ANTHONY MINGHELLA CBE. (1954 - 2008)
I have little to add to the many news reports covering the memorial service held here on the Isle of Wight last Saturday.
St. Thomas's Church, Newport, was packed and, on a beautiful sunny day, over a hundred stood outside to listen to the relayed service, show their respect for this gentle, talented man and silently express their sympathy with his family.
As may have been expected, some fine actors with whom he had worked and/or become friends - among them Jude Law, Alfred Molina and Alan Rickman - made the journey from the mainland to pay tribute to him.
In all it was a fitting public goodbye to a much admired Islander.
BACK TO THE BOX.
Foyle's War. (ITV1)
When they sound the last All-Clear (went the song) how happy my darling we'll be...
Well, on the 20th April Michael Kitchen took his wonderfully underplayed performance, his scene-stealing DCS Foyle hat and his lonely final departure from Hastings police station.
It was a moving exit in the execution of which he quietly upstaged the off-screen end of war celebrations.
Those of us who have enjoyed Anthony Horowitz's wartime gems are far from happy. We are concerned that there may be no more of them.
But Sherlock Holmes, whose writer did not want to bring him back, survived the Reichenbach falls .
So surely Christopher Foyle, whose writer does want to bring him back, can survive the last All-Clear?
Rumour has it he will.
I do hope rumour is right.
Taggart. (ITV1)
When DCI Matt Burke (Alex Norton) meets up again with old flame Kathy Moffat (Phyllis Logan) and offers to help her, it is obvious that he is heading for trouble. (Ol' Phyllis usually is trouble nowadays.)
It is apparent, too, that his problems will be magnified by the presence of Chief Superintendant Laura Henson (Deidre Davies), a high-flyer intent on reducing costs by purging the force of senior officers she considers to be past their sell-by date. They include him.
Needless to say his team saves his neck, right prevails, the villains (including the pushy high-flyer) fail and he is left remarking ruefully to DS Reid (Blythe Duff): "No fool like an old fool, eh Jackie?"
No team like the Taggart team, either.
Mur-rder-r.
Heroes. (BBC2)
They're back here in a new eleven parter.
It's a delightfully daft concept.
It dodges from scene to scene and character to character like a special for the under fives.
It keeps me in a state of mesmerized bewilderment.
I shall continually ask myself why I am watching it.
And I shall watch it all.
Dr. Who. (BBC1)
The Doctor kicks along at a lively pace.
We have had peacefully inclined aliens, the Ood, who appear to have sneezed spaghetti from their noses.
Now we have warlike aliens, the Sontarans, who my old friend Anonymous John would probably describe as:
"Big-headed little mooshes."
We also have Martha Jones (Freema Agyeman) back and, somewhat to the Doctor's discomfiture, instantly friendly with his new sidekick, Donna.
They'll cause him more trouble than any alien.
Serves him right.
Yep, I shall watch it all.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Saturday, April 19, 2008
103. A Fast Farewell to Foyle
FOYLE'S WAR. (ITV1)
They were all back last Sunday.
There was DCS Christopher Foyle (Michael Kitchen) wearing his seriously good acting trilby; there was DS Paul Milner (Anthony Howell) wearing his seriously good acting limp; and there was every old bloke's fantasy driver, Samantha (Sam) Stewart (the wonderfully named Honeysuckle Weeks) wearing a khaki uniform better than any ATS girl ever did in my day.
I was going to write that the new series seemed to have started under a bit of a pall. That the war was apparently coming to an end and what were they going to call it then? Foyle's Peace?
But my Leader remarked on an article in the ultimate digital tv and radio guide wherein Anthony Horowitz, the creator of Foyle, interviewed by Radio Times correspondent Benji Wilson, expressed no small irritation with former ITV supremo Simon Shaps.
It seems that Mr. Shaps, presumably suffering from a rush of blood to the head, had axed Foyle's War before he left ITV for pastures new.
Oh dear, what a disappointment.
No surprise, though.
Television, like any other business, is packed with giftless gits dodging from lofty managerial height to loftier managerial height leaving a trail of bad decisions and daft mistakes behind them. It's the blueprint for modern management.
So, unless the new boss shows enough sense to recommission it, or to invite Mr.Horowitz to write a sequel, Foyle's War will come to an end tomorrow, Sunday 20th April, 2008.
Flags should be flown at half mast.
And to rub salt into the wound, Benji Wilson mooted the Foyle's Peace title ahead of me.
Oh, all right, so it didn't take a Stephen Hawking to come up with it.
NCIS. (Five)
Last night we reached episode twenty of series four and a rum old business it was.
Somehow, over the past few weeks, Agent Tim McGee (Sean Murray) has become a sort of NCIS Jessica Fletcher churning out best selling thrillers. His leading characters bear an unmistakeable likeness to his workmates, even down to the names: L. J. Tibbs? Come on...
It is clear that we are reaching the end of a 24 episode run of this hugely likeable slice of hokum. Jethro Gibbs's acting haircut is beginning to act up again, the plots are becoming progressively less believable and only our familiarity with the characters keeps us fondly glued to it.
Heck, anyone who can resist daffy Abby (Pauley Perrette) has to have something wrong with them.
They were all back last Sunday.
There was DCS Christopher Foyle (Michael Kitchen) wearing his seriously good acting trilby; there was DS Paul Milner (Anthony Howell) wearing his seriously good acting limp; and there was every old bloke's fantasy driver, Samantha (Sam) Stewart (the wonderfully named Honeysuckle Weeks) wearing a khaki uniform better than any ATS girl ever did in my day.
I was going to write that the new series seemed to have started under a bit of a pall. That the war was apparently coming to an end and what were they going to call it then? Foyle's Peace?
But my Leader remarked on an article in the ultimate digital tv and radio guide wherein Anthony Horowitz, the creator of Foyle, interviewed by Radio Times correspondent Benji Wilson, expressed no small irritation with former ITV supremo Simon Shaps.
It seems that Mr. Shaps, presumably suffering from a rush of blood to the head, had axed Foyle's War before he left ITV for pastures new.
Oh dear, what a disappointment.
No surprise, though.
Television, like any other business, is packed with giftless gits dodging from lofty managerial height to loftier managerial height leaving a trail of bad decisions and daft mistakes behind them. It's the blueprint for modern management.
So, unless the new boss shows enough sense to recommission it, or to invite Mr.Horowitz to write a sequel, Foyle's War will come to an end tomorrow, Sunday 20th April, 2008.
Flags should be flown at half mast.
And to rub salt into the wound, Benji Wilson mooted the Foyle's Peace title ahead of me.
Oh, all right, so it didn't take a Stephen Hawking to come up with it.
NCIS. (Five)
Last night we reached episode twenty of series four and a rum old business it was.
Somehow, over the past few weeks, Agent Tim McGee (Sean Murray) has become a sort of NCIS Jessica Fletcher churning out best selling thrillers. His leading characters bear an unmistakeable likeness to his workmates, even down to the names: L. J. Tibbs? Come on...
It is clear that we are reaching the end of a 24 episode run of this hugely likeable slice of hokum. Jethro Gibbs's acting haircut is beginning to act up again, the plots are becoming progressively less believable and only our familiarity with the characters keeps us fondly glued to it.
Heck, anyone who can resist daffy Abby (Pauley Perrette) has to have something wrong with them.
Saturday, April 12, 2008
102. A Sheriff, A Tribute, A Hallo and A Few Goodbyes.
OL' TITCHY IS SHERIFF.
Alan Titchmarsh has just been made High Sheriff of the Isle of Wight, a title bestowed by H.M. Queen Elizabeth 2 (an elderly lady apparently prone to the charms of a TV gardener from Yorkshire).
Opinions on the appointment vary.
There are those who will always echo the views of Her Majesty. They are the sort who would support any choice she made. She could choose Osama bin Laden and they would agree wholeheartedly.
Then there are those who think he is just a tiresome mini celebrity who happens to have a holiday home here and the post should have gone to a caulkhead (somebody island born).
Whenever I've seen him on the box, Terry Wogan's homely description "bonny" fits him perfectly. I do not know whether, away from the screen, he is a charmer or a tosser and I could not give a f-f-fig one way or the other.
In my working days, though, I was once required to fill in a questionnaire from the Department of Health seeking, among other things, an answer to the question: Are you aware of any racial problems in your area?
My reply was as follows: There are no racial problems on the Island. Anybody not born here is a foreigner.
So ol' Titchy will have to understand that to Islanders he will always be a foreigner, whatever his reputation or standing.
If he has already absorbed that much and - more importantly - learnt to accept it with good grace, he will find this a pleasant enough berth, in or out of office. If he has not and has no intention of so doing, he will find that television fame impresses nobody worth impressing.
What? Oh, my wife and I are celebrating our fortieth year here.
We are still foreigners.
RICHARD WIDMARK (1914 - 2008)
This is a small tribute to the splendid actor Richard Widmark who died on 24th March at the age of 93.
I first saw him in the 1947 film Kiss of Death and came out of the cinema thinking: (1) that new chap was one helluva good psychopath:(2) wonder if his manic laugh will typecast him? And (3) what a pity he didn't bump off Victor Mature.
Mr. Widmark remained a charismatic and dependable star throughout his entire career. Other actors visibly looked to their laurels when he was about.
If I had been an actor I would have relished working with him.
How better to perfect your craft than to work with the best?
BACK TO THE BOX.
Hughie Green: Most Sincerely. (BBC4)
This was another in the Curse of Comedy series and featured a believable performance by Trevor Eve in the lead role.
I always thought that Hughie Green was an unctuous phoney - and I mean that most sincerely, folks - so it came as no surprise to learn he was also an unpleasant womanizer and a self-important bully.
Mark Benton played the sanctimonious - and equally detestable - presenter of Stars On Sunday, Jess (The Bishop) Yates who, after his death in 1993, fell victim to Green's malicious revelation (via a News of the World journalist at his 1997 funeral) that he was the real father of Yates's beloved daughter, Paula.
Three years later Paula Yates, too, was dead.
Only in the most derisive sense were there any comedians in this story.
How it crept into this particular series is a mystery.
Doctor Who (BBC1)
Yep, the Doctor (David Tennant) is back for another thirteen weeks. This time he has Donna Noble (Catherine Tate) as his purely platonic helpmate and a host of threatening aliens old and new to contend with, all courtesy of Russell T. Davies.
I shan't miss a single episode if I can help it.
Hotel Babylon. (BBC1)
This hotel potboiler came to its gloriously farcical conclusion.
It was unadulterated tripe.
There will be another series next year.
And of course we shall watch it.
Torchwood. (BBC2)
The second series of this one ended, too.
I expect it will be back.
But it will be back without a couple of our favourite characters.
And of course we shall watch it.
Frankie Howerd: Rather You than Me. (BBC4)
In a fortnight of farewells, this was the last in the short Curse of Comedy series and one that really did belong to it..
Frankie Howerd (born Howard) was played by David Walliams (born Williams) to very good effect,
His acolyte/lover/chauffeur/partner/manager Dennis Heymer was played, to equally good effect, by Rafe Spall.
At a time when public knowledge of his homosexual proclivities would probably have finished a fluctuating show business career, Frankie Howerd, a promiscuous homosexual, was no more convincing as a heterosexual than was that ludicrous toupee masquerading as his real hair.
Both comedy and his sexuality were a curse to this troubled man.
There is no doubt that Dennis Heymer was the best thing that ever happened to him.
Alan Titchmarsh has just been made High Sheriff of the Isle of Wight, a title bestowed by H.M. Queen Elizabeth 2 (an elderly lady apparently prone to the charms of a TV gardener from Yorkshire).
Opinions on the appointment vary.
There are those who will always echo the views of Her Majesty. They are the sort who would support any choice she made. She could choose Osama bin Laden and they would agree wholeheartedly.
Then there are those who think he is just a tiresome mini celebrity who happens to have a holiday home here and the post should have gone to a caulkhead (somebody island born).
Whenever I've seen him on the box, Terry Wogan's homely description "bonny" fits him perfectly. I do not know whether, away from the screen, he is a charmer or a tosser and I could not give a f-f-fig one way or the other.
In my working days, though, I was once required to fill in a questionnaire from the Department of Health seeking, among other things, an answer to the question: Are you aware of any racial problems in your area?
My reply was as follows: There are no racial problems on the Island. Anybody not born here is a foreigner.
So ol' Titchy will have to understand that to Islanders he will always be a foreigner, whatever his reputation or standing.
If he has already absorbed that much and - more importantly - learnt to accept it with good grace, he will find this a pleasant enough berth, in or out of office. If he has not and has no intention of so doing, he will find that television fame impresses nobody worth impressing.
What? Oh, my wife and I are celebrating our fortieth year here.
We are still foreigners.
RICHARD WIDMARK (1914 - 2008)
This is a small tribute to the splendid actor Richard Widmark who died on 24th March at the age of 93.
I first saw him in the 1947 film Kiss of Death and came out of the cinema thinking: (1) that new chap was one helluva good psychopath:(2) wonder if his manic laugh will typecast him? And (3) what a pity he didn't bump off Victor Mature.
Mr. Widmark remained a charismatic and dependable star throughout his entire career. Other actors visibly looked to their laurels when he was about.
If I had been an actor I would have relished working with him.
How better to perfect your craft than to work with the best?
BACK TO THE BOX.
Hughie Green: Most Sincerely. (BBC4)
This was another in the Curse of Comedy series and featured a believable performance by Trevor Eve in the lead role.
I always thought that Hughie Green was an unctuous phoney - and I mean that most sincerely, folks - so it came as no surprise to learn he was also an unpleasant womanizer and a self-important bully.
Mark Benton played the sanctimonious - and equally detestable - presenter of Stars On Sunday, Jess (The Bishop) Yates who, after his death in 1993, fell victim to Green's malicious revelation (via a News of the World journalist at his 1997 funeral) that he was the real father of Yates's beloved daughter, Paula.
Three years later Paula Yates, too, was dead.
Only in the most derisive sense were there any comedians in this story.
How it crept into this particular series is a mystery.
Doctor Who (BBC1)
Yep, the Doctor (David Tennant) is back for another thirteen weeks. This time he has Donna Noble (Catherine Tate) as his purely platonic helpmate and a host of threatening aliens old and new to contend with, all courtesy of Russell T. Davies.
I shan't miss a single episode if I can help it.
Hotel Babylon. (BBC1)
This hotel potboiler came to its gloriously farcical conclusion.
It was unadulterated tripe.
There will be another series next year.
And of course we shall watch it.
Torchwood. (BBC2)
The second series of this one ended, too.
I expect it will be back.
But it will be back without a couple of our favourite characters.
And of course we shall watch it.
Frankie Howerd: Rather You than Me. (BBC4)
In a fortnight of farewells, this was the last in the short Curse of Comedy series and one that really did belong to it..
Frankie Howerd (born Howard) was played by David Walliams (born Williams) to very good effect,
His acolyte/lover/chauffeur/partner/manager Dennis Heymer was played, to equally good effect, by Rafe Spall.
At a time when public knowledge of his homosexual proclivities would probably have finished a fluctuating show business career, Frankie Howerd, a promiscuous homosexual, was no more convincing as a heterosexual than was that ludicrous toupee masquerading as his real hair.
Both comedy and his sexuality were a curse to this troubled man.
There is no doubt that Dennis Heymer was the best thing that ever happened to him.
Tuesday, April 01, 2008
101. Cat Chat, Hancock, Tough Tecs & 5 Star Bilge
CONVERSATION WITH A SULKING SHADOW.
"Are you sulking?" I asked the cat Shadow.
"Why would you care?" he answered sullenly.
"You are," I said. "You're sulking."
He had a quick wash and feigned interest in the line of Harry Potter DVDs alongside the television.
"Come on then, who's rubbed your fur up the wrong way?" I demanded.
"I've seen that picture on your blog," he announced aggrievedly."That should have been me, that should."
It took a moment for me to cotton on. Then I said: "Mother's one hundredth? It couldn't be you. You weren't there. Roz and Jess's cat Figgy was there. That's why he's in the picture."
"Well I'm thinking of leaving home," he said.
"You already do," I retorted. "Every night after supper. And every bloody morning you're back for breakfast."
As suddenly as he was miffed he was mollified.
He grinned his cat grin.
"Yeah," he said. "Why break the habit of a lifetime."
HANCOCK AND JOAN. (BBC4)
After Phil Davies and Jason Isaacs as Steptoe and Son, another acting tour de force, Ken Stott as Tony Hancock.
When I read about it in my ultimate digital TV and radio guide I had to look twice. S-S-S-Stott as H-H-H-Hancock? Swipe me, he's nothing like him!
Trouble with playing one-off individuals is that their unique talent defies reproduction. Being a talented original is what made them famous.
At his best Tony Hancock was a comic genius of instantly recognizable voice, loveable pomposity and impeccable timing.
At less than his best he was a talent sadly wasted.
At his worst he was a thoroughly nasty alcoholic.
Ken Stott, neither looking nor sounding like him, managed to portray the lad 'imself - by walk, mannerism and gesture - with uncanny accuracy.
Co-star Maxine Peake was excellent as Joan Le Mesurier, wife of Hancock's actor friend John, who became the ultimate love of the comedian's life.
With Hughie Green (Trevor Eve) and Frankie Howerd (David Walliams) to follow, The Curse of Comedy is proving to be a very fine drama series indeed.
TWO DETECTIVES TOO MANY.
Last Thursday saw the final episode in the current run of two detective shows. Ashes to Ashes (BBC1) and Trial & Retribution (ITV1).
I can't say I was sorry to see them go. Hard-bitten, tough-talking tecs are a bit wearisome after a while. Two of them on the same night can become downright tiresome: anyway, I get niggly trying to decide which of them to record.
So I hope DCI Gene Hunt (Philip Glenister) and Chief Supt. Michael Walker (David Hayman) will be given a long holiday.
Bring back Miss Marple.
HE KILLS COPPERS. (ITV1)
Another villainous cops and murderous villains yarn. This three-parter, with opening sequences set in 1966, is based on a Jake Arnott novel and brought to mind the early work of G.F.Newman. Everybody is a chancer and nobody half decent lives longer than the first episode.
Keeps you watching, though.
HOTEL BABYLON. (BBC1)
Have you watched this?
Then perhaps you are one of the several million appreciative Babylonians.
Sorry to say I'm not.
I think it's a load of five star bilge.
Dexter Fletcher, as The Concierge, tries hard to give credibility to his and everybody else's part.
Leading actors, first Tamzin Outhwaite then Max Beesley, playing the Hotel Manager, struggle desperately to manage unbelievable staff, impossible guests, ludicrous scripts and unlikely love interests before disappearing, with a relieved sigh, to the West End or the provincial stage for sanity and less money. At the moment Lee Williams has the role. I give him until the end of the series and that's just a P45 away.
Each week a guest star, usually well enough known to know better, turns up and hams it up, presumably for a decent pay packet.
I was all for chucking it in midway through the episode after Max Beesley left: but then, magically, one of the hotel guests (a licentious, conceited actor - yeah, some of it rings true) sat down at a piano and started to play Bohemian Rhapsody. Before you could say Freddie Mercury he was joined by three of the staff in a hilarious parody of the original Queen masterpiece. It almost compensated for the damned silly story.
By the end I was even cheerful enough to accept as guest star the omnipresent John - somebody really should tell him about Kelly Monteith - Barrowman.
Well, you can't blame any entertainer for grabbing all the work he can get.
But I still remember Kelly Monteith.
Do you?
You do?
Bloody hell.
"Are you sulking?" I asked the cat Shadow.
"Why would you care?" he answered sullenly.
"You are," I said. "You're sulking."
He had a quick wash and feigned interest in the line of Harry Potter DVDs alongside the television.
"Come on then, who's rubbed your fur up the wrong way?" I demanded.
"I've seen that picture on your blog," he announced aggrievedly."That should have been me, that should."
It took a moment for me to cotton on. Then I said: "Mother's one hundredth? It couldn't be you. You weren't there. Roz and Jess's cat Figgy was there. That's why he's in the picture."
"Well I'm thinking of leaving home," he said.
"You already do," I retorted. "Every night after supper. And every bloody morning you're back for breakfast."
As suddenly as he was miffed he was mollified.
He grinned his cat grin.
"Yeah," he said. "Why break the habit of a lifetime."
HANCOCK AND JOAN. (BBC4)
After Phil Davies and Jason Isaacs as Steptoe and Son, another acting tour de force, Ken Stott as Tony Hancock.
When I read about it in my ultimate digital TV and radio guide I had to look twice. S-S-S-Stott as H-H-H-Hancock? Swipe me, he's nothing like him!
Trouble with playing one-off individuals is that their unique talent defies reproduction. Being a talented original is what made them famous.
At his best Tony Hancock was a comic genius of instantly recognizable voice, loveable pomposity and impeccable timing.
At less than his best he was a talent sadly wasted.
At his worst he was a thoroughly nasty alcoholic.
Ken Stott, neither looking nor sounding like him, managed to portray the lad 'imself - by walk, mannerism and gesture - with uncanny accuracy.
Co-star Maxine Peake was excellent as Joan Le Mesurier, wife of Hancock's actor friend John, who became the ultimate love of the comedian's life.
With Hughie Green (Trevor Eve) and Frankie Howerd (David Walliams) to follow, The Curse of Comedy is proving to be a very fine drama series indeed.
TWO DETECTIVES TOO MANY.
Last Thursday saw the final episode in the current run of two detective shows. Ashes to Ashes (BBC1) and Trial & Retribution (ITV1).
I can't say I was sorry to see them go. Hard-bitten, tough-talking tecs are a bit wearisome after a while. Two of them on the same night can become downright tiresome: anyway, I get niggly trying to decide which of them to record.
So I hope DCI Gene Hunt (Philip Glenister) and Chief Supt. Michael Walker (David Hayman) will be given a long holiday.
Bring back Miss Marple.
HE KILLS COPPERS. (ITV1)
Another villainous cops and murderous villains yarn. This three-parter, with opening sequences set in 1966, is based on a Jake Arnott novel and brought to mind the early work of G.F.Newman. Everybody is a chancer and nobody half decent lives longer than the first episode.
Keeps you watching, though.
HOTEL BABYLON. (BBC1)
Have you watched this?
Then perhaps you are one of the several million appreciative Babylonians.
Sorry to say I'm not.
I think it's a load of five star bilge.
Dexter Fletcher, as The Concierge, tries hard to give credibility to his and everybody else's part.
Leading actors, first Tamzin Outhwaite then Max Beesley, playing the Hotel Manager, struggle desperately to manage unbelievable staff, impossible guests, ludicrous scripts and unlikely love interests before disappearing, with a relieved sigh, to the West End or the provincial stage for sanity and less money. At the moment Lee Williams has the role. I give him until the end of the series and that's just a P45 away.
Each week a guest star, usually well enough known to know better, turns up and hams it up, presumably for a decent pay packet.
I was all for chucking it in midway through the episode after Max Beesley left: but then, magically, one of the hotel guests (a licentious, conceited actor - yeah, some of it rings true) sat down at a piano and started to play Bohemian Rhapsody. Before you could say Freddie Mercury he was joined by three of the staff in a hilarious parody of the original Queen masterpiece. It almost compensated for the damned silly story.
By the end I was even cheerful enough to accept as guest star the omnipresent John - somebody really should tell him about Kelly Monteith - Barrowman.
Well, you can't blame any entertainer for grabbing all the work he can get.
But I still remember Kelly Monteith.
Do you?
You do?
Bloody hell.
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