Thomas and Jessica

I am home sick today. A terrible headache and aching neck and shoulders kept me in bed for most of the morning. When I woke at lunchtime I was pretty sure I could happily sleep away the afternoon, but decided I should get up lest I be completely unable to sleep tonight and am rendered inactive tomorrow as well.

After checking and dealing with work emails I settled myself in my comfortable armchair and flicked through television channels looking for something on daytime TV to keep me from my bed. Staving off head-spins I caught the end of a Judy Garland movie I can’t recall ever having seen before (I grew up in regional Queensland on a diet of Sunday afternoon Judy Garland, Mickey Rooney, Fred Astaire and Doris Day movies.)

Feeling too light-headed to do much else after the movie finished I channel-surfed again before coming across Magnum PI. I can’t recall being a huge Thomas Magnum or Tom Selleck fan when the show actually aired back in the 1980s but, as I have always consumed large amounts of television and suffered through a deficiency of options in my home town, I have watched my share of the Hawaiian-based detective.

Watching it a decade and a half later remains a treat. Episodes were replayed on a Sunday morning (on and off) last year and I circled it in my TV Guide in an attempt to remember to watch (or tape) it. Despite the occasionally-wooden acting and (now) very-dated stunts and special effects I was surprised to see a number of familiar faces – including a young Ted Danson, Sharon Stone, Ernest Borgnine and Carol Burnett.

Today’s episode (shown on one of our new free-to-air digital television stations, 7mate) featured a young Miguel Ferrer. Again I was reminded how much I like and miss shows like this. I must also confess to be a Murder She Wrote fan. When the show was replayed on daytime television earlier this year, I set my video to tape it and watch at my leisure.

I think people either love or hate Angela Lansbury’s Jessica Fletcher. I personally think she morphed into a less-patronising and annoying character over the show’s life. Although I cringed at the sets’ and decor (I think I had blocked macrame hanging pot plant holders from my mind), I liked the lack of complexity in the storylines when comparing them to the murder/mysteries on our screens today.

I can think of few current shows which can offer the G-rated viewing of the likes of Murder She Wrote, Magnum PI (and their contemporaries, Hart to Hart, Moonlighting, Remington Steele, Jake and the Fatman etc…). Although I enjoy shows like Dexter, Law & Order (et al), The Mentalist etc, they are all far more macabre and not exactly easy-viewing. Hardly fun.

It makes me wonder where we are heading though. If in another 10 or 15 years the grisly corpses in Bones; serial killers of Criminal Minds; and mind-benders of Fringe will be passe? Perhaps I will be giggling at the special effects in Caprica. I guess only time will tell. Until then I will work out how to record my digital television channels and – when time permits – settle down with Magnum and giggle at the short shorts. And the hair. Not to mention the moustaches!

Deadwood - d'oh

As my holidays draw to a close, so too does my obsessive viewing of TV shows on DVD. So far, I have knocked off all three series of BBC's Robin Hood, two series of The Big Bang Theory, two series of Friday Night Lights and now I have just finished watching the third and final series of Deadwood.

I had to Google the latter today after watching the final episode in the wee hours of the morning. I thought perhaps I missed something as I felt somewhat dissatisfied at the way the show wrapped up. I didn't expect an out-of-place montage tying up loose ends a-la Pushing Daisies, but I thought there would be some sense of closure for us viewers.

However, it wasn't until this morning’s googling that I discovered two things. Firstly, a fourth season was initially expected, which I decided could account for the anti-climactic ending…. But more importantly I was confronted with my own ignorance (at least in terms of American folklore), upon learning that the entire show was significantly based on fact!!! D’oh!

While watching I had been surprised at some of the liberties taken, through the introduction of 'Calamity' Jane and 'Wild' Bill Hickok, not realising until today that most of the other characters and many of the events of the show were actually also based on - as quoted by Wikipedia - 'historical truths' with a few embellishments added for the purposes of entertainment.

This knowledge would have informed my viewing and – more importantly - my expectations considerably had it been conferred on me previously. Had I realised that there was some need to adhere to factual accounts; it would have lessened the aforementioned disappointment that the storyline didn’t reflect the kind of TV-land ending that allows viewers to sleep contentedly at night.

A friend had tried to convince me to watch Deadwood for years but I had refrained, having little interest in the 'western' as a genre. However, as it happened I discovered it in the same way I discovered some recent passions, Big Bang Theory and Entourage - through re-runs on television.

Although I sped through the three seasons of the show and often refused to delay gratification, watching episode after episode, I didn't LOVE love it, ie. It isn't something I would watch again and again - my definition of a show I love.

There is no doubting, however, that the show was made by clever people and that is something I appreciate (hence my love of West Wing, Pushing Daisies, Buffy etc). The scripts and dialogue were amazing and it wasn't until the second or third season that I became conscious that each line from a character's mouth was akin to Shakespearean prose (albeit slightly more colourful!), with the quality of the vernacular and use of soliloquies and monologues growing each episode.

I have to admit to being a bit gobsmacked while watching the first episode. No one had warned me about the language. Don't get me wrong, I swear like a trooper, dropping the F-bomb far too much and I must admit that the c-word doesn't even worry me much nowadays.... but I wasn't prepared for it on my free-to-air-TV viewing. Wikipedia quotes that 'fuck' was used 43 times during the first hour of the show, setting the tone for the rest of the seasons, with the word used 1.56 times every minute of footage. I expect the word 'cocksucker' featured as a pronoun almost as much. Of course once inured to the language you realise that being called a (language alert!!!) loopy fuckin' c_nt is in fact a term of endearment. At least in the characters' eyes.

However, watching all three seasons in such quick succession allowed me to ponder a bit on my perceptions and my own reactions to them. The first episodes introduce us to the two main characters, Seth Bullock (former Montana Sheriff and wannabe Hardware store owner in the lawless Deadwood) and Al Swearengen, owner of the local pub and whorehouse. As I had seen half a dozen episodes on TV before borrowing the DVDs, I felt I already had a sense of the two protagonists: Bullock was a controlled and 'just' man with a sense of right and wrong; while Swearengen ruthlessly murders (by this own hand and others) for his own gain, treating all of those around him (liked and disliked) with disdain.

So... it didn't really occur to me sometime until late in the second season that - in some respects - their roles (on the TV show at least) had reversed. Swearengen had become the smarter 'player' weighing up the politics of the situations before him and demonstrating acts of kindness; and Bullock, faced with personal problems and complications was prone to 'flying off the handle' and acting irrationally. Bullock was now the wildcard, his rage simmering just beneath the surface. Those (like me) prone to online trawling for information would know there are entire Forums devoted to the ‘evolution’ of Swearengen throughout the show.

Of course, I realise that my early viewing was coloured by a lack of character development and the more dimensions to which we are privy, the more the characters change. But it was a useful lesson to me. I made my mind up too quickly. I jumped in and judged who the baddies and goodies were without much thought. And then I found it hard to change my allegiances. Bullock was the hero for God’s sake! As the seasons progressed, I found myself becoming more and more disappointed in him; as if he was letting me (personally) down through his increasingly-uncontrolled actions.

I gather (again, via Wikipedia) that the real-life Swearengen didn't demonstrate the same human touches as his screen character, and similarly, Bullock seems to have done well for himself in politics and in business - his real-life perhaps not fraught with the same complications as his Deadwood character.

When Season 4 didn’t progress, creator David Milch was to have wrapped the show up via a series of TV movies, but four years later these have not eventuated. A shame really, because while I can learn what happened to their real-life namesakes... I would kinda like to have known what would have happened to the Deadwood characters I'd known on-screen.

The X Factor

A few weeks ago, I was about to pull the plug on my anti-climactic Saturday night TV viewing when I came across a TV documentary about East Timorese leader, and current Prime Minister, Xanana Gusmão.

I was in East Timor between 1999 and 2001 and met Xanana a few times. I saw him speak, often in Tetum the local language, but although my comprehension was minimal I didn’t need to understand the words to know that he could certainly command a room.

At that time, he had the respect and admiration of a whole generation of East Timorese. His oratory skills and impassioned performances were amazing and he had the ability to quell angry masses frustrated with everything from the world’s inaction to the United Nation’s plodding progress in his country.

He had something that many others do not. Charisma. Presence… a certain something.

But it got me thinking about that X Factor. That ‘something’ which separates Australian Prime Minister Bob Hawke, from John Howard or Kevin Rudd; and Bill Clinton from others who came before and after.

I remember when I was at school watching a young Sigrid Thornton in the TV mini-series All the Rivers Run and movie Man from Snowy River. In the late 1970s and early 1980s she was Australia’s sweetheart, eventually departing for the USA where she scored the lead in a (fairly-ordinary) TV western which ran for a couple of years. I recall reading a quote about her in a magazine at that time where someone described her allure, saying that the camera loved her; that it ‘ate her up’. And it did. We saw it years later when she graced Australian small screens again in the late 1990s in Sea Change. She had a ‘certain something’ that she continues to bring to our screens, even today.

I was reminded of this notion of charisma as I breezed through BBC’s Robin Hood recently. I have already confessed my lust for Richard Armitage’s Sir Guy of Gisbourne, but what surprised me was how engaging I found Robin himself. Slim and (I suspect) not-universally-attractive, Jonas Armstrong brought something to the screen which surprised me. In trying to describe him (in the role) to someone, I said he ‘twinkled’. An unlikely candidate for the X Factor, Armstrong gave us a cheeky loveable larrikin who drew us in and before long (for me, anyway) he embodied Robin Hood.

I’m not always as enamoured with TV characters and wonder if it is all about the X Factor. I watch the TV show Castle for example, because I am a Nathan Fillion fan (from way back). But I cannot - I repeat - I CANNOT, stand Stana Katic’s smug Kate Beckett. She is certainly pretty and Hollywood-skinny so I find it hard to articulate why I haven’t ‘taken’ to her character, other than a certain coldness or lack of depth? I suspect it is an issue of charisma. And when a character is uninspiring, unsurprisingly I can’t engage with them or the show. It is the reason, I suspect, that I used to love Law & Order – Criminal Intent, but never watched the original Law & Order; and perhaps the same reason I skip Law & Order – SVU if Mariska Hargitay isn’t featuring.

It isn’t just about acting, although it does help. I will watch almost anything with Aussie TV actor, Claudia Karvan in it because she just brings ‘something’ to the screen every time. Similarly I am enjoying our new television offering, Offspring, starring Asher Keddie who is remarkably engaging as the self-deprecating Nina.

It’s why we want the good guys to win. Or the bad guys to prosper. It’s why we forgive Bill Clinton’s indiscretions or ignore Bob Hawke’s oafishness. It’s why certain actors or shows appeal to us and others don’t. It’s how some people can command a room or a show, and others can’t… the X Factor which has nothing to do with singing and dancing.

Bad boys, whatcha gonna do?

Let me start by prefacing this post with the statement that I do not, in real life, have a thing for ‘bad boys’. As a natural cynic I have never aspired to find someone I can save, or change, or mould in any way. This is because the man of my dreams will (of course) be a perfect specimen, not requiring any tweaking or shaping. Hmmm… on further consideration this may well be why I am single!

On screen however, it seems that my taste is far more seditious.

I have just commenced a long holiday and after two laps of my local video store, I settled on the TV show Robin Hood (2006-2009). I hadn’t ever watched it but recalled it being moderately popular and decided I was desperate enough to check it out for myself. Given that there were only three Seasons made and all available, I also figured it would give me enough to do for a few days while not requiring me to wait (im)patiently for a new season to be released.

As I am not a fan of the ‘action’ genre, I expected that I might watch a few episodes before returning Season 1 mostly-unwatched. However, to my surprise I literally inhaled two Seasons in less than three days and would have watched the final Season if some other pesky customer hadn’t kept it from me.

Although Jonas Armstrong is surprisingly bewitching as Robin Hood, hero of the masses, it is the enigmatic and (frankly) bloody sexy Richard Armitage, who played Sir Guy of Gisborne who captured my heart. Delivering on the Sheriff of Nottingham’s carnage does nothing to stymie my bad-boy adoration and (well, let’s face it)… lust. Dark, brooding, sexy and sardonic, he is night to Robin’s day. He is my Mr Darcy, leaving Mr Bingham in his scathing wake.

It has made me wonder how much of the on-screen bad boy thing is expert casting rather than girl’s natural instinct to ‘turn-around’ a man who surely wants to be saved even though they may not actually know it. In Robin Hood, Armstrong as its namesake is young and lanky and portrayed as a bit of a larrikin, whereas (be-still-my-beating-heart) Armitage is buff, stubbled and clad in black leather. And in the first two Seasons (at least) we are privy to glimpses of humanity, leading us to believe he is not completely beyond redemption (and therefore worthy of our lust).

Although it dates me, I recall similarly finding Luke Perry’s Dylan far more attractive than Jason Priestley’s Brandon on (the original) Beverly Hills 90210. I preferred Chris Noth’s Big to John Corbett’s Aidan in Sex and the City. And for a more timely pop culture reference I have to admit to a slight lustful interest in Glee’s Puck as opposed to, well…whatever the other guy’s name is… you know, the tall lanky blander-than-white-bread guy.

Ever since James Dean graced the screens in the 1950s and studio bosses recognized our lust for the bad boy, casting directors have given us a choice. Squeaky clean and cute, or sexy and broody.

And in the parallel universe of film and television, I know which I am buying….

The test of time

A couple of weeks ago I had the pleasure of spending some time with my niece, EMC. She was working on an English assignment – a school play (Children of the Black Skirt) in which her character becomes lost in the woods, only to be found (presumably) dead, 5 days later. Underlying themes aside, I found myself wondering what happened during those 5 days. It reminded me, I told my niece, of the novel and (1975) film Picnic at Hanging Rock, which I saw before I read. As I described the plot to her, I was reminded of how frustrated I was as the film and book ended; leaving us wondering what happened to the missing schoolgirls. Even the release of an additional chapter after the author’s death did little to elucidate the mystery for me.

Somehow our conversation then drifted to another Australian movie of my youth, Gallipoli – coincidentally also directed by Peter Weir. The story of two young men and featuring a young Mel Gibson (before Mad Max really took off and shot him to stardom; and before his life went awry). A tragic tale on so many levels and I have to admit to teariness even as I relayed the story (and its ending) to EMC.

I recall seeing these movies on sale a few years ago and contemplated buying them for EMC, thinking they would go someway to educating her in the history of Australian film and popular culture. But, I had learnt my lesson a few years before when, instead of buying Disney movies on her Christmas list, I took her Captain Jack Sparrow fetish one step further and bought Edward Scissorhands, What’s Eating Gilbert Grape and Benny and Joon. All three remain in their plastic wrapping, though I suspect one day she will pull them out and watch them as – though only 13 – she is a smart little chickie and has sophisticated but quirky tastes.

The other thing that prevented me forking out my hard-earned cash was that I had discovered (the hard way) that some things do not stand the test of time.

One of my favourite bloggers is The Scrivener’s Fancy’s Avril Rolfe. We have surprisingly similar taste (she used to love Thirtysomething) and must be of a similar age as I find myself nodding at her pop culture references. Her latest blog references the 1982 Australian film, Starstruck (www.thescrivenersfancy.com). Like many other teenagers across the country I loved the film. I also had the soundtrack (on cassette of course) which I came across about 10 years ago. Surprisingly it still worked and listening to my old favourites (Body and Soul and Monkey in Me) motivated me to track down the movie, which I found at a nearby video rental store. What I saw shocked and horrified me. It was terrible. Beyond terrible. A cliché. Surely even at 14 years of age I recognised that? Surely I looked past the quirkiness and cringed at the unlikelihood of the plot and uncomfortable acting? Obviously not.

Similarly, about 5 years ago, before we remembered its name and Fame became famous to a whole new generation, I was flipping through a catalogue and discovered that the TV series was being released on DVD. I possibly squealed with excitement. Possibly. I loved that show. Though the (original) movie shocked my 12yr old sensibilities, I was in my mid-teens by the time the TV series graced our Australian screens and I was mesmerised by the lives of the high school students which were far-removed from my own existence in a small regional Queensland town.

The sale-bins were bare by the time I reached the department store so my always-devoted mother (who still lives in that small regional town) tracked down the TV series for me and I wrenched it from her to insert into my DVD player. I don’t think I got through one episode. Actress Lori Singer - who I liked on the show, but hated cos she ‘got’ Kevin Bacon in Footloose - and her cohorts were unwatchable to my 40ish year old eyes. I don’t think I made it to episode two, so perhaps it improved because after all, it did air for five years….

But, I learned my lesson. Technology changes. Tastes change. Evolve. Our expectations change. Some movies and television shows can stand the test of time. They may be ‘dated’ but the quality seeps through. The Godfather movies, Grease, Taxi Driver, Platoon and even When Harry Met Sally, are examples.

So – I haven’t sent my niece in search of Gallipoli or Picnic at Hanging Rock and I haven’t revisited them myself. Although… it is almost Anzac day here in Australia, so perhaps Gallipoli deserves another visit.

Coincidentally...

I finally saw the much-lauded Avatar last weekend. I was blown-away by how far technology has come since I suffered through queasiness and blue and red tinted lens’ for Jaws 3D in 1983.

I have been entertained by the media reports comparing Avatar’s plot to that of Pocahontas as well as the web postings which do a ‘Find / Replace’ from an excerpt of Pocahontas - replacing John Smith with Jake Sully. Though patting him on the back for his ingenuity, bloggers everywhere are describing Avatar as Pocahontas in Space and wondering if James Cameron merely ‘lifted’ the plot (based on real events anyway!) and added some colour and special effects.

I recently touched on this idea of ‘everything old is new again’ in a blog I wrote about sampling or remixing old songs into new ones, which gave me a chance to revisit with old faves.

But this is different. We see our share of remakes. Some good – Ocean’s Eleven and The Ring come to mind. And some not-so-good – think Psycho and Planet of the Apes. But what I wonder, in a world of remakes and trashy reality television about the world’s worst car-crashes is, are we lazy and purposely stealing ideas or have we just run out of new ones?

I am currently watching two separate television shows, both of which initially had me indignant about the fact that they had seemingly pilfered their storyline from feature films. I couldn’t believe the audacity and wondered why I hadn’t read about copyright breaches. But it appears that all is not as it seems….

My first exhibit is the TV show, The Sopranos, which I am watching half-a-dozen years after the rest of the world. The show has never really appealed to me, but I was in need of something to keep me entertained during the summer off-season here – other than tennis or cricket – so figured 6 seasons of approximately 13 episodes a season would give me 70 hours (give or take) of TV viewing to stave off the boredom.

I vaguely knew what the show was about (mobsters), but it wasn’t until I watched the first season that I realized how closely it resembled the movie, Analyze This. Both centre around a mob boss seeking assistance from a psychiatrist and the consequences (good and bad) of this action. (Of course latter seasons of The Sopranos focus less on this angle, but it plays a pivotal role in the first season.)

I was shocked at the blatant ‘rip-off’ unless of course the show was meant to be a spin off of the movie. It wasn’t. Meant to be a spin off that is. And, more interestingly, it was not a rip-off. Though the series appeared on TV screens in 1999 – the same year the movie was realized - the TV show pilot was actually filmed in 1997. So, just coincidence apparently. Two separate individuals had the same idea. At around the same time.

Then there is a current summer season offering on our TV screens, which I find myself watching though it is a tad trite and obvious. Accidentally on Purpose sees an older career woman become (accidentally – as if that can happen in this day and age?!) pregnant to a 20-something guy who lives with his always-stoned buddy. Sound familiar? If you saw the movie Knocked Up in which Katherine Heigl found herself in a similar state thanks to a drunken one night stand with Seth Rogen, then the plot is WAY too familiar. And yet, wait for it... Apparently the TV show has not pilfered the idea from the movie. Bizarrely the TV show is actually based on a memoir (of the same name).

Thanks to Jenna Elfman and the dry accented wit of Ugly Betty’s Ashley Jensen the show is watchable. Even if full of clichés.

And, speaking of Ugly Betty, though seemingly a product of the success of the feature film, The Devil Wears Prada, the concept was in fact developed in Colombia as Yo soy Betty, la fea (I am Betty, the ugly) in 1999. Again – apparently just a similar idea manifesting itself in the written word and celluloid in different countries. Perhaps that explains the spate of vampire movies, TV shows and novels raining down upon us?

So, it seems, we are not stealing ideas from others. Nor are we lazy. But, have we run out of new ideas? Are there, I wonder, a finite number of ideas floating about in the ether, and have we plucked them all out?

Hopefully not. Occasionally, amid the sea of formulaic offerings about cops, lawyers and doctors, there are glimpses of creative brilliance. Current fodder such as the serial-killing Dexter, raunchy 30 Rock and Entourage and polygamist world of Big Love offer a glimmer of originality amidst the Battlestar Gallactica and Stargate remakes and lazy low-cost reality television shows.

I am (admittedly) a fan of the quirky, such as Joss Whedon and Bryan Fuller and their shows: Firefly, Buffy, Pushing Daisies and Dead Like Me to name a few. However, many of these shows which have piqued my interest did not garner sufficient interest to fend off axe-weilding TV Execs, which makes me all-the-more passionate about supporting new and unusual offerings.

So, as I settle down to Season 4 of The Sopranos and await new seasons of Dexter and Entourage I will continue to hold out some hope for what the year ahead may have to offer.

The Grand Gesture

Starved of anything better to do on a recent Monday night, I found myself watching the romantic comedy, Must Love Dogs. A movie I vaguely recalled seeing previously and, while I wasn't glued to the screen, it kept me entertained in between channel surfing for something better.

I mostly enjoyed the movie as I am a huge Diane Lane fan, but found myself cringing at the end of the movie. Having decided that she really did 'want' John Cusack's character (Jake), Diane Lane's character (Sarah) goes to find him and discovers him to be out on his boat. Not content to merely wait on the dock for his return, she is apparently so desperate to see him that she hails a passing rowing crew to take her into the middle of the river to find him. Then, rather than paddling up to him, she leaps from the boat (along with the aforementioned and obligatory dog) and swims over to him. I could barely watch the scene as it was SO cheesy and (frankly) embarrassing to all concerned.

As I lay in bed later I found myself wondering why Directors or Writers feel compelled to include such scenes in an otherwise watchable movie, often destroying any credibility the film had engendered. As I pondered on this some other examples came to mind.

In How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days (a very ordinary movie made bearable only by the eye candy care of Matthew McConaughey), the guy (on his motorbike) goes chasing after the girl (in a taxi) amidst traffic on some bridge somewhere. Accompanied, I am sure, by appropriately poignant music. Again, a scene which (to me, anyway) was so over-the-top I could only bear to watch through squinted eyes.

In Pretty Woman, Richard Gere braved the dodgy part of town – and the height of the fire escape - to declare his undying love for his hooker. In Sweet Home Alabama, Reece Witherspoon tracks down (the again very gorgeous) Josh Lucas amidst a storm and lightning conductors. Hugh Grant bumbles through a race-across-town and braves public humiliation to declare his love to Julia Roberts in Notting Hill. And who can forget Bridget Jones, clad in only a coat and her underwear, chasing after her man in the snow; Meg Ryan rushing to the top of the Empire State Building in Sleepless in Seattle; or her cohort Billy Crystal racing through busy streets to seek her out in When Harry Met Sally.

I sense a theme. So, I ask, what is it about the grand gesture and romantic comedies? Is the grand gesture a pre-requisite for any ‘romcom’ or chick-flick? Does it guarantee a box office hit? These questions and more were enough to occupy my busy little mind for a spell and I found myself mulling over the genre and what it has to offer.

The basic plot of a romantic comedy, or indeed, even a straight romance generally involves our two protagonists (usually a man and a woman in mainstream cinema) meeting, then separating (due to a fight or problem of some kind) before ultimately reuniting. That is it in a nutshell. Romantic comedy 101. Of course there are a few laughs or weepy moments along the way. And, as evidenced by my top-of-the-head list, the reunion is often preceded by some spectacular show of affection. A grand gesture of sorts. It seems to be rare that happily-ever-after comes without the grand gesture, but it is my opinion that the conclusion is often more palatable when the film remains gesture-less. The recent Sex and the City movie didn’t involve anyone racing through the streets, but rather the (other oft-used) accidental meeting of the former lovers. Interestingly they were still able to declare their undying love and we were able to believe it – even without the fireworks and near-misses. An old favourite of mine, About Last Night, comes to mind as well, the protagonists meeting at the end and deciding to start anew. To me, simple and believable. Completely believable.

Perhaps I lead a sheltered life but – to the best of my knowledge – none of my friends or their acquaintances has had to embark on a car chase or throw themselves out of a boat to declare their love for another.

I realise we are living in an age where we demand more escapist themes from our films and literature. But while I am happy to watch and read about wizards and vampires, I want the stories that are supposed to be believable, to actually BE believable and not sufficiently cringe-worthy to make me regret the previous two hours. Is that too much to ask?

Addiction

I am, as it happens, obsessive by nature. My addictions come and go and range from the unhealthy – champagne, red wine, caramel filling, chocolate, to the healthier – watching episode upon episode of my latest favourite TV show, or reading book after book.

There are some things of which I cannot get enough. For a while (on the healthy side of the scale) I read incessantly. I inhaled novel after novel. Some good, some not-so-good and some pretty crappy. (I do however have SOME standards, so there were a few returned to the library unread!)

The Twilight series I found bizarrely addictive; the simplistic style of writing inviting me in so I needed to know more. Needed to know what happened next. I also have a habit of reading and re-reading my ‘comfort’ novels and I use them in the same way I use ‘comfort’ movies or TV shows, or ‘comfort’ food.

So, for I while I was reading between 7 and 10 novels a week. And working fulltime. I ignored favourite TV shows, scorned movies and DVDs or outings in general. It was all about reading.

But more recently it has been TV that has taken my fancy. Or more specifically, TV on DVD. That way I don’t have to worry about pesky advertisements AND like all good addicts, instant gratification is mine as I don’t have to wait a week for the next installment.

I have been working through TV series on DVD for some time. Some out of boredom while others have become an addiction and I cannot get enough of them.

I have recently discovered Dexter; Mad Men; True Blood, Firefly; Dead Like Me; and Pushing Daisies this way.

Even more fulfilling to someone like me is when I discover something years after it actually commenced, which was the case when I stumbled across Buffy the Vampire Slayer in 2000. Five seasons into its filming. With (mostly) 22 episodes each season, I had hours of ready-made viewing at my beck and call and had to work out in advance how many hours I could possibly watch in a night; or over a weekend.

Of course this addiction – like so many others – does carry some risks. Too many episodes without a break and you find yourself in West Wing dreams. Or when you find yourself conversing in Buffy-speak (and people don’t know what you mean when you say you déjà-ed that vu!) you know that you have been ridiculously entrenched in the celluloid world of your own choosing.

My latest discovery is Entourage. Though I had heard of it and its success, I hadn’t been tempted until I stumbled across the pilot episode on SBS (TV in Australia) recently.

Though I actively pursued Dexter Season 3 and will watch Mad Men Season 2 when it returns to my video store, I cannot get enough of Entourage. Like Buffy or West Wing, I cannot wait for my next hit. I have watched three seasons of the show in one week. I would have watched more but some pesky customer has borrowed Season 4 and I am waitlisted.

I already know I have to buy it. And I am – despite all accounts – fussy about the TV series in which I invest, having only procured Buffy; Sex and the City; West Wing; and Firefly to date.
Some shows I love – Dexter and Mad Men – but I know I won’t watch them again. And again. Entourage I will. I already know this. Though the storyline interests me, knowing what is coming won’t prevent me from re-watching. Like Buffy and West Wing, it is the characters and the dialogue which draw me in and spit me back out. Sated but ready and willing to take more.

Meanwhile, as I wait for Season 4 of Entourage to find its way back to the video store, I realise I need to start pacing myself. Season 5 has only just been released and Season 6 is currently screening in the USA. Soon I am going to have to wait. Delay gratification. Or just find my next drug of choice…..

Lollipop-heads and trout-pouts

Half a dozen or so years ago, the term lollipop-head was coined to describe the actresses and the A, B (and D) listers who became so thin that their heads looked disproportionately large compared to their bodies. It described the then-fashionable wafer-thin Sarah Michelle Geller, Olsen twin and Nicole Richie, amongst others.

Despite the continuing swarm of chupa-chup starlets (the chicks from the new Beverly Hills 90210 and The Hills whose names I refuse to learn; and the likes of yo-yoing Lindsay Lohan) we don’t hear the term as much. But as I watch a rather-thin Miley Cyrus gyrating around on television, I can’t help wondering how their scrawny necks cope with the mountain of hair they carry upon their seemingly-large chupa-chup heads.

The thinness thing is not new, nor does it seem that it will ever get ‘old’. Weight (loss and gain) remains the fodder of women’s magazines which guilelessly feature articles on excessive thinness and eating disorders beside those on how to lose 20kgs in a week.

Given my recent predilection for TV on DVD and the ability to watch months of television productions over a weekend, I am finding myself intrigued with those actresses who become thinner as the show progresses. I suspect the change is more evident when – like me – you watch the series in one fell-swoop, rather than from week to week where the difference is more subtle.

You read about the ‘peer pressure’ on set when everyone else is thin. But the phenomenon that also interests me is the change between the ‘pilot’ and the rest of the season. Presumably Directors and Producers select actors who impress them – for whatever reason (talent, looks etc). So it is interesting that the timelapse – however long – between the filming of a pilot and the rest of the first season can bring about dramatic changes and I wonder why the actresses feel this need to ‘streamline’.

I have just finished watching the first series of the 2003 show, Dead Like Me. Foisted upon me by the helpful assistant at my local Blockbuster video store, I find myself entranced by the show centred around a bunch of grim-reapers.

The actress playing the lead role, Ellen Muth, isn’t your typical starlet. Not stereotypically beautiful, Muth playing misfit George (who is killed by a falling toilet from a Russian Space Station) is perfectly cast as the apathetic 18-year old and delivers her deadpan lines in her own alluring way.

I noticed nothing unusual about her as the series commenced, but she became noticeably thinner as the season progressed. I wondered then, when she had started to change and if her twig-like body had previously been hidden because of its vanishing girth. With a naturally round face, the lollipop-head phrase could have been coined with Muth in mind. Mid season she bares her arms and I could ‘barely’ look. Her forearms were actually larger than her biceps and so thin that an ever-present large vein looked like a tattooed racing stripe on her upper arm. I cringed every time I looked.

But, as I was loving the show, I squinted through the remainder of episodes. In fact I liked the show so much I went online after I had finished watching Season 1, to get information about the second (and final) Season. I am not sure why it is I keep discovering shows on DVD which were axed years before – Firefly, Pushing Daisies, now Dead Like Me. If I was more self-obsessed I would think there was some cause and effect thing happening and it was all about me….?!

My extensive research (hurrah for Google) also uncovered a made-for-DVD movie of the show, filmed only this year. Interested, I clicked on the link to take me to the movie’s website and that was my moment of disappointment. The website featured an interview with star of the show and (new) movie, Ellen Muth. Now 5-6 years since the Season 1, Muth (who purportedly is a member of Mensa, so should not be unduly influenced by inane Hollywood fads) has done the unthinkable. She has (hmm….how to put it politely….?) “had some work done”. In fact, it almost certainly appeared that she now has the apt-phrased ‘trout-pout’. Already blessed with full lips, Muth’s mouth is now over-inflated and ridiculously caricature-like on her face.

I don’t understand it. I am not generally opposed to plastic surgery (as long as one admits to it – cos otherwise it is basically lying. I often fantasise about botox but know I would feel obliged to admit it to anyone who asked. Or even anyone who didn’t! And, my upper lip is a tad thin, so sure a bit of inflation would be great – but I wouldn’t dare go there as we have oft-seen the disastrous results).

I – like most of those on this orb-we-call-earth – was a huge Meg Ryan fan. Until the plastic surgery debacle that resulted in her cute impish beauty becoming the inscrutable mask, which has seen most of her recent movies tank in a big way. I recall the release of Kate & Leopold (possibly the beginning of the end), and everyone’s horror at what she had done to herself – and her career. I can’t help wonder if Nicole Kidman’s current fascination for smooth skin will also see the demise of her career.

While the plastic surgery horror-stories are many, what intrigues me are those who don’t seem to realise how ridiculous they look. When it first aired, I was a fan of TV show, Cold Case. I recall much of Australia was smitten with Kathryn Morris – she of the barely-pinned-up hair, fragile features and porcelain skin. I wasn’t actually smitten, but I could see why people thought she was attractive. And then, somewhere along the line something happened. I cannot pinpoint exactly when, but when a new season of Cold Case started I innocently tuned in, only to be horrified by the TV-cop who was once a favourite. She was all lips. I couldn’t focus on anything else. Kathryn Morris’s face barely moved – there were no expressions, just these swollen things in the middle of her head pouting and slapping together. I haven’t been able to watch the show since.

Perhaps there is some scientific basis to it all. I wonder if the whole inflated-lips thing helps the lollipop-heads’ balance, or reduces the pressure on their tiny necks? Akin to a helium balloon on a piece of string? Hmmm…. something to ponder.

But for now, I am flummoxed. Having recently discovered Dead Like Me, I can’t help wondering when Hollywood’s obsession with homogenization resulted in the lead actor, Ellen Muth’s decision to go-the-way-of-others-before-her and adopt the trout-pout. I hope I can at least get through Season 2 before I am distracted by her oversized choppers! From all accounts the movie is a bit of a dud anyway!

TV or not TV

The facts are these…… I am fickle. This I will admit. When I was a young girl Charlie’s Angels, Bionic Woman, Starsky and Hutch had my heart – and my TV viewing hours.

My tastes have changed over the years. Matured - hopefully. Evolved - hopefully. Until today I find myself attracted with TV with intelligent scripts and witty dialogue. And a bit of an edge.

First there was Buffy, West Wing and Sex in the City. Then we were blessed with Weeds, Dexter and Mad Men. Original and quirky.

Well, quirky has a new name. And face. Having read about the show, last weekend I stumbled across Pushing Daisies at my local video store.

Commentated by voiceover with a dry, droll wit, Daisies features Ned, who learns at a young age, that he has the ability to bring the dead back to life. But like all good things (red wine and chocolate) there are negative consequences.

We first meet Ned as a child, where upon bringing his mother back to life, he inadvertently causes the death of his childhood sweetheart’s father; and upon a second touch, relegates his mother again to the afterlife.

We next meet the present-day Ned (aka the Pie-Maker) and his equally-quirky band of sidekicks at The Pie Hole.

Emmerson Cod, who most recently played the antagonistic and arrogant Edward Vogler on House, is a PI who, having discovered Ned’s secret exploits it for profit. By bringing the dead back to life (albeit briefly – having learnt his lesson from the double death of his mother) Ned and Emmerson can ask about the crime that led to the victim’s death, tell the cops and collect the reward. Well, sort of…

Daisies is well-served by its supporting cast of Anna Friel (as Ned’s grown-up childhood sweetheart, Chuck) and torch-carrying employee, Olive Snook (played with kooky charisma by West Wing’s Kristin Chenoweth).

The set and visual design of the show reflect its ‘larger-than-life’ theme. Like a big storybook, everything from the Pie Hole itself, to Olive and Chuck’s wardrobe is bright, colourful and almost cartoon-like.

Like many other underappreciated shows (Dexter and Mad Men), our doyens of taste (TV Executives) decided against rushing Pushing Daisies onto our screens. Instead, Channel Nine, having purchased the rights to the show, on-sold it to pay television after one year, where it screened for the first time in Australia in April this year.

I have previously complained about the fickle nature of TV Executives (which, unlike my own fickle taste, is highly unacceptable!): http://rockafellaskank.blogspot.com/2009/02/benching-b-team-eli-army-wives-gossip.html

Unfortunately, despite its early success (the show was nominated for 22 Emmy Awards in 2008); it has since been axed, going the way of many-a-good-but-slightly-weird TV show.

However, all is not lost. The first season is now available on DVD and I have the second season to look forward to. I also have faith that more original and innovative boffins in TV- and movie-land will come up with my next viewing pleasure.

Appreciating Joss

I check out other blogs from time to time and one caught my eye recently. Sufficiently impassioned, I felt obliged to respond to the author. In a positive way.

Kaye Dacus (http://kayedacus.com/) recently wrote about her favourite (new) shows which are currently airing in the USA. One of these was the new Joss Whedon show, Dollhouse.

I suspect it won’t be here (in Australia) for a while. Some of my recent favourite TV series (Mad Men, Dexter) are actually here on DVD before they appear on our Free to Air television.

Nonetheless, I will look forward to the show – whenever it arrives.

For those not-in-the-know, Joss Whedon is a director, come writer (etc) who created Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel, Firefly and now Dollhouse. I was thrilled to see that blogger and writer Kaye (a sane, intelligent woman and not a sci-fi freak, as you so often see with Joss’s fans) appreciated his work. And, as a result, I felt obliged to add my glowing recommendation (in response to her and in my own blog).

I became a Joss fan during the Buffy years. Not the early years, as a show about a vampire slayer wasn’t something I would have even considered watching. As it happened, in 2000 I was living in Asia and – in desperation – I succumbed to cable tv and one night (for something to do) watched an episode of Buffy. I was intrigued so went back for more. I then bought the DVDs to see all of the earlier episodes and waited for new episodes with a surprising impatience.

I am aware a lot of Buffy-viewers were ‘goth-like’ characters themselves and loved ‘all-things-vampire’. I must admit to fast-forwarding through some of the fight scenes, and cringing at some of the other-worldly characters as what I loved most about Buffy was the dialogue. The witty-repartee, the Buffy ‘catch-phrases’ were what stuck in my mind.

It would be easy to write off the show as trite, light-viewing, featuring some teenage-superhero-wannabe.

I was well into the series before I realized how incredibly talented Joss Whedon and his crew were. Through interviews accompanying the DVD series’, I learned that Buffy’s mother (Joyce) knew that she was to be killed off years before she was (and the episode of her death is one of the most poignant things I have ever seen on tv). The obscure references to her sister Dawn’s arrival a year or two before she appeared intrigued me as well. I guess I had thought the writers sat around informally and randomly came up with ideas and scripts. I hadn’t expected that much rigour, talent and intelligence around the process.

I read later that Joss is known for mapping out his shows in advance, but the commitment and adherence to detail that must go with that level of focus is amazing.

I can only imagine then, how devastating it was when his (post Buffy & Angel) TV series Firefly was cancelled after one season. He must have decided long before what would happen to these new characters he created. The movie, Serenity which came out later, I suspect was an attempt to get some closure. And not only for the fans.

Interestingly Joss has a habit of re-using actors he favours in his shows. Eliza Dushku appeared as the rogue slayer, Faith, in Buffy and now stars in Dollhouse. Nathan Fillion went from creepy bad guy in Buffy to sexy lead in Firefly.

He creates strong female characters: from the slayers and witches in Buffy; to River (the brain-washed and reluctant superhero in Firefly); to the ‘dolls’ being programmed in Dollhouse. In an era when so few female role models exist on our screens, and women still so-often play the sidekick to the lead detective, it is refreshing to see quirky and (slightly) flawed female leads.

So, I have missed Joss from our screens – he has an eccentricity that is rare and tries things others wouldn’t dare. He seems prone to some self-indulgence (writing his own theme songs, appearing in some episodes) and I gather he is a tad ‘precious’ – wanting things HIS way, which I suspect is usually the right way. Who else would think to write an entire episode of a show (Buffy) where no words are spoken, or another where all dialogue is sung.

But, it seems I can now look forward to Dollhouse, though gossip is that its network is considering axing it - already. Perhaps like Buffy it takes some time to whet viewers’ appetites and incite their addiction. In the interim, I will await its arrival here with anticipation.

Family SATC-style

I rely on my parents, a lot. Even though they don’t live nearby, my mother is often the first person I go to when things are going wrong. I have close friends, but sometimes there are things I can only tell my mother. When things aren’t going well and when I feel like a failure. I know my parents will love me – no matter what. (After all, that is their job.)

I am sure I rely on them too much, though I suspect this would be different if I had a partner. I suspect those with lovers or husbands or partners arrive home and whinge to them about their day; seek a hug when they are stressed or fraught with despair; or share their tears when they don’t get a job they expected to.

I have some very close friends who know almost everything about my life, but sometimes I don’t go to them. They are mostly there for me, but I am not their priority and sometimes it is too hard to admit failure to those who don’t HAVE to love you.

I have a number of single and married friends in their 30s, 40s and 50s. Some have kids, some don’t. For most of these friends, their families continue to play a major part in their lives. Parents and siblings feature often in our discussions - in both positive and negative ways.

Like me, for some of my closest friends, their parents (mostly mothers and grandmother in one instance) remain confidants, offering constant and unwavering support and comfort.

As well as the emotional support family provides, there is also the practical assistance that comes from being a member of a family. You babysit, even when it is inconvenient and you help out when someone becomes sick. You attend family get-togethers; from celebrations to annoying family requirements. You make an effort even when you don’t want to. After all, when everything else goes to hell in a handbasket, family is all we might have left.

So, this is what I don’t get. They don’t really appear in Sex and the City. Relatives that is. In my recent spate of viewing random episodes on Pay Television, I watched Charlotte marry Trey. She faltered just before walking down the aisle and grabbed Carrie to seek reassurance. Concerns allayed, Carrie disappeared and an older man emerged from the wings and took Charlotte’s arm to walk to her down the aisle. I can only assume this man was her father, or step-father, or equivalent. But there he was – nameless and almost faceless. Was there a mother I wondered? While planning the perfect wedding, I don’t recall Charlotte ever mentioning a father or mother.

I know the show focused on the friendships, but it also focused on the girls’ lives – and I feel like there was a big chunk missing. In some ways the show was a ‘manual’ for living (albeit in a more luxurious, fun-filled, exciting and extreme world). So, while we learned lessons about men, relationships and friendships we were left in idle ignorance when it comes to dealing with our own families.

We meet Trey’s interfering mother and Steve’s annoying mother. I even have a vague recollection of someone’s mother (Miranda perhaps) dying during the series. But even from that episode, what I remember most is the support she gets from the girls, rather than the loss of a mother.

So, where are they the rest of the time? I mean, did Carrie even have parents? I don’t recall them offering support when she had been dumped by “Big” (again and again), or Aidan. Or any consideration of aging parents in her decision to move to Paris? What about the man who walked Charlotte down the aisle? Where was he during her stressful efforts to conceive a child and through her divorce?

So, I am intrigued. Where were their families? Carrie’s, Charlotte’s, Miranda’s or Samantha’s? We had the horror mother-in-laws, so what about the small-town mothers and fathers or siblings, not fitting into the girls’ NYC lives? A few embarrassing relatives wouldn’t have gone astray - but they are largely absent. Why I wonder? Is family not sexy enough for the city?

Did the four girls really emerge from their childhoods unscathed? What about some residual baggage? Sibling rivalries? Or even some backstories to fill in some of the blanks? After all, where did Samantha’s aversion to ‘love’ come from; and why was Charlotte such so desperate for Park Avenue and the perfect family?

Perhaps a prequel is called for?!

SATC - The early years

There are a number of good things about this house-sitting gig. Not just being away from the building site-that-is-my-home; the larder full of cooking stuff (like choc bits, which I will have to replace before I leave); the excuse that I am out of my routine and can’t exercise; but also having access to Pay TV.

My brother doesn’t have the movies’ or sports’ channels. The focus here is predominantly on all-things-Disney, for my niece (who has a bit of a thing for Avatar, Hannah Montana and some show about two boys who live in a hotel with their mother). So I am spending most of my waking (and tv-watching) hours in front of ARENA and reveling in repeats of Sex and the City, which appears to be on constantly and usually in no logical order. The other evening, for example, there were two episodes in a row. The first one was the actual pilot episode (circa 1998). The next was from Season Four.

Why I am glued to them I have no idea. I actually have all of the DVDs at my place. All six Seasons. I could go and pick them up. Or wait until I get home and watch them. But instead, I am strangely transfixed to the randomness with which they appear on ARENA. I have to admit, I had forgotten how many men Carrie and the girls went through over the years. Samantha aside, the other three constantly dated with a never-ending stream of men through their lives.

Is this why we liked it I wonder? Not just for the clothes and fashions – and to see what strange combination Carrie would next don (and even more amazingly, pull off). Or did we just envy their seemingly glamourous lives and the fact that they seemed to be constantly in demand by the men of New York.

Critics railed at the realism of the show and the fact that – in the real world – similar women would be hard pressed to afford their apartments, let alone the lifestyle they portrayed; their clothes, their Jimmy Choos and constant stream of visits to the ‘happening’ restaurants and bars of NYC.

But did we care? Hell no! Who cares if, in the real world, one pair of Manolo Blahnik’s would set Carrie back a year’s salary. Instead we all envied their fabulous lives. We all wanted to be them. And, we’ve all done the Facebook quiz, wondering which of the four girls we really are. I suspect we probably all wanted to be Carrie (around whom the SATC world revolves) and I think the Facebook doyenne believed me to be so, but I always felt more like Charlotte with a bit of Miranda thrown in. Sweet but cynical.

So, having been exposed to a veritable kaleidoscope of episodes in the past week, not only am I surprised at how little the women changed over the six seasons (yay for botox!), I am reminded of a few favourite moments (and seasons) and amazed at the things I had forgotten.

Very importantly, I had forgotten that in the first episodes (and perhaps a few to follow – I will have to check later) Carrie speaks to the camera and the show featured mock interviews, with little captions. So, it started as a faux-documentary. Watching it now, I cringe. I resolve to watch the first season to see when this changes - when the producers realized they needed to go with engaging storylines, supported by narration, rather than a thought piece with a one-dimensional supporting cast.

I had also forgotten that ‘Big’ appears in the first episode.

I have also seen the final two episodes in the last few days. I remember – like hordes of others – being disappointed at the final episode. Unhappy that, for a show about how it is okay to be single and alone, the four girls all ended up partnered off.

I recall that when it first came out in 1998, the show was a celebration of independence and of strong single women. So, while I sympathise with the producers’ desire for a happily-ever-after ending, it fell like a sell-out. Carrie’s move to Paris was very much about her fear of being the ‘last-one-standing’ and being alone, rather than following her heart, or even her head. Bringing in ‘Big’ at the last minute, seemed too contrived, with the producers obviously in a rush to wrap six-years up neatly, tie the bow and present it expectantly to adoring fans.

This aside, when I think of the show, I think of it being about relationships and most importantly, about friendships. The scene I most remember from the movie, for example, is Charlotte’s anger (in the street) at ‘Big’ after he failed to show at the wedding ceremony. Her distress for her friend felt real and devastated me more than Carrie being left at the altar. It made me wonder about selfless relationships where true love, loyalty and devotion are fundamental.

The episode I watched (The Agony and the Ex-tacy) after the pilot was about the girls attending an engagement party for a guy they had knew (and several slept with).

The episode was about finding your soulmate. I hadn’t remembered that the show had really articulated the level of desperation evidenced in that episode. Miranda faking happiness at her singleness and Carrie’s despair (after everyone missing her birthday celebration) at perhaps never finding her soulmate. It ended with the girls deciding they were each others’ soulmates and the guys that came along were just a bonus. A lovely sentiment – but in my self-styled Miranda-cynicism I wonder if they were saying the same thing several years later when they were all paired off.

I have another week of house-sitting so who knows what morsels are before me. Either way, it has given me a taste of a favourite-but-forgotten treat. My appetite whetted, I will have to pull out the DVDs when I get home.

Finally, another perplexing question. Whatever happened to Skipper?

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0159206/

Benching the B-team: Eli, Army Wives & Gossip Girl

It happens all of the time in sport. The star players get injured, or have representative duties and it is up to the ‘second string/ to suit up and keep the momentum going. They often do a great job and give some of the stars a run for their money. But, inevitably, the star players come back and the b-team are benched – often with little recognition for having carried the load for a while.

It just isn’t fair. The bench-warmers have kept everything chugging along; have earned their stripes; have given their hearts and souls; but like the bridesmaids – it isn’t about them – they should know their place. They are there to keep the seats warm. Like I said, it isn’t fair.

I am similarly aggrieved at the disdainful treatment of off-season television shows.

Always concerned at what TV Executives might foist upon us unsuspecting viewers during summer (here in Australia), I await the non-ratings viewing offerings with skepticism. Of course, sometimes I am surprised. Last summer, for example, we were treated to the quite watchable Women’s Murder Club. This summer, along with the inevitable re-runs of the tried and true favourites and a myriad of reality shows about police, customs officers, surf lifesavers and doctors, we were offered Eli Stone, Gossip Girl, Army Wives and (very briefly) the Ex-Files –to name but a few.

Like previous years, we were inundated with promotions for these shows and sucked in to their storylines as they appeared, slotted in between cricket, tennis and golf. Like previous years, we came to care about these shows, the characters and then they were unceremoniously ripped from our lives as TV Execs return from their overseas holidays and as critics and pollsters wipe the sleep from their eyes and stretch, awakened from hibernation. Summer has ended. The ratings season has begun.

But what about us? What about Eli and his tumour, the Army Wives and the Gossip Girl? We are left hanging. Sure, we have the old favourites back. And, I do say “Yay!” for new episodes of House, Law & Order SVU etc, but… what about the B-team? What about those the bench-warmers who comforted us through those (stinking hot) summer nights only to disappear when the first string returned?

Those of us who study the TV Guide closely each week (ie. who have no lives) are able to track down some of these shows. Eli Stone (promoted obscenely over summer) now features at 10.30pm on a Tuesday. Women’s Murder Club can be found on a Friday night at 10.30pm. As for Army Wives, it is now on twice a week at the witching hour (favoured only by insomniacs and University students) of 12.30am.

So I say, “What about a duty of care Mr TV Executives (assuming they are – in the majority – all male… after all, how else do they justify the number of motor racing events we are subjected to on weekends)?”

Are they sadists? They dole out the opiate, addict us, and then cut us off cold-turkey without any consideration to the angst it can cause.

I mean, does (the chick whose name I don’t remember) track down the ex-lover who is her true love, as foretold by the clairvoyant in the Ex-Files? Whatever happened to Geena Davis’ Commander and Chief? And, if I couldn’t ‘google’, how would I know if Gossip Girl's Serena and Blair ever become besties again? I mean, does this torture know no bounds?

Sadly I suspect I have no sway with TV Execs or those who decide what we watch on television and when. I am but one voice, in a sea of others (who apparently watch cricket, A Current Affair and morning television). Instead I will remain comforted by the return of House and Dexter, but I refuse to be sucked in again. Next summer I will boycott television completely. No way am I going to be tempted by TV-offerings of some yet-to-be-made show, only to be forced into mourning its demise two months later.