We begin this week with a look at the BBC’s latest drama, Lip Service. One look at this show and I can already hear staff at the production planning meeting shouting at the top of their voices to the man beside the flip chart: “A bit like that This Life and Diary of a Call Girl, but like, way cooler!”
This urban tale of life as a lesbian focuses on the antics of the coincidentally androgynously named and self-destructing Frankie, as she investigates her… something. It’s actually not quite clear what she’s investigating, because unlike the frequent sexual content, the actual plot line isn’t very explicit.
Frankie and friends mope around quite a lot, with lots of dour expressions and Scottish accents and everyone is either depressed, frustrated, pissed off or smacked out. Not much in the way of laughs or light relief here; whatever it is Frankie is doing, it’s really quite serious – apparently.
The trails and tribulations of lesbian life appear to be quite painstakingly represented and little is left to the imagination. In fact, nothing is left to the imagination. One worrying aspect of the show however, is that both episodes I watched seemed to be fixated with the lesbian characters fulfilling some ‘repressed’ heterosexual relations, especially the lead character. I’m not entirely certain what the show is trying to tell us here, but the connotations don’t appear to be particularly enlightened.
Anyway, apart from moments of some pretty bad acting and boring script writing, it’s actually fairly watchable.
Still going strong after decades on our screens, Jools Holland’s Later programme is still delivering. The show wields some considerable power in the music world, managing to become a Mecca for the world’s most famous bands, while one appearance on the show can turn any unknown act from insignificant to festival headliners over night (see Battles, KT Tunstal, Wild Beasts, and keep watching for Two Door Cinema Club’s progress).
What is unclear is whether the programme’s current might is in tribute to its diversity and courage against prevailing market pressures, or whether it has just forged an iron clad monopoly and made it impossible for any similar show to successfully compete. In any event, Later is now the archetypal music programme, widely respected and rarely short of something amazing – new or old.
Lastly, Million Pound Drop has become a bit of an overnight cult success, but it looks like it could be a flash in the televisual pan if the producers aren’t careful.
The multiple choice quiz show is basically the Who Wants to be a Millionaire format but backwards. Instead of building up to a million, you start with a million pounds and try to keep it by betting as much as possible on the correct answers. All the cash sitting on wrong answers falls down a trap door – a fate that could well befall the show’s host, Davina McCall.
Although Davina is generally a professional host who works well live, this format has crushed her vibe as she spends most of her time shouting at contestants to make their minds up, collect their money, put out their money, take back their money and even resorting, to all intents and purposes, to telling off celebrity contestant Johnny Vaughn for talking. Not to mention her super sharp, cuttingly witty catchphrase: “lets see what’s going to drop.” Ok, it sounds clunky, but in reality… yeah, no, it’s awful.
You’d also think that with all this rushing, the pace of the show would be fast and furious, but the opposite is true. The programme chugs along with sometimes just two questions per ad divided segment. You’ll find your viewing time equally divided between guessing the answer (4%) guessing the question (3%) and shouting “Yes, yes, they’ve spread their bet, now hurry up!” (93%). If it weren’t for the play along on your laptop facility the show would be close to unbearable.
More next time, Delivisionites!
I know I’ve been away from a little while everyone, but Delivision is back!
Compared with the fascinating, original and beautifully made Wonders of the Solar System, screened on BBC2 earlier this year, Stephen Hawking’s Universe pales into plank length insignificance. It’s not by any means terrible viewing, but simply a little formulaic and disappointingly un-groundbreaking. More effort needed, Channel 4.
The Daily Show with John Stewart has just won its eighth consecutive Emmy Award, further backing More 4′s decision to continue airing this cutting satire on a daily basis.
Speaking of desperate idiots, controversy attracting Richard Dawkins speaks to more than a few in his film The God Delusion, broadcast last week. Unfortunately for him, it’s pretty difficult for a well-educated and posh voiced scientist not to appear elitist, especially when he’s wielding a non-populist agenda with such unfamiliar vigour. He gets a little red faced and visually irritated when debating with some of the more aggressively religious interviewees, but I for one find it refreshing to see. Dawkins makes these films and writes those books because, whether you agree or disagree with him, he appears genuinely worried and concerned about the continued and growing effect of religion on society. Is it bold, compelling and revolutionary or elitist, inflammatory and blasphemous? Well, that’s possibly a matter of debate, but seeing the enlightenment was over 200 years ago, I’m not at all surprised at his frustrations.
Very little fills me with as much anger, horror and dismay as BBC1′s Celebrity Masterchef. In a single-handed bid to dilute the concept of ‘celebrity’ to yet further inconsequence, this week’s stars Lisa Faulkner, Dick Strawbridge, Christine Hamilton and Neil Stuke (no idea…) made some shepard’s pie for some builders who were building something. A fairly innocuous event one would have thought, maybe of some mild entertainment value for those in their autumn years. However, there must have been a typo to end all typos in the notes for the post-production crew, as they seemed to think we needed the sort of soundtrack and editing speed that would otherwise accompany Christ’s return to earth to do battle with the four horsemen of the apocalypse backed up by the titans against the backdrop of ten super-massive supernovae, just as the sprits of Valhalla arise and jump on Vishnu. Zooming camera shots dashed, strident orchestral pieces flared and shrieked as media whore Hamilton plopped more shepard’s pie on a builder’s plate. The deafening cacophony then waned for one perfect moment, awaiting said builder to conjure a mighty synopsis of the world anew-ing meal he’s just consumed: “Yeah, nice.” Then, the crescendo peaked as the two moderately creepy hosts, whose combined shtick consists mostly of them both being very, very serious about food, whilst also repeating the word “food” and words “plate of food” until they almost lose all meaning, gather the superstar contestants to announce the next chronicle of this epoch defining saga. “Next week you’ll be cooking for…” a heavily pregnant silence engulfs the contestants. Lisa Faulkner is shaking with anticipation, a sweaty Hamilton is staring wide eyed – half in fear, half in flirtation. The gravity of the situation hits as the host’s pause stretches to an eon. Who could be this mystery person deserving of such reverence? The Dalai Lama? A reanimated Albert 
Einstein? St John the Baptist? “Dame Kelly Holmes…” I think my arse has just fallen off in shock. Meanwhile, 101 Ways to Leave a Game Show should be renamed 101 Ways to Undeservedly Eke Drama Out Of Mild Public Embarrassment. Like a hybrid between Fear Factor, Total Wipeout and the Lottery Quiz, this new BBC primetime game show is as charm free as it is gormless. Fronted by ex-T4 himbo Steve Jones, the show basically consists of five interesting seconds of footage showing contestants being humiliated in various ways and 59 minutes 55 seconds of mind destroying filler. Jones’ slightly surreal laddish humour was tolerable as he introduced friends on T4 during the holidays, but in 101 Ways he’s got time to fill and boring situations to make exciting. Being cynical and disinterested won’t cut it on primetime, and Steve is like a fish out of water, put into a pan, covered in oil and starting to flake. But Steve is the last of this show’s worries. What they should be more concerned with is the public defenestrating their TVs and ripping up their license agreements in a spitting rage of traumatic frustration due to the show’s sloth-like pace. First we have to wait for the almost nonsensical question round to conclude before some preview footage showing what will happen to one of the contestants, mostly involving them being pushed, punched or catapulted into a swimming pool. This is followed by a long wait to find out who got the question wrong in a drawn out process of elimination thing, then more preview footage. Each saved contestant is then announced after a slow countdown from ten with another long pause at the end – followed by more preview footage. Then we have a post-saved interview (in black and white for some reason), before the next countdown from 10, eventually… eventually leading to the village idiot being singled out, before another extended countdown and eventually… eventually the actual footage of said idiot falling into the swimming pool. The sequence is then repeated several times until most of the contestants are eliminated, by which time you’re trying to climb into the pictures on your walls in a bid for escape. I’d rather file down my own face than watch 
this tortuous mush again. Lastly, Pete Versus Life is Channel 4′s new British comedy hope and, two episodes in, this blokey muddle of a show is strangely enjoyable despite some potentially fatal flaws. Firstly a lot of the camera work feels very claustrophobic. This cramped style worked well for Peep Show, mostly because you were viewing from the character’s perspective, but here it feels a little uncomfortable, making it difficult to settle into the show. Secondly, the script is very laddish and full of sports references, which isn’t a major problem – if anything it’s refreshing to see a male show with heart on sleeve – but the two male writers, Bert Tyler-Moore and George Jeffries, are content to focus only on beer, sex, sport, one-upmanship, and social awkwardness. I’m not saying these things don’t take up a lot of male headspace but we’re a bit more complex than that… aren’t we? Anyway, the main problem is a very underdeveloped lead character. As likeable as Rafe Spall’s portrayal of Pete is, the character is unusually one dimensional for a sitcom lead character. He does some funny things, but it’s never clear exactly why. Is he moral or immoral? Why is he so socially awkward? Why should I care about him? The show would do well to answer some of these questions and draw us in to the character as opposed to leaving him as the mildly amiable mannequin that awkward things happen to. Having said all that, the use of sports commentary on Pete’s various follies, although an old idea, is often capable of generating a guilty belly laugh. Damn you, male brain… More next week, Delivisioneers!
Speaking of scary, the commercial for the Ipad is another fear mongering monstrosity. “IPad is thin” the narrator insists; “Ipad is beautiful” he booms; “you already know how to use it!” he almost shouts. The ad just cuts out as he prepares to scream “why don’t you already fucking have one you moron! Go and get one now – HURRY UP!”
