Category: Entertainment

Sorry that I’m coming late to this, but here’s a terrific mashup of Doctor Who and 2001: A Space Odyssey…

 

   

 

(hat tip to Nicholas Whyte)

So today I watched the second part of The End of Time, the Doctor Who story in which David Tennant bows out of playing the tenth Doctor, and Russell T. Davies bows out of being the main scriptwriter.

 

I have to say that I have mixed feelings. Kudos to Davies for successfully rebooting the whole Doctor Who story universe, and Tennant for being a good choice for the Doctor. But having said that, I couldn’t shake off the feeling that, for the most part, this series finale showed up the weaknesses of Davies’ writing.

 

The first part struck me as though Davies was doing an awful lot of gleeful vamping of plot elements in order to build up to that awful pun uttered by The Master near the end. It was almost as if he had started with that pun and worked backwards from there. 

 

The second part left me largely unmoved in directly inverse proportion to the amount of mayhem that was being portrayed on the screen. Only the quieter moments, and the elegaic farewells to other characters of past storylines in the closing minutes seemed to be worthy of the event. Bernard Cribbins, in particular, was a joy to watch.

 

Now we have the next Doctor to look forward to. I’ll reserve judgement on the actor, but I am hoping for a lot from the new writer, Steven Moffat, who on past performance has already provided us with the best Doctor Who stories I’ve yet seen.

I’ve mentioned it before, but here’s another version of Tim Minchin’s wonderful poem "Storm"…

 

 

Here’s a nicely-performed illusion by Ilya Larionov. He claims that there are no camera tricks, and I think he’s telling the truth. This can be done by skill alone – oh and having a fourth person to help out…

 

 

 

Hat tip to Richard Wiseman.

How observant are you? How many changes can you spot in this vignette?

 

 

 

(hat tip: Richard Wiseman)

While I said that I hadn’t a clue as to how Derren Brown pulled off his "predicting the Lottery" stunt the other day, I’m coming round to the view that it relied on some sort of split screen illusion; like this:

 

   

 

Mind you, even if it was done this way, odds are that Derren Brown won’t tell it out straight. After all, he’s got an hour long show to fill tonight…

 

Update: I haven’t seen the show in which he "explained" how the trick was done, but apparently he claimed that it was by using a group of volunteers to do automatic writing of lottery numbers and then averaging the results to come up with the prediction.

 

Yeah, right – and if you believe that you’ll believe anything. Depressingly enough, going by the comments on the internet, many people do…

Derren Brown pulled off a good stunt last night when he apparently predicted all six numbers of the UK Lottery draw. Of course, it’s a trick – he didn’t reveal the winning numbers until after the numbers had been drawn – but he does it very well.

 

 

 

There are all sorts of theories being floated over at The Guardian, but I haven’t a clue how he did it. I just know that he didn’t predict the draw – he’s an illusionist.

 

The most worrying thing was that when I read the Guardian page, Google Ads were exhorting me to buy an automated endoscope reprocessor…

I know that I’ve been dismissive of Torchwood (the Doctor Who spinoff) in the past. But the current five-episode story Children of Earth has changed my mind. Last night’s episode (number 4) was simply stunning. Not because of special effects or action sequences, but because of the writing and playing of one scene in particular. The scene of the British Prime Minister and his cabinet discussing how to justify to themselves and the country the method of choosing the 10% of British children who are to be sacrificed to the aliens was chilling and horribly real. There was other good stuff as well; Simon Brew’s review over at Den of Geek spells it out (warning: spoilers).

 

This was very good TV, I only hope that tonight’s finale won’t let us down.

 

Update: well, the finale was pretty good; perhaps not quite as good as episode 4, but certainly streets ahead of most of the dross on TV. There was some class writing from Russell T. Davies brought to almost unbearable life by excellent actors. For me, the highlights of the whole series were the scene in the Cabinet Room of episode 4 (mentioned above), and the scene in episode 5 of Frobisher going to kill his children, his wife and himself being intercut with the monologue from his loyal secretary to Lois about how Frobisher was "a good man". RTD knows how to push my emotional buttons, and he comes up with some audacious ideas (e.g. the aliens are hooked on the secretions of living human children).

 

Yes, the destruction of the aliens was pretty pat, but RTD used it to pose one more moral dilemma – is the death of one child to save humanity worth the price? – and to send Captain Jack off with a huge burden of guilt; it was his grandchild who was sacrificed, and Captain Jack himself pushed the button.

 

I think what brought me round to liking Torchwood in this series was that this story was never really about aliens, it was about the real monsters: us, and what we are prepared to do in the name of drivers such as love, politics, religion or just simple expediency. Great TV. Here’s the review of episode 5 in The Guardian. I was struck by one of the comments where someone favourably compared RTD with the late, great, Dennis Potter. You know, there’s something in that, I think.

In last night’s episode of The Apprentice, Sir Alan Sugar provided us with a perfect pantomime moment when he said to the losing team: "This ain’t no bladdy game show, you know…" I suspect that up and down the land, viewers joined with me in shouting back to the screen: "Oh yes it bladdy well is!" Wonderful stuff.

 

And, taking the editing that goes on in The Apprentice to the next level, here’s Cassetteboy’s take:

 

 

 

BTW, Howard didn’t deserve to get fired.

Eurovision looms, and I can do no better than to point you to this roundup in the Guardian of some of the sillier entries. Included in them is the Dutch contender: Shine, performed by the Toppers. Alas, the Guardian’s scathing comments are fully justified. Sample:

Very true.

 

Mind you, I have to hand it to Gordon, one of the members of the Toppers for taking a stand against Russia’s anti-gay attitudes. He says he will withdraw from the final if violence is used against a pro-gay protest in Moscow planned for the 16th May. Although, I somehow doubt whether Shine will make it to the final, so he’s probably on safe ground…

 

Update: I have just watched and listened to the Dutch entry for the very first time in its awesome entirety. Omifeckinggawd – that is cringeworthy stuff. I felt the enamel being stripped from my teeth as I beheld it.

 

Update II: Jaysus – Ukraine’s entry is mainlining if you’re a chocoholic with a taste for erotica… I must go and lie down for a while…

 

Charlie Brookner nails the inner workings of The Apprentice.

An old tale seen through scientific eyes…

 

http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=3514904&server=vimeo.com&show_title=1&show_byline=1&show_portrait=0&color=&fullscreen=1
Slagsmålsklubben – Sponsored by destiny from Tomas Nilsson on Vimeo. 

 

(hat tip A Blog Around the Clock)

Here’s a wonderful impression of this month’s Mardi Gras in Sydney by filmmaker Keith Loutit. He uses a time lapse technique coupled with tilt and shift focus that turns the parade into an animated film using toy figures. The end result brings a smile to my face.

 

http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=3548220&server=vimeo.com&show_title=1&show_byline=1&show_portrait=0&color=ffffff&fullscreen=1
Mardi Gras from Keith Loutit on Vimeo. 

Dear god, but I cannot believe how bad the new BBC series Merlin is. What a waste of some good actorly talents (John Hurt, for example) on a pile of utter crap.

 

Update: Mark Pickavance’s review puts into words the reasons why I was so irritated with Merlin. Not content with driving SUVs through the mythology, the writers also brought in flat modern dialogue (example: "don’t be such a prat…"). While I’m not looking for Chaucerian English, I think we deserved better than this…

Thanks to a reference over at Atheist Media, I’ve now discovered that John Cleese has a Podcast site. There’s a collection of short skits or presentations that he’s done. I’m still going through them, but I was rather taken with podcast #33: The Brain Explained, in which Cleese channels Stanley Unwin – someone who will be unknown to most of Cleese’s fans. Cleese also dons the scientist’s white coat in podcast #32: The God Gene – which pokes fun at those who oversimplify the naturalistic view of the universe.

 

He’s also started a new venture: the Headcast, in which he delivers short chats to camera. These are downloadable videos at the absurdly low price of $1 each. Great value for money. Mind you, in the first chat he talks approvingly about Richard Tarnas, whose 1991 book – The Passion of the Western Mind – sounds quite interesting. But my heart sank when I read the précis of his second tome: Cosmos and Psyche. I quote: [it] "challenges basic assumptions of the modern world view, postulating the existence of a consistent correspondence between planetary movements (specifically the astrological aspects) and archetypal patterns of human experience, also called astrology."

 

Oh dear, that doesn’t sound good. Another philosopher who’s wandered into woo, perhaps? 

I mentioned yesterday that the re-emergence of Joyce McKinney was surely evidence that the Silly Season was in full swing. In today’s Bad Science piece, Ben Goldacre confirms that hypothesis by pointing to a credulous article (in the Telegraph, no less) that mentions the QXCI machine.  As Ben points out, the QXCI machine is somewhat suspect. Just how suspect can be found here. Ben also points out that the man behind the machine is a gentleman by the name of Bill Nelson. The video of Bill singing his own praises is strange beyond belief. But it gets better – here’s Bill, aka Desire Dubounet, belting out Crying:

 

   

 

I’m speechless.

So I watched the opening ceremony of the Beijing Olympics on BBC HD. All very spectacular, although the combination of little girls and goose-stepping military men carrying a national flag always fills me with unease. But, why oh why do we have to put up with the inane commentary from the BBC team? I kept wishing there was a button to switch off the commentary track and just let me watch Zhang Yimou’s visuals and listen to the music.

 

Huw Edwards, a word of advice: just shut the fuck up!

Dear me, talk about a blast from the past – it appears as though Joyce McKinney is still making the sort of news that is perfect for the annual Silly Season.

A rather nicely written piece in today’s Guardian about Mr. Methane, who is clearly the 21st century’s answer to Le Pétomane. I’m almost tempted to want to experience one of his performances. He sounds very droll (and that, for all you Dutch-speakers, is a genuine multi-lingual pun).