TV: 4:00pm – 5:00pm / Body & Soul (24 Day 5 / ER episode 12.12)

Having just watched these two episodes back to back, I couldn’t help but notice a theme or, more accurately, something missing.

Remember Tony Almeida? Because no one at CTU seems to. After being blown up and simultaneously widowed within seconds of day five commencing, he’s been more than a little absent. Save for the scene where his unconscious body was used as bait in the evil fake doctor’s plan to kill Jack with a pair of surgical scissors, the clinic might just as well not exist. Which is strange because last year, when Driscoll’s fruit loop offspring was admitted, we couldn’t escape the place. Ok, so the guy’s unconscious. But if Big Brother Live can get away with showing 8 hours per day of stupid people sleeping, is it too much to ask for the occasional shot of Tony? Just to confirm that he hasn’t died/blown up again/escaped to go renegade.

Meanwhile our favourite medical drama strode into its episode without so much as a “Previously….” Which might not sound much, but in ER terms is equivalent to them holding up a big sign proclaiming ‘Maverick Episode’. Turns out it was merely the now annual ‘big celebrity guest star, just one storyline’ fest. That and the utilisation of a classic scriptwriting tool – flashbacks. Of stuff that we didn’t see the first time round. So you see, although there was no “Previously…”, there are in fact lots of previouslys. Clever, huh? Well it could have been better. Tv.com has all the factual inaccuracies, if you want to be picky. In the main though, they could pretty much be overlooked, save for when they tried to convince us Anspaugh King of the Hospital couldn’t get the day off for Mark Greene’s funeral. The fun, however, came from references to past characters, who conveniently enough were all working off screen. I was inevitably sucked in, and kept expecting Carol to career into shot atop a gurney.

Back at 24, Jack was meeting up with old colleagues too. Ok, we’ve never seen or heard of Christopher Henderson before now, but five minutes of telephone exposition to Audrey, and Jack’s got us all convinced – former CTU gone bad, who recruited and trained Bauer (shattering all illusions that he was actually born that way). So Jack foils the smarmy receptionist, only to be stun-gunned before he’s even entered the office. It’s fun when they play ‘increasing levels of competence’ with the terrorists, but waaaaaah this is Jack Bauer. He’s supposed to be indestructible. Henderson promises cooperation, throws in a George Mason / Nina Myers reference for kicks and swiftly gives up his former mentee for (near) certain death. Prompting Jack to cry “how could I have been so stupid?!”. Indeed. Even I saw that one coming. Naturally our protagonist survives – just as well, since base camp’s spiralling further and further out of control – and the so far so interesting Henderson scarpers. Though I suspect he possesses the requisite evil cackle and celebrity status (Mr RoboCop) to ensure a several episode run.

ER’s sleb guest star “Emmy-winner James Woods in a rare television performance” is doing sterling work portraying the progression of ALS, backwards. Abby’s got a bee in her bonnet about something, so I desperately try to recall previous storylines/relationships/mentions of Dr Nate Lennox, even though obviously it didn’t actually happen back then. I sometimes think I get too involved. Throughout the episode she remains stoic in her approach to continuing care, despite her colleagues’ protestations. We don’t get to see her ‘previously’ (1999) until the end of the show, at the point where she finally convinces the old guy to keep fighting. As it turns out, his present day set up “You’ve become a very persuasive doctor” is more moving than the flashback itself. Nevertheless we get a cute little bit about Abby in Med School being talked out of quitting a class by the persuasive Professor. As this kind of personal journey is reserved for key characters only, it seems Carter’s mantel has officially been handed over. Now if only they’d change the opening credits to reflect that.

Just as ER survives without Carter, many argue that 24 could go on without Jack. This episode seemed to be testing the water on that theory, by giving him only minimal screen time (albeit still more than Tony). While there was a sense that something was missing, the other characters provided a fair distraction. However brief, he did still manage to bag the best storyline, with first runner up going to Logan’s nutty wife. It does seem that whenever there is a crisis Jack gets sucked back in to field work. But realistically, it cant be. Every time a new day starts we leap forward at least 12 months. At least some of those 365 days must be spent solving some kind of problem sans Bauer. With the odd day in between spent catching up on filing and oiling the shredder. So logistically CTU could cope. Whether we the viewers would deal with it so well remains to be seen. Personally, and judging by my recent reaction to Tom Quinn’s passing, I’m not confident. A double team replacement might work, but they’d be hard pushed to live up to Michelle and Tony.

Does the fact that I can reasonably compare these two programmes mean that ER is regaining strength and quality? Or that 24 is losing its way? I think it’s actually a combination of the two. After a shaky start to season 12, ER has found its feet. The hideous Luka and Sam/kid story seems a lifetime away now he’s happily ensconced with Abby, and I’m generally pretty impressed. I predict that they keep this going for the remaining nine episodes – though I’m not terribly hopeful about the upcoming foray into the jungle to catch up with Carter/thingy – and end the season with another classic scriptwriting tool, the monumental cliff-hanger. As for 24, we’re only nine episodes in, and so I’m certain the best is yet to come. In the meantime, I’ll continue to pine for characters of old whose return has been hinted at (Jack asked Audrey to find Kim at least 4 hours ago. Has she never heard of chasing up?) or promised (for the love of god, he’s on the promotional poster!) At least until one of the current crop of characters does something vaguely interesting. Or leaves, at which point I’ll turn my attention to moaning about the fact that they're gone.

Pub: Phil's Last Quiz (O'Neills)

What makes a good send off? Party food, rounds of applause, tears? This week we witnessed the parting of a great man, from a Great British institution. Like Andi Peters and Eamon Holmes before him, Phil's last show was emotional. In barely a year he had established himself as Quizmaster Extraordinaire - fusing general knowledge, copious swearing and kids tv themes into a 150 minute explosion every Thursday night. The fact that we'd only discovered this experience a mere six weeks ago didn't make it any less meaningful. We were drunk and there was an awful lot of love in the music room.

Nine hours before the big event came the devastating news that we were two team members down. Given that our core team is four, with the occasional add ons, this was a serious blow. At this point revision (memorising Digital Spy headlines and clicking random article on Wikipedia) was abandoned and replaced by knowing smiles and our almost entirely meaningless war cry "death or glory!" Fast forward to 8.30pm where we sat surrounded by a team of 15, a team of 12, and two teams of 8, staring certain death in the face. “Basically, you’re fucked” observed our quizmaster helpfully.

"Before we begin..." yelped a fellow barman as Phil paused to launch into his last show. The celebrations began with a marvellous array of hats, sweets and party poppers, followed swiftly by photos, silly t-shirts and a torrent of lollipops in the direction of the star. The new boys, and the only other team of three, on the next table looked suitably confused as they were chastised for sniffing at a party hat (immediately removed and redistributed to a more agreeable participant) whilst an army of 15 swiped their spare chairs and eyed them up.

Suitable Phil shaped team names were created and the games began. We stumbled through the first two rounds without many problems - clashing only briefly over the comparable merits of Pamela Anderson and Jordan's tits. The picture round gave us a little more trouble, thanks to the current glut of American teen actresses, and the quiz writer's obsession with Shameless. A score update confirmed we were only 5 points off the leaders and that this quiz might be for turning, if only we could stop bitching about their 13 man advantage and knuckle down.

High on a flawless, albeit expected, performance in Brucie's Bonus round, we flew into the Answer Trail full of confidence. Honourable mention goes to AP for her exceptional Steve Martin knowledge, while J would appreciate my glossing over the fact that he missed an England World Cup fact. Phil launched into his "here we go!" question delivery with gusto, until some inebriate fell off her chair, and he was forced to revert to ‘staff member in charge' and throw concern her way. One can only hope that suitable marks were deducted from her team sheet for ruining Phil's last ever Chemical Brothers performance.

Scraps of paper were deposited for the inevitable bonus round tie breaker, until it transpired that every team had scored full marks, rendering it less of a tie breaker and more of just, well, another question. Our team proved their veritable genius in the art of educated guesses, and once more our kitchen cupboard was lined with cheap biscuits with silly names. This triumph was swiftly followed by a surprisingly undemanding Wipe Out round, and our ultimate victory. I cant be bothered to work out the stats, but I’m told it was an impressive win. I was just glad we beat the other team of three, who slunk away immediately after the final scores, probably fearing further celebratory frivolities, or some kind of ritualistic punishment for the losers.

Phil ended his last quiz with the same words that, presumably, closed his first. "I've been Phil. You've been sexual. But not as sexual as me." Standing ovations and a rousing rendition of 'for he's a jolly good fellow' were followed by drunken requests for a "speeeeeech!" Our quizmaster, suitable choked with emotion by this point, quoted a song that he'd tried (obviously not very hard) and failed to procure for the evening. So in his lilting Northern Irish accent he declared "We'll meet again, don't know where, don't know when. But I know we'll meet again some sunny day..." and tried desperately not to cry. All that remained were handshakes, kisses and a rousing chorus of 'You'll never walk alone', before we stumbled into the cold night air, glory firmly in hand.

TV: The Sleeper (Spooks episode 3.2)

I wasn’t supposed to like Spooks. I was told as much, by J, as he tore season one & two from their jiffy bags. “You wont enjoy this, because you love 24 and you hate that bloke from the Pride & Prejudice film. Oh, and season three is being shipped next week.”

This ‘English 24’ smacked of everything that is wrong with our country’s tv. Another embarrassing attempt by the Brits to emulate a gritty subject already conquered by the big brash Yanks. This catch-all extends to Casualty which, yes I know, started some eight years before ER. But let’s face it, while recent trips to County have been painful, there’s bad tv and then there’s Holby.

It wasn’t until later, after I was hooked, that I was reminded of the sick making tagline “MI5 not 9 to 5” from the BBC trailers. If I’d have known that at the time, I’d probably have refused the first episode. Which would have been cynical to say the least. But with only approximately 300 tv watching minutes in a day, I need a system to eradicate the periphery.

Episode 1 Thou Shalt Not Kill centred on Mary Kane, a ‘pro life extremist’ sporting a pitiful imitation of an American accent and a grudge against abortion doctors. “Hardly something Jack Bauer would lose sleep over”, I muttered. But then cars started exploding, innocent kids expired and it all got pretty exciting. Plus the spy stuff was cool, and intriguing on a new level because it was happening on the streets of London town. A feature which would prompt me to ask J (perhaps now wishing he’d pushed harder down the “second rate Colin Firth” route) “does that really happen in the UK?” at least twice every episode.

Three weeks on, in a true epitome of the digital instant gratification culture we’ve devoured 2 seasons. We’re left with the cliff-hanging finale of Tom shooting Harry and wandering off into the sea. Except we already know that neither of them die, thanks to reruns on Hallmark and an unfortunate slip of the info button. Nevertheless, we manage to hold out little over 48 hours before jumping onto season three to watch our protagonist clear his name in a series of killings, car tricks and the obligatory metamorphosis into a bum. As expected, by the end of the episode everything is hunky-dory and the team live to drink another bottle of wine.

Season three episode two of opens, for us, on a blurry Sunday morning as a reward for meeting a harsh deadline some 5 hours previous. In our slumber filled haze we conclude that new guy Adam is here to stay (a long and arduous process, aided significantly by the fact that his photo is on the dvd cover) and predict obvious tension with Tom because they are too similar. We also briefly consider the possibility that this might be Tom’s last season, in a whimsical “living happily ever after with Ellie” kind of way. As the episode progresses, however, Tom swings dangerously from immoral firebrand to honourable rebel, and we begin to realise that this is it. Sleep deprivation kicks in, and I’m soon wailing “don’t leave Tom, you’re my hero!” at the tv.

Despite my protestations, our star experiences a ‘conscience explosion’ and tries to sabotage the operation, dragging along the sleeper agent Professor who, by this point is really rather enjoying all this spy shit and doesn’t particularly want to be saved. So they stop Tom by landing a chopper on the road in front of his speeding car. Which is probably the coolest thing I’ve seen on tv this year, and certainly the best use of a helicopter since the opening titles of Baywatch. And then Harry decommissions him. And I sob. In 21 days this bloke has gone from a barely noticeable minor irritant in a movie remake, to one of my favourite tv characters of all time. Because I really am that fickle. And this programme really is that bloody good. It’s left to Harry to deliver the immortal line “And of course you realise we’ll never meet again”. And then Tom Quinn is gone.

Spooks continues, and we decide to stick with it. Not least thanks to the promise of “another shocking and very sad death” in season four. My one ongoing niggle, apart from the obvious loss of Tom who I think I am actually in love with, is the time frame. Each operation takes a minimum of four day to come to fruition. One cant help but point out that Jack could have juggled all that in less than 24 hours, while ‘dark’, saving his less than useless family members from kidnap and systematically torturing his way through a hefty pile of bad guys.

Film: A Cock & Bull Story (Michael Winterbottom)

Being previously unaware of this film’s existence, the trailer snuck up and made me cry with laughter. This initial reaction, which I seem to remember was coupled with an unreserved squeal of delight, came as a result of hearing Rob Brydon’s Alan Partridge impression. Could that possibly be real? And, if so, why had I never heard it before? Genius. Plus, Brydon on the big screen was surprisingly aesthetically satisfying. There was something suave about him, and I was rather taken aback. Or maybe movie lighting is just more forgiving than a handheld on the passenger seat.

Steve Coogan was amusing too, but his name in lights did not provoke the same level of hero-worship from me. While I’ve been in love with Partridge since The Day Today (12 years?!), I’ve never been a big fan of Coogan. My wildly subjective reasons are thus – I don’t like the way he swanned off to Hollywood in an attempt to disregard his British tv comedy roots. And I’ve always suspected his wickedly evil portrayal of Geoff in A Small Summer Party was autobiographical. Conspiracy theories aside, I just think he comes across as a bit of an arse.

The Tristram Shandy story was an intriguing one. I would’ve liked to see the entire film, which I know wasn’t the point. Beautifully shot with big costumes and gorgeous English countryside, I half expected Kiera Knightley to come skipping into frame. If only her pretty little head could have kept up. Indeed our local paper’s film columnist - elevated to this role, I’m certain, in recognition of his possession of all three Terminator dvds - had warned me it was a plot too complicated to follow. In reality, opening your mind past the basic beginning; middle; end concept, and general concentration on the job in hand should do the trick. He obviously hasn’t learnt to multi task beyond nachos and Pepsi.

The film production scenes were also insightful, although I’m sure people in the know would tell me this was an unrealistic portrayal. That said the financial difficulties experienced in the film’s film were, if rumours are to be believed, also apparent in the real film. So perhaps behind the scenes footage of production meetings / rushes screenings of a film within a film were, in fact, a film. Or something.

Unfortunately it turned out the trailer – probably the most hilarious thing I’ve seen so far this year – contained all the funniest bits. And knowing the punch lines to all the best gags before they happened took away some of the sparkle. The jokes were padded out with Gillian Anderson, a plethora of British tv’s comedic talents and a glimpse into Coogan’s private life. Whether this was the real Coogan, the real Coogan’s portrayal of ‘Coogan’, or a bit of both, it didn’t do much to change my opinion (see earlier comments re: a bit of an arse).

As the credits rolled, so to speak, we were treated to an extended version of Brydon does Pacino. I have exhausted my thesaurus of alternatives to ‘genius’, so you’ll have to suffer it again. This was by far and away the best part of the film. Which does somewhat beg the question, why make the film (within a film) at all? After 90 odd minutes of romantic comedy, battle re-enactments that weren’t and big budget stars, we came out of the cinema howling with laughter at Rob & Steve saying “hoo haa”.

These are two terribly funny men, who produce terribly funny comedy. Their desire to use their past successes as a groundwork for something bigger and potentially better is understandable. Who wouldn’t? But at the end of the day, the public know what they like and like what they know. And to that end, Alan Partridge: The Movie is currently in pre-production. Let’s hope there are similar big screen plans in the pipeline for his fantastic rambling Cock & Bull Story co-star. Because if as some critics suggest, it’s Coogan’s show, Brydon has categorically stolen it.

TV: Dream House / Human Shield (ER episodes 12.06 & 12.07)

As my fellow ER fans dropped like flies, I’m finding it increasingly difficult to hang on. But, at the same time, I cant let go. I’ve invested circa 10 years in this thing. I cant just walk away because it’s made a few mistakes. I feel like a negligent parent.

The all-time low came last week with the monkey storyline. “It’s not a monkey, it’s an chimp”. Boom boom. No, it’s a fucking hospital. For humans. Myself and fellow ER devotee were actually forced to [swoon]sky plus[/swoon] through these segments, as we found them too offensive even to watch on mute.

The episode, as I recall, had 2 storylines. Covert animal healing (flashes of Romano, about 5 seasons ago, operating on a dog??) and Danny Glover. Because they still haven’t learnt that wheeling out a Hollywood star does not a decent episode make. The highlight was the confirmation of my suspicion that Ray’s lady friend wasn’t all she seemed. i.e. legal. I thought she was young, but 14? Yuk. Oh, and an STD to boot. Her parents must be so proud. I’ve just checked, and I missed the fact that Haleh got the shove. But then if that’s what needs to be done to pay Danny Glover the fat wedge…

A week later and the other half wasn’t keen. I conceded to put it on as background noise for our nice milky cup of tea before bed. Only we got sucked in. I tell a lie. He fell asleep and I, probably fearing RSPCC style repercussions, got sucked in. But it was good. Really good. Like proper ER.

The criminal survived, thanks to the classic “our job is to save lives, not judge them” ER sageism. The little girl died and made everyone feel shitty. Jerry got a skit, Frank got a touching moment and Neela got her baps out, again. Is she not the most actively sexy health care professional County’s ever seen? (Randy doesn’t count, she’s merely an out & out slut). Gallant was dead, but then he wasn’t. Everyone shunned Eve’s critical incident debrief. And there was that kiss. Awesome.

Laura Innes directed. While it’s a shame we see less of her character, her behind camera contribution is probably a blessing for the future of ER. Plus the one fleeting glance of Weaver in the “put my name into the mixture” exchange with Luka was just brilliant.

Next week is the much hyped plane crash episode. Which isn’t, I hope, paving the way for an ER/Lost crossover. Serena Williams fills the [insert celebrity guest star here] gap. And presumably chaos ensues. It’s a shame the outside broadcast episode had to be thrown in just as season 12 found its feet. But, on the understanding that simian primates will not feature, ER has got me for another week.

TV: 24 (Day Five Preview)

I’ve taken to reading the tv guide. I’ve only read one and a half books so far this year, but I can tell you what is showing on Saturday morning ITV2. Tragic.

In three separate publications over the weekend, ‘24’ Sky One, 9pm was Sunday’s pick of the day. Only it wasn’t 24. It was a ten minute preview for the new series which starts at the same time next week.

My heart leapt into my stomach whenever I saw the tv listing. Each time I was convinced they’d moved the premiere forward a week, to fit perfectly into my Sunday night hangover and takeaway plans. It was only after being disappointed for the third time it began to sink in that a 600 second trailer had actually been chosen as a tv pick of the day. Because 24 really is that good.

It’s been a year since Jack ‘to all intents and purpose, dead’ Bauer walked off into the sunset, looking oh-so-cool in his Aviators and man-bag. One would have hoped that his more resourceful instincts might have kicked in and at least got himself a haircut. However, in classic 24 themes, Jack is a bum. A bum with a very fancy car.

We open in Chicago, fuelling the fires of the much lauded (by me) 24/ER crossover. Hopes are dashed again when Chloe arrives to tell Jack he needs to get out of there, a-sap. Our favourite IT geek, looking rather swanky through the scowl, hangs around just long enough to deliver the killer line “I cant believe you have to live like this now”. But you just know she means it with love. A discarded mobile phone, some not so subtle product placement and a baddie (who sadly does not appear to be Mandy) on a motorbike later, and it’s over.

Kiefer’s hair, which I’d like to believe is a tribute to his former career and recent professional renaissance (or something), will no doubt be long gone when day five begins. As for the others, who knows. The most hyped series to date has spawned a surprising lack of spoilers. We know Jack has a new bird – I’m guessing post crew cut – with a bratty teenager in tow, and that some dude from LOTR shows up in a suit. President Ineptitude returns with an, apparently, even more annoying wife – an impressive feat in itself.

Rumour has it that at least one of the big guns will die in the opening few episodes. If, as I suspect, it’s one of Tony or Michelle, I will be disappointed with 24 for the first time since Teri’s memory loss saga. But I suppose a pre-emptive rant about an incident which may or may not occur, in what is the best programme on tv, period, is not really in the spirit of the current 24 mania.

Indeed, Jack fever is at an all time high. Our brooding hero adorns the walls of bus shelters, fills the commercial breaks of rival channels, and even the BBC (maybe slightly regretting the decision to hand over control of CTU to Sky, while retaining the international rights for 2 Pints of Lager) have incorporated the yellow digital clock into their winter Olympics trailer.

I understand that the show must grow in popularity in order for it to survive and avoid being cut to 18 episodes. After all, I’m guessing that some of the dramatic tension might be lost if 24 skipped directly from midnight to 7am, with the twilight hours being explained away by Jack getting some kip and having a poo. However the current world domination makes me somewhat uneasy.

Will the new crowd of viewers be lost at the inevitable mention of “since Teri”? Will they feel Tony/Michelle’s pain when Michelle/Tony is killed? Will they truly understand the significance of some baldy old guy in glasses peering round a door? And as a veteran fan (from the dizzy heights of Day 2 Episode 3 no less) why do I care so much? Maybe I’m just projecting my own fears that it wont live up to all this hype. But it’s got to. If the 10 minute preview can get three different critics pick of the day, the new series will surely blow us all away. Or at the very least, beat back to back re-runs of American Idol.

Film: Garden State (Zach Braff)

Not immediately obvious. I think I’m so predisposed to either loving or hating something in an instant, I find the middle ground hard to navigate. The cinematography of the opening scenes, and the soundtrack, excited me. A piece of dialogue half way through made me cry. And the end left me kind of disappointed.

In an attempt to gauge my opinion, I read a host of other reviews. Which didn’t really help. I disagreed with the IMBD reviewer who proclaimed “It is a film that speaks to an entire generation…those of us born in the early-mid 80's who are in our late teens and early twenties trying to make it by in a environment that seems all at once so strange and yet so familiar”. While I do, just, fall into his category, I didn’t feel particularly spoken to. Or maybe I’m just not as angst ridden as my contemporaries. At the same time, I found The Guardian's 2/5 description of a "moderately entertaining" (what, like an episode of Neighbours?), "gently self-indulgent" (didn’t do Kevin Smith any harm) “damp squib” unfair.

When it was good – the pool, the pet cemetery, the gas station gag – it was wonderful. Other parts were, dare I say it, originally quirky. Throughout there was a smattering of inevitable cliché, but considering it was ‘that guy from Scrubs’, giving himself the lead and simultaneously wearing the writer/director hat for the first time, it was refreshingly understated. The supporting cast was impressive, with particularly enjoyable performances by Jackie Hoffman and the brilliant Ron Leibman. While Portman, who I’d previously experienced in that Star Wars thing and – eek – Closer, was thoroughly cute throughout.

Braff proved his talents far exceed medical situation comedy, and with two lead roles currently in post-production it will be interesting to see his next step. I only hope that, while a voice over in Chicken Little might pay the bills, the lure of mainstream doesn’t mark an end to his writing career. [cough] Owen Wilson [/cough]. Indeed, while his protagonist was heart warming - Large’s “I’ll take a hug” to Olivia proved particularly endearing – it was, more than anything, an exhilarating screenplay debut.

The aforementioned embrace opened the floodgates to a barrage of physical contact, which for me became the theme of the film. I almost didn’t want them to kiss at the end, as I’d preferred to watch them cuddling throughout. As it was, the kiss was inoffensive and almost immediately overtaken by a huge hug. Nice direction.

Warm, fuzzy and overall pretty rewarding. With some beautiful dialogue. A second viewing would, I think, cement it firmly in my list of likes.

"You know that point in your life when you realize the house you grew up in isn't really your home anymore.

All of a sudden, even though you have some place where you put your shit that idea of home is gone.

You'll see one day when you move out. Just sorta happens one day, and it's gone. You feel like you can never get it back. It's like you feel homesick for a place that doesn't even exist.

Maybe it's like this rite of passage, you know? You won't ever have that feeling again until you create a new idea of home for yourself. You know, for your kids. For the family you start. It's like a cycle or something.

I don't know. But I miss the idea of it, you know?

Maybe that's all family really is. A group of people that miss the same imaginary place."