The Sun Always Shines on TV

What is it about autumn that prompts far too much television-watching? Well, that and the fact I have about £40 till payday and still need to get a ticket for Goblet of Fire. Hence, have an attempt at Ruh-becca, television critic:

Rome

I was expecting big things from Rome, because it’s hard to go wrong with the BBC or HBO, so the two together sounded good.

Now, don’t get me wrong. The debauchery is fun. The scheming is fun. The plotting and the sumptuous costumes and the filming on location rock. But it’s curiously empty. It’s just… scheming and scheming and all that sort of stuff, without ever really focusing on the virtues of Rome, or indeed aiming for anything but a sensationalised account of one of the most dynamic and interesting of European civilisations of all time. Bloodthirsty empire? Probably. Okay, sometimes, yes. But, to paraphrase John Cleese, the Romans have done a great deal for us, rather than just make us horny. And so much of the programme just flies in the face of everything I ever learned in history class; womens’ roles, social constraints, etc. Atia would never get away with her conduct in ancient Rome (covert or otherwise, unlike kickass Olympia, Alexander’s mother… who…erm… came to a sticky end herself) and thus sensationalism wrecks what is actually quite a compelling programme. The buddy-buddy relationship between Lucius and Titus is more akin to a Hollywood cop film than classical mythology or what have you.

Also, the cast couldn’t look, sound or act more British than if they were strutting about in Union Jacks and being all snooty. It’s rather off-putting to see Kevin “Trainspotting” McKidd doing the soldier thing, or Jez Quigley of Corrie infamy taking part in orgies.

I know it’s been something of a hit across the Atlantic, but opinion seems divided over here, and both the critics and the viewing public have greeted it less enthusiastically than we thought they would—a problem for the heavy investment the BBC has put into this programme. The problem is that whilst Rome is undeniably fun, the British public knows that the BBC has really done better, even with the fabulous I, Claudius, still great after all those decades, and people are bristling at the idea of such a huge chunk of our licence money going to fund another series. Me, well… I’d rather pay for a new series of Rome than that incredibly annoying Eggheads programme.

Joe Macbeth

It’s Shakespeare Season on the BBC, so we’ve had a lot of programming on radio and television about the bard, but the biggest thing is a series of postmodern adaptations of his plays. Last week, the season kicked off with Much Ado About Nothing, set in a television studio. It was pretty good, but I was looking forward to this week most of all: Joe Macbeth -- the Scottish king now a Scottish chef ready to slay “King” Duncan over a Michelin Star wrongly awarded to the wrong man.

It’s so incredibly hard to go wrong with Macbeth. And they didn’t. Huzzah. Macbeth eulogising over pork chops? The three witches as binmen? Lady Macbeth doing away with the witnesses by virtue of immigration? All right, so the timeless speeches were sorely missed, but there were great one-liners, such as how the chefs in Duncan’s restaurant believed referring to star chef Gordon Ramsay was bad luck:

“It’s bad luck to say his name. We call him The Scottish Chef.”

More, please.

Casanova

Re-watched Casanova on DVD. Now, this is prime BBC: all cheeky, loose adaptation and knowing winks at the audience. It was primarily filmed elsewhere than Venice due to budget and closed set constraints, but squeeee if I didn’t recognise him running down the same backstreet that I was captivated by the Sunday before. Love love love. <3