Is Britain devoid of talent?

British television screens are so awash with talent shows, I can’t help but feel that literally everyone with a modicum of singing, dancing or acting talent must have appeared on one already. Surely it can’t be long before Britain is completely devoid of fresh talent. A few more years of The X Factor, Britain’s Got Talent et al and the government will have to act. I suggest they enact some serious immigration reform. For those of you who don’t know me personally I’m a third year Politics student so obviously I’m more than qualified to knock out the biggest reform of immigration law in British history. If anything, I’m over-qualified. Firstly they should offer an amnesty to any illegal immigrants in the country who can sing Whitney Houston’s ‘My Heart Will Go On’ without sounding like a pissed up middle-aged woman doing karaoke on a hen night. The amnesty would also apply to those who can dance the tango without looking like they have rickets and those who can act at a level at least above Hollyoaks standard. We will hand out passports like candy to those who fit these stringent criterions.

From now on those applying for asylum shouldn’t have to prove that their lives are in danger in their home countries. Rather they should be subjected to grueling talent checks at border control, ascertaining whether their individual skills have a place on our plethora of talent shows. Unsuccessful applicants will be promptly directed to ape the mentally ill/retarded and apply for The X Factor where “acting like a mental” typically precipitates generous screen time for applicants in the early audition phase. Those who fail to even achieve this will be sent to build the Olympic village or to wander the streets unchecked until ID cards come in, at which point they will magically disappear. Or so the government seems to think anyway.

JAMES MORGAN

(published in an edited form in the Epigram 3rd Nov, issue 206.)

Peaches Disappear Here - A Review

Just 8,000 viewers tuned in for the first episode of Peaches Disappear Here, in which Peaches ‘daughter of Sir Bob’ Geldof edits a new youth-orientated magazine. The crux of the show appears to be Peaches throwing numerous tantrums after she realises that editing a magazine isn’t as easy as getting money from her stupid twat of a father to spend on drugs and stupid clothes.

Audience reaction on internet forums has been overwhelmingly negative, tending to question Peaches Geldof’s suitability for the role of editor-in-chief of a magazine. Many viewers noted that her only real experience of journalism was a short-lived, poorly written column for the Daily Telegraph, which she used as a mouthpiece to slag off fellow socialites and those who unlike her, actually possess some kind of talent. Like when she branded fashion gurus Trinny Woodall and Susannah Constantine “upper-class bitches with no fashion sense.” Which she’s allowed to say because she dresses great and is really quite working class.

Peaches only real talent is for becoming famous off the back of her one-hit wonder, wallet-bothering, foul-mouthed father. Unfortunately for Peaches you can’t really stick “I possess the presenting skills of a mould-ridden bath mat, the journalistic ability of a dyslexic four year old and I have dated a couple of lead singers from crap, derivative indie bands” in the skills section of your C.V. Well at least she will soon be able to put “In 2008, I edited the first and last issue of Disappear Here magazine.”

The MTV show depicts Peaches as some kind of noble gadfly, pricking the egos of the pompous and the self-important. In actuality she’s a tedious little moron, about as suited to edit a magazine as Sarah Palin is for the US presidency.

Disappear Here? Please do.

JAMES MORGAN

Why I Went Right Off America

I’m not sure if the news has hit you yet, but I have renounced my Atlanticism. Before today, I was a lover of America, its people, and in particular American popular culture. For years now, I have consumed their films, television and music at a rate befitting of the silly little whore that I am.

But now, as the yellowed autumn leaves fall, so must my unfettered, unencumbered love affair with America. I am now an opponent of all things American, a rabid Gaullist, an opponent of America as fierce and outspoken as Hugo Chávez. For they, as a nation have gone too far – they’ve only bloody gone and started remaking loads of British television shows again.

Top Gear – this one may actually work, given that the show’s driving ethos is a thoroughly American one of rampant, blind individualism. They also like pretending that global warming is a myth, in order to keep driving big cars - which I'm sure will resonate with a large enough element of the American public to maintain a regular audience. Don’t be surprised if the hosts are even more afflicted with abject cretinism than Jeremy Clarkson, but without half his talent for sarcasm.

Spaced – thankfully this proposed remake of one our finest sitcoms has recently been shelved, following a largely negative response from fans, who perjoratively dubbed the proposal “McSpaced.”

If it had gone ahead, and have no doubt reader, it would have utterly shite, it would have served as a rather strange side show to the rising careers of Simon Pegg and Edgar Wright, two of the supremely talented triumvirate behind the original series. As mentioned by Pegg when he appeared on Friday Night with Jonathan Ross to shill How to Lose Friends and Alienate People there are videos of the remake pilot floating about. And apparently it is appalling.

Life on Mars – if you bought into the critical hype this was the nearest thing we have produced that rivals the elite of US television (The Wire, The Sopranos etc) in recent years.

I imagine the US remake will be about as subtle as a brick to the face, and probably half as funny.

Worst Week - I can only echo what my colleague Stuart has previously noted. To see the massive posters for this one up in Times Square as I did was just plain strange. The original British version (The Worst Week of My Life) was high concept (man has a really bad week,) but low in humour (tired slapstick). Aside from being quite dull, it often erred on the wrong side of wacky.

If Americans insist on remaking British sitcoms why not remake a good one? Peep Show undoubtedly wouldn't work, they made a pilot for The Thick of It but it was subsequently abandoned, the same happened to Spaced (as mentioned above), Coupling didn't work, nor did Red Dwarf. So actually, don't bother.

I just spent a month travelling around America, and to be fair to them none of them could understand a word I said in my accent, inflected as it is with a delightful south-east London twang. It’s easy to forget that we Brits are infinitely more exposed to the various American regional accents, than they are to ours. So their common complaint that they simply cannot understand the accents in British shows may hold some truth. But other than that, is there really any legitimate reason to remake all these shows?

So forget universal healthcare, the threat of Islamic fundamentalism and the financial crisis, the real issue in November’s presidential election should be which one of the candidates will put a stop to this remake business.

JAMES MORGAN

(Published in an edited form in the Epigram 15th Oct, issue 205.)

'Tis the Season

Since the new television season officially kicks off tonight it seems like the appropriate time to take a quick look at the new shows on the horizon, with some speculation and for those that are cautious, zero spoilers. A further look at pilots was going to come but they don’t seem to have particularly leaked out into general consumption, True Blood and Fringe excluded and Fringe nearly gave me an aneurism watching it, let alone reviewing it in depth.

The CW has decided that what sells is money and sex after the success of Gossip Girl. Of course they seemed to have missed the point that while GG gained a lot of buzz this didn't translate into actual ratings. Because the show is aimed at young people who download their TV, rather than watch it. As Dirty Sexy Money was taken as a title one such new show gets the boring title Privileged, about two little rich girls and their poor tutor. From the previews available the tutor looks like she will be as whining and neurotic as Dawson’s Creek's Joey Potter. She comes with the obligatory male best friend completely in love with her, yet as per usual she remains completely oblivious to the raging erection he gets every time she so much as breathes near him. The actresses playing the two rich girls are attempting a mediocre impression of Lindsay Lohan in Mean Girls yet only ever achieve a substandard Marissa Cooper, which is never a glowing commendation. The other big new show on this network is the much lauded 90210 spinoff/remake/revamp. About a group of rich kids... but everyone knows this premise already. Somehow the casting department managed to snag the actor that played Michael on The Wire, who will no doubt enjoy his new gritty material on the streets of Beverly Hills, moving from dealing with heroin addicts to shopping addicts. Oh and obviously he is playing both the kid from the wrong side of the tracks and fulfilling the "token" quota. Wire fans know he can do better. Further to this Jessica Walters, previously of the excellent Arrested Development, has been cast and the two show runners used to work on the classic Freaks and Geeks. For a show so shallow there really is a strong calibre of talent behind it that could give it depth, thus meaning it may actually be worth watching. A concern though is the way the show is being marketed, its simply baffling. The CW is trying to gear itself toward a teen audience, yet this show is doing all the stunt casting it can to pull in fans of the old show. Bringing back old characters and allowing them to dominate proceedings isn't going to win over any new fans, nor let the new characters develop and breathe on their own. Its pretty much going to alienate and annoy everyone, just actual rich kids.

Fox has Fringe, the new show from J.J. Abrams, about investigators into the paranormal with an overriding conspiracy built in. Basically it looks set to be a mash up of the elements of J.J.’s previous shows, mystery (Lost), silly spy antics (Alias), angst, angst and more angst (Felicity), it is overall and most importantly a completely blatant rip off of the X Files. With the failure of the recent feature film you have to wonder if there is still a viable market for this. Still, the fanboys will lap it up making it at least a moderate success as J.J. Abrams can seemingly do no wrong, despite abandoning most shows he produces to the ether as soon as he spots something new and shiny. As an aside another Wire veteran turns up here, Lance Reddick. He played Cedric Daniels in The Wire and here he also plays Cedric Daniels from The Wire (not typecast at all then). Dollhouse, from Joss Whedon is coming next year starring Eliza Dushku as an agent for a company who pulls off assignments varying from crime to sex fantasies for high paying clients/perverts, her mind being wiped and freshly imprinted with a new personality for each mission. It does sound rather like Alias, except with the useful happenstance that being an undercover spy created tension. It sounds like it will play more like a brunette Buffy being put into a variety of invariably tiny costumes designed to send the males in the audience into salivating fits of joy. Since the network already commissioned another brand new pilot for Dollhouse it may soon be sitting on the scrap heap beside Firefly. At least it can’t be any worse than last years Bionic Woman.

Speaking of Bionic Woman, NBC apparently did not learn their lesson in how to remake an old show. Not least another bad old show. The network doesn’t seem to understand that what made the remake of Battlestar Galactica a success was that it is completely and radically different to its original namesake. This season Knight Rider drives on to the airwaves and the showrunner promises that it will be like watching The Fast and the Furious every week. The only film I’d like to see even less week in week out is Van Helsing and I regularly thank God that didn't happen. To pair with this NBC also has a remake of Top Gear, which you can bet will feature generic, square jawed bland hosts and a whole bucketload of product placement. Afterall why give a fair critical review of something when you can get given a ton of money to give an entirely biased one, if you need a case in point simply pick up a copy of Empire, the magazine seemingly incapable of giving an average rating in a review.

CBS has Worst Week, a remake of a thoroughly pedestrian British sitcom. The plus point here is they couldn't really make it worse and can only really improve; however the only recent remake of a British show that has worked is The Office and that is mainly due to some fantastic casting, amazing creative team and a strong finished product to draw inspiration for. That an executive can think that The Worst Week of my Life was successful and creative enough to remake simply illustrates the dire state of the British sitcom at the moment (Peep Show excluded). A remake of My Hero can only be on the horizon and if the thought of that doesn’t chill you to the bone I don’t know what will.

STUART THORNILEY

Coffee, Food and TV

In the 1980s ‘scratch-and-sniff’ promised the worldwide screen-viewing public technological advancements directed towards the other dormant senses. This uncertain future died from a distinct lack of… well, certainty from the audience and since then the furthest humans have stretched in the entertainment industry is IMAX (article to come). However, in our modern day prime-time television audiences have managed to find a way to indulge not their neglected senses, but their dormant muscle, the brain.

A recent trend in television viewing has seen the growth in popularity of cookery programmes, as if executives realised (as Countdown should, similarly, be suffering) that their core fanbase for Ready, Steady, Cook are dying in large numbers, as is befitting of an audience that comprises almost entirely of pensioners. The face of cookery has shifted away from Ainsley Harriott’s loveable campness to the hard-edged, sleek presence of Gordon Ramsey, who has been banned from the set of Junior Masterchef after kicking too many children in the face. Along with 'Cash Gordon' (aptly named for his decision to attach himself to Channel 4’s entire prime-time schedule), Jamie ‘Geezer’ Oliver and Hugh F.W. (you know who I mean, I just can’t spell it) have sparked a passionate interest in food on television. The tragic progression is easily tracked: the toughness and drama of a professional kitchen (see: Geezer’s ‘Fifteen’ Project) mixed with Gordon doing his best to make it worse played on the middle- and upper-middle-class’s belief in quality food and the potential of amateur cookery. The world is now left with Masterchef, The F Word and everything in between.

Entitling my article ‘A Feast for the Eyes’ would have been too easy and would have been giving into an overwhelming urge prodding at me to gorge myself on all the potential food puns, but would have given an insight into the heart of my anger surrounding this matter (besides the banishment of Ainsley from the new trend of TV). My anger is tied to the supposedly fatal flaw of programmes about culinary culture… you can not taste the food. The harshest perpetrator of this atrocity is the new, revamped, post- Lloyd Grossman Masterchef and the detailed articulations of the two fat men presenting the programme. The merits submitted to the audience are unattainable and yet this audience (the demographic of which are accurately represented by my parents - tediously middle-aged, middle-class, middle-income suburbanites) are drawn into supporting a specific party (or chef). For once in a discussion about credibility of tv programming Big Brother wins, because at least the interest of the audience is sustained by a quality that is remotely accessible. The ramblings of one man who looks perpetually stoned (“yeah, food’s fucking brilliant! Please keep giving me more! Have you got any Frosties?”) and one man who seems to like everybody (“I like her, because she’s probably going to re-watch this and hate me”) are not the basis for any form of judgement. “The pheasant was overdone” completely alters the audience’s reception of the food by their brains when, if we’re honest, very few of us have had enough pheasant to know when it’s not just duck that we’re being swindled into paying more for.

The pinnacle of this tedium arrives at the point in which the key demographic (or target audience) were so well identified by the producers at Channel 4 that the middle-classes should feel ashamed to be so transparent. Come Dine With Me put dinner parties on television and has been met with great success. All the dressing-up, the politics, the competitiveness, the intimacy of a dinner party, but without the food. Perhaps dinner parties, like the programmes that are indulged in by dinner-party-goers/throwers, were never about the food. The only saving point is Come Dine With Me’s narrator, whose open cynicism perfectly embodies the sentiments of this writer and makes it essential viewing.

OLIVER HOLDEN-REA

I will watch children's television until I go blue in the face

It is a well known fact that students are the scourge of society. We are anti-social parasites, ripe with body odour, and worst of all, we have a strange predilection for trashy daytime television – normally the preserve of the elderly, unemployed and infirm. Personally I can’t stand to watch the distasteful working-class baiting on The Jeremy Kyle Show, and Neighbours, now with an advertisement break in the middle and the “five” logo in the corner just doesn’t feel right anymore. Instead I prefer to regress back to my childhood, and watch children’s television. After all, it does start conveniently at around 3.30pm, which is the obscene hour at which I tend to emerge from my bedroom each day.

I am no idiot, I don’t waste my time watching the children’s television on itv, everyone knows that CBBC is far superior to it’s rival CiTV (bar the unadulterated escapism of Fun House CiTV had little offer in my youth). So opting for CBBC, first up is a show named Space Pirates. I imagine this one was a bit of a no brainer for the commissioners. Someone, somewhere, walked into a production meeting and said, “right, the show I want to make is about is two things; space, and errrrr.....piracy.” And with that, a potentially great piece of high concept television was born.

From what I can gather the show is basically about a flamboyantly dressed captain who scours space for songs to sing to young children, who regularly berate him via satellite link-up to entertain them. He is aided in the pursuit of these musical gifts by two children of indecipherable gender, named Honk and Tonk, who are also dressed rather strangely, in clothes that appear to be made entirely of rubber. It being children’s television the piracy element doesn’t really involve slaughtering people to steal their treasure, getting drunk on rum, or contracting scurvy. In the world of Space Pirates it seems to mostly consist of finding musical notes in the far reaches of space. These musical notes somehow become songs, which are subsequently sung, wholly out of tune, by three anthropomorphic rat puppets that are inexplicably aboard the space ship with the human characters. This appears to induce fits of ecstasy in the children who requested the songs in the first place.

So the title Space Pirates is a bit of a misnomer, while there’s plenty of space, there’s minimal piracy. It’s all rather colourful and bizarre - the spaceship’s Jolly Roger, which commentates on the progress of the song-searching seems to have split personality disorder – on one side of the flag it’s arrogant and gruff, on the other it’s an effeminate tease. So to summarise, it’s basically a surreal mess of a show, that is about as subtle as a brick to the face. My guess is that it makes perfect sense to 8 year olds, off their face on Sunny Delight.

Next is Young Dracula. Luckily it’s not a spin-off of the largely forgotten kid’s film The Little Vampire which had that annoying bespectacled lispy kid from Jerry Maguire in it. The central character is the reluctant son of Count Dracula who aged 14, is a year away from becoming a fully-fledged vampire. He wants nothing more than to be normal like his peers at school and awaits his transformation to vampiric status with great trepidation. It’s an obvious metaphor for the anxieties that come with entering into adolescence, which I think is rather clever for kid’s television.

However, again the show too readily dumbs down the very aspects that could make it challenging kid’s television. The central character’s dad is Count Dracula, he of bloodsucking infamy. Yet there are no neck drainings for the viewer to enjoy. Instead he is depicted as a perpetually befuddled and bemused idiot, forced to inhabit a human world (for some reason, in Wales) that he doesn’t understand. The comedy comes from his regular interactions with the human characters. The count is convinced that the locals want to drive him out of town, when in fact they simply want to befriend him. This leads to much confusion. In one scene he mistakes a local plumber’s plunger for a stake and throws him into a cess pit. Which is actually kind of funny. Scatological humour is quite rightly central to a lot of shows aimed at children, so its presence in Young Dracula should be welcomed.

However during all of this, amongst the teen angst and slapstick humour, you can’t help but wish that the show had some of the sheer terror that made shows from my youth like The Demon Headmaster and Are You Afraid of the Dark? memorable. In a similar way to Dr. Who today those shows had a flagrant disregard for their young audiences, as if their sole aim was to give them horrific nightmares. In light of that comparison, you can’t help but feel that for a show about vampires Young Dracula is a bit toothless.

Remember for a moment, these two shows had ‘Pirates’ and ‘Dracula’ in the title. I imagine if you turn on CBBC on another day you will be welcomed by shows with names like Underwater Stabbing and Obscure Sexual Fetishes with Konnie Huq, but the former would have very little stabbing, and the latter no obscure sexual fetishes.

JAMES MORGAN

Previously published in a heavily edited state in the Epigram issue 203, Monday 21st April