Christmas – a time of excessive eating, Trivial Pursuit (and sore losers), ridiculously expensive Heston puddings sold on Ebay, highly stressed shoppers and telly! I’m going to do a quick (ok, I know I’m not the best when it comes to paraphrasing, so admittedly it will be long and flowing and full of opened and closed brackets) review of some of the twinkly gems (and polished poohs) of the Christmas TV schedule.
The Good (yay)
Great Expectations: I never thought Scully in an old wedding dress with her lipbalm starved lips and whispery voice could make for such compelling viewing. Nor did I think I could get past the way-too-beautiful-for-TV face of the actor who played Pip (not convinced a blacksmiths boy from the forge could grow up to have such lovely cheekbones), but together Scully and captain pretty boy were brilliant. Ray Winstone as escaped convict Magwitch, was well, Ray Winstone being Ray Winstone. Gravelly cockney geezer with a jowley snarl and his customary sniff at the end of each line. He cut a terrifying figure as he emerged in the opening titles all handcuffed and dangerous looking. Brilliant. It was an atmospheric trip into Dickensian England done exceptionally well, both haunting and true to the book (even with pretty actors and slightly questionable lampchops.) To boot, we had Poirot looking a bit evil as well with a strange case of OCD. Three hours of truly classy telly from the BBC, good on the eyes and with a dashing script. My favourite line was without doubt: “Pip? What sort of name is that for a gentleman? Pippity pip pip pip!” The said sneering rich bastard baddie in his burgundy velvet attire then rightly met his end by being kicked to death by the unfortunate horse he was beating with a whip. Have that, you nasty man for poking fun at a wonderful name like Pip.
Lapland: Which was on way too late in the Christmas Eve schedule for BBC1, for what was a brilliant piece of festive comedy drama with a very clever script. The Lewis’, a recently bereaved family from Birkenhead, set off in search of Santa, the Northern Lights and their first Christmas without their Dad/Grandad. A stellar cast led by Sue Johnston (Mum in The Royal Family) gave a brilliant performance as a dysfunctional family trying to enjoy Christmas and make the most of their Christmas holiday. One of the highlights of the programme was the hilarious tour guide ‘Jingle Jill.’ She had applied to work as a 18-30 tour guide at Val Desire but had landed the job as a tour guide for a bunch of Brit middle agers and kids in search of Santa. Her disappointment was plain to see: “I should have been snuggling up to fit snowboarders in Val-Desire, not singing carols in the frigging pudding bus!” She was tackless and coarse throughout, and had no sales panache when it came to trying to encourage her guests to sign up for local excursions. One of her finest moments came when she revealed to the unsuspecting children that the sausages that they had been devouring at breakfast were made of reindeer: “Yeah, that’s right kids, you’ve been eating nothing but Rudolph for the past two days!” The children, not surprisingly were very disturbed. Despite all their issues, a botched quad bike trip, and the two oldest grandchildren rearranging the words visit Santa to visit Satan on the hotels noticeboard, in the end they got to see the Northern Lights and visit Santa. They flew back to Birkinhead, full of reindeer and all the happier for braving the Lapland experience. I love a happy ending.
Sherlock: Ok. We know Sherlock is amazing stuff. So say 9 million viewers and a googleplex of TV critics. The BBC does also, at any given opportunity remind us so, labelling it ‘Original British Drama.’ The first episode of this new series was splattered in fast talking, big words, a jumbo jet of rotting corpses and a dominatrix. What a start to 2012. Benedict Cumberbatch is an odd looking fellow, but that is what makes him so appealing as Sherlock. His trip to Buckingham Palace (almost in nothing but a double sheet to hide his modesty) was a classic. More so for his casual goodbye as he left the room: “laters.” Mycroft was not amused, though I’m sure Conan Doyle was looking down from above and wishing he had been privy to such dialect for his novels. I’m definitely much happier sitting on my sofa watching this version of Sherlock than spending loads of money at a charmless multi-plex cinema and watching Guy Ritchie’s filmic version (which should be named Lock, Stock and one smoking Holmes.)
The Bad (boo)
This can be categorised as mainly most of the other pap on the small screen. Although, I must pay a fleeting mention to Downton Abbey for this (or Downton as everyone now calls it – is it that cool we have to shorten it?!) In categorising this highly adored Sunday night viewing gem I might offend you dear readers, but come on, did we really need to wait two blooming hours (and plentiful ad breaks) for Matthew (who was lost then found then could walk then couldn’t walk etc etc) to propose to Lady Mary!? (love the snow scene at the end though, like a little Downton snowglobe – now available in all branches of Past Times (oops wait they went bust)) And besides this, what was the point of Nigel Havers? Nigel Havers?! (obviously him eating kangaroo balls in I’m a Celebrity didn’t turn Julian Fellows off.) Could do better. However, Maggie Smith did seem to like her nut cracker (“It’s for cracking nuts granny” smirked the daughter who never has any good storylines.)
The Ugly (hiss)
The Only Way is Essex Christmas special. Need I say more. Go and play Wham down the Sugar Hut. Also, I love cooking, but do we need sooooo many TV chefs and their tedious Christmas specials? Rick Stein, yes I’m talking to you when I use the word tedious. No I don’t want Spanish octopus served on a bed of pan fried chorizo and smoked paprika for my Christmas lunch, thanks all the same.
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