Jonathon Delacour the heart of things

Relaxing in the soapy suds

I share with my sister a weakness for sudsy TV dramas of a particular genre: those produced by Aaron Spelling. It started with Dallas and Dynasty and carried on through LA Law and Melrose Place, although my all-time favorites were Central Park West and Savannah. It’s not that I don’t enjoy quality TV drama—I followed season after season of NYPD Blue (until Jimmy Smits left) and watched every episode of the first series of Murder One (with Daniel Benzali and Stanley Tucci). But nothing matches the trashy touch of Aaron Spelling and Darren Star.

On Monday evening my sister called to alert me to the first episode of Footballers’ Wives on Channel Ten. I’d mistakenly assumed it was a documentary since it’s Grand Finals fortnight in Australia for the major football codes.

I try to restrict my TV viewing to an hour a night but on Mondays, as well as the English Premier League Highlights, I’ve been watching Band of Brothers (which airs at 9:30 on the leading network, Nine). Displaying the canny programming that has catapulted them into second place, Ten waited until just over halfway through the Band of Brothers season before rolling out Footballers’ Wives.

If Ten’s strategy was designed to attract disaffected Band of Brothers viewers, it worked perfectly on me. I loved the concept of Band of Brothers but, after six episodes, watching it now feels like a duty. I’m not entirely sure how that happened. Part of the problem is that the series plays as though it’s been put together like Lego, fashioned out of scenes from every American war movie that’s ever been made, each episode populated by stock characters we’ve met a thousand times already: the Hardbitten Yet Compassionate Sergeant, the Incompetent Company Commander, the Coward Who Finds His Courage, the Disillusioned Nurse…

More seriously, the directors have only a rudimentary understanding of how to block out and shoot action in a way that doesn’t just replicate the fog of war but leads the viewer to an understanding of the rhythm and meaning of each battle. Consequently, many of the combat sequences fall short in that they frustrate anyone with an interest in tactical problems while failing to show a general audience the combination of military skills that enabled the US Army to overcome a well-trained, battle-hardened, determined German opposition.

Interestingly, the episode directed by Tom Hanks was an exception, though I wonder if part of the credit should go to the cinematographer since an actor-turned-director like Hanks would be more likely to accept advice than “real” directors who learned their craft shooting Michael Jackson videos.

If you don’t accept my argument, I’d recommend that you rent the Black Hawk Down DVD and see how a wily old craftsman like Ridley Scott draws on his bottomless bag of tricks to portray accurately, yet render with absolute clarity, the confusion of street fighting in Mogadishu.

On the other hand, with four episodes left, Band of Brothers limps along, burdened by its—typically Spielbergian—blend of earnestness, pretension, and (yes) sentimentality. What a disappointment. And what an inept, albeit well-intentioned, memorial to the sacrifices of the men of Easy Company, represented so poignantly in the interviews with the veterans at the beginning of each episode.

Time for a change and what could be more compelling than a trashy British soap? Particularly one made in the Spelling tradition: packed with improbable characters, predictable storylines, laughable dialog, and tons of gratuitous (male and female) nudity.

Here’s what the British critics said about Footballers’ Wives:

• ”…a show that has its tongue so deep in its cheek that it becomes cult camp viewing” (Joe Joseph, the Times)
• “It is so tacky, it is a wonder no one thought of it before.” (Tony Parsons, the Mirror)
• “looked like a send-up, with its jacuzzis, pink satin sheets and zebra-skin deck chairs… Like Dallas or Dynasty, this is good, dirty, undemanding fun with a tent-load of camp thrown in.” (Simon Edge, the Express)
• ”…the highest quality schlock.” (Gerard O’Donovan. the Telegraph)

Sacha Molitorisz, writing in the Sydney Morning Herald, described the program as “…seriously second-rate. And eminently watchable.” And what a bonus that it’s on a Monday night, when an hour of English Premier League Highlights has already put me in a footballing frame of mind.

I’ll still watch the first few minutes of the remaining episodes of Band of Brothers: the opening interviews remain the best, most truthful moments of each show. Then I’ll switch across to Footballers’ Wives. I’ll have missed the first few minutes but that doesn’t matter. I’ve seen it all before.

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