TV Party?

Despite tuning the TV and normalizing the situation in the new flat, viewing was AGAIN unacceptably weak this week. I could blame this on books, the game cube and friends (the real kind – not the TV programme) but I know that the responsibility ultimately lies on my own shoulders and for this I apologise, dear reader.

While I never really built up any sort of consistency or pace, the week was punctuated by stolen moments and fleeting glances at the humming idiot in the corner, and I managed to snatch the following from its gaping jaws.

For some reason BBC thought it would be a good idea to screen a Dragon’s Den catch up on Wednesday and Thursday night. These episodes involved catching up with the winners and losers of last season and documenting their various (mis)fortunes, run along side interviews with the “Dragon’s.”

When Dragon’s Den started a few years back I enjoyed it. It was interesting to see the workings of entrepreneurship and gain an insight into the world of investment, marketing and business. However, in the last few years the show seems to have denigrated somewhat to become an uncomfortable exercise in ritual humiliation of the desperate by the powerful. This is owing in no small part to the success of The Apprentice and the bankable Sir Alan Sugar’s onslaught of put downs, jibes and ultimate dismissals painting a not altogether pleasant image of the viewing public as a jeering, bloodthirsty hoard.

What the producers of Dragon’s Den miss however, is that The Apprentice steadily builds up and exposes the contestants considerable personality defects, showing them up as greedy, ambitious and generally unprincipled shits who have bought into idea of the supremacy of wealth and power, making the viewer unsympathetic when that wealth and power turns against them full force in the wrath of Sir Alan. With Dragon’s Den, however, we aren’t given the chance to like or despise the contestant, making it unpleasant when they are rejected, and dull when they are not.

Moving briskly on, visual diversion later in the week came in the form of David Lynch’s prequel to Twin Peaks, the chilling Fire Walk With Me. (DVD) As with so many things in life, I was something of a Johnny-come-lately to the whole Twin Peaks franchise, so this was the first time I saw this movie, and I can say it has whetted my appetite for more.

For anyone familiar with the original film, Fire Walk With Me follows the series of events leading up to Laura Palmer’s death, ending with the discovery of her cellophane wrapped body at the lake shore (the first shot in Twin Peaks.) Lynch himself takes a role in this, as a cryptic hard of hearing FBI chief, with Kiefer Sutherland and Kyle MacLachan also making appearances.
Watching this film suprised me a little with its brutality. While Twin Peaks ambles along quite steadily, slowing drawing the viewer into the darker side of this quiet mountain town, Fire Walk With Me jars and jolts the viewer with scenes of prostitution, drug–use, rape and violent death almost from the beginning. It quickly becomes clear that Laura Palmer is no angel, and a cast of potential killers lines up to sharpen their knives amid the mysterious disappearance of the investigating agent in a previous murder. As with the first film Fire Walk With Me is visually mesmerising, exuding the Lynchian sepia-like style crossed with sexualised ultra-violence it shares with Blue Velvet.

Expect to read ramblings from the box set in the very near future.

Rounding the week off, Skateboarding documentary Dog Town and Z boys made adequate viewing for a sober Saturday night. The documentary follows the history of the infamous “Z-boy” skateboarding team from poverty-stricken southern Santa Monica as they swapped surf boards for skate boards, drained pools to skate in, then variously found their own paths to fame and fortune or otherwise. Played out as a sort of “punk-rock on four wheels” (emphasised by the unnecessary presence of Henry Rollins of Black Flag and Ian McKaye of Minor Threat and Fugazi in some of the interviews) Dog Town and Z-Boys nevertheless provided a good background to the former sub-culture turned international money spinner that is modern skateboarding.

Sensually, the film was enjoyable as old skating footage was spliced with present day interviews and a snarling Iggy pop soundtrack, set in the backdrop of a decaying California beach resort. However, while the Z-Boy team was undoubtedly talented, pioneering many of the sport’s moves and clearly blowing every other team out of the water with its trade mark slouched surfer style, the documentary did drag on a little as it descended into a round of back slapping and self-mythologizing.

Most of all, a lot of these guys reminded me of some of the skateboarders who used to hang around St Anne’s in Belfast before the council bulldozed it, with their aggressive localism, hierarchy’s and super-sized egos. One particular scene where a guy reminisces about throwing breeze blocks at outsiders especially springs to mind.

However, by and large the skating speaks for itself, and as one interviewee rightly points out, you have to be at least a bit of an asshole to be that good at something.

Later Losers.