On White Collar, despite the large amount of press about the supposed bromance between Burke nand Caffrey, TPTB keep explicitly stating that no matter how friendly the boys are, deep down they don't trust each other and are willing to betray each other and, this, we are told, is what keeps the show exciting.
I beg to differ. It keeps the show distressing and distancing. Who wants to watch two supposed friends knife each other in the back? Or, at least, be expected to watch it and still respect them in the morning? (Not on, not even in Oz politics).
Butch and Sundance? Hardly. More like Pat Garrett and billy the Kid.
Meanwhile, over on Sherlock, we're told that no matter how prickly the boys are with each other, deep down there is a real connection and friendship and yes, even affection. They understand they are what each other needs, the missing parts of themselves. All very co-dependent but when it comes down to it, they would do anything for each other.
So, which is the better approach? Well, Holmes and Watson have been going for over a hundred years, so if longetivity and popularity and continued relevance was any measure, I'd have to say the Holmes/Watson aproach to bromance wins.
This, alas, will make no difference to the White Collar folks who seem determined to cling to unpopular themes, plots, characters and what have you and ignore anything organic or interesting that pops up, not to mention an inexplicable almost criminal inability to exploit the intense chemistry between the two so called leads (given the show seems to revolve around other characters far too much). It drives me mad.
Anyway, I saw the original version of Sherlock, and yes, the broadcast version is much, much better, but I still liked it, and it demonstrated a team that was willing to take what worked and ramp it, and dump or play down what didn't, and what we have is a splendid, glittering prize of a television programme.
White Collar, meanwhile, remains pretty, but soulless. You need to work on that, guys. Really. Because over on Sherlock, sociopath though he may be, I do, I do believe that Holmes really cares for Watson. In fact, it's quite adorably sweet, the way they instantly bond and get under each other's skin (not to mention the way everyone keeps suggesting the obvious). The way Holmes always seems so surprised by the feelings Watson evokes in his so called cold heart (methinks Holmes doth protest too much in that regard). Not to mention Watson's dry but still out there hero worship of Holmes. They have found each other. It's all too cute.
Wouldst that it were Burke and Caffrey against the world, rather than each other, but alas, no. I just don't get it.
Is it a cultutal thing, this distrust, this every man for himself, this clawing at each other that seems to be endemic in US reality shows but reviled and absent in local ones (so I've read, anyway, I never watch the buggers but apparently we prefer more caring, sharing, teamworky shows).
Is it that, or are the writers on WC just...well...you know, dicks? Is it some facet of American male culture I'm just not getting? Is it squealing homophobia (no, wait, we're far more homophobic than the good old Yanks these days) that keeps the boys at a decided distance?
I just don't get it. Whatever happened to "I like you. Let's solve crime!!!"?
Thank F' for the Brits. Thank F' for Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. The buddy template: mess with it at your peril.
Speaking of buddy shows, watched the last Human Target (sigh). I wasn't at all well, but I liked. I have to admit, (and, to borrow from Mr Stewart, it was so cheesy it farted Cheetos dust), I just loved to bits Lee Majors passing on the tv tough guy mantle to Our Hero. It was just so cheesy, and yet, having grown up on those shows to which lids were being dipped, just so lovely and gooey, too. And kinda very Bullshitters, in a disturbing way.
As for the chick who turned young Chance's head and made his cold, dead heart go pitter pat, who could this woman possibly be? Oh, Amy Acker? Okay, fair enough, then. Nice work in casting one of the only actresses I'd believe in that role. Her boat blasty demise though, very White Collar, very soap opera, and I won't be surprised but I will be very disappointed if she shows up again (they never can help themselves, these male writers and their Mary Sues).
And honestly, Chance, not taking Lee Major's advice? Kids today, eh? It's the same old problem (cf White Collar writers), always thinking they know better than their elders, to detrimental effect.
But at at least we got the origin tale, of sorts, and set up next season. All a bit pedestrian, but I'm so suckered into this show I don't care. They hit enough of the right notes for me to stay happy (I even saw Simon Templar play the old confuse the cop radio game the other day). Oh yeah, I saw the bad cops one, the one with Dylan, twice, or bits of twice, but I was kinda trippy unwell by that stage so it all kinda swirls together. I like this show.
Oh, oh, I forgot to mention, Boyd popped up in the ad break. Boyd from Justfied. Yep, saw an ad for Justified and Southland, promised as coming soon on Go!
Outstanding. I tell ya, if Go! keeps buying the shows I wanna watch, I'm gonna cut my losses with Foxtel, make no mistake. Cause I need to economise and unless I'm home sick and have it welded to Fox Classics during the day, I just don't watch it any more.
Well, okay, I was watching True Blood last night. Still loving it, even though we had the return of the fright wig, yikes (I can take anything True Blood throws at me, but not the fright wig), as we got the young Blondie was a feckless, horny young lad soon burdened with familial duties of revenge, oh, against the vamp with whom he's currently couch surfing. Awkward!
Meanwhile everyone else was engaging in wildly inappropriate personal relationships. It's why I love it so.
Burn Notice? This so could have been that x-over episode they keep threatening, what with the art thefty stuff and all, but no, and it was all kinda boring. Did I zone out last week, too? I felt like I was missing certain plot points. Not that it mattered. Spotted whodunnit in the first few minutes and had to wait the rest of the episode for Michael to catch up. Oh dear.
Did watch some old Dr Who repeats, as they play during tea time, if I'm home, and I was. It was the Dr's Daughter one (there's a plot thread that went nowhere) and good grief to the genesis themes. To be honest, I only mention it because when the Dr announced that the planet's new legend should say he "was the man who never would", the Peanut Gallery snorted that it was an even lamer mission statement than any of those used by the Labor party in the latest election. Which was fairly damning commentary, if you've just lived through the last (non) election.
I won't go on about the Doctor not using guns. To my mind, using K-9, water, fire, foam or any weapons to hand so long as he's not the one pushing the button, is, to my mind, trying to have his pacifist cake and eat it, too. So he doesn't use guns. So what? Much like my grumble when I used to watch MacGyver: a weapon is a weapon, it doesn't matter if it's just a stick.
But that's a whole 'nother post, it's just that, well, it rankles when they get overly precious like that. Especially the Doctor. Seriously, dude, wake up and smell the napalm. Pacifist indeed. My Aunt Fanny, etc, etc.
And Rusty, with the endless god bothering in these Dr Who episodes. We await the inevitable Evelyn Waugh conversion at any moment.
That's pretty much it. Any week that involves buckets and mops ain't a good one. I've been a little under the weather. And I was so proud of myself on Tuesday, when I got through the day, and so productively, too (six google maps, a template and an ajax app) but then all my work got ripped to shreds and I felt like I was being ripped to shreds. Pride always goes before a fall, I guess.
Saturday: Bloody hell. Forget everything I said about Human Target. Alas, the dreaded dead hand of studio retooling strikes again. Sayonara.
Distressed over the news about Andy Whitfield. Don't why but I am.
And it started off as such a wonderful day, a warm spring morning, a Chuck dvd, the jasmine and magnolias blooming. Then I went outside with my cuppa and the workmen next door started and it was all downhill from there.
And I discovered to my horror the IQ had failed to record all the Roger Moore Maverick's this week. And the bloody red light was on and everythiing, Harumph.
I think I'll give up and watch the end of Lewis.
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