Tag: television

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Taking The Michael

This entry builds upon what was said in the last entry about the Michael Palin TV series Around the World in 80 Days. If you don’t want to know the major plot points, skip this one.

I’d previously managed around half an hour of the first episode before describing it as a posh boys’ club and switching it off. I’m pleased to be proved wrong – albeit only partially.

The third episode is devoted to a seven-day trip on a small boat from Dubai to Mumbai. Everyone on board is expected to muck in with the rigorous daily routines and Palin shows himself to be remarkably adaptable.

But two episodes later, after reaching Hong Kong, a chauffeur is waiting for him with a bottle of champagne. He’s then taken to luxury accommodation and meets several entrepreneurs. It’s clear this is where he feels most at home.

There are also occasions where he would be wise to keep his mouth shut. I found he often felt a need to provide a commentary on what was happening rather than being silently present in the moment. He also asks some questions to female train passengers that seem inappropriate to modern ears.

I’m willing to cut a little slack on that front. The series is around 35 years old now, when Mumbai was still Bombay, plus Hong Kong was yet to be handed back to the Chinese.

On balance, I’m glad I revisited this. By his later series Pole to Pole, he has become better at presenting the places rather than himself, and at handling unexpected situations.

But we can’t talk about Palin’s very real journey without referencing the fictional journey of Phileas Fogg from the source novel Around the World in Eighty Days by Jules Verne.

I’m very much of a mind to read this sooner rather than later, especially as it’s in the public domain and widely available. In fact, Project Gutenberg has an audio version available free of charge, just like its text-based content.

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When You Simply Can’t Enjoy It

Some advance warning that this entry is likely to give away major plot points for the film All of Us Strangers and the Michael Palin TV series Around the World in 80 Days.

A couple of weeks ago, my pal wanted to see All of Us Strangers at the cinema. I looked at the blurb on the website and it didn’t appeal to me, but I said I would take a chance on it. I’m rarely disappointed by a film, so the odds were in my favour.

I can’t fault the cinematography nor the soundtrack, but there were parts of the plot that didn’t make much sense to me.

Let’s start with the times Adam jumps on the train to see his parents. What is he actually doing while hallucinating? It’s revealed he can’t actually access the house, so is he sitting in the garden? And if so, why did nobody call the police on him?

The ending includes a twist where we also find out Harry has been dead all along. Yet if they’ve only met once, why did Adam think it was all right just to let himself into Harry’s flat. And when he discovered Harry was dead, why leave him there without reporting the incident?

While acknowledging I’m in the minority, I think the four- and five-star reviews are way off the mark here.

This brings me to the second production: Around the World in 80 Days, originally broadcast by the BBC in 1989. In this challenge, Michael Palin attempts to follow the steps of Phileas Fogg in the book of the same name. As the source novel was published before the advent of powered flight, he wasn’t allowed to use aircraft.

I was quite young when this was first shown – I might even have watched a repeat – but I do remember enjoying the sight of all the different lands he visited, plus a scene in the final episode where a vendor wouldn’t sell him a newspaper because he didn’t want to be filmed. As such, I recently took the notion to watch the first episode and see how it actually compared to my memory.

I lasted until halfway through it before switching off. While acknowledging the programme was supposed to be aspirational, I felt as though I was watching a posh boys’ club rather than a travelogue, as he dined with his fellow Monty Python members before leaving and then in the first-class area of the Orient Express.

The final straw came when the train stopped in Italy because of a rail strike so a replacement bus service was arranged for the next leg, and Palin threw down his magazine in disgust.

Perhaps this is merely the set-up for a redemption arc to be explored in later episodes, and I am willing to give the rest of the series a shot in the near future. At the moment, though, I agree with Alan Whicker’s terse assessment that the programme was a ‘seven-hour ego trip.’

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Murder, She Implied

Turn on the TV any given afternoon, and chances are you’ll find what may be termed a cosy crime drama, from Quincy ME via Midsomer Murders to the relatively recent The Doctor Blake Mysteries.

Yet despite the deaths that are central to the storylines, they remain PG-rated, and would never be categorised alongside – for example – NCIS or Criminal Minds. So why is this?

The answer lies in what’s portrayed onstage and offstage. Whereas CSI can show graphic violence or injuries front and centre, the most you’ll see in Murder She Wrote is a dead body slumped over a desk with no visible blood.

Offstage events are an underrated tool in a writer’s arsenal. They can help to further the plot without slowing it down.

Let’s say a character has a meeting to discuss the details of a project. Rather than writing page upon page of negotiation, it can be more effective to show the person going into the meeting at the end of one chapter, then summarising to someone else over coffee in a subsequent chapter.

Some publishers even ask that certain themes are kept offstage. The fiction guidelines for The People’s Friend require that themes such as divorce are kept away from the main narrative.

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Adapting to Film, Adapting to Change

On Saturday, I went to see a performance of Benidorm at the Edinburgh Playhouse, based upon the ITV2 comedy of the same name. It even featured some of the actors.

The TV series is already rather theatrical in nature, like a Carry On film with a more modern attitude. As such, it transferred very well to the stage.

Sometimes, though, adapting a story from one medium into another is a hit-or-miss affair.

Those I enjoyed include the 2004 film Layer Cake, then I discovered it’s so closely based on the novel by J. J. Connolly that it even contains direct quotes. Similarly, The Thirty-Nine Steps worked as a mock radio adaptation performed on stage, even though the plot was stripped down to the bare essentials.

Yet I was disappointed by the film version of one of my favourite books, Starter For Ten, perhaps because it deviates from the first-person point of view. And the 2016 Dad’s Army movie opened to lacklustre reviews, with The Guardian asking why we needed a film version of a much-loved TV series.

One classic case of an author disowning a film version is Roald Dahl’s reaction to Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. He disliked the plot changes and musical numbers so much that no other screenplays of his work were authorised until after his death.

A few years ago, I posed a question to Irvine Welsh at a book signing about his thoughts on adaptation, considering how many of his novels have been on the big screen. He replied that he considered film to be a different medium and he accepted that changes sometimes had to be made.

‘And,’ he concluded, ‘it never hurts book sales.’

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Outside The Box

Regular readers will be aware that this blog covers all types of writing from short stories and poetry to screenplays and rap music. I believe there’s a lot we can learn from all these forms. Even watching Made in Chelsea is a great lesson in improv.

However, on moving into a new place last month, I took the decision not to own a TV. This was something I’d considered for a long time as I would either rarely watch it, or it would become a distraction when I could be doing something productive. Either way, it would more than counteract the benefits of having one.

The other factor swaying my decision is the matter of the TV licence. In the UK, you need to pay an annual fee if you have equipment that receives television broadcasts, if you watch live TV online, or if you use BBC iPlayer for any purpose. The money goes towards funding the BBC and there are heavy fines if you aren’t correctly licensed.

While it’s a difficult field to police, that’s enough of a disincentive for me not to have a telly. If there’s something I really want to see, I have other options. You can watch DVDs or most catch-up services without a licence, and you can also own a radio without charge. Even better, I’m fortunate enough to be within easy reach of two cinemas: one mainstream, the other independent.

With not having a TV, it’s an obvious question to ask what I have in its place. The answer: