Castaway: What's Gone Wrong?

Castaway 2000 was a groundbreaking series that was on BBC TV in, you guessed it, 2000. It was a genuinly interesting social experiment: 36 people, chosen as a representive sample of the UK population, put on an island. It was Taransay, in Scotland, and there was only 1 house there, with 1 family. Everything else had to be built, and they were self-sufficient.

I remember coming in from Asda one day with my parents, and putting in on, eating a chocolate muffin. It was a really nice muffin, and Castaway was great. It was about two-thirds of the way through the series, however. I caught the rest on UKTV. It was a genuine social experiment: there was a diverse mix of people - young and old, black and white, male and female, straight and gay. There were families, couples, single people. There was a small school for the children.

The BBC recently announced that they're making a new series, and it starts on Friday. I looked on Wikipedia for any information about it. It's set, this time, on Great Barrier Island, in New Zealand. The location of the first series was great, no need for BBC to get bigger and better every time, much like Big Brother. Maybe another UK location? Oh well. So they're on this island in New Zealand, which has a population of, oh, 900 people. So, there's a lot of castaways then. It's in a public area, near to a campground popular with school parties and families, so filming could be interrupted by stray ramblers. There's a town within half an hour that has a shop, chemist, airstrip, and a golf club.

So they're not really being 'cast away' anywhere.

They released a list of the contestants today, and I'm afraid that it's gone from societal representation to reality-tv staples. The black/asian/fat/old/dubious sexuality boxes have been ticked, and everyone else is pretty. They also have the standard 'reality tv' ambitions and personalities: one is a loner, another a former lap dancer (Shipwrecked 2006, anyone?), another thinks the world will one day live in peace. There's a couple of hippies, and someone who hates hippies. A couple of people who promise to 'rock the boat' and another wants to be an MP.

So, the BBC have taken one of the genuinly innovate and interesting reality tv shows, that was eye-opening and watchable for all the right reasons, and ruined it. It's turned into Big Brother.

The Brit Awards: Random Thoughts

I've had to post this as 'Random Thoughts' because I can't remember the precise order in which I saw everything, since I was watching in the middle of a alone-on-Valentines haze which has now (thankfully) lifted, with the aid of a creme egg and an individual treacle tart.

The first thing that I remember from the ceremony has to be the phenomenal performance of The Killers:



They played the first single from Sam's Town, When You Were Young. Their set was formed from a giant billboard, the classic American style that Bill Bryson so often talks about adorning the side of the road in the mid-west. Behind this was a screen with The Killers' familiar black and white desert panorama: fast moving clouds and cracked, arid floor. The billboard was showcasing a giant 'The Killers' logo; but when the song kicked in, this fell away to reveal the band inside the billboard, playing against a red backdrop. Then, for the big finish, the background fell away, bathing the band in black and white desert. This changed to rotating, golden lights for the enthusiastic, genius finale. The whole song left me with goosebumps, the tv turned up stupidly loud. The Killers got a standing ovation.

The show was hosted by Russell Brand. I don't normally like him at all - prancing about like a modern - day dandy, thinking he's a cross between Oscar Wilde and Amy Winehouse, but he did a great job. His jokes were (mostly) funny, and when they weren't, the entertainment came from shots of famous people in the audience not laughing. There's been hundreds of complaints about his jokes regarding the Iraq war and The Queen. People need to get a sense of humour.

Red Hot Chili Peppers delivered a tight, awesome performance of Dani California, but I thought that it perhaps lacked some of the theatrics of The Killers' elaborate stage. As always, though, it was an exciting, flawless performance, Frusciante on form with some awesome guitar work. Oasis recieved the Outsanding Contribution award and played three songs at the end - very good. The crowd went nuts. Corinne Bailey Rae was charmingly inoffensive. Snow Patrol performed Chasing Cars. I have an issue with this song. It was voted, by Virgin Radio listeners, as the Greatest Ever Recorded Song. They voted it ahead of Imagine and Everybody hurts: the best song anybody has ever recorded, ever, in the history of humankind. I don't not like it. It's a nice song. It's pretty. The lyrics are insipid and uninspired, vapid. Perfect for pop-indie Top 40 mediocrity. Best Song Ever? I don't think so. As I said, it's nice. But that's too exciting a word for it. Nice might imply some sort of activity or passion, some emotion. Instead, he just lays there. Will you lie with him? Make sure his indie hair is perfectly tousled.

While i'm in the middle of a rant, I'll have to bring up the winners of the Best British Male and Female awards. Amy Winehouse, like Russell Brand said, talks like a cab driver. She looks like an anorexic horse, and sings like a strangled cat. Actually, I'd rather watch and listen to the cat. James Morrison is a sub-par James Blunt: pretty poor form when James Blunt is that bad. He warbles through in his nasal voice, sounding like a bored, young version of David Frost. He looks like Chris Martin: this can, at least, stir some sympathy in me. Then I hear one of his songs, and the only thing that's stirred within me is fatigue, and I can't help but fall asleep.

Scissor Sisters opened the show, and I didn't get to see all of their performance, unfortunately. It looked awesome, all floating and puppets. I'd heard Scott Mills talking about a dressing room for 'Scissor Sisters' Puppeteers' earlier and was intrigued. Joss Stone came on stage to present an award and wobbled about, looking too thin. She sung a bit, talked about 'big love to Robbie' and spoke in an annoying, pseudo-American accent. I think she's gorgeous. Her award presenting stunk.

I think that's the end of my Brits rant. At least The Killers were good.