Peter Reynolds

The life and times of Peter Reynolds

Archive for the ‘television’ Category

The World Cup Beckons

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The Big Match

I despise football.   I really do.  It’s everything it stands for – the appalling, vulgar display of tasteless, oafish, dare I say “chav” behaviour.  It’s a thin, insubstantial sport populated by overpaid primadonnas who behave appallingly and set a terrible example to youth.

What a pompous old git I am!

It’s a completely different thing isn’t it when it gets infused with the spirit of international competition?

It’ll never be rugby though,  so those that want to see the original, totally uplifting South African story go to the 1995 Rugby World Cup finals.   That was a similar occasion but with a proper sport.  In fact,  go to Invictus, the absolutely fantastic movie which tells the whole story.

I have been taken up by it though.  Africa has a wonderful exuberance and I was caught by the romance of the first match, delighted that South Africa managed a draw.   Then, who could resist a chance to see the French go down?   And go down they did!  Well, they scraped a draw against a 10 man Uruguay side when they were the favourites.  Lovely to watch!

So it looks like I’m hooked in.   There’s nothing else on anyway.  It’s been a welcome relief from the tribes of harridan, conspiracy-obsessed bloggers in the US.  As a Brit, a Welshman living in England, I am grateful to live in a country which has a sense of perspective.   We are not of Europe.  We are certainly not of either the Middle or Far East.  Thank God we’ve got more history than the Americans.  This is still the land of the free.  Nowhere else comes close.

And tomorrow Barack Obama is going to find out whose arse is “gonna get kicked”.  Then maybe he’ll mind his manners and remember who his friends are.

En-ger-land!

Sex And The City

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I Don't Think Much Of Yours

The sight of these four pitifully deluded women on the sofa today promoting their new film…..eurrghh!  It has to be one of the most embarrassing things I have seen.  I saw the much-more-gorgeous-than-them Susanna Reid interviewing these hags on BBC Breakfast this morning.  I had to switch over urgently it was so excruciating.

The expression “mutton dressed as lamb” isn’t quite right.  It’s more like “sad fifty-something dressed as bad taste hooker”.  In fact, I thought the Bradford hookers also being interviewed today were much better looking.

How can these four preposterous women display themselves in such gaudy, tacky, cringeworthy fashion – fashion?  Do they think those ridiculous shoes, those absurd hairdos, those undignified dresses have any appeal at all?

This is about as far away from sexy as you can get.  It’s almost enough to make me start looking at boys!

The Young Apprentice

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"It's not my fault!"

Doesn’t this  programme reveal the real truth about “The (Grown Up) Apprentice”?

All those retarded, celebrity-wannabees who would never have lasted five minutes in a real business were children themselves.  The very idea that any of them had any idea what they were talking about was just a hugely patronising insult to the viewer.  Incidentally, I’m reserving the title “The Adult Apprentice” for a really innovative little idea that’s on my very top shelf.

It’s an indictment of the researchers that work on this sort of lowbrow dross.  They chose the idiot contestants on “The (Grown Up) Apprentice” to fail and to indulge in all sorts of puerile angst and confrontation.  I prefer “The Young Apprentice”.  It’s much more honest, more amusing and entertaining without making the contestants look like idiots.   This is the way I would expect children to behave!

I can’t wait for one of the kids to call him Lord Suralan.   Seems to me he’d make a perfect chairman for the FA, which is just another load of nonsense for spoilt kids.

Anyway, in “The Adult Apprentice” you won’t get fired but you will be punished.

The Pacific

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Until more than three-quarters of the way through, I was so, so disappointed in “The Pacific”.  Of course, it had an awful lot to live up to.  “Band Of Brothers”, its forerunner, although produced as  a TV series, has to be one of the very best war movies of all time.  “The Pacific” doesn’t even come close.   That’s not to say that it isn’t excellent in its own right because it is but it isn’t in the same league, battalion or regiment as “Band Of Brothers”.

It’s a ten part series and until epsiode five I was bored.   That’s not just because there’s a lack of action – there is – but there’s also very little characterisation or story.  In “Band Of Brothers” you feel like you’re part of the platoon yourself. You grow to know and love each individual and you experience fear, grief, tension, terror alongside all of them.  It wasn’t until epsiode eight of “The Pacific” when Sergeant Basilone falls in love with Lena, marries her and is then shipped to Iwo Jima that I felt the same searing emotional intensity.  I remember when I first watched “Band Of Brothers”, each epsiode was like experiencing an intense personal tragedy.  I would feel drained, exhausted and traumatised.  It was almost too much but although it finishes well, “The Pacific” is not quite enough.  Perhaps the most moving scene of all is in epsiode nine when Eugene comforts a dying Japanese woman.  This is magnificent film making.

I think war is the ultimate movie genre.  It describes the human condition at the very edge. Like all men, I am fascinated with horror, doubt and uncertainty about how I would behave in combat.  I deplore violent films but when the story requires it, realism is essential.  A war movie should make you understand the reality in detail, explicitly and make you turn away from violence.

My old friend Bruce won an Emmy and a Golden Globe working as a producer on “Band Of Brothers” and I remember talking to him about the sound of gunfire.  He explained the effort involved in achieving a more realistic sound than ever before.  You can hear how in every movie thereafter it’s been picked up and enhanced.

“The Pacific” does take realism even further.  The spray of blood that bursts from a soldier’s body as he is hit, the red mist that appears around a group of soldiers as shrapnel lacerates them is horrifying.  The graphic dismemberment and vile, grotesque injury that nowadays we see soldiers survive is beyond words.  At times the cast is wading through a sea of body parts, of arms, legs, hands, feet.  I think we now accept the shocking reality of this because today we see the survivors of such injury. At last, in the battle for Iwo Jima, “The Pacific” begins to communicate the deeply distressing heroism, the humbling, horrifying courage that these young men, our forefathers, summoned up to free the world from tyranny and allow us to enjoy the freedom that we do today.

There is a real mistake in some of the earlier episodes when many of the scenes are just too dark.  There isn’t even the excuse of it being made for the big screen.  It’s just wrong.  Also some of the CGI, particularly in wide shots of amphibious landings for instance, doesn’t work.  It’s not as convincing as the more primitive, model based effects in “Band Of Brothers”

There is one part of “The Pacific” that deserves the very highest praise.  The titles are quite simply one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen on television or at the cinema.  They consist of extreme close ups of an artist drawing battle scenes with charcoal.  As the charcoal disintegrates into dust and splinters on the page it mixes through to become the detritus of battle, the dirt, dust and shrapnel of combat.  The backgrounds merge with finely textured, laid paper, with live action, graphics and animation.  It really is quite breathtakingly, achingly beautiful.  All the more so so because its subject is precisely the opposite.  The wonderful, haunting theme music is the same as “Band Of Brothers”.  At least that’s the way I hear it.  If it isn’t then it’s been composed to be so similar that they might as well have stuck with the original.

All in all, I did, eventually, greatly enjoy “The Pacific”.  Most of all though it shows just how bloody marvellous  “Band Of Brothers” is.

My Deep, Dark Secret

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I have a deep, dark secret.  It’s something I keep to myself.  I haven’t told anyone, not my friends, my parents, certainly not my sons.

Every Saturday, early evening, for about the past six or seven weeks I’ve been indulging myself in something that I’m little ashamed of.  I don’t know why (well, I do), as on the face of it it’s wholesome and innocent but, the truth is, they all drag thoughts and feelings out of me that are far from wholesome, far from innocent.  All of them.

They all care about it so much.  It means so much to each one of them.  Each of them puts every last part of their heart and soul into doing the very best they can.  I sit through the whole show weeping gently at their sincerity, their effort, their charm, how pretty they are.

Quattro Formaggi

Yes it’s true, it’s truly pathetic.  I am besotted.  Each one of them is truly delightful, one minute ingenue, next minute vamp, all so very, very talented.

They are the girls of “Over The Rainbow”, Andrew Lloyd-Webber’s latest audition show to find Dorothy for The Wizard of Oz.

They are all gorgeous and I think I must be a dirty old man!

The Great British Menu

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I love food programmes.  It’s probably because I’m a glutton.  Saturday Kitchen is a must.  I organise every Saturday morning around it.  James Martin has done a wonderful job with his show.   I remember how excruciatingly awkward he was to begin with.  Now he’s become the epitome of the accomplished, almost suave TV chef.   I love it.

Masterchef?  It’s the one.  The music.  The relentless driving beat.  I don’t know whether it’s house or trance or what.   It’s clubbing.  Its addictive.  It’s the one.  I’m totally, utterly,  obsessed, enslaved.   It’s much, much better than sex!

Now the Great British Menu is back with its useful, early evening slot.  It sets me up for a TV night in.  There’s the lovable, opinionated Matthew Fort, the sweet and incisive Oliver Peyton and, forgive me ma’am, the royal, dignified, supreme Prue Leith.  These are the judges but it’s the boys (with one exception) in the kitchen that make the show.  The new format, where an uber TV-chef pre-judges three pretenders, works very well.  It’s a triumph really because they’ve taken their material and hugely padded it out, yet It’s better for it.  This is the ultimate lesson in how to make great TV in a recession.

The rivalry and camaraderie between the contestants is an extraordinary combination and really seems to get the best out of each of them.

Apart from the election, it’s the most entertaining thing on television.

The One Show

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I have followed the One Show loyally and faithfully from the very beginning to now, I’m afraid, the end.

Christine has lost her innocence and joined the celebrity merry-go-round.  Adrian has been done down in an offensive way by the BBC management and is moving on to bigger and better things.

It was great while it lasted but now it is becoming a parody of itself.

It is over.

Written by Peter Reynolds

April 22, 2010 at 7:09 pm

Dermot’s X Factor Interviews

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He's Got It!

Dermot O’Leary’s interviews with David Cameron and Nick Clegg, tonight on BBC3, were incisive and inspiring in a way that none of the other debates or interviews have been.

Perhaps precisely because they were aimed at a 16-24 year old audience, these were forward looking, exciting programmes.  Look to your laurels, Paxman, Dimbleby, et al.

I think Dermot will tear Gordon Brown to pieces next week.

Written by Peter Reynolds

April 21, 2010 at 9:18 pm

Amy Williams

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She was spectacular winning her gold medal at the Winter Olympics.  She was equally mesmerising last night on “Question Of Sport”.

I realise that “our Amy” has one elusive, temporary quality which we can only enjoy for a little longer.  She doesn’t yet know just how gorgeous she really is!

Written by Peter Reynolds

April 10, 2010 at 11:30 am

Channel 4 – The Air Hospital

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This was magnificent television, enough surely to shock us all out of our complacency.  Watch it here.

It was the story of the courageous team that flies our badly injured heroes home from Afghanistan in a C17 aircraft, converted to one large intensive care unit.  Every second of this documentary is shot through with pain, heroism, trauma and the utter pointlessness of the war.

I am afraid that I don’t believe we will be any further on in Afghanistan in another year.  I don’t believe that having our troops there now is making our country safer.  I think it actually makes terrorist attacks more likely.

What this programme reminded me of most effectively is that every time we hear of another soldier who has lost his life, there are four or five others, horribly mutilated and facing a future which may well be worse than death.

It has been said a hundred times but we need to say it a hundred times more, every day.  This is an unwinnable war, a pointless war.

Bring our boys home now!

Written by Peter Reynolds

March 26, 2010 at 11:58 am