First thing’s first. I’ve got to eat some crow. After Act I, I said, “Unlike a full Whedon series, this episode doesn’t offer a dollop of angst on top of the fantasy pie. Everyone is just there to have fun.” Lawdy, was I wrong. Full spoilerific thoughts after the jump.

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Dr. Horrible: The Conclusion

It’s fairly certain that no 13-minute Internet video has ever received quite so many blog inches in the history of the Internet, and I was as guilty as anyone of hyperbole and over-excitement. In theory, it sounded like, quite possibly, the greatest thing ever. So how did it stack up in reality?

Well, it was damn good, wasn’t it? Whedon excels at combining the mundane with the fantastic, and beginning the episode with the titular character composing a video blog entry was vintage Whedon — even evil must respond to email from time to time, I’m sure. The show’s quirks (such as the superhero sidekick Moist, whose power involves making things soggy) were never too quirky, and occasionally were downright brilliant. The singing cowboys might have made the episode for me. As for the music, while it wasn’t nearly as strong as the songs composed for Buffy’s “Once More With Feeling,” the ditties were fun and served to maintain the whimsical nature of the show. Unlike a full Whedon series, this episode doesn’t offer a dollop of angst on top of the fantasy pie. Everyone is just there to have fun.

And yet, it’s also too good to be dismissed as a piece of fluff, and we can thank Neil Patrick Harris for that. I hope all of Hollywood is ashamed for having pigeon-holed the actor in his teens, as the man has completely shed Doogie Howser in his career renaissance. He’s been a revelation as Barney Stinson in How I Met Your Mother, and his Dr. Horrible is a wonderfully subtle creation, full of uncertainty, neurosis and just a wee bit of evil. Plus, he’s pretty handy with an iPhone. Nathan Fillion embraces his role of the cocksure superhero, Captain Hammer (some might remove the “sure” from that adjective), and though I spent most of the time he was on screen marveling at the size of his arms, I’m certain he did quite a good job.

It was exactly what Whedon does best: a story of human emotions and fears coated in a layer of silliness and fantasy. And though it might not have been the best thing ever, it was really, really good. I’m looking forward to tomorrow’s Act II, that’s for sure. Maybe we’ll even meet Bad Horse and the Evil League of Evil.

What did you think? Did the 13 minutes live up to the hype, or were you left wanting?

Blogging Along With Dr. Horrible

What Horrible News

Check out this ditty from Scottish comedy rock act The Plimptons, produced and directed by our own Fergus Mitchell and featuring a cake-throwing cameo from Jess.

Shameless Promotion

Fergus and I have been training for this by watching early 80s music videos while listening to overly earnest progressive rock and Swedish pop music, and I think we’re ready to see you through the next two hours. Join us in the comments below!

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Liveblogging Eurovision

Seeing in Eurovision

I’d Do Anything, which tracks the search for the next West End star — in this case, to play Nancy or the titular role in the musical Oliver! — fits the bill perfectly. It has all the hallmarks of a quality reality show: a diverse cast, heart-breaking human interest stories, and a prize that’s actually worth something. Granted, I’m a sucker for a good musical, so I’m a bit biased, but here are a few more reasons to watch the show:

1. It’s a chance to learn that English people can be just as rubbish as Americans when it comes to mimicking a Cockney accent. Dick Van Dyke can sleep a bit easier.

2. The show is remarkably self-aware, at least in terms of its own camp value. The fact that each appearance of Andrew Lloyd Webber is greeted with the opening strains of Phantom of the Opera suggests the editors are amused or tipsy, if not both. Plus, it’s hosted by the camp-tastic Graham Norton. American Idol should be so lucky.

3. Unlike most American reality shows, the writers assume that the audience already knows a thing or two, happily including the phrase “scarier than Bill Sykes with a hangover” without a note of explanation.

4. Two words: John Barrowman. He may be dark and grim on Torchwood these days, but he spends his time on I’ll Do Anything randomly breaking into song with a gigantic grin on his face or showing off his bum in an effort to demonstrate how dirty Nancy should be. The man is irresistible.

5. Repeated use of the phrase, “You’re going to nancy school!” It just never gets old.

I’d Do Anything airs on BBC1, 7pm, Saturday, or all week on the BBC iPlayer for those who refuse to stay home on a Saturday night to watch a reality show (or at least refuse to admit it).

Doing Anything on the BBC

Apparently, Improv Everywhere agrees with this sentiment.

If Only Life Was a Musical…

The premise is simple. The BBC has put together a group of people who all have the singular talent of being able to convincingly impersonate a famous singer. Each week they sing and the audience at home votes them off one by one. The winner gets a contract to perform in Vegas. The whole thing is presented by camper-than-a-row-of-pink-tents Graham Norton, who adds a touch of deliciously self-aware cheese that Bruce Forsyth will just never pull off.

I was making notes while I watched last Saturday’s episode, and I share with you here my insights about each of the performers:

Cher: This lady can sing, but that silver diamante skin-tight lycra catsuit is not kind to her. I can’t stop staring at her thighs. And not in a good way.

Frank Sinatra: Aw, I really like this guy. He looks like your kindly uncle. And he definitely has the Frank charisma when he sings. Also, I would actually go and see a Frank Sinatra tribute act in Vegas, because the chances of the real Frank Sinatra being able to perform there are low. Who would go and see a Britney tribute in Vegas, when the real Britney performs there?

Lionel Ritchie: Kudos to the makeup people. They have actually managed to make a skinny ginger-haired white boy look really quite alarmingly like Lionel Ritchie. I find myself strangely attracted to him. This is disconcerting.

Diana Ross: THIS WOMAN IS SHIT. She sounds like she’s singing under a pile of sofa cushions. I can barely hear her. The ability to wear a big wig and prance about in front of a wind machine is not going to save you, sister.

Elton John: Wearing a gold suit and giant diamante glasses, this guy makes you realise that when Elton wore this outfit, he actually looked pretty cool. Comparatively. The Elton impersonator, unfortunately, just looks like a fat man in stupid glasses. He sings pretty well though.

Kylie: On the plus side, she can wear those gold hotpants, and not many women can. But even if she could compete as Kylie’s bottom-alike, she doesn’t do very well as a look- or sound-alike. Next!

Dusty Springfiled: Aw, she was lovely. Dusty for the win!

Robbie Williams: Four words: Painted-on chest-wig. Aieeeeeeeeeee! Also, his black diamante cat-suit was a bit baggy around the crotch, which does diminish the raw sexual magnetism somewhat.

Madonna: This girl is completely flat chested. How’s she going to fill a cone bra?

Tom Jones: Looks like a pervy man you would cross the street to avoid. Much like the original, come to think of it. He will probably go far.

Britney Spears: Looks like she’s about to throw up, sounds nothing like Britney Spears, and can’t dance. She won’t last another week.

So there you have it. This time Madonna got the boot. And I will put good money on either Britney Spears or Diana Ross going next week. But even though the format is tired, the outcome predictable, the cheese extra ripe and the one-liners scripted, I still maintain, you should totally watch The One and Only next Saturday. And vote for Dusty!

The BBC Looks For Its One and Only

• Since Heroes appears to have no interest in being a good show again, do you think someone feels silly spending over $5000 for a cheerleading costume? Perhaps NBC can use the money to buy a new plot.

Tidbits for December 6, 2007