A Touch Of Police Squad

I remember the first time I saw Police Squad - not quite like remembering the moment when JFK was shot but I was too young for that, probably in the garden digging a hole - I don't know where I was beyond 'in front of a TV laughing like a drain'. If drains laughs. 

Police Squad was the invention of Zucker, Abrahams and Zucker (who all sounded to me like people ho had been round the table when they wrote the Bible) Pat Proft wrote episode three (another writer at that bible bash surely). It was a spoof of the police series on Tv in the 70's with a high preponderance of puns, sights gags and non-sequiturs, all gloriously delivered in dead-pan fashion, mostly by Leslie Nielsen playing Lt Frank Drebin. Hank Simms, who'd worked as a TV announcer of 60's and 70'd TV cop shows, announced the title of each episode, though his words never matched the caption on screen. From the tiles onwards the show was a non-stop gag-a-thon. 

It was glorious in its freshness, its surreal quality, its joke count. But even as I watched I was aware that I'd stopped laughing out loud and started smiling, then nodding knowingly and then internalizing the humour - my inner comedy man saying, yeah that's funny. It's so hard to keep laughing at this kind of stuff, even when it's hilarious. 

It was cancelled after just six episodes but spawned The Naked Gun: From The Files of Police Squad  films. Those movies took millions, they were and are still loved. 

On Monday the grandson of Frank Drebin - in tone if not name - found his way onto Sky 1 in Charlie Brooker's Touch Of Cloth. A show that does exactly what Police Squad did in every way but a little more gruesomely. It spoofs crime drama beautifully, John Hannah and Suranne Jones gamely play characters not too dissimilar from ones they play in actual cop shows, and it hits you with a hail of jokes that are delivered with such regularity and speed that you have to stop, rewind and sometimes pause to get the full benefit - pause to read the signs, which are everywhere, and are hilarious.

It is relentless. It never stops with the gags, never for one moment are you presented with anything other than full-on jokes. I laughed out loud at much of the first episode but by episode two, shown the following night, I was smiling, nodding and not quite as enthralled as I had been. Maybe this was a fault of the scheduling. The shows run an hour with commercials with a high joke count to sustain, it's also a long time to keep laughing at the same kinds of gags. One a week would probably suffice. 

But well done Charlie for resurrecting the corpse of Police Squad, dusting it down and standing it up for a new audience.  

Nobody Knows Anything

The William Goldman maxim that 'Nobody Knows Anything' in Hollywood extends way beyond California. Whilst those of us who scribble obviously know everything, other less fortunate mortals - those who hire us/fire us, those who are on the staff of broadcasting companies that pay us the money that allow us to buy shoes for our children and bread for our tables - struggle to understand anything.

Patently this isn't true.

I've worked with and for inspiring producers who could spot things that others (me included) couldn't see for looking. Men and women whose judgement, wise words  and light touch is and was to be cherished. They know who they are.

I've also worked for and with men and women who should never have been allowed in any door of any broadcasting company in any known universe. They have no idea who they are.

None of us gets it right everytime, even the mighty beasts - have you seen Aaron Sorkin's The Newsroom?

The pilot was almost unwatchable. I never made it beyond fifteen minutes of episode two. And this is a writer I love. But the whole thing is out of kilter. The idealism that sat so well in the West Wing seems so out of place in a Newsroom. Believe me, I worked in one as a kid and I've walked through them as an adult. Okay, so my experience is British and he's writing an American newsroom where many dynamics are different but even so, they are not populated by young idealists. The idealistic journalist is a thing of the past. Or Hollywood legend.

Young idealists last about a week. Then they become young cynics. Then disillusioned young cynics. If they grow old in the newsroom they become disillusioned old cynical has-beens - and frankly they are a million times more interesting as people and characters than the ones Sorkin has chosen to populate his latest show with.

I heard him say he mis-wrote Studio 60 on The Sunset Strip - a show I had a lot of time for, not just me, there was a sizeable crowd sorry to see that one bite the dust. But Sorkin knows his stuff and when he says he knows what he did wrong you have to believe him. So, when The Newsroom trailers hit the air, like Pavlovs pooch, I began salivating. I didn't realise what I was about to be served was a dog's breakfast. This show feels under researched, under powered; a hark back to a kind of show I thought had disappeared from our screens - and nowhere near as good as Studio 60.

So Goldman's maxim stands. Nobody Knows Anything. Even Sorkin, who has a brain the size of a of planet, can get it wrong. But I'm sure he's working on getting it right.

Someone who got it sooooo wrong that it leaves your mouth gaping was script editor called Ian Maine. Mr Main worked for the BBC at the time a show called Fawlty Towers was being proposed. You may have heard of Fawlty Towers, I doubt you've heard of Ian Main.

He really didn't know anything - what's more, he put it in writing


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Cheer Up Ken

The BBC Writer's Festival in Leeds last week was fascinating on a number of levels. It's always good to talk to men and women on the same journey, it's good to learn from some of our more successful writers, it's good to shoot the breeze and it's good to hear what everyone else is going through.

BBC Writer's Festival Logo -erm, what exactly is it?

 

Doesn't matter what stage your writing career is at, you will have horrors that haunt your sleeping and waking moments. The series that never was - had a few of them - the episode that got rewritten because the director didn't like it - been there, the T shirt's a little old but still smells - the producers who loved your work so much they forgot to buy it, even though you'd told all your friends you'd had a series commissioned - don't want to even think about that, still shuddering now.
But amongst all that we had a good laugh and swapped some mighty good stories - those that weren't true had been written and rewritten in our heads to sound true. Stories at a writer's festival should be the best stories ever told!
In one of the sessions the question was posed, "Is the Grass Greener...? " It was aimed at dispelling the myth that writing in America for American series is better than knocking things out for British audiences. Everyone agreed on one point - whatever the pain - the money is much, much better. The American system demands a different kind of writer, one who will pool his or her plots in the writer's room as the series is mapped out, arcs found and stories 'broken'. Breaking a story is something I've learned to do even though British writers don't really write the same way as our better paid American counterparts. The 'breaking' is working out what happens just before the commercial break. Makes sense that you work out plot points so that there's a cliff hanger of sorts at the point at which our work cuts away to adverts for diarrhoea pills and sanitary towels - we have to provide an incentive to watch all the way through the break to find out what happens (at least for those people who still watch TV in real time).
In this session we got to hear from some guys who had experienced the best and worst of the American system and also from Swedish writer Lars Lundstrom who's had his work adapted over there although he's never written in the US. Lars being on the panel opened the door to talking about whether life is greener in Sweden. Turns out there's one TV station and not many writers or actors.
Even so, rcent Danish and Swedish series have become must watch TV for so many of us - The Killing, Borgen, The Bridge - have all exerted a mighty influence on the market. Commissioners now look at dramas set in Brighton and ask "Could you make it a bit more  Nordic?" - and with a straight face.

 Lars wrote on the Swedish series Wallander, the character Kenneth Brannagh plays in the BBC series. Both are based on books by Henning Mankell (I read two last summer and they drove me mad. Hated them, which surprised me because they've sold well and provided Swedish TV and the BBC both with series. It could have been the translation - but I hated the structure and the repetitious  procedural, however..) Lars take on the British Wallander was "It's a bit glum, slower than the Swedish version and devoid of jokes". I'm  with you, Lars. Having sat through two episodes of the new BBC Wallander I feel ready to slash my wrists. The gloomy skies, the washed-out pallet, the moments when old Ken looks off into the distance whilst the director holds the shot forever and a day. I swear he was dribbling in the last episode. The plots aren't great, the characters aren't compulsive, the music drones, the dialogues clunks along - you'd never believe that this is getting a sizeable audience. 
Brannagh is such a watchable actor, so inventive and yet here he'd bringing us a character so desperately down beat you want to scream at the telly.  Comparing it with Swedish and Danish series it doesn't come out well. The stroytelling in the Swedish and Danish series may be slow but the pace of the episodes isn't. It's not MTV, whip-pans and cut, cut, cut but they keep going forward. The Beeb's Wallander clumps along in lead boots. But for me the most telling difference is that series like The Killing, Borgen and The Bridge have compelling caharcters that draw you into the story whilst Wallander seems hell bent on concentrating on one character hell bent on pushing you away.

Spidey v The Batman

I know, I know, it's been a while. So many distractions to keep a man away from his blog.

The new Spiderman film is out there. Fantastic! Brilliant! Astonishing!  Oh, I haven't seen it and won't be queueing and paying, the reason is simple.The constant re-invention of comic book titles has now got to the point where I couldn't care less how good it is - I'm bored with the genre. Bored, bored, bored. I hear it's very good. Great. Loads of kids - dads, mums and the odd Grannie - will have a fabulous time enjoying it. But it's going back to the origins again, to reinvent the character again. Fire up the franchise motors, break out the MacDonalds tie-in merchandising, dust off the spidey duvets; ladies and gentlemen it's Spidey time again.

But not for me. No siree.

Last comic book caper I saw was The Avengers. It was good, a bit talky for some but i quite liked that aspect of it. Coming away from the cinema we talked about it as we always do, good, bad or indifferent. Love 'em or hate 'em there always something to discuss. To learn from.

But..

Ask me to describe my favourite scene right now - in fact any scene right now - and...sorry, that was me looking off into the middle distance desperately trying to remember anything that happened. Nope, nothing has stayed with me. Not one moment. 

These movies cost as much as the Greek national debt yet have no lasting effect on me at all. They're bubble gum, comic capers, that re-invent themselves with such regularity now that I can't be bothered any more. They've become the new westerns.

Except...

The Batman 'triology' is different (it was never meant to be a trilogy, it just happened when the first one and then the second one went stallar). What Christopher Nolan shaped in the first two films is something far more interesting than anything else out there that features men in capes. Even more interesting than the Watchmen movie. But then Nolan's cv is unlike the directors of other comic book films - with the exception of Kenneth Brannagh who helmed Thor. Nolan has been exploring extraordinary stories and structures since he first got to sit in the director's chair.

Momento - a story told backwards about a man who has no long term, medium term memory.

The Prestige, two rival magicians vie for the ultimate illusion, tricking each other and the audience.

Inception, a film so dense and layered no one could possibly follow it - or at least that would be the feeling of most studios. However Inception was so clever, so absorbing, so intriguing that it found a huge audience and made those dumb-ass execs sit up and realise we want more from science fiction than cgi monsters and endless explosions (Michael Bay take note).

2008's The Dark Knight wasn't a comic book film at all, it was a proper drama, wrapped up in a thriller. Yes, it had the added edge of Heath Ledger's penultimate performance but this was an astonishing piece of work. So many scenes stay with me, even though I've only seen it once.

Every movie can't resonate like that. I like fluff and balderdash in amongst the great tales but too many sweets make your teeth fall out and I'm of an age where I'd like to hang on to what I've got. So, I'm choosing my goodie bags carefully. I'll catch Spidey on the box - maybe - but the Batman I'll be out there queueing for.

A Televison Tale

This delicious little story comes compliments of Claire Cotton-May who was sensible enough to step away from her television career and step into the real world. However, once a telly gal, always a telly gal....

A man in a hot air balloon realised he was lost. He reduced altitude and spotted a woman below. He descended a bit more and shouted, "Excuse me, can you help me? I promised a friend I would meet him an hour ago, but I don't know where I am."
The woman below replied, "You are in a hot air balloon hovering approximately 30 feet above the ground. You are between 40 and 41 degrees north latitude and between 59 and 60 degrees west longitude."
"You must be a production manager," said the balloonist.
"I am." replied the woman, "How did you know?"
"Well," answered the balloonist, "everything you told me is technically correct, but I have no idea what to make of your information, and the fact is, I am still lost. Frankly, you've not been much help so far."
The woman below responded, "You must be a producer."
"I am," replied the balloonist, "But how did you know?"
"Well," said the woman, "you don't know where you are or where you are going. You have risen to where you are due to a large quantity of hot air. You made a promise which you have no idea how to keep, and you expect me to solve your problem. The fact is you are in exactly the same position you were in before we met, but now, somehow, it's my fault!"

Brilliant TV - No Writers Or Actors Required

It started with a show called Driving School and a woman called Maureen who was a nightmare behind the wheel. The production team wired the car with mini cams and ever nuance of Maureen's inability to turn the steering wheel, brake, accelerate, change gear or understand the concept of a roundabout was captured on VT. Oh how we loved it. Oh how we clamoured for more. The docu-soap was born.

It was the bastard child of those two genres, documentary film making - which had a long and illustrious place in the British Television schedule, with many talented directors and producers illuminating corners of real life that hitherto had lain hidden - and soap opera, especially Corrie, which always boasted good writing and acting.

And the best thing about this new entertainment, factainment, fictionmentary, whatever you'd like to call it was...it was cheap. Drama costs gazillions, so do proper thoughtful documentaries - not as much as drama but still a hefty investment. What the docu-soap did was feed an appetite at a price the broadcasters could easily afford.

Stick a camera in an Airport, On a Cruise liner, up a gum tree. Watch the 'real people' doing 'real things' hilariously. They milked that cow until they couldn't squeeze another drop out of her - and then they milked her some more.

Oo, how some broadcasters rub their hands with glee at the thought of not having to go through that messy business with writers, that messy business with actors and performers. Real people are hot, they're what it's all about.

And now it holds sway as far as music and entertainment is concerned on TV. No need for the classy acts who spent so much time perfecting their skills, no room for real bands/singers/musicians. Get a window-cleaner in who's done some karaoke and can belt a passable rendition of 'Thriller'. Find some mad woman who can't hold a note and give her five minutes. Get some nutter on who thinks crap balloon animals is the future of entertainment. God forbid we use real talent.


Real people. We love 'em.

Actually I do. I love 'em for their real stories and their real heartache, their real ability to to extraordinary things and the real tragedy they suffer in their real lives. I am inspired by the tales they've told me, exhilarated by the things I've discovered about their families, amazed that people can laugh so much with so little to laugh about.

However...there are limits.

'Structured Reality' - which isn't reality at all but producers giving orange-tanned wannabees storylines to go and 'act out' in a 'real way',  has got more than a foot in the door. It has a leg, two silicone boobs and a fat ass into the room.

And now comes BBC 3's new pilot sketch show - which features people from all over the country 'playing themselves'. Wow. Set in a fictional town with real life characters this show uses no script...and will have no professional performers anywhere near it. It will have catch phrases and play up eccentricities yet it will have no structured script.

Nothing will be scripted.

If nothing is scripted can I tell you how that'll go - or can I leave you to imagine.

And something else. I hate the arrogance of producers who think they don't need writers/performers to make a comedy sketch show. Here's an idea - why bother with producers or camera people? We don't need professional sound or design. Mick and Jan and Col and Spike can put it all together using Derek's video recorder.

And even if the pilot - after much shooting and much editing - looks and feels okay. How are you going to sustain that? It's a gimmick. It's bollocks. It's the broadcasting world we live in where the stunt commission is readily available to any tosser who wants to re-invent the wheel. Fine, you want to make a square wheel, that's brilliant - but it won't roll.

Just because you know the alphabet doesn't make you a writer and just because you make Dave down the pub laugh doesn't make you a marketable performer.

But it might get you on the TV. 

Homeland

It seems that all the good series these days are loosely based on other series (trace that back and someone somewhere had an original idea). I've been enthralled by the US series Homeland which is loosely based on an Israeli series Hatufim - Abducted. Clare Danes was never better than she is here, playing  CIA officer Carrie Mathison, caught in the homecoming ballyhoo and headlights of US Marine, Nick Brody (Damian Lewis) freed from his Al Qaeda captors and back with his family after eight years. But is he an agent of dark terrorist forces or...

It's that 'or' that everything here hangs on and it's going to take the whole series to discover just where his allegiance now lies.The writing here is excellent, this is not just black and white, multiple shades of grey abound, we never feel we're ahead of the story, never feel 'Oh, I knew that was going to happen'. And that is so hard to achieve.

We're all too smart these days, even people who don't realise they're story smart are because we've all been brought up on so much television, so many films. The series that really make a mark are those that think twenty, thirty steps ahead, outwitting the audience, turning assumptions on their heads and making the whole experience that much more satisfying.

But not for everyone.

There are staple British series that seem to INSIST on hackneyed storylines, hackneyed characters and leak plot points to the press so their viewers can KNOW what will happen.

I don't get that.

Pick up any number of mags from the supermarket and there they are, future plots of soaps and continuing series. You hear people talking about what's going to happen in their favourite soaps. That's like writing a book and at the end of each chapter have a page where the author precises what's coming up in the next and the next.

It's one thing to tease, it's another to put so much information out there ahead of an episode that we come to it knowing where the story is going.

I don't watch soaps - though I did have a period when I wouldn't miss an episode of Corrie, back before issues took over, when the whole thing turned more on character than events.  I would have hated to know what was coming up. As I hate those NEXT TIME sequences at the end of some programmes today. Hit the off button before I can discover that the person who seemingly just died is in fact alive and well and in the next episode. Why do they do that?

I'm not reading anything about Homeland, nothing, nada, ziltch. I am enjoying the experience of watching a tightly written, thrilling story that plays out a chapter a week - it's such an old fashioned idea, wait for next week to find out - but it's something that works in favour of the building tension. The moment I get hit by a spoiler is the moment I dread and Homeland is far too good, too absorbing to spoil.