When I was a child, documentaries were anathema, getting in the way of the fun stuff of tv. There seemed to be a lot of them.
Now that I'm too old to have time to watch tv, the death knell seems to already have been sounded for documentaries. There are a few, scattered here and there, but the only consistency I can find is the mixed bag that both SBS and ABC run on Sunday nights. Even then, I will not usually have the opportunity to watch, since their timing coincides with the maelstrom of running the kids through the processes of getting them to bed.
By documentary, I seem to be referring to history and science. On reflection. The kids are quite happy with nature programmes, and I'm happy when they learn something of evolution from that, which they do.
Australian regulations mandate a certain number of hours per week to be devoted to "non-fiction" type programming. But that has traditionally allowed the commercial channels to indulge in little more than tabloid journalism. And the market seems to have lurched decidedly towards the tabloid end in more recent times. This became epitomised by the uber-tabloid reality tv programming, which is in vogue not least because it is so cheap to produce. And which, while they may for some provide an able source of material for certain sociological analysis, are not really the stuff of great insight.
This is all quite a pity, as I've found the new technologies are a marvellous way to supplement broadcast documentaries: whenever the narrative veers on a tangent, or moves on while leaving potent questions unanswered, I can immediately explore the topic further on the web.
Unfortunately, the best chance I get for decent documentary tv these days is via videos at the local library.
Showing posts with label tv. Show all posts
Showing posts with label tv. Show all posts
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Monday, February 09, 2009
Kenneth Clark's Civilisation
Kenneth Clark's vision of civilisation had a viscereal effect on me.
Not too long ago, I happened upon the 1973 BBC series The Ascent Of Man, a monumental dissertation by Jacob Bronowski. It is a scientist's view of the history of humanity, and Bronowski is very humanist and thoughtful - in both the philosophical and analytical senses - in his considerations. An intellectual pleasure to watch.
It was made as a complement to Clark's 1969 series Civilisation. Again, I happened on this - at the local library - and was interested in this art historian's view of history - also said to be monumental.
However, I found this work to be disturbing rather than thought-provoking. Clark had ideas and narrative too, and put a lot of thought into it. Yet he quite struck me as fascistic in his view of the progress of history. His was an elitist perspective, whereby the watchword was a specific romantic vision of the "hero" - a unique person in history who by force of will forged a part of civilisation.
This was not Bronowski's gentle but rousing celebration of achievement; more, a Nietzchean tale of the triumph of the spirit over mere mortals, while ignoring all those that provide the milieu in which the individual achieves. Not to decry the achievements of a Shakespeare or a Da Vinci, but a lack of celebration of the synergetics of a society is ignorant at best.
As a scientist, Bonowski knows the scientific dialectic is a marvellous example of the joy of collective achievement and the exciting exchange of ideas. Particularly insightful and imaginative individuals such as Charles Darwin are rightly lauded as leaving a full body of meaningful work. But we learn and foster ideas when we have a culture in which to express. And those who have contributed ideas that languish - such as Mendel - can be resurrected later when those ideas are discovered to contribute anew to the dialectic.
Clark's world is one in which an Albert Speer could have been lauded - if his creations had survived context. Success is its own justification; in this world, Carravagio could be seen as being rightly justified in torturing models to death in search of his muse.
On a personal level, I feel Clark has debased the legacy of some of those whose work I admire, such as Michelangelo and Da Vinci. And better celebrations of history through architecture and art can be found.
Not too long ago, I happened upon the 1973 BBC series The Ascent Of Man, a monumental dissertation by Jacob Bronowski. It is a scientist's view of the history of humanity, and Bronowski is very humanist and thoughtful - in both the philosophical and analytical senses - in his considerations. An intellectual pleasure to watch.
It was made as a complement to Clark's 1969 series Civilisation. Again, I happened on this - at the local library - and was interested in this art historian's view of history - also said to be monumental.
However, I found this work to be disturbing rather than thought-provoking. Clark had ideas and narrative too, and put a lot of thought into it. Yet he quite struck me as fascistic in his view of the progress of history. His was an elitist perspective, whereby the watchword was a specific romantic vision of the "hero" - a unique person in history who by force of will forged a part of civilisation.
This was not Bronowski's gentle but rousing celebration of achievement; more, a Nietzchean tale of the triumph of the spirit over mere mortals, while ignoring all those that provide the milieu in which the individual achieves. Not to decry the achievements of a Shakespeare or a Da Vinci, but a lack of celebration of the synergetics of a society is ignorant at best.
As a scientist, Bonowski knows the scientific dialectic is a marvellous example of the joy of collective achievement and the exciting exchange of ideas. Particularly insightful and imaginative individuals such as Charles Darwin are rightly lauded as leaving a full body of meaningful work. But we learn and foster ideas when we have a culture in which to express. And those who have contributed ideas that languish - such as Mendel - can be resurrected later when those ideas are discovered to contribute anew to the dialectic.
Clark's world is one in which an Albert Speer could have been lauded - if his creations had survived context. Success is its own justification; in this world, Carravagio could be seen as being rightly justified in torturing models to death in search of his muse.
On a personal level, I feel Clark has debased the legacy of some of those whose work I admire, such as Michelangelo and Da Vinci. And better celebrations of history through architecture and art can be found.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Flight Of The Conchords
Belatedly due to a pointer from my New Zealand sister, I have become addicted to a duo of annoying New Zealand musicians and comics, Flight Of The Conchords.
The premise for this Emmy-nominated no-budget sitcom is a pair of New Zealanders trying to hit it big in New York.
Buried within a costume of weak humour is a truly engaging, dry wit, and a surprising depth of musicianship that could score all the points on its own.
I find it particularly funny that they see all Australians as their natural enemies.
Aggrevating and engaging, deceptively talented.
The premise for this Emmy-nominated no-budget sitcom is a pair of New Zealanders trying to hit it big in New York.
Buried within a costume of weak humour is a truly engaging, dry wit, and a surprising depth of musicianship that could score all the points on its own.
I find it particularly funny that they see all Australians as their natural enemies.
Aggrevating and engaging, deceptively talented.
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Firefly: The drop Inara Club
I'm not going to be melodramatic about this, but Firefly would be much better off with a different person playing the Inara character.
The commentary indicated that the original Inara actor was shot mostly in one-shot, because Joss Whedon had anticipated replacing her.
Well, he replaced her with the wrong actor. I would advocate - when the off-the-shelf software is commonplace - someone splice in another actor as Inara. We could have a competition for the best Inara performance. It would enhance the original.
The commentary indicated that the original Inara actor was shot mostly in one-shot, because Joss Whedon had anticipated replacing her.
Well, he replaced her with the wrong actor. I would advocate - when the off-the-shelf software is commonplace - someone splice in another actor as Inara. We could have a competition for the best Inara performance. It would enhance the original.
Friday, September 19, 2008
Lewis Black on creation; Bronowski on humans
Something to round off the week. A comedian gives a perspective on creationism that is quite apposite - and funny. Lewis Black doesn't need to engage from a rationalist point of view - but it's not a rationalist argument anyway.
In the process he has a dig at the lack of commitment to solar energy.
Don't know the bloke, but he seems all right on the whole. (Again, thanks to Bill for the reference.)
I also watched some of a BBC documentary series from 1973, Jacob Bronowski's The Ascent Of Man (sic). It's very specifically Dr Bronowski's perspective, and despite the date, I can't fault his take on the emergence of human civilisation. On the basis of what I've seen so far, well worth a wat
In the process he has a dig at the lack of commitment to solar energy.
Don't know the bloke, but he seems all right on the whole. (Again, thanks to Bill for the reference.)
I also watched some of a BBC documentary series from 1973, Jacob Bronowski's The Ascent Of Man (sic). It's very specifically Dr Bronowski's perspective, and despite the date, I can't fault his take on the emergence of human civilisation. On the basis of what I've seen so far, well worth a wat
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Television lost: The Lost Room
Recently I watched another interesting tv production of the blink-and-you-miss-it variety.
The Lost Room is a mini-series, again with a science fiction basis.
The premise, in a nutshell, revolves around a motel room and a set of objects from therein with unusual properties, prime of which is the key.
The protagonist is fending off several different groups with an interest in the objects, while trying to rescue his daughter from the room.
Central to the whole history is a mysterious temporal Event that affected the room, the objects, and potentially the whole space-time continuum.
The central tenet is unusual, the plot and characters are engaging, and it's not without its humour, especially whenever someone gets whacked with a bus ticket.
The mechanics behind the phenomena are not ultimately explained to satisfaction, but it's enough to go along for the ride as the plot gets more and more engrossing.
The full story is structured over the course of six tv hours - which normally corresponds to about six times 42 minutes in real time. The Lost Room demonstrates several advantages a mini-series has over standard tv drama. Not only is there a well-developed story which travels to a defined conclusion; moreover, it is not subject to relatively sudden termination by a tv network that loses interest. Although such cancellation can fuel the mythos and fandom behind the work - as with Journeyman, but more especially with Firefly - the brevity of the experience and abruptness of ending can leave a sour tinge of dissatisfaction. With the networks in particular.
The Lost Room was obviously designed to be self-contained, yet in its ending it fudged its future in deliberately leaving a door ajar for a second series. Perhaps if it happened, some of the dangling reasoning would be better resolved, but despite some spurious indications on the web, this 2006 series is just not going to return, .
Although Firefly leads the pantheon of sweet and brief sci-fi tv experiences (and its reputation will assuredly linger), The Lost Room is most definitely worth seeking out.
The Lost Room is a mini-series, again with a science fiction basis.
The premise, in a nutshell, revolves around a motel room and a set of objects from therein with unusual properties, prime of which is the key.
The protagonist is fending off several different groups with an interest in the objects, while trying to rescue his daughter from the room.
Central to the whole history is a mysterious temporal Event that affected the room, the objects, and potentially the whole space-time continuum.
The central tenet is unusual, the plot and characters are engaging, and it's not without its humour, especially whenever someone gets whacked with a bus ticket.
The mechanics behind the phenomena are not ultimately explained to satisfaction, but it's enough to go along for the ride as the plot gets more and more engrossing.
The full story is structured over the course of six tv hours - which normally corresponds to about six times 42 minutes in real time. The Lost Room demonstrates several advantages a mini-series has over standard tv drama. Not only is there a well-developed story which travels to a defined conclusion; moreover, it is not subject to relatively sudden termination by a tv network that loses interest. Although such cancellation can fuel the mythos and fandom behind the work - as with Journeyman, but more especially with Firefly - the brevity of the experience and abruptness of ending can leave a sour tinge of dissatisfaction. With the networks in particular.
The Lost Room was obviously designed to be self-contained, yet in its ending it fudged its future in deliberately leaving a door ajar for a second series. Perhaps if it happened, some of the dangling reasoning would be better resolved, but despite some spurious indications on the web, this 2006 series is just not going to return, .
Although Firefly leads the pantheon of sweet and brief sci-fi tv experiences (and its reputation will assuredly linger), The Lost Room is most definitely worth seeking out.
Tuesday, July 01, 2008
Television: Journeyman: excellent, with tragic ending
Journeyman was a television series of unusual calibre, that like some of the best, lived and died in tragic brevity - only last year.
I'm introducing it via a diversion to The X Files, a series that was assuredly advanced for its time, but whose appeal gradualy waned.
The X Files was, at the very least, unusual television fare. Theme, plots, characterisations, writing... most aspects either stood well above the median, or at the very least dared to be something else. I was drawn into it by enthusiast friends, and found myself watching it religiously - a can't-miss time of the week.
After a while, the episodes seemed to adopt a certain... mechanical... air. But at that point, the overarching storyline took over for me, so the combination of milieu, single-episode plot, and unfolding story kept me in thrall.
Although that background story arc never reached the pointlessly, endlessly convoluting mireof the series Lost, the X Files series ran for so long that even interest in its broad storyline waned, for me.
I'll still watch the upcoming X Files film - I can barely pass up a half-decent science fiction film, and it is X Files. If you want to catch up on the full story, it's far easier to focus on a single episode: The Truth, which catches and recapitulates all the plot points painlessly, and with resolution to all that which had been left hanging before.
Journeyman bears a few superficial congruencies with The X Files: science fiction, an episode's "mission", and a single evolving storyline.
Living in current-day San Francisco, Dan Vasser finds himself yanked into the past seemingly at random, for a number of times over a period of days, to achieve something that only becomes obvious as he works his way blindly through the periodic touching of somebody's life.
Although he's flying blind, each journey through time has specific purpose, as if he's being manipulated by someone with an overview of multiple timelines. But he never understands how or why he journeys, nor who or what is sending him.
Although Journeyman is somewhat more quotidarian than The X Files, it also has a number of advances: it is quite modernistic in feel, the production values are higher, the writing is better, characterisations deeper, and it is more emotionally engaging. It has a strong focus on Dan's family, and is particularly touching at times (despite some over-sentimentality in the soundtrack). The conclusion to episode one especially moved me; as did episode twelve - particularly poignant for me in its focus on Dan's son, close in age to my own six-year-old. Some amazing technology in that episode too, which postulated a turbo-charge due to reverse engineering of a device dropped in the past.
Journeyman has a constantly-evolving storyline, faster and more satisfying than X Files, and one which raises the stakes, episode by episode. Each time you are drawn further into Dan's world, in a clear and directed story that stands in marked contrast to the frustrating spaghetti-plotting of X Files and Lost.
Journeyman episodes can be downloaded from the net if you know where to look - they were posted free on the US network at the time (now gone from there).
I've watched 12 of the 13 episodes. Only one more to savour, and I can be sure it doesn't end cleanly. It was abruptly terminated after the 13th with no possibility of revival. Sigh. I shall scour the net for signs of the intended future for Dan and his world.
I'm introducing it via a diversion to The X Files, a series that was assuredly advanced for its time, but whose appeal gradualy waned.
The X Files was, at the very least, unusual television fare. Theme, plots, characterisations, writing... most aspects either stood well above the median, or at the very least dared to be something else. I was drawn into it by enthusiast friends, and found myself watching it religiously - a can't-miss time of the week.
After a while, the episodes seemed to adopt a certain... mechanical... air. But at that point, the overarching storyline took over for me, so the combination of milieu, single-episode plot, and unfolding story kept me in thrall.
Although that background story arc never reached the pointlessly, endlessly convoluting mireof the series Lost, the X Files series ran for so long that even interest in its broad storyline waned, for me.
I'll still watch the upcoming X Files film - I can barely pass up a half-decent science fiction film, and it is X Files. If you want to catch up on the full story, it's far easier to focus on a single episode: The Truth, which catches and recapitulates all the plot points painlessly, and with resolution to all that which had been left hanging before.
Journeyman bears a few superficial congruencies with The X Files: science fiction, an episode's "mission", and a single evolving storyline.
Living in current-day San Francisco, Dan Vasser finds himself yanked into the past seemingly at random, for a number of times over a period of days, to achieve something that only becomes obvious as he works his way blindly through the periodic touching of somebody's life.
Although he's flying blind, each journey through time has specific purpose, as if he's being manipulated by someone with an overview of multiple timelines. But he never understands how or why he journeys, nor who or what is sending him.
Although Journeyman is somewhat more quotidarian than The X Files, it also has a number of advances: it is quite modernistic in feel, the production values are higher, the writing is better, characterisations deeper, and it is more emotionally engaging. It has a strong focus on Dan's family, and is particularly touching at times (despite some over-sentimentality in the soundtrack). The conclusion to episode one especially moved me; as did episode twelve - particularly poignant for me in its focus on Dan's son, close in age to my own six-year-old. Some amazing technology in that episode too, which postulated a turbo-charge due to reverse engineering of a device dropped in the past.
Journeyman has a constantly-evolving storyline, faster and more satisfying than X Files, and one which raises the stakes, episode by episode. Each time you are drawn further into Dan's world, in a clear and directed story that stands in marked contrast to the frustrating spaghetti-plotting of X Files and Lost.
Journeyman episodes can be downloaded from the net if you know where to look - they were posted free on the US network at the time (now gone from there).
I've watched 12 of the 13 episodes. Only one more to savour, and I can be sure it doesn't end cleanly. It was abruptly terminated after the 13th with no possibility of revival. Sigh. I shall scour the net for signs of the intended future for Dan and his world.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Life On Mars: Bring You Back Home
"Not your fault he got off.
"Hang in there.
"Bring you back home."
Life On Mars is a real mind-twister. Just when you think you have a handle on it, a few simple words throw your whole paradigm off kilter.
What other tv series has done that?
"Hang in there.
"Bring you back home."
Life On Mars is a real mind-twister. Just when you think you have a handle on it, a few simple words throw your whole paradigm off kilter.
What other tv series has done that?
The initial premise doesn't sound simple enough. It's something one has to try to work out. And try again. Sam Tyler, a present-day Manchester police detective, is hit by a car and apparently finds himself back in 1973, newly assigned to a station that is equivalent, but 30 years out of whack. Cars, colours, attitudes are all different. Cases are not watertight, methods are not ethical, analysis is not sophisticated.
He can't get out. The world is consistent unto itself, so he has to make his way at face value. Work with his new team, solve problems in an old world with a contemporary sensibility that sometimes helps, sometimes roughs him up badly.
Consistent. Bar a couple of jarring, juddering sets of incongruity.
First, he keeps meeting people with a strong connection to his life in the future, albeit from 30 years in the past. He has to play this straight, because he's in a world he can't escape, except by being locked up for a lunatic.
Second, once in a while he is exposed to a feed from a world which he may never have left: one in which he is clinging tenuously to life support in a hospital bed. His 1973 world relays the occasional sound or image from that viewpoint - via radio, television set, telephone - with people passing comment on his likelihood of survival. What to think?
Is he really transported to the past? Is he really on life support?
You'd think it's just a transport of the consciousness. But at one point he traces back a call he got from the future, only to be told angrily: "you know you're not to ring this number."
Now in this, the penultimate episode, his boss, the guv, is fingered for a murder and on the run. Upon resolution, when he is cleared and helps collar the culprit, Sam asks his stand-in boss "are we all right?" Is it okay between us?
Then this is misconstrued, leading to the quote at top. Rounded off with the absolutely cryptic remark "Bring you back home". What is happening?
Who is playing what role? Who is on whose side, and who is just a figment?
One week to go.
(On a final note, no less jarring, and rather bamboozling in a completely different direction: the music played as soundtrack is often enough 1973: Hellraiser, Goodbye Yellow Brick Road, etc. But often enough it's 1972: How Can I Be Sure?, Virginia Plain, and so on. Sometimes it's putatively on the cusp - Cindy, Incidentally (arguably). But why would one expect radio of 1973 to be playing so much 1972? Yet there has not been anything anachronistically later...)
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