Today is a special day. Today marks the 47th Anniversary of Doctor Who. 47 years ago today William Hartnell abducted two schoolteachers in a time machine with his granddaughter to have a so-so adventure with cavemen before The Daleks aired and everything started to kick off (to be fair, the first episode of An Unearthly Child, i.e. the first episode ever, is a really good piece of science fiction that everyone should see. But just skip to The Daleks, really. The cavemen not so much. Apart from that one bit where The Doctor is about to smash this guys head in with a rock and Ian is like “What THE HELL, Doctor?”. That was awesome.).
Now 47 years is a long time. It’s older than me, probably you and Michelle Trachtenberg. It’s almost half a century long. Now this anniversary is made especially amazing due to the fact that it’s a mircle these days that most TV shows make it to one year, let alone 47.
I am referring to the recently cancelled Caprica. Caprica, a noirish cyber-punky family drama with hints of Blade Runner (that also happened to be a prequel to the amazing Battlestar Galactica), died before it had a chance to live, and is now being kicked and spat on as it lies on the ground, as SyFy (I hate that name) has decided to blow it’s load and air the remaining episodes one after another so they can replace it with Wrestlers Do The Funniest Things or something.
You see it was cancelled mid-season with five episodes left to air. Which they don’t want to air until January for literally no reason. Of course their plans are foiled by Canada who are airing these episodes right now which means that pretty much everyone will have seen them when SyFy throws them out in January. And the real sting in the tail? The remaining episodes have been really good. But according to SyFy the show hasn’t developed the viewership it wanted so they axed it before the good episodes aired (you know, the good episodes being the one that builds the viewership). Of course that also isn’t helped by the giant gaps SyFy would leave between episodes.
They release the pilot, it’s good! When’s the show start, SyFy? Not until next year? Oh forget it then!
The show starts, hey it’s still pretty good! Oh they’ve stopped it mid season. When does it start again? Several months? Oh, forget it then!
It’s like trying to read a book but when you’ve finished the first few chapters and really are getting into it someone runs up to you and says “AH HA NOW YOU CAN HAVE THIS BACK IN SIX MONTHS!” and you say “Why can’t I read it right now?” and they say “WE JUST DON’T KNOW! Try and remember literally everything that happened in the book in six months, though!”.
But of course this seems to be the trend nowdays. If a show isn’t a massive super-wow hit in the first five episodes, it’s gone. It’s dead. The obvious and most famous example is Firefly, which caused such a fan outcry that it made Fox keep Dollhouse on for a whole other season just so they could delay the fan backlash for another year (although I would’ve preferred another year of Firefly than another year of Dollhouse, thanks). But the trouble is, in most cases, a first season isn’t that great. The show needs time to work out exactly what it is, the actors and writers need to figure out the best way to write and portray the characters, and that takes time. Most of the great shows I watched around ten years ago had these bad starter seasons. Remember the first two seasons of Star Trek TNG? A couple of good episodes, mostly a bit bland and boring, but then it hit it’s stride with season 3. Nowadays it would be gone by Where No One Has Gone Before. Same with the so-so first seasons of Deep Space Nine before Ronald D. Moore came in and said “Hey here’s an idea: Make it awesome.” And of course if Buffy’s first season had been made today we never would have seen the amazing season 2 and the amazing show that followed it (and the amazing Michelle Trachtenberg).
This is all made the worse now that every show has to be a damn arc show. Thanks to Lost being successful every show needs an arc across the season or series where it turns out that the big CGI thing in the first episode was actually caused by renegade dolphins or something. And while in general this arc trend is good, encouraging character development and such, it does mean that you get a lot of shows that start to build to up things and then get cancelled before they can tell us the ending. If you want arcs, let the shows have the time to tell the story, please. It’s really frustrating.
So, in summary, happy birthday Doctor Who!
Oh and don’t even get me started on that Buffy reboot…
For those of you that don’t know (but pretty much anyone who is reading this now already does but hey it fill some space, doesn’t it?) actress, YouTuber, and general all-around nice person Kat Dennings had her private nakedy naked photos leaked across the internet last week.
Now I’ll say this now: They were good photos. Kat Dennings is a very attractive person and seeing a very attractive person without clothing is a pretty cool thing most of the time. She looked good in these photos is what I’m trying to say here. But that’s not the point. However stupidly attractive she looked (and she did look stupidly attractive) the fact is that they are now available worldwide without her permission, and despite her lawyers going mad taking them down from wherever they’re hosted they will never truly be gone because that’s how the internet works.
But at someone (who?) said “There’s no such thing as bad publicity.”, and as an INTERNET FRIEND of mine said “Do you think being betrayed by an ex releasing private pictures isn’t as bad when the online response is unanimously ‘amazing tits!’?” – there is a silver lining to this. Mostly. The best example of this I can give is myself who, up until yesterday, had only vaguely even heard of Kat Dennings. Yesterday I ran the full spectrum of thinking “I’m not really sure who this famous girl in the photos are but she’s mighty pretty” (and she did look mighty pretty), to thinking “Hey actually she seems like a really nice person.” to actually then feeling guilty about looking at the original pictures because of just how nice she comes across as, and I am now very much pro-Kat Dennings and look forward to her in Thor. But in a strange paradox if I hadn’t have looked at the pictures I would never have known that she’s so nice that I should never have looked at them in the first place. Got that? Good.
It’s just one of those scary reminders of the way the internet is now. Now it’s possible to take a photo of something and have it leaked across the other side of the world before you put your clothes on again. And that’s terrifying, not just to the reams of very annoyed celebrities, but of course of the real danger it poses to actual real people who don’t make the connection that as soon as you send a photo of something you don’t want on the internet, the internet is exactly the first place it will go. Thankfully, and this is where I can shoehorn in a Michelle Trachtenberg (who is still the best ever ever) mention, there are people trying to get the message across to the younger generation before they do something stupid. It makes me happy in so many different scary ways that it is possible to visit a website and for girls to take a VIDEO QUIZ with Michelle who tells them about the dangers of sexting. That’s awesome. Kat Dennings, take that quiz.
So basically what I’m saying is this: Leaked pictures, however amazingly good they are (and hers were amazingly good), are bad. They’re a scary invasion of privacy and if a celebrity wants to go all naked then they should do it when they want to, although if you’re planning to take a whole load of drugs and get worse looking, try and do it before then (I’m looking at you, Lohan). Also you might have noticed that I was focusing on the lovely Kat Dennings leaked pictures instead of the leaked also naked pictures of Jessica Alba that spewed forth at around the same time. The reason for this is that Kat Dennings is like nine times better than Jessica Alba. Silly!
Additional: How stupid of me to forget to mention that today is Life Day! I hope everyone has a happy life day and celebrates by doing a lot of cocaine and singing a song to the main theme of a major science fiction franchise. We ceeeeelebrate a day of peace…
Oh, hello Monday, I didn’t see you there.
I had, in fact, planned to be a super-blogger and update on the weekends, but last minute plans prevented that. Suffice to say I spend around 32 hours away from home with only the content of my pockets and the kindness of friends to sustain me (the contents of my pockets, for all those that care, which isn’t anyone, were: A woollen hat, two gloves, a pair of headphones, a USB to mini-USB cable, a fez, and a copy of ‘The Restaurant at the End of the Universe‘. The lesson here is “always carry a fez with you.”).
Add to that the confusion of suddenly getting an hour back via what I can only assume is a form of time travel, my brain is so tired and confused that it currently thinks it’s May 14th 1975 and is freaking out about the advanced technology I am currently writing on. And I wasn’t even alive on May 14th 1975. What the hell, brain?
Now what the hell was I going to actually write about? Good question, Tomtrek, I’ll get back to you on that. In the mean time, Let’s talk about Halloween, which is totally yesterday’s news (LITERALLY…!) but still. I’ve often found Halloween to be a bit of an odd one. Living in the UK as I do it’s a holiday that has been thrust upon us my people wanting to sell sweets and costumes more than it is an actual proper holiday. In America, of course, it’s a major event and plenty of effort is put into costumes, house decorations and parties, and while it’s true that some people go to the same lengths here it’s safe to say that an English Halloween is a pale shadow of it’s big-budget American cousin.
For one, trick-or-treaters are tricky things. As not everyone does it, not everyone prepares for them arriving, and so the entire thing sort of collapses in on itself when it ends up that the only house prepared for people asking for sweets is the house that has sent people out asking for sweets. It’s a part of Halloween that I’m actually a fan of, when it’s done well. It promotes a sense of community when kids can actually talk to their neighbours without the neighbours being put on the sex offenders registry. Of course when it’s just three grungy teenagers with no costume (unless their costumes were ‘grungy teenagers’ and they were in fact really talented 10 year olds…) asking for sweets it sort of loses it’s appeal.
Same with the costumes, although this might not be just a UK thing and instead a global lack-of-effort thing, but in my mind if you’re going to do a costume then you should go the whole hog. It doesn’t have to be flashy and expensive, my friend’s home-made Ghostbuster costume had a proton pack thay was just a (very nicely!) painted cardboard box attached to a backpack, with a makeshift neutron wand attached to it, but it showed that he had put effort in and got into the spirit of things. It makes such a nice change to all the “sexy nurse” and “sexy devil” and “sexy St. John the Baptist” costumes that seem to be the default now (I’ll take this opportunity to mention Michelle Trachtenberg’s lovely Halloween costume this year: a child beauty pageant princess, which not only poked fun at the whole horrible pageant thing, but also, I think, gave a slight dig to the use of fake tan. Which is great because I hate fake tan so much. End of Trachtenberg derail).
So really I guess what I’m saying here is that England really needs to decide what it wants to do with Halloween. Either it just says “No, sorry, I wont put up with all this silliness let’s all go and have a sit down for a while, shall we?” or it dives in feet first and does it like America does it, because right now it’s some sort of bizarre non-holiday stuck in a commercialised hell.
Of course the whole thing doesn’t really matter anyway as the real fun is a week later at bonfire night. Take note, UK terrorists – if you try and blow up our buildings we will make that day a national holiday!