10-4, GOOD LEWIS

This is the time of year when TV networks are sorting through pilots and deciding what to put on the fall schedule. Most years, this process would be well underway, but this isn't most years. The writer's strike delayed most TV development for the coming season. In some cases, networks are having to make decisions based on a script or a short video presentation (as opposed to a full pilot episode). Rumor has it everyone is desperate for ideas.

With that in mind, I thought I'd drop this little gem. You see, I was given a series idea in a dream last week (I'm not making this up), and it might actually be worth producing (I'm probably making that up). Alas, I no longer live in Hollywood, and my access to entertainment decision makers is non-existent. So instead of pitching it over lunch at The Ivy, I'll just post it here. Anyone interested can take the idea and run with it. All I ask for is Executive Producer credit.

Without further ado, I give you: "10-4, Good Lewis... Featuring Buddy Lewis." In this show, Buddy Lewis is a former cop who becomes disillusioned with law enforcement and decides to become a long-haul trucker instead. I see Bronson Pinchot in this role. It may be a bit of a stretch, but I think he could pull it off.

Buddy drives a truck to get away from all the crime and lowlifes he dealt with as a cop. But no matter what he does, he always finds himself in situations where he has to put his law enforcement experience to work. Crimes are solved, punks are put town, and women are loved and left. And his deliveries always make it to their destination on time.

To keep things from getting too heavy, Buddy Lewis peppers his language with the kind of CB talk that was briefly popular in the 1970s. Thus a cop is a "bear", the highway is called "the super slab," and his rig is an "18-legged pogo stick." (Writers can just use this guide to CB slang to fill out more dialogue.)

Each episode would end with Buddy leaving the town where he solved some crime (kind of like those old episodes of The Incredible Hulk). Some grateful townsfolk would stop buddy and say (trying to mimic Buddy's CB talk), "10-4, good Buddy." And he'd reply, "Make that '10-4, good Lewis.'") Several episodes in, it will be revealed why he doesn't like to be called buddy, but we'll save that detail for now.

So there you go, that's my plan to save network television. Anyone else pitching any shows?

FAROE FRIDAY: THE TV EDITION

When you consider there aren't even 50,000 people on the Faroe Islands, It's amazing the place has a television network at all. But there it is, Sjónvarp Føroya, the Faroe's public television station. It's the only TV station in the world to broadcast in Faroese. As I mentioned several months ago, The Daily Show can be found on Faroese TV, as well as Malcolm in the Middle and "24." But this week's voyeuristic look at the Faroe Islands concentrates on the country's homegrown programming.

Over the course of a few days, I've had a chance to sample each of SVF's programming (that's what the cool kids call it, SVF), and I understood almost none of it. That's likely because I don't understand Faroese, and SVF's shows are almost exclusively news and talk shows. So it's mostly people in rooms speaking Faroese.

That said, the programs have remarkably high production values when you consider they get almost all their money from a TV license fee. Their evening news show called Dagur & Vika looks like a normal local news program, except it's on a nicer set, more people are wearing glasses, and there are no helicopter shots of high speed car chases.

The network also has a news magazine show called Mentanartíðindi and a talk show featuring, you guessed it, a guy wearing glasses. There's also a program that appears to be a college lecture series, and several church broadcasts.

It's all pretty straightforward, and not every exciting if you can't understand the language. But there are two exceptions.

First is the ten minute news summary for the hearing impaired. SVF is already broadcasting to a tiny audience, and the hearing impaired audience must be a tiny sliver of that. But they broadcast it anyway, and I think that's pretty cool. To be honest this was maybe my favorite thing I saw. The guy sitting behind the desk, apart from using sign language, is making lots of exaggerated facial expressions, the most popular of which seem to be a grimace and frown. I have no doubt these expressions are important to communicate meaning when using sign language. But they looked a little silly coming from a news anchor. Overall, the effect was hypnotizing. I couldn't stop watching. I actually sat through the whole 10 minute broadcast.

The other gem was a children's program called "Krutl." In the episode I saw, a woman and a clown sit in an empty movie theater and shout a lot. Actually, the clown does most of the shouting. Then they were on the side of a fjord scooping fish into a little net. Then more shouting in the movie theater. Next up was a rather long video clip of children nailing together boards in some garage. More shouting in a movie theater follows. The last few minutes are takes up by what I'm assuming is kiddie mystery show called "Klu." I didn't understand any of it, but a lot of it was shot outdoors, and it was fun to actually see some of the scenery and architecture of Torshavn.

In honor of the video nature of this week's Faroe Friday post, I'm forgoing the Faroe photo and instead posting a video clip I found. It's just some guy driving around Vestmanna, but it gives you some small idea what many of the villages look like.

BACK AT WORK

I work some pretty long hours on the weekends. I'm not complaining because I get three days off during the week, and that's very nice. But Saturday's can be a bit rough when I leave for work after spending three days hanging out with the twins. They get used to having me around, and often cry when I go to work. Then I hardly see them until Monday.

But if they miss me too much, they can always flip on the TV.
That'll probably ruin his eyesight.

FAROE ISLANDS QUALITY OF LIFE

The Faroese are very proud of their standard of living, which is said to be one of the best in the world. Having never been there, I have no way of objectively judging that claim, but I've uncovered a nugget that suggests things may, indeed be pretty good in the Faroes.

Faroese television broadcasts The Daily Show with Jon Stewart. Their website describes the program as "Emmy virðislønt amerikonsk speisending," which I'm sure is something pretty good.

The way I see it, any country that has The Daily Show must be doing ok. Now how long until Colbert invades their shores?

This week's Faroe photo comes from this guy's flickr photostream. He's been to some pretty amazing places so, naturally, I hate him.

MORE PROFILES IN COURAGE

An MSNBC anchor, who apparently reads this blog and does whatever I say, refuses to read a Paris Hilton story on air.

It feels a bit staged to me, but I give her credit for at least trying to comply with my wishes.

FORGET PARIS

I was all set to pen my love letter to my new obsession: the Faroe Islands, but that will have to wait a few more days. Instead, I feel an urgent need to write about what must be someone elses new obsession: Paris Hilton.

I have long wondered exactly why anyone would pay attention to this woman. The phenomenon of being famous for being famous is puzzling one, but there is usually a formula. Take Zsa Zsa Gabor, for instance. She appeared in some films in the 1950s, got access to some cash and "Hollywood People," and soon she doing nothing more than making cameo appearances on the Love Boat. By the time she got arrested for slapping a cop in the 1980s, nobody could remember why she was famous. But the point is she actually did something at some point of her life that merited fame before her life went adrift. (This is likely where Britney Spears is headed.)

Then there's Paris. There is absolutely no reason why anyone should pay attention to her. She's a fairly skanky rich girl who has a thing for alcohol and bad taste in sexual partners. She can have anything she wants, but that's not enough, she also wants us to be obsessed with her. So she releases sex tapes of herself and frequents places where she knows photographers will be lurking and prances around half-naked on a sports car in an attempt to sell hamburgers. She doesn't do this because she needs the money. Instead, she covets our brainshare.

I've taken great pride in ignoring as much of Paris and her life as is possible when you work in the news biz. But I must admit I was riveted by media reports two weeks ago when Paris was released then thrown back in jail. But at least I have a degree of shame about it, unlike some people I know.

So Paris is in jail for just a few more days, and when she gets out, the media will scramble to plaster her on every single newscast, TV show, and magazine available. I've just learned that Paris will appear on Larry king once she's released. But I'm struck by a statement she released before she headed off to jail for a second time...

"I must also say that I was shocked to see all of the attention devoted to the amount of time I would spend in jail for what I had done by the media, public and city officials. I would hope going forward that the public and the media will focus on more important things, like the men and women serving our country in Iraq and other places around the world."

Ignore, if you can, the irony of this woman--who has spent her short adult life begging us to pay attention to her--expressing shock that people would take notice of the details of her life. Instead, let's take her at her word. Let's ignore Paris.

There are very few problems that will go away if you ignore them, but annoying famous people are the exception. Think of OJ Simpson, people eventually tired of him and you hardly hear anything about him anymore (all that nonsense about his book went away mercifully fast).

So lets do it, let's ignore Paris. We can do this. I had considered registering the domain ignoreparis.com (it's available) and launching some sort of online campaign. Alas, I don't have the web savvy to launch my own website. So instead, I'm asking you, fair reader, to make your own pledge to ignore Ms. Hilton. When you see her on TV, change the channel. If she's on the cover of your favorite magazine, don't buy it. Avoid the temptation to click on the link that says "Paris Converts to Islam While Jailed."

Don't worry about ruining her life. She's got all the money she needs, and she's quite capable of ruining her own life, thank you. So ignore Paris. Ignore her because, no matter how dim you are, she does not deserve one synapse in your brain. Ignore her because she has no talent. Ignore her because she's tarnished the good name of the most beautiful city in Europe.

The media blitz is coming. It will be loud and furious. But you can resist it. I know you can. Just repeat after me: I will ignore Paris...

OLD TIME FREAKOUT

The year is 1987 and I've just flunked out of high school. With not much going on in my life, I take to watching Letterman with religious zeal. Many people consider this to be Letterman's most productive era. He's no longer a cult figure on television, but there is still something slightly out-of-control with his programs. There really is a feeling that anything can happen.

Then one night, I see the best hour of television I've ever seen. Dave does his monologue (which was and has always been more than a little lame), then settles down at his desk. Usually the Top Ten List comes right after he sits down, but Dave says there's a problem with the list, and they move on. The show goes into break and Steve Martin is the first guest, he comes out and does two segments about Letterman's pencil tossing gag. When they enter the second segment, the entire set is covered in pencils. A very funny bit indeed.

They come back after Steve, announce that they still don't have a Top Ten List, and go to another commercial. When they come back, Crispin Glover is there. He's there to promote "The River's Edge," but Dave can't start much of a conversation with his guest. Dave asks him about his life in Hollywood and about some apartment he used to live in. Crispin keeps saying "no," and looking annoyed. Then this happened. (I haven't seen this clip in about 20 years, God bless You Tube.)


The next guest is a woman with a potato chip collection. There never was a Top Ten List on the show.

I taped that night's show and showed it to my sisters. We played it again and again, wondering just what Crispin was thinking. Some people thought he was on drugs. Others thought it was a performance piece that just spun out of control. Fans of "Ruben and Ed" will note that Crispin looks pretty much like the Ruben character in that movie.

Seven years after Crispin's Letterman freakout, I'm living in Salt Lake City and I get a call from a friend. She tells me Crispin Glover is in town and needs a little help building a set for a movie he's making. Do I want to help out? Yes. Yes I do.

Crispin seemed a little spacey while we were putting together a paper mache tree in an old warehouse on the west side of Salt Lake. But other than that, he seems pretty normal. He explains that the movie is about a girl with Down Syndrome who gets special powers, or something. I had a hard time figuring out what the film is about, but someone I know claims to have seen it on cable. Supposedly, I'm in the credits.

The evening ends with Crispin asking for a ride somewhere, his car, an old Checker cab, has broken down and he needs to get a part at a store. I drop him off, and never see him again. I never got up the nerve to ask about the Letterman appearance in 1987. I wish I did.

On the digital darkness front, there is still no light. They said they'd have my laptop back to me by Tuesday, no matter what. It's Thursday.

FREE MR. BEAN

Like many people around the world, I watched with great interest the drama surrounding the fates of 15 British sailors captured in the Persian Gulf and held in Iran. I have no idea if they really were in Iranian waters, but I'm glad they've been safely returned to their homes. Now maybe gas prices in the US will go back down.

In the US coverage of the aftermath, I saw a front page from The Sun. The big screaming headline said "WE WERE BLINDFOLDED AND BEATEN!" But the smaller sub-headline said, "They called me Mr. Bean."

I found this a most curious taunt. I'm aware that Rowan Atkinson's nearly silent comic creation is an international phenomenon. I was on a ferry crossing the English Channel in 1994 when I had my first exposure to Mr. Bean. It was just past midnight and hundreds of weary travelers boarded the boat that featured a casino and several restaurants. But most of the good stuff was closed and people appeared to be settling in to get some sleep. But just before we left the harbor, a voice came over the intercom.

"For your entertainment tonight, we'll be playing episodes of the bumbling Mr. Bean."

The place went nuts. Loud cheers erupted through the ship, and people who once looked like they were going down for a nap now repositioned themselves to get a better view of of the television monitors. Once the screen flickered to life, I saw a short man with an odd looking face drive a Mini into a street sign. What followed for the next 30 minutes was a series of sight gags including Mr. Bean pulling several pencils out of his jacket, and trying to change into a bathing suit without taking off his trousers. (That latter gag is actually quite an acrobatic feat and well worth taking a look at.)

Swimsuit gag notwithstanding, most of the show just sort of made me shrug. But I could see why it was a staple on international ferries. There were almost no words in any of the sketches, and the whole thing was squeaky-clean family entertainment.

So It's no surprise that the show is loved all over the world. But in Iran? Really? I don't have access to any Iranian TV schedules, but I always imagined the broadcast day was full of fiery speeches by the Prime Minister and coverage of various American flag burnings. But apparently someone has access to Mr. Bean programs over there.

And that's where Arthur Batchelor comes into the picture. He was the youngest of the British hostages, and he told newspapers that his captors called him Mr. Bean to torment him.

From the press accounts, there was nothing all that funny about Batchelor's detention. He says he feared being raped or killed during the ordeal. At one point, he was handcuffed and slapped by his captors.

"They seemed to take particular pleasure in mocking me for being young," Batchelor told the British Daily Mirror newspaper. The situation is even more unfortunate because Batchelor actually does bear a slight resemblance to Rowan Atkinson. Not a huge resemblance, mind you, but you can see what the Iranians were talking about.

What's next for Batchelor is any one's guess. He'll likely go back to serving in the Royal Navy after a short rest. Perhaps he'll write about his experiences. If he wants to make a few extra bucks, might I suggest he go to the beach and take off his trousers while still keeping his bathing suit on. Watch and learn, Arthur, watch and learn.

THE STATE WITHIN

This is another edition of my 491 part series on the relationship between the UK and the US, a subject that has fascinated me since I first laid eyes on Monty Python's Flying Circus.

What roused my curiosity this time was a viewing of the 6 hour mini-series (7.5 hours if you have to watch the commercials, thank you TiVo!) The State Within on BBC America. It is a rule in our household that any British mini-series broadcast in the US will be viewed by someone living under our roof. Almost without exception, that someone is Julie. But this time, the show was set in Washington DC and it involved skulduggery inside the US defense community and all sorts of nastiness, so I was prevailed upon to watch... just this once.

Before we go any further, you should know that I enjoyed the show quite a bit. It wasn't perfect (first 2 hours were a bit slow), but I was happy to go along for the ride and found myself thoroughly entertained. Second, there will be spoilers galore in this post, so if you've got it sitting on your TiVo and you're waiting for a snowy weekend to watch it, stop reading right now.

You didn't stop reading, did you? Alright, then, we'll move on.

The State Within details an elaborate plot hatched between a Halliburton-like company and highly placed Defense Department officials to start a war with a post-Soviet Central Asian state. The show begins with a jumbo-jet blowing up just after taking off from Dulles International Airport. It's a dramatic scene that shows the British Ambassador to the US heroically attempting to save people before narrowly escaping the crash scene with his life.

The ambassador slowly unravels the plot through a series of twists and turns and double-crosses and a even a few political assassinations thrown in for good measure.

As an American there were moments that had me alternately scratching my head and giggling.

First, there were the accents. All the lead roles were played by Brits, and while Limeys are supposedly famous for being able to do spot-on American accents, well... not everyone is Helen Miren. Let's just say some people overdid it. I had always wondered what the US equivalent of the bad British accent sounded like. Now I know:

"I neeed to speeek with yourrrrrr Brrrritish Ambaserrrrderrrr right now, misterrrr!"

There were also some small misunderstandings about how American government works. The US Defense Secretary was shown making public comments in support of law enforcement techniques employed by a state governor. The implication was that, if she wanted, the Defense Secretary could have shut down a domestic law enforcement action. In fact, the Defense Secretary can't do jack squat on American soil. (Unless that American soil is located in Cuba, but that's another story.)

But apart from accents and plots, the most interesting thing about The State Within is what it tells us about the British self image.

One can see the American self image on display in just about any Hollywood thriller. It usually involves someone at the fringes of his organization, a rebel, a guy who makes his own rules. He's been on the force/agency/bureau/organized crime family for a long time, and his co-workers tolerate his ticks. But when disaster strikes (often in the form of a foreign plot) the maverick is brought to center stage due to some sort of specialized knowledge of the enemy. In the end, the maverick's unorthodox methods provide the key element, and he emerges the hero.

(There's a sports version of this movie, where some mean team owner decides to assemble the worst sports team in the world--because he needs to lose money for tax reasons or something like that. So the owner gets the outcasts from every other team in the league and puts them together. But guess what? That rag-tag bunch of losers finds a way to pull together and prove that they're really winners. They eventually beat the best team in the league. Rah, rah!)

The State Within portrays Britain as the conscience of America. The Ambassador is constantly trying to find ways to keep America's unbridled power in check. At one point, he single-handedly tries to broker a peace deal. By the time the show is over, Mr. Brit Ambassador is in the office of the US Secretary of Defense. He's basically blackmailing the Secretary into doing the right thing and turning back American bombers before they start ANOTHER war under false pretenses.

In the world of The State Within, the only thing that can save America from itself is a healthy dose of British common sense.

On the other side of the coin, it's fascinating to see how the Americans are portrayed. They are, with one small exception, bad guys to the core. They're renegade cowboys with little in the way of morals, restraint, or even manners. The best example is the rogue Secretary of Defense. She's just a few notches away from being a live-action version of Yosemite Sam. She's a rootin', tootin', itchin' for a fight, live wire... and she has access to the most powerful army in the world. Be afraid, Brits, be very afraid.

It's possible that the exaggerated accents and cartoonish buffoonery of the American characters is just a little payback. I've heard numerous complaints that villains in American films tend to have British accents. Even in space, the bad guys speak the Queen's English. So perhaps it's time we Yanks have to sit through a drama where all the villains speak with "R"s so hard you could cut diamonds with them.

Fair enough. But next time, let's make a movie where all the bad guys have Scottish accents. They make me giggle.