2002-2003.

This wasn’t a Christmas present but a loan from our not-quite-daughter-in-law. (It seems a bit ridiculous to call her our son’s girlfriend as they’ve been together for years and she’s now a grown woman rather than a teenager. Plus she feels like part of the family.)

The West Wing is slick and fast moving entertainment, well acted and engaging. However, watching the episodes in close succession probably shows up the flaws more than its designed weekly exposure would.

From a story telling perspective I noted the ever more inventive stratagems for dumping information on the viewer, most of which in written fiction would be regarded as clumsy.

[The British equivalent, Yes, Minister, got round this problem by assuming the Minister was ignorant – which is not unwarranted; Her Majesty’s Secretaries of States’ average time in post is measured in months rather than years; leaving them just enough time to muck things up before moving on to a new Department, where again they have to learn the ropes from scratch. US presidents – we shall ignore here Reagan, the second Bush and Calvin Coolidge – and their staffs are generally thought to be more rounded, however.]

In The West Wing, though, characters claim lack of knowledge so that they (and we) can be lectured. Strange enthusiasms are adumbrated. At a Town Hall meeting events inside the West Wing are related. (Don’t they have an Official Secrets Act?) We also have people acting in ways they surely would not, or having relationships that are unlikely solely for the purposes of story (arc.)

The series is, of course, revealing of the political system in the US – which undoubtedly has its strangenesses. At one point a husband seemed to have inherited his deceased wife’s place in Congress – at least until an impending election. In a close situation his was the crucial vote! If that’s what does happen when a Congressperson dies it’s a bizarre arrangement.

The programme is above all, though, an exercise in allowing Americans to feel good about themselves, which can be a bit off-putting. (There may be better angels in their nature but they quite often keep them hidden.)

The cliff hanger ending to the first series was a blow.

It means I’ll have to watch series 2, now.

Though I would have anyway.

A film by Ken Burns. 1989 (remastered 2002.)

The titles on the actual films of course say just The Civil War. Still if they’ll forgive us our parochialism we’ll forgive them theirs.

In any case, the series is nothing short of exemplary. It is a magnificent blend of eye witness account, anecdote, written and printed sources, photographs, paintings, panoramas and music; all of which complement each other and add up to more than their sum. The haunting theme tune, Ashokan Farewell, – a relatively recent composition, though resolutely in keeping with the subject nevertheless, and which resounds throughout the series – is an inspired choice.

While not neglecting the battles – how could it? – it does not dissect them with a military historian’s scalpel. Its preferred use is of individual testaments from soldiers and civilians on both sides – including that of slaves – which grounds it superbly. It never loses sight of the human cost of the USA’s national tragedy, an understanding of which is probably essential to any understanding of that country. One of its consultants, Barbara Fields, makes the point in the last episode that the Civil War is still ongoing, not just in the US but anywhere where injustice and lack of freedom persist.

While watching it I was trying to think if anything in our national narrative approaches this conflict. In social effects, along with its attendant trail of corpses, graves and memorials, the grinding sense of endlessness, the hope for a higher purpose, the nearest would be World War 1. But even that, in its worst battles, did not achieve the casualty rates of the war between the States, which were horrendous and way, way beyond what any western army or its public at home could tolerate now.

The star of the films is undoubtedly Shelby Foote whose knowledge of the Civil War seems to be close to encyclopædic. In the eleven or so total hours he appears most frequently; always with telling anecdotes. In one, he describes waving Nathan Bedford Forrest’s sword above his head; about which his delight was obvious. He then relates giving that general’s granddaughter his opinion that Forrest had, along with Lincoln, been one of the two genuine geniuses of the war. There was a long pause before she replied to him, “We didn’t think much of Mr Lincoln in our family.”

His ability to inhabit the mindset of both sides is superb as are his analytical skills. Towards the end he says of Americans as a whole (I paraphrase a bit but this is the gist,) “We like to think of ourselves as a superior people. If we were a superior people we wouldn’t have fought that war. But since we did then it has to be the greatest war and our generals the greatest generals. It’s very American to think like that.”

Speaking strictly as a non-American I still say The American Civil War is probably the greatest war documentary you’ll ever see.

I’ve just watched the second of the Doctor Who specials which were on over the holiday season.

The story was pretty much awful. (Thank you, Onebrow, for this pithy summing up.)

The coda epitomised everything that was wrong with Russell T Davies’s oversight of the series. It was so far up itself it was excruciating. All of the Doctor’s companions since the programme’s resurrection (and their families!) made an appearance merely in order that Tennant’s Doctor could say farewell. Ladle on the treacle why don’t you?

And the new Doctor didn’t get himself off on the right foot, either. Examining himself for changes in appearance he dragged a lock of hair down past his eyes and said in a pleased tone, “And still not ginger.”

And still not ginger? And still not ginger?

Would you think it acceptable, Russell, if your character had said, “And still not black?” or “And still not gay?”

To pose this question is to underline the gratuitousness – not to mention offensiveness – of the comment.

The Doctor surely ought to be above such things, Russell, even if you’re not.

I settled down last night at 9 pm to watch the second swatch of the latest BBC adaptation of John Wyndham’s The Day Of The Triffids only to find it wasn’t on. This was because Holby City had been bumped to an hour later by River City and so we in Scotland didn’t get to see The Day Of The Triffids until 10.20. I went and had a bath instead.

But… The main BBC news was on in Scotland at 10. The Day Of The Triffids lasted 1½ hours and so the news in the rest of the UK wasn’t till 10.30.

Was there a special news, for Scotland only, at 10? What did the (London) BBC news unit think of that? (The Scottish news opt out which normally follows the news – the “where you are” bit – came on as usual afterwards: it wasn’t a BBC Scotland main news.) Or did they just use the BBC 24 hour news feed for the fifteen minutes?

Anyway, The Day Of The Triffids adaptation itself was well done and, apart from some updating and an unnecessary emphasis on the hero, Bill Masen’s, family, (I blame Russell T Davies) reasonably true to the book as I remember it, with a fine performance by Eddie Izzard as the baddie, Torrence.

It was, however, – even the daylight scenes – filmed almost entirely in what I call Super Murk-O-Vision. This was probably to avoid too many shots with triffids in them as, no matter what you do, plants are not really that scary in appearance. Here, the book definitely scores over any possible visual version. The depiction of the triffid sting, showing it as a potent disabling weapon, was also much too late.

[Edited to add: the voice over was a mistake too.]

I doubt this version would have converted anyone that didn’t already have a penchant for it to SF, though.

For anyone who wants to see them, the iplayer reruns are here and here.

I managed to watch most of Hamlet today – the need to take in food interrupted it a bit. (Wouldn’t 7-10 or 8-11 pm have been better time slots?) Quite well done, I thought.

Not like the previous day’s Doctor Who, which was pretty much awful. I’ve always disliked the Russell T Davies episodes. So much recursive stuff about the Doctor’s companions’ families.

My younger son for some reason took a liking to Doctor Who even though it was in its long hiatus when he was growing up. As a result he has much more of an encyclopædic knowledge of the Who canon than me. He was of much the same opinion about this Christmas special as I was.

I’m more hopeful for the upcoming Steven Moffat driven series but I’m not sure about the new Doctor. Time will tell.

I caught Bill Bailey’s Remarkable Guide to the Orchestra on BBC 2 on Saturday night (9/5/09.) His take was, of course, comedic, but included some semi-serious stuff about the use of bassoons, oboes, muted trombones and the like.

Even more light-heartedly we had a rendering of both the Moonlight Sonata and the William Tell Overture incorporating Cockney Music (Oi!) More examples from Bailey of Cockney Music influencing the classical arena can be found in the following clip.

The highlight of Saturday night’s show for me, though, was the Doctor Who theme tune reimagined as a Belgian Jazz song. Like the Cockney Music section this seems to be a reworking of part of Bailey’s stage show as in this clip from You Tube but he added some more jokes in cod French in the Orchestra programme. (Les Daleks ne pouvait pas monter les escaliers was one that tickled me.)

He did say, “Je suis Docteur Qui,” at one point, though. True aficionados (aficionadi?) know the correct phrase would be, “Je suis le Docteur.”

If you’re interested in music in a general sense with, like me, only a smattering of knowledge about it, search the programme out. I suppose it’ll be on the iPlayer at the moment.

Delighted to see that the Doctor Who episode “Blink” written by Steven Moffat, directed by Hettie Macdonald, won the Best Dramatic Presentation, Short Form category at this year’s Hugo Awards.
I can’t comment about the other awards as I mostly have not read the stories/journals concerned. (You should see my books-to-be-read pile!)
“Blink” was to my mind the outstanding episode from the 2007 season and well deserves the accolade. Like all of Steven Moffat’s episodes it was head and shoulders above those written by Russell T Davis. Hopefully the fact that Mr Moffat is assuming the oversight of Doctor Who bodes well for future series.
“Blink” was also notable for only having about three minutes worth of David Tennant in it. Good as he is as the Doctor, “Blink” nevertheless showed that a proper, intelligent Science Fiction story could be done on TV without (much) of the Doctor as a prop.
Pity this could not carry over into “Torchwood” of which I watched the first episode and promptly gave up. I never caught the Sarah Jane spin-off stories, which, given the last two episodes of the 2008 Doctor Who season may have been a blessing.