I am grateful to reader Peter Gardner for drawing my attention (in a comment to my recent post) to these YouTube videos of McGoohan being interviewed about The Prisoner. The past really is another country. Two grown men having an intelligent conversation (over cigarettes!) in front of a polite audience asking intelligent questions! And no shrieking harpy of the left denouncing their thought crimes. When I enter a modern office building, fretting and fussing at the airport style security (or indeed as I regularly experience the security theatre at airports), I shall smile at the memory of McGoohan complaining about merely having to sign in to the studio before the interview. Enjoy.
This remake of classic series, The Prisoner looks unpromising to a fan of the original. Yet perhaps there was never a great show that more needed to be remade. Its themes are certainly as relevant as in 1967. In those far-off days, despite the horrors of Soviet Russia, Red China and Fidel's Cuba many still saw collectivism as a gentle dream.
“The original Prisoner
was very much dealing with the life of the individual as he might get
caught up in Soviet Russia… Well, here we are 40 years on and we are
living in a land where people accept without question being
fingerprinted, having their eyes registered at airports, taking off
their clothes at the airport, opening up their luggage, not being
allowed to do this, not being allowed to do that, photographed in the
streets by cameras that are put up by you’re never quite sure who. All
this adds up to a society that perhaps isn’t quite as democratic and
careful about the freedom of the individual as we would like.”
Perhaps the delicately understated final sentence is not quite so bloggerish! One cannot imagine Devil's Kitchen, for example, languidly observing that our society;
"...isn't quite as ... careful about the freedom for the individual as we would like".
I imagine McKellen had fun with the role of "Two", but I cannot picture Jim Caviezel in the McGoohan role as [Number] Six. From the trailer and advance publicity, I fear it may finally deliver on McGoohan's dishonest promise to his backers that it would be an action series. For all its failings, the original series was a thought-provoking, intelligent work. It would therefore never have made it to the small screen without McGoohan's deception. It was his project; he was co-creator, star and wrote some of it himself. We owe him for that; it's hard to imagine a remake that won't make our authoritarian leaders uncomfortable and their sycophants furious.
A genuine individualist himself, McGoohan navigated bizarre story lines carefully, somehow retaining sympathy for a character far from being loveable. Ultimately, Number Six was not even entitled to say; "I am not paranoid. They really are out to get me." The series ended in a full-on 1960s schlock episode in which Number Six is revealed also to be the mysterious, never seen but much talked-about, Number One. Symbolically, he was his own jailer and "I am out to get myself" is not quite such a good punchline. I suppose McGoohan was hinting that no man can truly be unfree without consent. It was a call to arms, perhaps, but hardly rousing.
I loved the original series, though I was a teenage collectivist when I first saw it. My strict, always-in-the-wrong, upbringing felt like life in "The Village" to me and I thought the village itself a perfect metaphor. My mental image of tyranny is a village, like the one I grew up in, where everyone knows you, there is no privacy and your every move is likely to be reported to "the authorities" (or in my case at the time, my parents). I felt cheated by the finale though. Like much 1960s culture, you needed to be on acid to appreciate the logic; which is another way to say that it had none.
The Prisoner was great television, but hugely flawed. Stylistically, it was too much of its ludicrous era. Everything good from the 60s needs to be remade, so for once the producers can do better than avoid adverse comparisons. They have something to shoot for.
I was at a party last night with my soon-to-be-ex-team in Moscow. It was at a way-too-cool-for-me bar and I was already feeling old when a kindly, well-meaning (and jollier than I had ever realised) colleague made things worse by asking if I had ever been at a Beatles concert.
Clearly, I must get more sleep and eat more healthily.
He was disappointed to hear that the earliest concert I ever attended was by Blondie (of whom, thanks to the Iron Curtain, he had never heard).
I was reminded of the conversation this morning by this delightful picture of the super-talented Ms Deborah Harry at Blogmeister Higham's new site. I have heard that, to this day, new bands with songs to promote are asked if they have a new "Heart of Glass." It is considered by many to be the definitive pop song - catchy, memorable, quirky and instantly recognisable from the first notes.
YouTube does not allow embedding of the video of the 70's live version at the Ed Sullivan Theater. However, here's the link if you need your memory refreshed. At the risk of offending the Misses Paine who shudder at my "poppy" sensibilities (and Mrs Paine who despairs of my "bimbo rock" tastes) I admit this video is on my iPod and I watch it at least once a month.
That confession over, if any of you know anyone who saw the Beatles live, my Russian colleague - a more avid Beatles fan than I have been since I pestered my mother for Fab Four wallpaper at the age of 8 - would like to shake his or her hand. Being told that Mrs Paine's mother knew John Lennon's uncle wasn't good enough, I am afraid.
The entertainment at our gala dinner in Berlin last night was provided by "Marlene Dietrich". She seems to be in remarkably good condition for a woman who died, aged 90, 17 years ago.
Any views on this lady's resemblance to the famous original?
That's big of her. I would have no problem if there was suddenly a demand for tall, overweight, middle-aged TV presenters either. Unfortunately, it's harder to get the people who really need to accept "lookism" with a good grace to do so. Those are the ones who - unlike Ms. Bruce - have radio faces.Their complaints remind me of the silent movie stars with ugly voices whose careers ended with the advent of the "talkies."
Why do people (even the usually sound-thinking Mrs P) get upset about TV presenters being selected for their looks? Why spend a fortune designing a TV show to be visually-appealing; from the sets through the lighting to the attractive fonts for the opening titles, only to spoil it by featuring an unattractive presenter front and centre? TV is a visual medium. It's for looking at. Naturally, audiences favour presenters from whom they do not need to avert their gaze. TV cameras also add apparent weight, which is why so many "attractive" presenters so disappoint when viewed without an intervening lens.
Why does all this only apply to female presenters, you may snort? Any unfairness there, I am afraid, is entirely the fault of women. They have less developed aesthetic standards when it comes to the opposite sex. Such are the rewards of a TV career, however, that any male presenter will give off the attractive aura of the chap of whom, in Ms. Austen's immortal words;
It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of
a good fortune must be in want of a wife.
Are men to blame for such discrimination on the part of women? Is not such an attitude just as "unfair" as (and much less charming than) the male preference for a pretty face?
Antiques Roadshow was a tired, tedious programme well past its sell-by date. It was leavened only by an occasional laugh at a grasping punter pretending not to care how much his bric-a-brac was worth. Since Ms. Bruce took over, it has (at least in parts) become gripping entertainment and once more has an audience outside the old folks' homes. Good for her.
There was much coverage yesterday of the 40th anniversary of the Beatles' Abbey Road album cover. In some ways it was a classic "silly season" story, but as can be seen from the linked post, many really wanted to celebrate. And why not? It's a great album and the cover picture is one of the most recognisable images ever made.
Two local councillors, however, feel that it's time to end the odd little North London tourist attraction. Both of them, sadly, are Conservative. They won their 15 seconds of Telegraph fame by calling for the iconic zebra crossing to be removed, claiming tourists cause accidents there. The annual rate has risen from 18 to 22 in the course of a single decade; none fatal. Of course nothing else has happened to the traffic in North London since 1999 which might possibly account for a whopping 22% increase in cuts and scratches.
What is it about politics that attracts joyless, control-freaks? What hope for a freer, jollier, less dour British society if we simpy replace the nannyism of New Labour with the paternalism of the Tories? Will our politicians never learn to let it be?
Here, wearing the faces they keep in their jars by the door, are the Tory ladies in question.
Oh darlings, as loyal subjects of Her Majesty, is there no way we can
come together to bring the end to the golden slumbers of liberty in our
country? Don't you want to stop having to carry that weight of being a grouch and a busybody? I don't pay council tax in your wards so you may say
to me "You never give me your money", but nonetheless I want you to do
something for me. As a Tory national victory approaches - I want to cry
joyfully "here comes the sun", not feel I have to borrow Maxwell's
silver hammer to fend off mean Mr Mustard. Polythene Pam feels the same
way and she's your neighbour so does have a vote. You remember her. She
came in through the bathroom window last week when she locked herself
out. Anyway, here's the deal. I am tired of politicians endlessly
interfering in our fun and games. I want to feel like the Sun King in
my own country again. I don't want the tentacles of the state all over
me, as if I were living in an octopus's garden.
Come on, ladies and gentlemen, please click on the link above and infuriate the Guardianistas who are posting such exasperated comments as;
Top Gear is not fit to grace any list that has the likes of the office, the west wing and arrested development on it.
The Wire is catching up fast on Top Gear with one day of polling still to go, so if you want to see Jezza ending the show with the poll results and the words "...and on that bombshell..." you need to get over there and vote. Urging on family, friends and work colleagues, not to mention posting a link to the poll on your blog (and in comments to every blog you frequent) would do no harm either.
The Grauniad is having a poll on "the best TV show of the decade" and the results are annoying its precious journalists.
Monday 2pm: we are aware that there has been some *ahem*
multiple voting and we are investigating how to eliminate this. In the
meantime, please keep voting - legitimately
Oh, dear. How shocking. I am sure they would never have complained were, say, Andrew Marr's Sunday Socialist Sycophancy Show in the lead. So which show has people clicking so enthusiastically? Yes, there is justice in the Universe occasionally. It's the one they hate the most (click to enlarge). Delicious!
In the Priory already? It didn't take SuBo long to get into the pop star groove, did it? I didn't know the famous clinic handled "emotional breakdowns" as well as providing "drying out" and "detox" services to the terminally-spoiled. Boyle may emerge with a heightened political awareness from exposure to emotionally-broken down MPs devastated by having been exposed as the lying, thieving, hypocrites they secretly always knew they were.
Will the Fees Office be as generous as the producers of "Britain's Got Talent" in picking up their bills though? After all, getting their heads together so they can deceive convincingly again is arguably more necessary to the performance of their duties as an MP than the majority of their fraudulent/unethical claims.
For some, it could be the first legitimate claim they have made in years.
Beauty contests are really quite ludicrous. I have no ideological objection to them, as long as they are consensual, but human tastes are so wide in these matters that almost everyone in the world is beautiful to someone. Happy thought.
Judging by the current rankings, the readers of the tabloid running this frivolous online contest have their own, rather Hispanic, tastes. They are most welcome to them. For my money, the clear winner should be Yuliya Tymoshenko of the Ukraine. She combines severe beauty with intelligence, drive and a life force so powerful I can feel its presence from here in Moscow. A friend of mine used to work for her and has promised to introduce me at some point. That would provide an interesting blog post.
In second place, for my tastes, would come Sarah Palin (the only American politician who would be at home hunting bears with Prime Minister Putin). From the ones I had not previously heard of, I would have to select either Yuri Fujikawa of Japan or the delightfully named Ms Bonk of Germany for third place.
I do rather despair at the poses some of these elected legislators were prepared to strike for a camera. That they assume such frivolity is good for them electorally, says little for democracy. If you still believe in such pointless activities, voting is open at the time of writing. The Croydonian (to whom, a tip of the titfer) couldn't be bothered. Can you?
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