The Pacific? Not so terrific....

I have been meaning to write about this for several weeks but kept putting it off in the hope that things might improve. It was billed as 'The television event of the year' by Sky which in Skyspeak translates to 'we've paid a shedload of money for this and we are going to cram it into every nook and cranny in the schedule'.

The big selling point is that this is Band of Brothers but in the Pacific theatre. Once again we have Steven Spielberg and Tom Hanks behind the scenes and a cast of largely unknown actors in front of the camera. The problem is that the world has changed since Band of Brothers which was a product of the pre-9/11 mindset; now with America mired in a morale sapping conflict it seems a harder sell to an audience watching combat footage on the nightly news.

Narratively there are big issues too. Band of Brothers, as the title suggests, is about a tight-knit group of men who participate in a twelve-episode story that lasts just under eleven months - June 1944 to May 1945. That is bound to make for a gripping cohesive storyline. In The Pacific, however, eleven months often elapse between episodes and the cast is much more widely dispersed in a conflict which is much less well known to its audience. It's hard to care about characters when you don't see them for weeks at a time.

I'm glad I waited to write this because the past three episodes - five, six, and seven - have seen the series hit something of a stride. These three programmes cover the bloody battles on the tiny island of Peleliu, an action I had never heard of before. This is essentially the war in the Pacific in microcosm, the action is relentless and brutal and astonishingly violent. Spielberg has been here before in Saving Private Ryan so he knows the audience is almost unshockable but he still manages to jolt the viewer with a combination of unrelenting bombardment and individual moments of horror such as a group of soldiers killing a wounded comrade to prevent him giving away their position to the enemy.

This I suspect is the series as it should have been, especially in the sense of it being a young soldier's baptism of fire. The combat is interwoven with moments of sincere friendship and genuine tenderness that makes some of the forced patriotism ring extremely hollow. However no one would go for a three hour miniseries in this day and age so we have ten episodes whether we need them or not - so much better for the box set sales.

But it is in this tryptych of episodes that The Pacific shows what it might have been and it becomes a more frustrating experience because of that.

What Marty did next...

Whatever happened to Martin Scorsese? It's a question I find myself asking more and more but especially as I was watching Shutter Island.

I have no real objections to the film apart from the fact that the big twist is pretty obvious from fairly early on. With that in mind I probably spent more time than I ought to have just watching Scorsese going about his business while waiting for my suspicion of the twist to be confirmed. This is Scorsese in homage mode, varying between nods to favourite directors such as Hitchcock and Samuel Fuller; there's more than a hint of Vertigo in Scorsese's shot selection and colour palette. There's also more than a hint of Sam Fuller in some of the mental institution sequences. Fuller's Shock Corridor is a favourite of Scorsese and he seems to be intent on capturing the energy and vibrancy that were the trademarks of Fuller's best work. And of course in terms of his own work there are strong suggestions that we are in Cape Fear territory here.

Cape Fear of course is a remake and as a noted cineaste we would not grudge Scorsese his right to take his own pass at favoured subjects. He has also referenced his own work in the past, after all what was Bringing Out the Dead but Taxi Driver with ambulances. But taken as a whole I get the impression that Scorsese is more of a follower than a leader these days. Lately he has been spinning his wheels on a selection of work that while entertaining surely cannot represent him at the peak of his powers. I include in that The Departed - another remake incidentally - which is one of those Oscar winners that actually diminishes each time you see it. There is no doubt that Scorsese is an Oscar worthy director but he should have had his statuette a long time ago and anyone considering The Departed as worthy of one of the finest directors of his generation would get an entirely false impression of his work.

Now it has been announced that Scorsese's next film will be The Invention of Hugo Cabret, a children's movie made in 3D. It is evidently the story of a 12-year-old boy in 1930s Paris who lives in a train station and solves the mystery of a broken robot! A Scorsese subject if ever I heard one. The film starts shooting shortly and will be out at the end of next year, pushing aside all those interesting Scorsese projects like his long-promised Sinatra movie or his documentary on Elia Kazan.

No one would deny a great director - and Scorsese is still a great director - the opportunity to experiment and since 3D seems to be here to stay he would obviously be inclined to explore its possibilities. At least we know this will be a 'real 3D' movie and not a conversion. But more and more he seems to be chasing box office. There are fewer and fewer of the intensely personal character studies on which he made his name. His trademark themes of sin and redemption have long been left behind.

In his younger days Scorsese showed a finished cut of Mean Streets to a Catholic priest whose opinions he valued. The verdict was simple but effective - "Too much Good Friday and not enough Easter Sunday", said the priest.

We've had a lot of Good Friday from Scorsese's career choices recently; is it too much to hope for Easter Sunday someday soon?

One down, one to go

Centurion is the first of two films out this year taking is their premise the mysterious disappearance of the Ninth Legion in Scotland in the early part of the second century. The other is Kevin Macdonald's Eagle of the Ninth due later in the year. The fact that the 'disappearance' of the Ninth was probably down to a bureaucratic blunder rather than wholesale carnage doesn't seem to make a difference here.

The film is an unlikely choice for Neil Marshall on the back of cracking genre films such as Dog Soldiers and The Descent; however once you get into it the choice turns out not to be so surprising after all.

The period and location give Marshall another opportunity to do what he does best which is essentially a tense drama about a group of people banding together against an implacable enemy. In this case the small group is the remainder of the Ninth Legion - destroyed in a sequence of spectacular carnage - and the implacable foe are the Picts who are hunting them down. Apart from the setting it could just as easily pass as a Western in terms of its genre components.

The motley bunch feature some stirring performances especially from Michael Fassbender in the title role and the cosmopolitan nature of the Roman army is an opportunity to provide roles for Noel Clarke and Riz Ahmed; not the sort of actors you would rush to cast in a historical epic. Historically the film is a joke for reasons too many and tedious to go into here but Marshall's fans don't want historical accuracy.

What they want is gore and he delivers by the blood-filled bucket. All arrow strikes have to puncture eyes or heads; all sword strokes have to sever limbs, all spear thrusts have to transfix the victim, any blow to the head must result in decapitation and so on. Filmed in glorious HD it certainly makes for a very effective piece of genre cinema, if a little relentless.

One thing that does puzzle me are the ' fly through' titles and the extensive use of helicopter shots. I get the sense that someone somewhere might have thought about converting this to 3D but perhaps had a change of heart. Or it may just be that the possibility of an audience becoming used to 3D means directors are changing their visual thinking; either way it is not a welcome development.

24 no more...

The following takes place between 7.30 and 8.15 pm - well if you use the fast forward on Sky+ you can watch an episode of 24 in about 45 minutes - and is my first chance to catch up with 24 since the news of its cancellation broke last week. The series is to end after the current run - Day 8 in 24 chronology - and probably not before time.

Three or four times a series the producers will kick in a game changing episode and this week's comes into that category with a major gun battle, a crisis at CPU, some internecine wrangling with the NSA, and a surprise reveal at the end which should change things quite a lot.

That apart there is no getting away from the fact that this series has been running on fumes and there have been one or two episodes where literally nothing happens. The main plot - about a load of nuclear rods - is somewhat less than urgent and Jack seems more concerned about mooning around after FBI agent Renee Walker than denying bad guys their constitutional rights. Also, whisper it, Jack Bauer - to quote Danny Glover - is getting too old for this sh*t. He is a grandad now and the whole series takes place in the one day delay to his plans to go to Los Angeles and look after his granddaughter. Also the subsidiary story involving Katee Sackhoff and Freddie Prinze Jr is just embarrassingly bad, although that may change.

The producers are promising a slam bang finale for this series and I hope they live up to their word. 24 has been a great show, it broke the mould for episodic drama, it reflected a disturbing climate in US politics, and Jack Bauer is one of the great TV heroes. Let's hope he gets to go out taking names and kicking butt and not babysitting a grandchild.

Why won't people face reality about this show?

I've never quite got why people are so quick to dismiss the American version of The Office. The prevailing wisdom among the chattering classes is that it is a pale imitation of the genius that is Ricky Gervais. That is if you believe Gervais is a genius, as opposed to a short egocentric whose talent is being stretched to the point of transparency.

Gervais's version of The Office takes place in a paper company in Milton Keynes run by David Brent, a deluded autocrat with dreams of fame. The American version takes place in Scranton, Pennyslvania in the office of a paper company this time managed by Michael Scott, played by Steve Carrell. The UK version ran for two seasons and stopped, the US version is currently on season six although we are currently only up to Season Four here (ITV4, Mondays and Wednesdays).

Again the prevailing wisdom is that two seasons in the UK left us with a gem of comic brilliance in which Gervais and co exited at the top of their game leaving us wanting more. Wrong. Given that the US series shows no sign of dropping its quality in six series we can only assume that Gervais either got bored or ran out of ideas. The UK version of the show is an exercise in egocentricity; David Brent is not a character he is simply a collection of characteristics. The supporting cast, with the exception of Martin Freeman, Mackenzie Crook and Lucy Davis, merely stand around rolling their eyes or looking aghast at Brent's antics. It doesn't help that Gervais is a very limited actor.

The American show however is a masterpiece of ensemble comedy. Steve Carrell's Michael Scott is a touching buffoon with a completely rounded set of unrealistic hopes and dreams and thwarted ambitions. There are no background artists in this show, there is no one here to make the central character look good, they are all fully realised characters with storylines and internal lives that contribute to the overall narrative arc.

There really is no comparison between the two shows. The US version is far superior and illustrates that while in the UK we often have the better ideas, US television is structurally set up to get the best out of those ideas.

Dying is easy...

Richard Attenborough tells the story of the great character actor Edmund Gwenn - trivia buffs should note that both men played Santa Claus in separate versions of Miracle on 34th Street. Anyway Gwenn was on his deathbed and the family were gathering round to pay their respects. Among them was his small granddaughter who, when it was explained to her what has happening, had a question. 'Grandpa' she asked. 'Is dying difficult?' Gwenn thought for a moment before replying. 'No sweetheart,' he said. 'Dying is easy, comedy is difficult.'

And if you needed any proof of that you only have to look at Sandra Bullock's Best Actress Oscar for The Blind Side. When she went up to receive the trophy Bullock wondered aloud 'Did I earn this or did I just wear you down?' It's a nice self-deprecating line but there is more than a grain of truth in it.

Bullock is a gifted comedienne. She has been doing excellent work for years but because it was in films such as Demolition Man, Speed, While Y0u Were Sleeping, and Miss Congeniality - a seriously under rated performance - it attracted no attention whatsoever. However she does a drama and suddenly she is a contender; it was the same when she appeared in the ensemble cast of Crash.

Not having seen The Blind Side I may be doing Bullock a disservice but I'm guessing it is not a performance to make Meryl Streep consider her future career options. I'm sure it is a fine, effective performance but I am equally sure she has done better. It's just that comedy exists, along with a number of other genres, on the Academy's blind side. Perhaps the Academy should remember what Edmund Gwenn said and widen its horizons in future.

How to avoid jumping the shark

I caught up with the latest episode of Mad Men on BBC3 (Series 3, Ep 6 'Guy Walks Into an Advertising Agency) and saw once again concrete proof of the greatness of this show. Sultry Joan Holloway (Christina Hendricks) was taking her leave of the Sterling Cooper ad agency for a life of unlikely domesticity but the plot twist in the episode gives her a moment with Creative Director Don Draper (Jon Hamm).

These two (pictured left) are the alpha male and alpha female of Sterling Cooper, they are apex predators in every sense of the word. Joan is sex on legs, the sort of woman who would make Marilyn Monroe feel frumpy, while Don is testosterone on a stick, the manliest man on television. Ever! It would make sense in lesser hands that their moment contains at least an indication of the seething passions that each must hold for the unattainable other. Not so.

There is an acknowledgement from Draper that she will be missed, and a demure peck on the cheek from Joan in return. That's it - that and a secret smile from each of them that speaks volumes about their relationship. The circling shark recedes into the distance its dorsal fin slipping beneath the waves resolutely unjumped. Having Don and Joan get it on would be suicide for a show which excels in its quietest intimate moments. Show runner Matthew Weiner knows these two are like Superman and Wonder Woman; everyone thinks they should be together but they know better.

It's brilliant writing, superb playing, and another example of why every episode of this series should be cherished.

How long would you wait to see a film?

How about 46 years? That's how long it has taken me to get round to seeing Becket and believe me it was worth the wait. I was so keen to see this film that I even bought the Sunday Telegraph this week to get the free DVD. A couple of days without satellite meant I had no excuse not to watch it and I have to say it is one of the best films I have seen recently.

For those of you not up on your 12th century English history Thomas Becket was the boyhood friend of Henry II. When Henry was having problems with the Church who rather unreasonably refused to pass his laws, he thought that making his boyhood chum Archbishop of Canterbury might solve things. However once Becket became Archbishop he unexpectedly found himself called to God rather than the King. An exasperated Henry cries out 'Who will rid me of this meddlesome priest' - not what he actually said but you get the gist - four passing knights mistake a rhetorical question for an instruction and before you know where you aee Becket is lying mortally wounded in the nave of Canterbury Cathedral.

For a film that runs for a whisker under two and a half hours there's not a lot of action other than what I've described above. What there is is dialogue, lots and lots of dialogue, and what dialogue it is. Allowing for the fact that some characters spend a lot of time thinking aloud in front of crucifixes, this is one of the best written films I have seen. The dialogue is intelligent, provocative, subtle and an absolute gift for the cast.

The big deal with Becket in 1964 was the pairing of Peter O'Toole and Richard Burton, fresh from their successes in Lawrence of Arabia and Cleopatra. This was a clash of the giants. It is easy for us to think of these two great actors as they were towards the end of their careers with their powers much diminished, but this is them in their magnificent pomp. The intensity and dynamism of their performances is spellbinding; the power of Burton's rich tones and the mercurial volatility of O'Toole as a king who only wants to be loved make a heady combination.

Both actors were among the films twelve Oscar nominations - they lost out in the Best Actor category to Rex Harrison for My Fair Lady - but in the end the only win was for Edward Anhalt's magnificent screenplay.

Even so the film is stunningly shot, superbly played, and a constant joy.

Some thoughts on BAFTA

The potential for disaster was there but happily BAFTA resisted the temptation to embrace the faddish and deeply flawed Avatar and instead honoured a deserving film in The Hurt Locker. The six BAFTA haul was a decent tally for a film that looks certain to have a long and prosperous life ahead of it on DVD and satellite after being ignored on its theatrical release.

As for Dances with Smurfs it ended up with two awards - special visual effects and production design - which strikes me as one too many. Visual effects at a stretch but production design, surely not. We are not talking about someone like William Cameron Menzies creating Gone With the Wind here; production design on Avatar amounts to 'if you imagine it we can draw it' which is hardly an insurmountable challenge.

I should declare an interest here as a BAFTA voter in that I was desperately keen to avoid the sort of embarrassment that regularly afflicts the Oscars; how many Oscar winning movies of the past ten years will be regarded as genuinely great films ten years from now? I suspect Oscar may embarrass himself again this year by giving the big prize to Avatar, which is a clever film, and shutting out The Hurt Locker which has the potential to be a film that defines its era. Of course they will give Kathryn Bigelow a well deserved Best Director Oscar and use that as the fig leaf to cover the shame of not having honoured a woman in this category in the past. As for James Cameron, what he did on Avatar was clever and worthy of some kind of recognition but I'm not sure it was directing.

This years results also rather neatly encompass the discussion in BAFTA circles about just how British these awards are. In the Britain vs. Hollywood argument I remain fairly agnostic. There are plenty of awards out there that cater exclusively for British films and for BAFTA to go down this path would be insular and restrictive. British creatives work in a global industry and the awards should reflect this; that said it would have been nice for A Prophet, White Ribbon, or Let the Right One In to have broken out of the foreign language ghetto. It would also be nice if UK audiences were a bit more enthusiastic about home grown product. I'm not talking about blindly supporting UK movies just because they are British - what an awful thought! - but it would be nice in a year when we produced An Education, Nowhere Boy, Sex & Drugs & Rock & Roll and Moon, to name a few, if at least one of them had done well at the box office.

The closest the awards came to tokenism is in the Leading Actor and Leading Actress category. I think Carey Mulligan is a deserved winner for An Education but, personally, I think Jeff Bridges on Crazy Heart is better than Colin Firth in A Single Man. However if this did come down to a Yanks vs. Brits contest it would be churlish to grudge Firth for a great performance which comes midway through a career of great performances. Both Bridges and Firth have in common the fact that although they have made bad movies they have seldom been bad in them. Their weakness has always been in their choices and an opportunity like this may never come along again; it's a shame it comes for both of them in the same year.