Found another Simm interview, and it's another "Simm has a hangover" interview. Heh. He's either hung over or drinking like a fish (Independent interview no longer archived online, to the best of my googling ability, alas). I'm not commenting or tsking, I'm just frightfully amused and more than a little envious of my favourite hedonist. Small wonder he was at the NME awards. He's very rock and roll, is our John. I imagine him like Peter O'Toole in some dim, distant future.
Meanwhile, I realise that, aside from the fillums on Tuesday, I'd gone an entire week without tv. Wot a week. No wonder I was knackered if there wasn't even telly time. I didn't get my arse down in front of the box until Friday night's D&P marathon, with episodes on the ABC and UKTV again (some overlap, but the latter are repeats). Not such a great episode, focusing more on Peter's domestic woes (none of which had to do with the fatman) to the point that the actual crime was relegated to B plot status, which it probably deserved, being some silliness over monkey gland injections or some such. It played out like a script written by committee, and it probably was, with various plots that, on their own, and properly explored, could have made half decent stories, but all stuck in the blender, they just amounted to WTF?
And as for the cgi tiger, burning bright, in the forests of the night, what nerd's hand or eye could frame thy fearful symmetry? It's just not quite right, is it? And as for the gay, yet plenty of murderous illegimate sons subplot, purlease. Contrived as.
Oh, speaking of which, I was watching some of the '74 (but filmed in '73 because of tax disks, calenders, etc, OMG I'm turning into one of the dreaded and very scary tissue box brigade that frighten me away from the LOM boards) series of Special Branch. The first episode had flirty Tom go undercover and fall in love with a guy, well, it looked like he was into the guy because they were doing all the bonding (you have to see it), but it turned out it was the girl he was supposed to be interested in, because suddenly we're into a 15 minute montage of the kind usually used to flog those goawful compilations they advertise on tv. Life on Mars PTB? No montages, or I will come over there and rip yer bloody arms orf (btw, they filmed some of Aunty Jack in the UK in '73 - oh dear).
Anyways, it all went bust when he was outed as a cop, as it does (cf Spooks). The second episode was much more fun, featuring, I shit you not, a deadly drag queen assassin. Imagine me sitting there watching, my wee brain melting out my ears. This episode has to be seen to be believed. No drag on the boys, please, because I hate/loathe/despise that, I just want the drag queen assassin and the boys going off to the drag club, and calling each other duckie, to try and ID said glittery killer disco diva. OMG, this soooo needs to be a LOM episode.
Except they're CID, not special branch, and have you noticed how insular most of the cases are? I mean, it would be local, most times, but there's no mention of the IRA, etc. I'm curious as to whether it's indicative of Sam's bubble universe or not.
But still, LOM PTB, watch the Catherine The Great episode of Special Branch. There's fine fodder in there.
Also watched The Saint (with William Gaunt aka the other one from The Champions), The New Avengers (in a very silly revenge plot and that chick from UFO) and The Sweeney in a rather cracking episode with very, very silly ski masks and a plot that could be neatly summed up by a Pet Shop Boys song (in other words, West End girl screws over East End boy).
The other thing I managed to find time to watch was Clocking Off. Oh, I turned, I turned, or rather returned. With no Simm to distract me, there was nowt to do but ogle, lust, swoon and drool over my Phil, and ogle, lust, swoon and drool I did. Oh boy, but did the camera guy love Phil. Some very, very lovely shots of him in this, and he gets loads of screen time as the story progresses, and there's Phil!angst by the bucketload. *love*
Oh boy, did I give into the Guv luv. That was fun. Must make some time for some more Phil this week.
Episode two, in case you'd not seen it, features Christopher Eccleston, and, as he got his kit off in one scene, I began thinking upon how many Doctors I'd seen naked and there was no way of stopping that runaway train of a thought until it ended up as a twisted train wreck. I mean, seeing the ninth and tenth Doctors Who naked is okay and fine, it's once one starts counting backwards that it becomes problematic. My eyes, my eyes.
Sunday evening's programme included the second part of The Silence, which became so arty at times I was momentarily confused as to the plot, but I found the resolution of childish flashbacks and murders and mysteries resolved much more neatly, nicely and believably than, say, the last episode of Life on Mars. Sorry, Sam, but Richard was just better here, both actor and character, or maybe it was just the fact that I was watching an Australian actor react in an Australian way that made it seem real, despite the somewhat contrived plot. And RR is still very, very shaggable.
You know what's really disgraceful? Only recognising local actors from foreign productions (mind you, most local stuff is sadly low budget bilge) and seeing an ad for Macbeth the other day and not recognising a single actor. Ouch. I am ashamed, for my part, and saddened that I don't get to see more Australian actors, unless they're in a foreign production (or that rare, once every blue moon, local show worth watching).
And, switching off the homegrown, I indulged in another imported delicacy. This time Hotel Babylon. It was, as the paper said, not broccoli televsion, not at all. It had all the fibre and nutrition of a Krispy Kreme doughnut, but, by heck, it was good. Fun and froth from start to finish, a glossy, shallow little number, but very digestable and it did answer the question of whatever had happened to Dexter Fletcher, Max Beesley and Craig Kelly.
Other than that there was scanning, gardening, reading the papers, no proper cleaning at all despite all areas of the house in desperate need of attention. I know I should have done more, but I'm useless afterdark (I can't see) and after a week of twelve hours days, a 100km round trip commute via overcrowded third world buses on top of that, and flu and pms on top of that, curling up with a dvd in the wee dark hours is better than crying, imho. And, to be honest, I've let the kitchen go so badly that's it's beyond my insomniac efforts these days, so I don't bother.
I know I'm falling into the trap of work and nowt else again, but it's harder to get motivated to go out in winter when it'll involve at least two hours standing around in the dark and cold waiting for a bus, and the last six months worth of attempts at being outgoing and assertive has just ended up with muggins here getting her head kicked in, repeatedly and quite literally. Nobody loves a fat chick.
So you can see how sliding home to a night of dvd love can become the most seductive option. I can't even go to the cheapest dvd shop any more for fear of being punched in the face. I love the shop near work though, the clerk guy (the secret love child of Daffyd and Simon Pegg) is very sweet, but I do wish they'd have more stock. I'm willing to pay the price for nice, but not so interested in Dad's Army dvds these days.
Will I get to the ABC shop for another fix, or will it close two hours before my masters finally unock the leg irons and set me free, as happened all last week?
And to end on a seasonal note, read/watch this:
Fondue blog: bad bunny movies
TV Doctor saves Queen from werewolf
Doctor Who: Time Laird
Sorry, what's your name again?
From This Life to the next as cult show returns
Never say never to John Simm
The problem with old-fashioned policing
American TV networks go in search of 'Life on Mars'
ABC to remake BBC's time-travel cop show Life on Mars
TELEVISION: My collars are bigger than yours...
John Simm on TV
Life on Mars BBC1
Property Investment News
A past that isn't past it
TV drama: a new golden age?
Life on Mars goes into orbit
The Film Centre
King of Surf
Morrissey live in Manchester: A potted history
Morrissey rockets to top of charts
Morrissey tops merged album chart
Franz Ferdinand: band and brand
Russell T Davies: The saviour of Saturday night drama
Up Jimmy’s street
Silence is golden
You must remember this
In praise of moving pictures (Gaiman)
Jake dives in at the deep end
The Awful Truth
Man from U.N.C.L.E., The - The Secrets of The Man From U.N.C.L.E. DVDs...De-Classified!
Pierce: I feel human again
On TV: 'West Wing' brings election contest to a satisfying close
Six Feet Under laid to rest
TV fans, this online service wants to be your buddy
New Hope for Head Injuries
D.B. Sweeney Directorial Debut "Dirt Nap" Closes Method Fest