Wendy's Week of TV: Part 31

Sunday: Cranford
Firstly, Judi Dench is an absolute legend. I will watch her in anything. Secondly, I will watch any costume drama. Thirdly, I haven't read the Elizabeth Gaskell novel on which this is based. As I think about the whole question of tv adaptations of books, I believe that this is a good thing. It allows us as viewers to enjoy (or not) the television program on its own terms, without the inevitable comparison to the book, which also nevitably, the tv fails to live up to. In my opinion it's better in these situations to arrive at the book second, meaning less disappointment while watching TV. This is the way I encountered Middlemarch (TV first, book second) as well as Wives and Daughters, Our Mutual Friend, and Great Expectations. It allowed me to enjoy the tv series, and then go to the book and see what had been cut out and also enjoy the further depth and nuance that the author originally intended.

All that being said, I so enjoyed Cranford (not being privy to pay TV this was the first time I had seen it). There was the new doctor in town, with his fancy town ways unable to save the poor young boy with croup, but doing a standup job on the broken arm of the labourer. And poor Julia Sawalha with her unrequited love for the Scottish officer. Imelda Staunton and Julia McKenzie were suitably ditzy and their scene with the cat and the lace was both grotesque and hilarious. Nice too that the lace made a later appearance at the posh garden party. I somehow doubt that the weakly Septimus will return from Italy to his mother's estate. And the poor family living in the woods have to improve somehow. Plus the cow in it's pyjamas was a sight to behold. See...don't you want to watch it now! And I haven't even recounted the half of it. I'm looking forward to tomorrow night already.

Tuesday: Well Doctor Who obviously. And hurrah...an episode I hadn't actually seen before. Queen Victoria plus werewolves equals a jolly good time had by all and sundry. The Doctor's glee on sighting the werewolf was delightful. As was the final insinuation that the Royal family may still be carrying the werewolf gene.

Wednesday: You know I was going to watch Spicks and Specks but they had boring people on the panel so I continued my 30 Rock Series 2 marathon instead.

Thursday: The Man inside Dame Edna - or whatever the documentary about Barry Humphries was called. Why, oh why oh why did I not write about him in my thesis. WHAT WAS I THINKING? or not thinking as the case may be. Because we would have fitted perfectly with what I am now thinking of as "The Australian Grotesque"...the title of something that came to me in the middle of the night. My next article? We shall see. Back to Barry. My favourite moment was when he was describing his childhood. He and his mother had been to a ladies afternoon tea. On the way back in the car, making conversation he said to his mother, "That was a lovely cake wasn't it?". To which she replied with one scathing word: "Bought!". His mother and my grandmother might be one and the same.

Friday: Cricket. Rain. Boring. (although on arriving home at 2 and turning on what I thought would be the cricket I was very surprised to find Days of our Lives, a soap I watched a lot during high school. I recognised it because apparently Patch is still hanging around. In a hospital bed with his patch on his eye. Where was Marlena. Had her multiple personalities fused into one yet, or perhaps she has risen from dead for the fourteenth time, or escaped the evil Roman's clutches yet again. I didn't see Bo. He probably had "some things he had to take care of". This always seemed to be the standard line for getting characters to finish up a scene. "I've got some things I've gotta take care of but I'll meet you back here on the foggy docks at 6 and we'll fight the evil Salem mafia again then". What were those things I always wondered...paying the electricty bill? Getting the groceries?)

Anyway, slightly off track there. So the cricket was boring (indeed non-existent) until they actually started playing. Could Australia have conjured up that rain with a rain making machine hidden in Brisbane's western suburbs somewhere? Because it really looked like New Zealand were going to win in the last few overs until it started pouring. Phooey!