I’m not sure if you’ve heard, but there’s this thing going on in America at the moment called a Presidential Election. It’s kind of a big deal, apparently. And in recognition of that fact, the BBC has busted out its big guns and sent two of its finest small-screen stars across the pond, to report back to the mother country about all the fuss going on in that uppity former colony of ours.

I am, of course, ecstatic about this, because one of these stars is Stephen Fry, otherwise known as the only man I would leave my fiancé for, if only he would ask. In Stephen Fry in America, Fry has spent several months travelling across the United States, in a London taxi of all things, and is stopping off in every state of the union in order to report on interesting and unusual things. So far these things have included lobster fishing off the coast of Maine, a meeting with the mafia gang who inspired The Godfather in New York, and a visit to a body farm in Tennessee (and if you don’t know what that is, I suggest you Google with caution).

I am so delighted that my beloved Stephen Fry is back on our screens, being his usual erudite and foppishly-charming self, that I hesitate to voice any complaint at all. But I must admit, this series is not as perfect as it could be, only because too much is crammed into every show. Yes, Fry does go to every state in the Union, but so rapidly that some are simply driven across and remarked upon in passing.

If only we could have a show for every state. I would happily watch Stephen Fry trying to fill an hour of television with interesting facts about Nebraska or Delaware. Let’s face it, if anybody could do it, it’s him. But, this is only a minor quibble, and mostly I find Stephen Fry in America utterly wonderful and delightful, and so will you.

Slightly higher up the didactic ladder, The American Future: A History is Simon Schama’s survey of the history of the United States as a cautionary tale. Or, in other words, everything that is happening now has happened before, and we could all learn a thing or two from it if we would only pay attention. The first episode looked at America’s wartime history, going all the way back to the conflicting perspectives of Jefferson and Hamilton to illustrate the ideological conflicts about the Iraq war that are now at the forefront of the presidential campaigns. It’s stirring and controversial stuff.

In the next episode, apparently, Schama is examining the history of religious pluralism in the United States. It’s all a lot less frivolous than Stephen Fry creating a new flavour of ice cream at the Ben and Jerry’s factory in Vermont, but it’s fascinating viewing nevertheless.

You can find further Stateside hi-jinks with my beloved Fry on BBC1, Sunday nights at 9pm. And if you also want to learn about the minutiae of American history and what it all means for today, you can catch Simon Schama on BBC2, Friday nights at 9pm. I have no doubt both these shows will also be coming to BBC America in no time at all.

Road Tripping With The BBC

Shall we start with the highbrow? James May (swoooon….) is a fairly recent addition to the long list of middle-aged male TV presenters on whom I have a bit of a crush. He is so foppish and articulate! And, although he will never equal Stephen Fry in my estimation, he obviously has something going for him, because I sat through a whole show about robots and artificial intelligence just because he was presenting it.

James May’s Big Ideas is a new show which has our eponymous presenter looking for the Jetsons-esque 21st century lifestyle he always envisioned when he was a child - jet packs, flying cars, food capsules and teleportation devices. And robots, of course. The episode I watched followed him in his search for the perfect robot, one that would do his bidding, wash the dishes, and beat up the school bully. If it could also shoot lasers out of its chest, so much the better.

Alas, such a robot does not yet exist, but I did get to spend an entertaining hour watching May attempt to drive a wheelchair with the power of his mind, play baseball with a robot which had less hand-eye coordination than I do (and that’s saying something), and lecture us about the inner-workings of the human eye, with diagrams (at which I swooned all over again).

And then there’s the low-brow low point of my televisual week. Hole in the Wall is one of those shows that makes you seriously consider writing to the BBC to demand to know what it is they think they’re doing with your TV licence money. And the answer, apparently, is that they’re spending it on persuading C-list celebrities to don unflattering silver body suits and fit themselves through oddly-shaped holes in a foam wall, or end up pushed into a swimming pool.

Yep. That’s the whole show. And if it all sounds eerily familiar it’s because Marcia mentioned the show’s concept back when it was first thought-up. In Japan, home of humiliating game shows, of course. Versions of the show have since popped up all over the world, including in the US.

Why do I watch this? I hate myself for watching this. And yet, it is endlessly compelling. I mean, they’re adults, in silver body suits and shamingly-superfluous crash helmets, getting dunked on national television. What’s not to like? Although my tolerance for Dale Winton’s inanely enthusiastic ‘Bring on the Wall!’ battle cry is wearing exceptionally thin. But still, I know that next Saturday night I’ll be tuning in again for another thirty minutes of has-beens contorting themselves for my viewing pleasure.

Have you lost all respect for me now? Or are you too busy feverishly searching the TV listings to find out exactly when you can see this car-crash television for yourself? It’s OK, you can tell me.

Hole in the Wall airs Saturdays on BBC1 at 5.00 pm. And if you need to feed your brain afterwards, you can catch James May’s Big Ideas on BBC2, Sunday night at 9.00pm.

Big Ideas and Humiliating Holes

When I first heard that Charley Boorman, of the famous Long Way Down and Long Way Round travel shows, was doing a new series by himself, I was extremely dubious. The Long Way shows, starring Ewan McGregor and chum getting up to lots of good blokey fun while travelling around the world on motorbikes, have been hugely popular. But Boorman is, after all, the ‘and chum’ of the dynamic. And let’s be honest, most of us were only tuning in to the previous shows to see if Ewan McGregor was going to do his diary cam segment shirtless (which he frequently, and gratifyingly, did).

Still, I decided to give Charley’s new show, By Any Means, a chance. The premise is simple, and unusual. Charley plans to travel from his childhood home in Wicklow, Ireland, to Sydney, Australia, by any means possible. Any means, that is, except commercial flights.

The first half of the first episode focuses on the huge amount of planning such a trip involves, with lots of pushpins in wall-maps and footage of people flicking through guide books in a serious manner. Throughout all this Charley himself seems gratifyingly nonchalant, and is quite taken aback when his producer tells him that travelling through Pakistan and Afghanistan isn’t going to be possible, because, turns out, they’re kind of bomby.

Eventually, a workable route from Ireland to Sydney is decided upon, and there follows the obligatory montage of Charley learning how to bind a rib fracture with two bits of string, how to drive a steam train, how to sail a dinghy, how to ride a horse…. He learns a lot of stuff, basically, and I begin to realise just how epic this journey was going to be. Clearly Charley does too, as he shows his trembling hands to the camera in the run up to the trip.

Then, they are off! Motorcycles from Wicklow to Dublin, a scallop trawler to the Isle of Mann, a passenger ferry to Liverpool, a train, a red London bus, a lifeboat and a Landrover to Dover, and then a dinghy to France. The first episode ends with Charley and his hapless producer Russ about to capsize into the English channel, so now I have to tune in next week just to make sure they make it to Calais unharmed.

I was dubious about this show, but I ended up really enjoying it. Freed from his roll as ‘famous movie star’s comedy sidekick,’ Boorman really comes into his own, with charm, humour, and gleeful enthusiasm aplenty. Of course the show could only be improved by the odd Ewan cameo (and he did pop up, briefly, to wish Charley good luck on his trip) but my concerns that Boorman couldn’t carry a show on his own were unfounded. Give By Any Means a whirl. I reckon you’ll have fun.

Around the World with Charley Boorman

Maestro, BBC2’s new celebrity conducting show, is reality TV gone highbrow. And yes, you did read that right. It’s a show in which celebrities (and I use that term relatively loosely) compete against each other to see who is the best at conducting the BBC symphony orchestra. In traditional style, they go up against a panel of expert judges, and every week one contestant is given the boot. The winner of this show will conduct the orchestra on that most British of occasions, the Last Night of the Proms, later this year.

I think it’s safe to say that no other television network in the world could pull this off. Only the BBC can get away with a show that involves David Soul (yes, David Soul, from Starsky and Hutch ) flapping his hands around ineffectually in front of an orchestra playing Adagio for Strings, or Sue Perkins conducting a full symphony orchestra through an extended version of The Simpsons theme tune.

And yet, despite the preposterous premise,  Maestro really works.  I found myself rooting for drum-and-bass star Goldie as he conducted the orchestra through a rousing rendition of the Cavalleria Rusticana, and cringing as cake-decorating sensation Jane Asher just wiggled her hips to Bernstein’s Mambo, forgetting all about her baton. But I actually learned a thing or two as well. I never knew how much difference a conductor can make to an orchestra, and how easily it can all go catastrophically wrong with an ill-timed flick of the wrist.

I have a new-found respect now, both for the professional conductors who make it look so effortless, and for these celebrity contestants, who despite never having done it before, get up every week in front of a professional orchestra, move their arms around, and make music happen. Bless them all for trying.

You can catch Maestro on BBC2 every Tuesday evening, or on the iPlayer any time you fancy it.

I’m A Celebrity, Let Me…Conduct?

“I’m going to be saying ‘I’m not telling you’ a lot,” warns Steven Moffat, the newly appointed showrunner of Doctor Who. He may be happy to participate in a “conversation” at the Edinburgh TV festival (he was unwilling to use the festival’s preferred term of “master class”), but that doesn’t mean he’s going to tell us anything about what’s coming up on the series.

What can we expect from the next companion? Not telling. Which villains will we see? Not telling. Will David Tennant be returning? Definitely not telling. After a very entertaining hour spent with Moffat, the crowd leaves smiling, but hardly well-informed. That’s the way Moffat likes it.

He initially tries to evade all question by insisting that answering them in detail “would mean there’s some cognitive content [in the session], and I’m trying to avoid that.” Pressed, he gets a bit more specific, explaining that he thinks spoilers damage the show. He refers to the end of the recent episode “The Stolen Earth,” when the Doctor appeared to regenerate, a powerful cliff-hanger that would have lost its impact if we knew Tennant was contracted for two more seasons. Turning to face the audience, he begs us, “Shut up! Don’t give it away!” He’s well aware that it’s a public show, filmed on the streets of Cardiff, and spoilers are available if someone looks hard enough for them. Those that tell such secrets, however, are compared to “the whining boor in the pub who gives away the punch line” the second before the joke teller does.

It’s clear that the audience, quite rightly, loves David Tennant in the role and wants to know how much longer we get to keep him. Moffat gives nothing away. He compares the Doctor to James Bond, another character with a rotating crew of actors. Whether we like it or not, we know there will be a new Doctor someday, and Tennant is no different. He just won’t tell us when someday is.

What will he tell us? The schedule, at least, isn’t a state secret. Although 2009 has been reported as a Doctor Who gap year, it’s anything but. In addition to the usual Christmas episode, there will be four more specials over the course of the year, and the series will resume its normal schedule in 2010. “So stop complaining!” he laughs.

He also confirms that the Daleks “will always return to Doctor Who,” despite some reports that he planned to do away with them. He has no idea how that particular rumor got started. “Even if you were a drunk Russian with a memory problem, you would never have heard those words come out of my mouth.” The Daleks are a part of Who history, and Moffat is as interested in what came before as in creating something new. It’s that mix of old and new that partly explains the show’s appeal. Everyone, regardless of age, has memories of their Doctor and their villains.

When asked whether the show’s tone will be slightly darker, based on Moffat’s own episodes (”Blink”, “The Empty Child”, “Silence in the Library”), he shrugs. “I like Doctor Who being scary,” he admits, but also disagrees with the idea that he’s the “dark” writer, citing Russell T. Davies work on “Midnight”, an episode in which “people are fundamentally vile,” and the relationship Davies created between the Doctor and the Master. He also mentions his own work on “The Girl in the Fireplace,” a relatively light-hearted episode. Besides, he points out, you can’t take the show too seriously. “If your main character lives in a telephone box that’s bigger on the inside, you’re going to have to put some jokes in.”

He’s already written the first episode and has a plan for the entire series but – you guessed it – he’s not telling us what that is.

He’ll speak a bit about what came before, but even then he equivocates. He refuses to name a favorite Doctor, insisting that it changes every day and, in the end, “there’s only one Doctor and he changes his face from time to time.” He’s a bit more forthcoming on the matter of favorite companion, naming Sarah Jane Smith and Rose. He’s particularly fond of the latter, because she “changed the shape of the show.” Still, he points out that the Doctor/Rose arc had to end, as there really wasn’t a future for a 900-year-old Time Lord and a 19-year-old human. “He’s going to turn into someone else, she’s going to turn into her mother.” A beat. “Actually, that’s most marriages.”

Between his Who duties, Moffat has a few projects lined up. He wrote the screenplay for Spielberg’s adaptation of Tintin, and was scheduled to write two more before Who came calling and he begged off, preferring to work with the Doctor. He also speaks briefly of a Press Gang reunion show, a project that would make the devoted fans of the British kids’ show ecstatic. “I’ve always thought it would be tremendous fun” to revisit that show, he says, even though he imagines the current version would feature a “middle-aged and saggy” cast. He speaks of getting very drunk at the Jekyll wrap party and pitching the reunion idea. He doesn’t much remember the pitch, but apparently it was successful. Whether or not it will ever go into production is another matter. Right now, his focus is all on Who, and even the prospect of a Who film doesn’t get much of a response. He admits that it would be fun, but refuses to do anything that would take away from the show.

He readily admits that “of course there’s pressure” that comes with the job, not just from the fans, but from himself as well. “At age 45, you’re offered the job you wanted when you were 7,” he points out. Like David Tennant, Moffat is a huge fan of the show and considered not taking the position for that very reason. “I hope I don’t break it.” Despite his misgivings, Moffat was unable to turn down what is “literally the best job in television. Except for David’s. He gets to pretend to be Doctor, while I have to do it at home alone at night.”

Related posts:

• Tim Kring talks about Heroes
• Fringe screened at the Edinburgh TV festival

Steven Moffat Talks about the Doctor. Sort Of.

And yet, like all the best dreadful TV, Snog, Marry, Avoid is utterly compelling. I had to keep pausing the show (thank goodness for DVR) to keep track of all the gems these women spouted about their looks – ‘I would rather give up my home than my fake tan’, and ‘It’s not just hair – it’s got a meaning’ being my favourite quotes from the episode I saw.

In my opinion, the women looked better after POD’s treatment. Gemma (who prefers, for reasons best known to herself, to be called Levi) went from a ratty-haired Jodie Kidd wannabee to a classy brunette. And Tamsin (Princess Tamsin, sorry) went from an outfit that consisted entirely of a tutu and a piece of masking tape over her boob to a much more elegant and sophisticated wrap-dress. But it irked me that these transformations were achieved because a silly fake computer forced them into it. Let them wear what they want, POD, you patronising piece of circuitry!

Of course, I should not forget to point out the questionable wisdom of parading these poor women before random men so that judgement could be passed on them. What about the men, after all? Are they so perfect? I thought POD was going to redeem herself (for, of course, POD is voiced by a female - the harshest critics of women are always other women, after all) by singling out the improbably-named Eshan for her special treatment.

Eshan, a young goth man with a crown of hair spikes and eye makeup that made him look like he was weeping pure mascara, seemed like a prime candidate for POD’s scathing and enforced ‘make-under’. But no! POD just praised his unique style and sent him on his way, without even giving any ‘women on the street’ the opportunity to weigh in. I call foul!

Don’t watch Snog, Marry, Avoid. It’s awful telly, and you’ll hate yourself for it. I do.

But, if you simply can’t resist, it is up on the iplayer, and it’s shown regularly on BBC3.

Lowering the Tone with Snog, Marry, Avoid

This two-part drama tells the story of Tom McConnell, a handsome young executive of Arrow Oil, who seems to have only just realised that global warming is this whole big thing and that perhaps he should do something about it. Taking the role of Tom’s good angel is Holly, played by Neve Campbell (better known as ‘that one from Party of Five‘), the head of Arrow’s renewable energy department. The devil on Tom’s other shoulder is Mack, played by Bradley Whitford (Josh!) in his trademark know-it-all, wise-cracking style. Mack is an oil lobbyist and shady fixer for Arrow, who is not above ordering the assassination of geologists who are out to prove the oil industry might have something to do with permafrost melting.

And so the drama unfolds. Arrow is the target of a law suit from a group of Inuits who blame the company for the disintegration of their lands; Oxford scientists sound off about impending doom to anybody who will listen; and Mack dismisses the whole global warming debate as ‘an inconvenient poop’ (hah, see what he did there?) and encourages Tom to blame the whole thing on sun spot activity. But then, an Inuit protester sets herself on fire in front of Tom, and he accidentally sleeps with Holly while (implausibly) attending the Inuit’s funeral, and the whole thing descends into farce.

What started out as a promising drama about a controversial, emotive and complex topic quickly becomes a convoluted and wholly unconvincing story involving government assassins, spies, international blackmail and marital infidelity. Even while giving us all this, the BBC still manages to fall back on its favourite trope - blaming it all on the Americans. The ‘get the USA to sign up to Kyoto or the world will end’ point was made repeatedly throughout, so everybody watching from their nice cosy British homes could relax and stop feeling so guilty about driving to work - it’s all the fault of the Yanks anyway, thank goodness.

I really wanted to like Burn Up. I love Bradley Whitford, for starters (I even watched Studio 60 all the way through to the bitter end), and the BBC is usually excellent at producing gritty and thought-provoking dramas about difficult and disturbing topics. I expected this show to be a triumph, but it was a shambles - a soap opera on a global scale which somehow managed to use an unnecessarily convoluted plot to lamentably simplify a very complex issue. Clearly I should stick to reality shows - there’s much less room for disappointment.

If you too love Bradley Whitford beyond all reason, or you’re not American and want to know why that means you don’t have to worry about global warming at all, then you should catch Burn Up on the BBC’s iPlayer. Or wait for it to be repeated on a television near you, as it no doubt very soon will be.

Burn Up Fails to Ignite

The premise is this: bored Western woman, dragged down with a 9-5 existence and the demands of ‘having it all,’ gets shipped to Africa, where she has to spend a month living with an African tribe. Nope, not kidding.

This week’s episode followed thirty-six year old Yvonne Power from Blackpool, single mother of three, who went to live with the Himba tribe in Namibia. At first I was fully prepared for an hour of excruciating television, watching a clueless Westerner bitch about having to live without cuticle cream and humiliate herself in front of a tribe of bemused Namibians. And at first it certainly seemed like that was what I was going to get. I had to hide behind a cushion when Yvonne attempted tribal dancing, and this dialogue, which she exchanged with the Himba women when she first arrived, seemed to be a taste of things to come:

Yvonne: I’m so pleased to meet you! And I love your hair!
Himba woman: Is that what she’s come for? Our hair?

But Yvonne proved to be gamer than I gave her credit for. Certainly she coped better with being roped into ritually disemboweling a goat than I would have done. And she adapted quickly to the Himba tradition of ’smoking’ oneself in order to get rid of body odour, rather than washing with water. But Himba women are tough. They have their bottom teeth knocked out at the age of ten - a mark of beauty - and making a sound during childbirth is considered a sign of weakness. Needless to say, they had little sympathy for Yvonne when she started crying because she missed her children.

I was expecting to deride this programme as exploitative and tacky, but watching Yvonne oh-so-predictably ‘find herself’ during her stay with the Himba proved to be remarkably enjoyable and interesting. I sympathised with her at the conflict she felt watching a twelve-year-old girl being forced into marriage, but I also appreciated her for quitting her whining and pitching in to help when village resources were crippled during a drought.

I can’t decide whether I hope next week they get some irritating princessy type woman to shack up in a mud hut and cope without eye-liner for a month, or whether I hope the show continues in this vein - sensitively portraying the clash between two cultures, and the common ground that can still be reached. Both options have their appeal.

You can catch Tribal Wives on BBC2 on Wednesday nights, or at any time on the BBC iPlayer.

Out of Africa with the BBC

Doctor Who, S04 E13: Journey’s End

This week: now we know where Russell T Davies gets his ideas - bad fanfic! Anna is disappointed by the Doctor Who finalé.

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End of the Line [Doctor Who]

Doctor Who, S04 E12: The Stolen Earth

The week: everyone from the extended Whoniverse turns up in one of the best episodes of Doctor Who ever.

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The Gang’s All Here [Doctor Who]