung overcomes this by being full of heart, with an endearing streak that will have you coming back for more. Crucially, for a show about an anti-hero with his life in the toilet, Hung is refreshingly jocular. With such mirth to match its girth, Hung is about as much fun as you can have without a slow drive through a dark park. 
 

Hung shows on 3e, Mondays at 11.30.  

Words: Padraig Moran