Pop culture 2012

Ah, here it is - the most vacuous of my end-of-year blogs. Actucally, scratch that. New year's resolution: stop being embarrassed about being super into television and films and people and stuff! Here's a pop culture roundup of the year, featuring FEELINGS and mild objectification.

Telly of 2012
I know my tellyfeelings can often be a little rambly and ridiculous, and I've covered them already at several points throughout the year. Therefore, to shake it up a bit: TELLYFEELINGS HAIKUS.

1. The Hour

have faces ever
been so excellent? never.
shut up, i can't cope.

intrigue! sexiness!
glorious fifties fashion!
please just watch it. please.

2. The Fabulous Baker Brothers

hey herbert brothers
that is not how you sibling!
but ... keep on keepin' on

3. The Great British Bake Off

sweet middle-class folk
in a tent, with mel and sue
AND CAKE. count me in.

4. Elementary

jonny lee miller
and also lucy liu. that's
it. that's the haiku.

5. Teen Wolf

not as bad as the
name suggests. in fact, it's a
darling of a show!

yes it is about
teenage werewolves, but just give
it a try. go on.

6. The Thick of It

oh! what a gift, this
delicious coalition.
fuckety bye, show.

7. Fresh Meat

when did i begin
caring about these pissheads?
oh, found families.

8. Being Human

vampire; werewolf; ghost.
new faces, new feelings, and
long-held excellence

9. The Class

shows that are cancelled
in their prime, and so i cry:
case in fucking point

10. Me & Mrs Jones

more cancellations
this time depriving me of
robert sheehan's eyes!!

Oh god, this is the worst method of recommending TV shows. But seriously, these were all fab, and you should watch them if you get the chance. Highly commended: Parks and Recreation, Horrible Histories, Cougar Town, New Girl, 30 Rock (It got good again you guys!), Modern Family, The Mindy Project, Rev.

TV moment of  2012
WORLD WAR II BOYBAND PILOTS aka, Horrible Histories do a brilliant song about RAF pilots and I expire a little.



Gentlefolk of 2012

L-R, by row: Tom and Henry Herbert, Dylan O'Brien, Ben Willbond, Ben Whishaw, Jonny Lee Miller
Bobby Hicks, Jean Dujardin, That Boyband (don't look at me)
Will Featherstone, Andrew Gower, Mat Baynton, Larry Rickard

(well now, 2012 was a handsome year, wasn't it?)

Gentlefolk of 2012: the Olympics Boyfriends edition

Greg Rutherford, Marcel Nguyen, Jonathan and Alastair Brownlee, Jason Kenny, Louis Smith
Pierre Yves Beny, Michael Jamieson, Fabien Hambuchen, Epke Zonderland, Tom Daley
(medals are sexy, okay?)

Lady heroes of 2012

Amy Poehler -- I just love bossy women. I could be around them all day. To me, bossy is not a pejorative term at all. It means somebody’s passionate and engaged and ambitious and doesn’t mind leading, like, “All right, everybody, now we go over here. All right, now this happens.”

Lucy Liu -- It feels really good to be always breaking down walls and starting something new and trying something new. You never know – it’s hit and miss. It’s nice to be able to portray an Asian-American on camera without having an accent, or without having to be spoofy. And I think that’s a big step forward, because there are still representations of people that are more comedic. And that’s not what I’m playing. I’m just playing somebody who represents anyone else who would be living in America or outside of it, who is just a regular person. 

Charlene Kaye -- Okay, no quote here because I can't find one, but everyone in the world should purchase Charlene's album, Animal Love, as it's absolutely stellar. I saw her live this year and it was practically a religious experience. 

Emma Stone -- You're only human. You live once and life is wonderful so eat the damn red velvet cupcake.

Mindy Kaling -- I’m the kind of person who would rather get my hopes up really high and watch them get dashed to pieces than wisely keep my expectations at bay and hope they are exceeded. This quality has made me a needy and theatrical friend, but has given me a spectacularly dramatic emotional life.

Zooey Deschanel -- I’m just being myself. There is not an ounce of me that believes any of that crap that they say. We can’t be feminine and be feminists and be successful? I want to be a fucking feminist and wear a fucking Peter Pan collar. So fucking what?

Emma Pallant -- Again, no quote here. I just wish I could show everyone her Seven Ages of Man speech. Because SERIOUSLY. 

Romola Garai -- I am passionate. I’m passionate about everything - people, art, politics, life in general. People find passion embarrassing. It’s more acceptable, generally, to be amusing.

*Fun fact! This is not the first time I've used my 'haikus' tag. I am so sorry that this is a blog you guys read.

Doctor Who, Series 7, episodes 1-4

I cannot lie, a second, sneaky reason for reinvigorating this blog was as a place for tellyfeelings, because - lo! - it is Autumn, which brings the best of all the television and more and more reasons not to leave the house. Strictly Come Dancing! Downton Abbey*! The Thick of It! Parks and Recreation! Elementary! New Girl! Spy! And a million and one other new and returning shows delighting (and occasionally frustrating) my eyeballs.

Most of my current feelings come, as always, from Doctor Who, which remains the show of my soul. (I wouldn't have it any other way - I honestly hope I never grow out of it.) And so, here's some brief thinky thoughts about Series 7 so far:

Asylum of the Daleks
An interesting season opener, but rife with flaws and frustrations. Really enjoyed the idea of a Dalek asylum, and having other species suffering from PTSD, even a species with famously little emotion. Oswin was a darling, and I am thoroughly excited to see how it works out with her character, timey-wimey-wise. (There were a billion plot holes and things that will need explaining, but - sigh - this is what we are used to.) Regardless, Jenna Louise Coleman is precious, and I'm always excited for a new companion. I just hope Moffat does her justice.

Alas, the episode was thoroughly sullied by the ridiculousness of the Amy/Rory dynamic. It was, in short, bullshit, and made them both look like idiots: Amy for not voicing her feelings, and Rory for playing the martyr card yet again. And, really, in this day and age, would a young couple who can't naturally have children seriously not think of other avenues - adoption, fostering, surrogacy, IVF, or - I don't know - not having children? It cheapened their relationship, and drove me fucking nuts. A shame, really, because the rest of the episode was decent.

Dinosaurs on a Spaceship
I've read mixed reviews of this one, but I am firmly on the 'loved it' side. It was, as Hector puts it, "sheer, calculated silliness"; a good old jaunt full of spacey-wacey, timey-wimey ridiculousness. And DINOSAURS. What's not to love? Of course, the random addition of Queen Nefertiti and silver fox Rupert Graves (who probably had a character name, but it escapes me) was daft, but the whole thing was sweet and fun and lovely. Brian Pond was a delightful addition (how could a character played by Mark Williams not be?), and his mini-arc was absolutely gorgeous, bringing several tears to my eyes. All in all, not a groundbreaking episode, but charming all the same.

A Town Called Mercy
Toby Whithouse is a reliably excellent writer (still not over how awesome The God Complex was), and this was no exception. A really thought-provoking episode with solid plot and characterisation, and a good old moral dilemma. The wild west was gorgeously portrayed, Adrian Scarborough was - again - reliably brilliant, and it tapped into some aspects of the Doctor's psyche (guilt about the Time War, never wielding weapons, what to do when a bad guy's also a good guy, etc.) which have been lately untapped. The Ponds were a little superfluous, but overall it was excellent.

The Power of Three
WARNING: feelings ahead. Absolutely my favourite episode of the series so far. I've heard people criticise it for its lack of plot, so I'll tackle that first. I admit, the resolution was hasty and hand-wavy, but the underlying plot was really solid -- the idea of a slow invasion, one that encourages people to trust the invadee, is excellent, and I thought the whole 'we need to stop humanity before they colonise space' was a brilliant observation (which, I concede, would benefit from being explored properly), and one that reflects cleverly upon our nasty tendency to stick a flag in things and call them ours. (Also, can we have more Kate Stewart in the future, please? Because awesome.)

However, this episode wasn't really about the plot. It was ALL about the characterisation. Oh, and what characterisation it was! In the new series, we haven't explored the dynamic of having the companions gradually fade from the Doctor's life of their own accord; Martha left, but succinctly, and otherwise it has been a swift memory wipe** or banishment to a parallel universe which has signalled the end of a partnership. I liked that Amy and Rory came to realise, enjoy and stand up for the importance of their everyday lives, and build a normality that wasn't based around the Doctor - it's important for their characters.

And the Doctor's reaction was beautifully explored. The scene on the Thames, "you're the first face this face saw, and you're seared onto my hearts" - oh my soul, just gorgeous. He's so used to being the dazzler, the one everybody runs to, that he never quite realised that he runs to people too, that he needs them. And Amy in particular has always been this little girl fascinated by him -- she was the girl who waited, and he's finding it hard to deal with the fact that she doesn't want to wait any more.

And yet, they make such a wonderful team - while Amy and the Doctor have a special bond, Rory is fully integrated into the ~gang, as demonstrated by the badassery of this shot***:

Sauce

Ach, it was just a perfect example of the Doctor/Amy/Rory dynamic - the Ponds and their temperamental space toddler. (To some extent, they really have brought him up!) Of course, this comes but a week before what promises to be a gut-wrenching finale full of woe. But for the moment I'm happily not listening, and am just basking in what was a bloody excellent episode.

*Downton may get its own post, which will mainly be made up of 'WHEN DID THIS SHOW GET GOOD' written over and over again.

**Still bitter.

***Don't even get me started on how good Arthur Darvill looks this series. Your hair looks sexy pushed back, etc.

Spy! (That show for CHILDREN.)

Spy: one of the most charming, captivating and chucklesome TV shows I've seen in a long time. (Yes, chucklesome isn't actually a word. Yes, I invented it because I wanted three alliterative adjectives.)

Having developed a serious Mat Baynton situation through extensive binge-watching of Horrible Histories, and being a long-time appreciator of Darren Boyd and his tall tallness, the darling Emma and I decided to watch Spy together*. Spy being Sky's newest family comedy/drama offering, in which a single dad (Tim - Darren Boyd, father to Marcus - Jude Wright) going through a custody battle accidentally gets a job as a with MI5.

Darren Boyd (L) and Jude Wright (R). Obviously. They're hardly going to be the other way round, are they?

I know what you're thinking. Holy terrible, overused trope, Batman! I, however, love a good cheesy plot device**, and am - of course - swayed by pretty faces, so we gave it a go. CORRECT DECISION.

Spy is WONDERFUL. I was, am, and continue to be quite preposterously hyperbolic in my turn of phrase; however, I don't think I can overstate how completely and utterly charming this show is. Ridiculous as the premise may be, it hardly matters a jot (and, to be honest, it's more plausible than some plot devices used in TV shows this year. I AM LOOKING AT YOU, JULIAN FELLOWES); the writing is tight, the cast is wonderful, and the whole things treads perfectly that line between 'this show is made for families and is thus lovely and scrumptious' and 'this show is ripe for objectification and will appeal to pervs the world over'. Basically: MY KINDA SHOW.

I'll start with the cast, and Darren Boyd first of all. I'm a huge Green Wing fan, and was thus super excited to see good old Jake Leaf in a leading role. I leave Spy with a stonking great crush on Darren Boyd and his bloody face, and a whole new appreciation for just how damn good he is. Tim is fucking adorable - his parental ineptitude, his romantic ineptitude, his general life ineptitude; he's bumbling and endearing and clumsy and likes PUZZLES and loves his son and tries. He tries so damn hard, and it rarely works out for him, and good god I love him. Darren's fond looks towards Marcus will break your heart, as will his wounded puppy face when he gets hurt or stomped on (which is a LOT). He's utterly lovely.

And SO TALL. There's something very attractive about a tall boy (what up, Rupert Young), and Darren is just so LONG and TALL and one time he got his forearms out and everything was excellent.

FOREARMS.

Moreover, he's a BRILLIANT physical comedian. I don't agree with those who look down on slapstick (when done well, it's tip-top -- see also: Miranda), and Darren is a master. He's so limby and haphazard, which makes Tim all the more endearing. You just want to sit him down before he does any more harm to himself or others.

And then there's Marcus.

The face that launched a thousand Tiny Crime Squads.

I just, I can't even talk about how brilliant Jude Wright is. As episode one states in-dialogue, Marcus is a dick. BUT A GLORIOUS ONE. He's smarmy, patronising and absolutely cutting when he wants to be. He's cruel to Tim, constantly outwitting him and is horribly condescending about 90% of the time. And yet we love him. Jude is a fucking wonder - he's absolutely spot on, delivering extremely complicated dialogue for one so young with flourish. Aside from his beautiful snark, Marcus also has some really touching, broken moments throughout, and Jude nails every single one. He and Darren play off each other BEAUTIFULLY - they're perfectly, perfectly cast.

As for the rest of the cast, I can't think of a weak link. I absolutely love Rebekah Staton, who completely holds her own as Caitlin, Tim's gun-toting love interest; their scenes together, with banter that manages to be both quick and tender, consistently left me mewling 'NOW KISS!' at my screen. Robert Lindsay, looking alarmingly like Alan Sugar, is a delightful douchebag boss, while Rosie Cavaliero puts in a hilarious turn as Paula, the nutjob family planning counsellor with an obsessive crush on Tim.

There are two stand-outs among the supporting cast, however. The first is Tom Goodman-Husbandry, whose homoerotic, red-trouser-clad Philip stole almost every scene. In fact, I'd say the entire series is worth watching for his salsa dancing alone.

Secondly, BAYNTON.

Oh, I am disgustingly attracted to your stupid face.

Yeah, he exists. And, not only does he exist, with his weird chin, child's body and glorious hair, all of these things combine to play the part of a Chris, a cynical, bitter tech geek hipster and I'm sorry I just need a moment to deal with how magnificent that is. There were times when his character was featured in a scene despite being utterly superfluous to the plot, but oh, everything was so much better for his presence. His ridiculous expressions, his flailing limbs (HAVE YOU SEEN HIM RUN, kill me), that bloody hair - everything about Chris is exaggerated and hilarious and beautiful. And he gets all up in Tim's personal space a LOT. Which is excellent.

I could continue to rant about the cast for HOURS (believe me, I could), but a good cast does not a good show make. It needs more. Like WRITING. Which this show has! That's awfy convenient, isn't it?

But really, the writing is whip-smart and properly, face-hurtingly hilarious. And, aside from that, there's some beautiful dramatic threads running through it; when you really think about the custody battle, God, it's heartbreaking. And it's balanced so well, to the extent where I sometimes didn't even know what to DO with all my feelings (in a good way).

Seriously, I fucking loved this show. Six 25-minute pockets of loveliness that I would encourage anybody who likes joy to get on immediately. And - huzzah - it's been renewed for 10 further episodes and a Christmas special! MORE SPY. MORE TALL BUMBLING INEPT DADS. MORE TINY SNARK. MORE FLAILING HIPSTERS. MORE OF EVERYTHING GOOD IN THE WORLD.

*and by 'watch together', I of course mean, watch at separate ends of the country and liveblog via the medium of gchat. These are the things one has to do when one's best friend lives 250 miles away!. 
**My favourite being: a group of scientists have to shrink themselves down and explore the inside of someone's body! Done expertly in Futurama and Sabrina the Teenage Witch, to name but two.

Mirror mirror on the wall, show me where them bombs will fall*

Last night, I barely slept. This was almost entirely the fault of Charlie Brooker's Black Mirror: The National Anthem, the first of a tripartite drama series exploring the 'dark side of our love affair with technology'. As the credits rolled, I was left reeling – I was nauseous, shaking and crying, and yet fully aware that what I'd just witnessed was nothing short of magnificent. Now, those who know me will be well aware that I have a tendency to lean towards the hyperbolic, but – for me, at least – The National Anthem was one of the most staggering, well-executed pieces of television I've had the pleasure (or, more accurately, the displeasure) of watching in a long while.

In fact, the mere watching of Black Mirror marked something of a big step for me, as someone who – I can't quite believe I'm admitting this so freely, but heigh ho, what are blogs for? – suffers with horrendous nightmares brought on by exposure to intense and/or frightening media (films, books, television, anything really). I might have previously avoided the show, based on the premise – not because I thought it sounded poor, but because it sounded like something which might trigger another spate of nightmares. It's a self-preservation thing, and something I've had to do for the majority of my life. You might think me weak for doing so, for having a fingers-in-ears, lalala I'm not listening kind of attitude to anything a little grim or unsettling. That's a fair point, but if I could save myself nights of terror and sleeplessness, save myself the from the fear of even just closing my eyes, then that's what I would do.

However, last night I chose to watch. While Hannah-at-22 copes much better with things than Hannah-at-16, and has a better tolerance for such matters, I nevertheless found myself watching at least the last half of the show with my hand clapped over my mouth, cushion clutched to my chest, stomach churning (if only the continuity announcer had said something like 'do not watch this show having just consumed a relatively hefty tuna sandwich; this means you Hannah', the nausea might not have been so intense). I could have switched over or off, but I didn't – in the most part because the show was brilliantly compelling and beautifully shot/acted, but partly because I felt it important that I watched on. I knew it would make me ill, but, somehow, that was okay.

Having just typed the above, I find myself unable to expand on that particular facet of my reaction to the show with any more coherency, aside from the admission that, coming away, I feel somehow braver, in my own silly way. It's a strange thing to try and talk about, the nightmares and the aversion to the grotesque, and for years I was completely unable to do so, thinking myself a freak of nature for being so wimpy and pathetic (fainting while being shown a video of the plague in a Year 9 history class doesn't invite the kindest of responses). Hopefully, clicking the 'publish' button for this post marks the start of me being less ashamed of what I now realise is just another 'thing' about me, alongside my predilection for dancing in public and my bizarre attraction to forearms. We'll see.

Aside from the particular, very personal effect that The National Anthem had on me (reading it back, the above seems sickeningly overdramatic and wanky, so my apologies for that), it also gave me other, more sensible feelings. Let's do those now!

Shallow, 'I like your face' thoughts
WELL, talk about a cast that is relevant to all of my interests. It's like there's a Venn Diagram of my loins, with circles that represent things like 'childhood crushes', 'gingers', 'period drama dishes' and 'beloved theatre bods', and The National Anthem occupies the intersection, giving me everything I never knew I wanted from a TV show. Rory Kinnear, everyone's favourite balding academic sexpot, managing to deliver more with just his eyes than I thought possible! Tom Goodman-Husbandry* as a Malcolm Tucker type to Lindsay Duncan's steely spin doctor! Alastair McKenzie, existing in real life on my TV screen, giving me all the flashbacks to my early teen years, watching Monarch of the Glen and having some formative feelings about Archie in cable-knit jumpers! Allen Leech and Andrew Knott, in scrubs! Every scene seemed to throw up someone else I loved, and everyone was brilliant. Not a weak link in the cast, really.

Slightly more dignified thinky-thoughts
Being a long-time fan of Brooker's journalistic writing, and his various -wipes, I knew we'd be in for a treat with the Black Mirror series. Looking back on the first episode, 'treat' is absolutely the wrong word -- The National Anthem was bleak, horrifying and nauseating to watch. But fuck me was it clever. So much reference to social media in popular culture is done by people with little or no experience of it, but Brooker knows it inside out, knows exactly how the Twittersphere would react to such an series of events. It was stunningly executed and, at times, hilarious; mentions of 'it's trending on Twitter', and 'of course the Guardian are doing a fucking liveblog' were particularly inspired, and exceptionally true-to-life.

And it was this 'true-to-life' nature of it that made it all the more difficult to watch. The premise, spoken aloud, seems to veer into the ridiculous, but it was almost sinisterly plausible, unfolding akin to the recent hacking scandal or the riots, through social media, as a public waits for a government response, speculating and slandering, mocking and mollifying as the hours tick by. It was this plausibility that made the climax of the show so gut-wrenching – at once impossible and yet so, so real. Too real. Sickeningly so.

And, to add yet another layer of metatextuality, watching the show with a buzzing Twitter feed next to you results in catching things like this:

I can't put it better than Emma - we really are a perfect parody of ourselves. Brooker's right: the screens of our televisions, computers and smartphones do act as a black mirror, while a show like The National Anthem forces us to look at ourselves in that black mirror, and – as we witness a countryful of fictional people congregating in pubs and communal areas to watch the hideous spectacle unfold – ask ourselves the most bizarre of questions: would we have watched?

*Lyrics from Arcade Fire's 'Black Mirror', a song I have been unable to get out of my head since the show aired.

**How I wish I could call Tom Goodman Husbandry by his proper name (Goodman Hill) more often. Alas, Free Agents has warped any sensible frame of reference I have for the poor guy. PUT DOWN THE BOX WINE, MALCOLM.

Introduct-a-Han

I used to blog A LOT. Back in the good old days of Livejournal, I had a friends-only blog wherein I angsted about my 17-year-old non-problems and got REALLY, REALLY EXCITED about Doctor Who.

Several years later, I have slightly less teenage woe and - if it's possible - slightly more feelings about Doctor Who. I also have a degree, newly dyed ginger hair, and much wider field of interest. I've been itching to get back to blogging for a while - having caught the bug with my language blog (which is still very much in its infancy) - and reading my delightful friends' ventures in theatre review, film and television blogging, and generally just talking about their lives has convinced me to just bloody well give it a go.




So here I am. Wittering away into the void like some kind of unstoppable moron, and hoping to keep doing so on a semi-regular basis. But first things first - a two-pronged introduction!

THINGS I HAVE FEELINGS ABOUT (AND WILL THEREFORE BE LIKELY TO BLOG ABOUT)

- Linguistics, aka. light of my life, my very best friend, etc. I'm a pretty keen bean for most linguistic fields, and am generally fascinated by quirky word facts in general (for instance, did you know that the Anglo Saxon word for 'squirrel' - acweorna - literally translates to 'oak botherer'? Now you do!), but specifically I love studying phonological theory, acoustic and articulatory phonetics, sociophonetics, wider sociolinguistics issues (the use of language to construct social identity, gender, ethnicity and sexuality in particular), and language change through history, with a particular fascination with the way language is used on the Internet. I have a detailed post about my language feelings here, and will most likely save in-depth waffle for the language blog, but linguistics being the fire in my belly, it's likely to crop up a lot.

- Television. Oh, I watch far more TV than is healthy, getting thoroughly, embarrassingly, soul-destroyingly invested in fantastic shows (The Thick Of It, Blackadder, Sherlock, etc.), terrible shows (GLEE, for my sins) and those which hover in between (Doctor Who, Merlin, Downton Abbey, and far more than I care to mention). I enjoy - among other things - snarky protagonsists, excellent friendships, background acting, wistful looks, bromances and ADVENTURES.

- Theatre. Most of my time and any dispoable income I can muster (and, to be honest, my not-so-disposable income too) goes on theatre tickets. I fell in love with theatregoing about a year ago; the vividness of it, the electricity, the power of it being right there, in front of your eyes - sometimes ugly or sharp or stunning or wild, but always, always exciting. Shakespeare's Globe in particular is my spiritual home, and I'll see my favourite shows over and over again before they close (transcience: the curse of the theatre!).

- Things That Are Important. I don't claim to have any kind of authority when it comes to matters of the world, but I like reading about things that interest me, and things I feel are important to learn and know about. Feminism, racism, sexism, gender and sexuality issues, religion, the media, politics and world issues - I read what I can, and I may try and post semi-cogent feelings about this kind of stuff when the need arises

- Nature and Science. I'm a bit of a giddy child when it comes to the world, and just generally get fascinated and awed by nature being crazy and ridiculous and beautiful and mind-bogglingly spectacular. So I might occasionally get a bit capslocky and feelings about waterfalls and the Aurora Borealis. Yeah, watch out for that.

TEN TINY FACTOIDS THAT MAY GIVE YOU A MORE ROUNDED (IF NOT WHOLLY ENDEARING) IDEA OF WHO I BE

- I own an unhealthy number of pairs of coloured tights.
- About 30% of my vocabulary comes from quoting TV shows and/or Memes.
- I curse like a sailor, and will frequently have the sense of humour of a seven-year-old boy.
- Pictures of the Earth from space are almost guaranteed to make me cry.
- One time, I made myself a TARDIS bag.
- My favourite food is custard. Peas, however, are of the devil.
- I can't sing. However, I sing all the time.
- Hercules is the greatest Disney film. Yeah, you heard.
- I can name all the kings and queens of England from William the Conqueror to Elizabeth II.
- I learnt the previous information from here, which makes it decidedly less impressive.

So, yeah, that's me! I apologise in advance.