The Britican Perspective by Sarah Fisher

July 26, 2008

My parents made the difficult decision to put our family dog, Cerberus, to sleep. He has been badly behaved for a long time, but recently it has escalated to the point of being quite scary. He was a beautiful jack russell and it feels like we've failed him by not being able to control him, and he's had to pay for it with his life. I'm glad I was on the other side of the world, and my parents spared me the anxiety by only telling me after the deed was done, as I'd asked them to do if it ever came to this. I just hope that all dogs do indeed go to heaven and that he is floating on a white cloud surrounded by meaty treats and chew toys.

I've been thinking a lot about mortality lately, and how quickly my own life seems to be going, despite my youthful age. My grandmother is 97 years old and is one tough broad. Her heart is ridiculously strong from years of fastidious house work and vigorous walking and general hardiness of character. She would wake up every day at 5.30am just to wash the windows, apparently; I complain about my 6.30am alarm for work. Once, when she was in her 70s, she woke up in the middle of the night hearing a strange sound downstairs, and went down to confront a burglar - a young man in a ski mask - armed with only an umbrella. She, an elderly widow, ran around after this young man with her brolly and chased him right out of the house. Sadly, her heart is as strong as ever but her mind is not and she is very senile now, introducing me to her nurses as her sister. That's quite an age gap.

Well, she is losing weight fast and doctors think the cancer that she beat a few decades ago might have returned. Treatment would be crazy at this point - if it's her time to go, at 97, then it's her time and she should be made as comfortable as possible. But with the dog's young life ended, and hers going on, and mine speeding up it seems, I can't help but think about life, and mortality, and what we do with the time we have.

I fear I waste much of my life with silly magazines, ridiculous television shows, and too much time spent in my own head, daydreaming. Life is for living - for trying new experiences and being adventurous. I moved to another country and started everything fresh, but I'm still the same person and I still don't take the risks I need to to grow as a person.

So here is a challenge to myself, and to all of you: try to do things that are outside of your comfort zone. Even small things. For example, the place I work at had a book sale last week, so I bought 7 books for 7 dollars, and I made sure a couple of them were about topics I would never usually read about - challenging topics that I might consider above my usual level for personal reading. But I want to be made to think, to understand more about this world. 

That's just a simple example, and there are more things I have in mind personally. What do any of you think? What might you do that frightens you a little to think about but you feel would help you grow as a person?

Comments

July 6, 2008

Just a Thought:

So this week's Newsweek has Lincoln and Darwin on the cover, posing the question: Who was more important?

Being the weekend of July 4th here in America, freedom has been celebrated with fireworks, hot dogs, and lots of tequila. At least if you're me (though I don't eat hot dogs - they smell good though). Abraham Lincoln was a major force for the liberation of slaves in America. Meanwhile, Darwin's basic principles place negroid people at a slightly higher level of evolution than apes. Hitler got as far as he did on the idea of a superior race thanks to the Origin of Species.

It should be pretty clear who was more important, right?

I'm not going to discuss evolution in terms of right or wrong, because I'm not a scientist. But all I will say is that I'm incredibly tired of our assumption that Darwin was correct, despite the word theory still tagged onto the study of evolution.

Whenever something is assumed to be correct, and science is skewed to reflect that assumption, I feel riled. I would like to see freedom of debate respected by modern scientists. I imagine it will be a good long time before open debate is truly allowed in the field of science.

Since June 14:

I've moved to America, passed my written driving test, started a new job, moved into a new apartment, and made some new friends.

But most importantly, I've begun to develop a tan. For this pale English rose, that is what truly excites me at this time. As my hair lightens and I grow skinny from yoga, I shall have to consider purchasing a chihuahua to accompany my new L.A. look. Which brings me to what I really want to talk about.

Forget The Dark Knight. Forget Hancock. Forget Wall E. The most exciting film of the year is on its way and I just saw the trailer for it before You Don't Mess With the Zohan (very funny by the way - go see it). Yes, the chihuahuas of Beverly Hills are getting their revenge on the Paris Hilton wannabes who so abuse their dignity. Good for them! Check out the trailer: 

http://www.apple.com/trailers/disney/beverlyhillschihuahua/trailer_medium.html

And finally:

I'm at last reading Sense and Sensibility by the wonderful Jane Austen. I haven't read an Austen since my A Levels, and it's refreshing to discover how relevant she still is to modern readers, despite how different society is today. I read it wishing that I was an Eleanor - controlled, but feeling deeply. But I fear I'm actually a Marianne and way too open with my feelings. Perhaps it's the British girl inside of me, but I can't help feeling that by exposing too much of your inner self, you leave yourself literally open to attack. I'd like to work on becoming more like Eleanor, and guarding my emotions a little more tightly. 

Have a great week everyone, and please tell your friends about Calliope. We want more readers, and more writers, and need your help to get them. In the mean time, I'm off to cook some wholewheat pasta and relax with my Newsweek.

Comments

Steve -- July 8, 2008

Some of us in England are missing you. You should have seen the rain we had on Sunday. Oh to be in England, now that summer's here.

Rachel -- July 14, 2008

I just started to read sense and sensibility too! Javent gotten very far though, my reading always seems limited to during travel and very recently my head has decided it doesn't like that. If it makes you feel any better, one of my lecturers went on a two hour rant (for what should have been a one hour lecture) on how he hates how the 'theory' has been taken of the end of evolution. He's a through and through man of science, so it was nice to hear.

June 14, 2008

The Little Britican that Could

Once upon a time, there was a wee little Britican who went on holiday to visit her grandparents – in California.

It was love at first sight. The air smelt so sunny, the food tasted so rich, and the voices sounded so warm.

She was smitten. Every Oreo dipped in milk was bliss, every deer spotted in the garden orchard was a marvellous wonder, and every journey down the winding hills of the Sierra Nevada was a delight.

When she left, after a month spent languishing in California, road-tripping to the Grand Canyon, and horseback riding in Monument Valley, she was convinced that America was where she wanted to live.

After that, she obsessed over classic American entertainment - anything to give a glimpse of the landscapes she so loved. The film Thelma and Louise, Guns N Roses video November Rain, even the 70s television show Little House on the Prairie.

She returned to the States whenever she could; to sell her deceased grandparents’ home in California, to study for a semester at a New York college, to visit friends across the country.

Until the day came that she applied for a job in Los Angeles, and suddenly the dream became a reality, and she prepared to relocate to the ‘ican’ part of her nickname.

Sure, there had been obstacles. A boyfriend, who in a fit of insanity she entertained the notion of moving to Wales for; a six month passionate affair with the city of London, which was great while it lasted, but ultimately left her feeling claustrophobic; and attachments to family and friends that grew stronger with time.

But when she made the shortlist for the LA job, the wee little Britican felt that it was time to jump. It was now or never. If she put it off, she would get too comfortable and settled, and lose the chance. She knew she might be back one day and that her love of Britain would never die.

She knew life in America would not be perfect – that she would encounter struggles, and frustrations, just like anywhere else. But she knew that it was something she needed to do, something she owed to the 10 year old girl she had been at her grandparents’ place in Tuolumne County… whether or not this story had a happy ending.

So there you have it. My changing circumstances in literary style, appropriate to Calliope I feel! Since I’ll be living in America, I wonder if I should call myself Amerain? Or Amerish? That sounds rather too similar to Amish for my liking, and might confuse people who think that instead of being a dual national, I’m actually a quilt-maker…

Obviously, I’ll be as involved with Calliope as ever (praise the Lord for the internet, the saviour of international family relationships and literary editing), and will be coming back to you with tales of life as a primarily-English girl in Los Angeles. I fly over this weekend, and besides a little weight-anxiety am rather excited.

Wish me luck!

Comments

From Crystal -- June 14, 2008

Best of luck, Sarah!  I look forward to having you Stateside (maybe we can arrange a visit sometime... you to FL or us to CA, either way!).

From Audra -- June 25, 2008

I'm so happy to have you here Sarah! Awesome blog... can u make me a quilt? ;)

May 24, 2008

I'm sitting here, typing away while Joan of Arcadia is on in the background. Now, from previous columns it may seem as though I'm a television addict. Well, this is only partly true. I do love certain shows - I've even argued that some TV is better than film. But that's not the point. The point is that I don't like to write when the television is on. I like to sit in my dining room, with my iTunes blaring whatever feels inspiring, and type away on my own. But today there is no iTunes. There is no dining room.

I am in despair. For I have been betrayed.

You know, you give such love and devotion to a beautiful laptop computer (that's 'notebook' computer to Americans). You shower it with the latest virus-protection software, put cute pictures of happy elephants as the desktop wallpaper and try not to download too much junk. And then it stabs you in the back.

It mocks you as you try to type, adding symbols you don't recognise as you hit the keys. It refuses to send important emails. It won't open important documents. It practically screams: 'HA! You incompetent fool! You parade around creating amazing, incredible, life-changing literary magazines, you learn how to upload funny videos to your blog, you add a lifetime's worth of music to me, but can you fix me?! No. IDIOT! Go back to high school.'

So that is why my article for the 'Literature I Love' section is delayed. All this time I've been blindly doing the 'copy and paste' manoevre, typing up my work on Word and then usually forgetting to save it onto a flashdisk until I've accumulated some work. Today I am reduced to typing directly on to the site from the computer in my living room - with the ever-occupied television in the background. No spell check for me, no word count. I could have typed War and Peace by now, and how am I supposed to know without my word count?

Oh it's all very well you telling me I could just do a quick visual scan to determine length. I have a rare eye disorder than only allows me to process so much visual stimuli on any one page, don't you know. There's currently no cure, and you can read about my campaign outside Whitehall for government funded research here. There were banners and everything.

So I have learned two very important lessons this week:

1) I must always, always, always back up my work. Even now I am not a student anymore.

and 2) I am perfectly willing to exploit my role as editor to rant about my computer troubles. For this I'm sorry.

My diatribe against Harry Potter haters will be in the June issue. Prayers and donations for my computer would be greatly appreciated. But mainly donations. Big ones. Anyone sending something in the five-figures will be rewarded with a special column dedicated not to computer troubles, but to said donater's studliness.

And just in case you're wondering, I now have the Eurovision Song Contest playing. If the acts are a reflection of the country they represent, then Bosnia is a scary, scary place. Yet also oddly sexy? Call me, Mr Bosnia. I happen to have a skirt made of apples hiding in my closet, though admittedly there's a lot missing... I got hungry...

Comments

April 26, 2008

Oprah, Rocks and Religion

Dick Solomon is a god. An alien god.

I really mean John Lithgow, not Dick Solomon. And by god I really mean comic genius, which after a week of official couch potato-dom I am fully equipped to attest to. 3rd Rock from the Sun has prevented me from going crazy in my flu-ridden state. For years I had basically forgotten this gem existed, until channel-surfing last week I stumbled upon the Sci-Fi station. Just two minutes into one of the first ever episodes I was reminded why John Lithgow fully deserved his three Emmy’s. It’s one of the few examples of when overacting has worked; exaggeration is the name of the game for these four aliens who’ve been sent to earth in human form to study human behaviour.

Of course, they themselves end up becoming humanised, forming relationships and attachments to their new planet. They make some shrewd observations along the way about the human need to bond, to feel important and to find a purpose.

Alright, so pretending 3rd Rock is deep is a bit of a stretch, but this lazy, hazy week has taught me one thing about myself – I love being a goofy westerner. I love that we make these silly shows for no other reason than pure entertainment. Check out this clip of Dick’s brain malfunction: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PHjaHlex5ZY

On my television travels this week I’ve also unearthed a largely unwatched treat called Carnivale, starring Nick Stahl (of Terminator 3 fame). I’ve only seen the first two episodes so far and already I’m mystified, hooked… and slightly put out. Just once I’d like to see religious people not portrayed by Hollywood as paranoid and psychotic. As though every person with a cross around their neck is pursued in dreams by Satan’s minions, just one psychotic religious experience away from trying to cleanse the great unwashed masses with a healthy dose of a) exorcism, b) a forced underwater-minute as a faux-baptism, or c) plague. (We’re due a good plague, right? First stop: the Playboy mansion.) Just once I’d like to see a normal-amount of religious conviction displayed in Hollywood, (but not more of the sickly sweet 7th Heaven).

Next week I’m beginning to structure my Britican Perspective rather differently, and turning the focus mainly on to literature. I love to read, Calliope is about encouraging a love of literature, and I’d like to use my column as a place to rant and rave about what I’ve been reading. Next week I’ll be discussing a novel called Company of Liars, by Karen Maitland. Think of me as Calliope’s Oprah…

I’d also like to encourage you all to send us a little piece about your favourite novel: how it has inspired you, what makes it your favourite, why you love it. Luigi Marchini has provided a written tribute to the author Raymond Chandler, in the Literature I Love section, and I for one am feeling encouraged to pick up a Chandler, and follow the investigative adventures of Philip Marlowe. The more we share, the greater our appreciation of all different types of literature may be!

Comments

From Rachel -- May 13, 2008

That got me thinking about what my favourite book actually is, and although I've read a lot of books outside of school, I find myself leaning towards the ones I was made to read! I don't understand why I loved Lord of the Flies so much, but I'm pretty sure it was the first English homework that I actually did.

From Sarah -- May 13, 2008

That's interesting because it was the opposite for me. I sort of resented being told what to read so, for the most part, I was ambivalent at best towards the assigned reading. It's the reason I feel such antipathy towards Lord of the Flies, Wuthering Heights, and The Handmaids Tale. But I feel that, were I to read them now, I might like them. But my feelings of dislike are so strong I'm not sure I could get over that mental hurdle!

From Lorna -- May 18, 2008

I think you can definitely mix literature and TV together, I think one makes you appreciate the other more.. and 3rd Rock is good watching. But I agree with Rachel, two of my favourite books came from my A levels, The Colour Purple and Jane Eyre, although saying that some of my friends introduced me to amazing books which I can mainly thank you and James for. You should try wuthering Heights again its a good read altho from my studies I have to admit I cannot stand Othello!

April 19, 2008

The 51st State of Rock and Geriatric Warfare

So this week I purchased the ultimate road trip soundtrack. It’s a new double CD out over here, called American Heartbeat, subtitled ‘A pulsating 80s rock collection’. Just my thing; I’m a total mullet rock aficionado. In fact, anything 80s is music gold to me – Blondie, Benatar, Bowie (what’s with the B’s?), Madonna, Michael Jackson (in his musical prime).

Discovering some of my favourite tunes on there – Heat of the Moment, Black Betty, Rosanna, Carry on Wayward Son (I’m too old to care about sounding cool about my music choices, I likes what I like and that’s that) – I snatched it up and went home. Images of driving a Cadillac across the desert singing along at the top of voice, looking fabulous in wide sunglasses and tanned skin, flashed through my mind.

When I got home I looked more closely, and discovered to my horror that the CD contained some songs from – shock! – the 70s.

Worse, not all of the beating hearts were actually American. Billy Idol was on there for Pete’s (Frampton’s) sake! (Yes I know Peter Frampton was born in England, but he’s now an American citizen. And he wasn’t even on this CD so it’s not like it matters.)

Other non-Americans include Air Supply, Yes, Whitesnake, and Bad Company, all of whom are Brits. There’s also Bachman-Turner Overdrive making an appearance, an Australian band.

So the point of all this is to say – who does the research for these compilations? I’m now questioning every compilation CD I’ve ever bought. All the Greatest Hits I’ve accumulated over the years – who’s to say they actually represent the greatest hits of their respective hit-makers? I can’t tell you all the number I’ve times I’ve bought a Greatest Hits compilation and been disappointed at the bland collection of so-called hits. I’m now curious to research if they’re really just a collection of the greatest B-sides of all time. There I was, naively believing the title of Greatest Hits. Is nothing sacred? What a fool I’ve been.

Having said that, American Heartbeats is pretty good if you’re a bit of a 80s rock dork like me (plus some 70s, but to everyone born in the 80s it doesn’t make a big difference).

From mullets, shoulder pads and leg warmers, to geriatrics. This week my 95-year-old grandmother, who has lived a somewhat sheltered, violent-less life, was beaten up. By a fellow OAP. I kid you all not.

She was in an argument with a man in her care home (they wind each other up something crazy, and if she weren’t senile and he weren’t a woman-hitting bully I’d say they totally fancy each other; after all, the best romances start with mutual dislike and verbal sparring that masks a fizzling attraction). He lost his patience and slugged her.

All I can assume is that he was a wife beater back in his day; I find it hard to believe an old man just suddenly becomes a woman-hitter after a gentlemanly lifetime. Still, it’s all good fodder for a story (I claim copyright as of right now…).

This column was late because I spent yesterday celebrating St George’s Day in my home village, and was planning to write up about it here. But I’ve changed my mind. The day itself is on Wednesday, so I’m curious to see what happens to commemorate it in the media, and will write something for next week’s column about it. Though it warmed my heart when I just typed in ‘St George’s Day’ to Facebook and it popped up with 213 Events.

No longer should this day be the black sheep of national days in the UK. If you're English, wave that red cross flag with pride!

April 12, 2008

The Britican Perspective

April 12, 2008

Hail is falling. It looks like snow, to warm the heart, but I’m informed it’s hail and the dark misery falls heavy like an anvil through my once-hopeful heart. It’s April – was our brief ray of sunshine signalling the beginning of spring merely a cruel joke from the weather gods?

Luckily, a clap of thunder brings some much needed levity as the entire office makes a jumping movement in their seats, followed by a swift ‘ooh!’ of excitement. Everyone loves thunder, even those who are scared of it.

Welcome to the schizophrenic weather of Britain. When I woke it had been sunny and cold. When I boarded my train to Marylebone it had been sunny and warm. The thunderstorm was just before lunch time. When I left the office at half five it was cloudy and raining. When I took my seat at Marylebone to go home, it was sunny and warm again. The sunset was clear and stunning.

At least we don’t get tornadoes or earthquakes.

It feels the right time for a weather rant. As everyone who has ever travelled to the UK knows, we Brits love our weather talk. The weather changes approximately every half an hour, so when conversation is slipping into a lull and we’re grasping at the ‘what happened on Eastenders last night’ straws (which I don’t watch, so, much like my dislike of coffee, leaves me on the fringes of society) there’s always something to talk about. A quick “goodness gracious me, I can’t believe it has just begun raining!” will revive any dying conversation. Which is a relief for me, since the latest rape, murder, incest, or laundry crisis on Albert Square doesn’t do much to excite my interest.

I stayed in last night and watched Stormchasers. This was the last episode of a series apparently, and it followed the adventures of a group of tornado groupies in Kansas in a heavy duty tank-like vehicle. They were trying to get the tank into the eye of a twister, to film it and develop better tornado warning systems.

Alas, it wasn’t as exciting as the 1996 film Twister, which I’ve seen countless times because I’m fascinated by tornadoes (possibly from my Wizard of Oz obsession – see my bio on here to read more about that oddity…). The documentary was a bit of an anti-climax, mainly due to sloppy filmmaking giving more camera time to the middle aged men sitting inside the tank than to the amazing visuals going on outside in the corn fields.

There really isn’t anywhere in the States without any danger of extreme weather. On the east coast there’s the hurricane threat, in the middle the twister danger, and on the west there’s fear of the next big earthquake. Britain is pretty safe, which is why it’s so frustrating that whenever there’s the lightest dusting of snow our entire public transport systems shut down. We just can’t cope with extremes. Our slight variations (sun-rain-sun-rain-hail-rain) keep us on our toes and office workers nationwide remain engaged in conversation. Americans accept whatever weather they have that season and get on with it but have the constant threat of something menacing around the corner.

So I love Britain for its enduring ability to make another day of rain into a conversational centrepiece and I love America for actually having interesting weather occasionally. I’m no fair weather Britican (cue smiting from the humour gods followed by months of hail).

April 5, 2008

Cadillacs, Wagons, and Trains

My brain is tired. I’ve had a job interview, a ton of writing assignments to finish up, and four exams this week. But that hasn’t stopped me thinking about how exciting it is that the second edition is out soon – and we’ve had some interesting writing entries so far. I can’t wait for the novel race to begin this month; it’s something I’ve been keen to start long before the idea for this magazine was even conceived. If any of you have an idea for a novel stirring your creative juices you still have a week to get the first chapter written and sent to us for a chance to join the race. So get writing!

Normally I’ll try to keep The Britican Perspective rather frothy and politica-lite, but today I feel the need to have a condensed rant about the declining role of family in Britain. The depressing case of Shannon Matthews has got me thinking about how absurd it is that in order to work with children one must be vetted extensively by the police, yet Craig Meehan has been living with Shannon’s mother and her seven children (six by four other men, one by Meehan) for five years without any background check. Shannon was missing for 24 days and recovered last month in the grimy flat of Meehan’s uncle – and now Meehan himself has been arrested and charged with possessing child pornography. As the case is active and he is yet to be cleared or found guilty, it is not this specific case that riles me. It is the fact that vulnerable children all over the country are made to live with whoever their mothers (or, occasionally, fathers) choose to shack up with at any given time. Meehan (called Shannon’s ‘stepfather’ yet not actually married to Karen Matthews) is accused of possessing 130 indecent images of children, his uncle is charged with her kidnap, and his mother and sister have been arrested on suspicion of assisting the uncle and perverting the course of justice respectively. No wonder Shannon wanted to move in with her father.

Still, it’s nice for Meehan that his family live close by. Which brings me to what I love about Britain: that no matter where in the country you are, you are never much more than four hours from anywhere else. Sure, if you’re in Cornwall and have a burning desire to visit the Hebrides then it will take a bit longer than that. But mostly the entire nation is pretty accessible to everyone here, even those without cars. It might cost you the deposit you were saving for a mortgage but public transport will get you most of where you want to go. None of my British friends are more than three hours away, and it saddens me that I don’t see many of them as much as I should. And yet I keep bumping into the same hygienically-challenged weirdo every week on the train – life is cruel that way.

But sometimes proximity breeds contempt (such as for the above-mentioned unfortunate chap) and what I love about America is that whenever you get sick of seeing the same old people day in and day out there is an entire country of long highways, vast deserts and isolated towns to get lost in. Public transport is a joke, but who needs it when everyone drives their own Cadillac? Yes, I may have a Thelma and Louise style romantic vision of driving across the country, but only because it’s something I’ve longed to do since I was a very young girl watching California pretend to be Missouri in Little House on the Prairie, thinking that a wagon trip across America looked slow but exciting. In Britain there’s no where to escape to besides France, and who would want to go there?*

On a personal note, I finished my post-graduate journalism course this week. I made my first appearance in a national newspaper on Thursday (April 3) with a review of the film Horton Hears a Who! in the Independent. And now I am biding my time while I wait to begin my first official job in journalism. Wish me luck, my lovely Calliopeans!

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

*Just kidding, I love snails as much as the next person.

 Comments

From Whitney -- April 5, 2008

Congratulations on the article! And I indeed wish you luck in

the realm of journalism.

---------

From Crystal -- April 5, 2008

If only everyone really did drive a Cadillac!  I have to admit that I 

find the idea of being within 4 hours of all my family and friends very 

appealing -- my brother and sister live, respectively, 6 and 9 hours 

from me, so I never get to see them.   On the other hand, there may be 

something to your concept of being able to get away from people if you 

want to!....  Oh, and congratulations on your review!

March 29, 2008

TV vs. Film -- Can the Movies Keep Up?

The sunrise peeks out over the morning clouds, a young woman turns to contemplate what she must do to save her sister and the world, and after five years of kicking monster ass Buffy runs to the end of the tower and jumps off. I’m not above admitting I cried like a little girl when Buffy died in Buffy the Vampire Slayer’s season five climax. I also cried when Rory made her valedictorian speech thanking her mother Lorelai in Gilmore Girls,Cold Case, and when the door to apartment 20 shut for the last time at the end of Friends. and when a particularly tragic murder involving a bullied girl was solved in Cold Case, and when the door to apartment 20 shut for the last time at the end of Friends.

There have been some truly fantastic American television dramas and comedies in the past decade and now more than ever TV has the power to grab audiences and hold on to them in ways that Hollywood is struggling to follow.

Compare what’s on TV with films released this week in the UK. Katharine Heigl’s 27 Dresses will be a huge hit this weekend for desperate movie-goers, a romantic comedy in which woman pines for wrong man, meets right man, writes off right man, gets to know right man through a series of amusing medley moments, falls in love with right man when she realises he is the imperfect person who’s perfect for her. Yawn. The Hottie and the Nottie is also out, a Paris Hilton vehicle in which a gorgeous actress, covered in superficially ugly clothes/ make up/ braces, gets a make over and discovers that she is – shock! – stunning underneath. And in Drillbit Taylor Owen Wilson is the loveable slacker rogue that he is in every other Owen Wilson film (though I confess I adore him and would see this just for 90 minutes of the Texas stallion).

This seems to be a particularly bad weekend. So far this year we’ve at least been blessed with There Will Be Blood, Juno and Lars and the Real Girl. But here’s the truth as I see it: mainstream Hollywood isn’t producing many quality films anymore – unlike Hollywood television. The Oscars this year was the least-watched ceremony in years, not surprising considering the main winners were from some of the least-watched films of the year. Considering the biggest hits as serious Oscar contenders the Academy Awards would be a joke: the highest grossing films of 2007 were Spider-Man 3 and Shrek the Third.

Compare with some of the current showier shows. As a film Heroes would be X-MenSupernatural could be condensed into the story of one young man as a doomed, reluctant psychic with demonic connections and his brother on a mission to protect him – but it would be far less compelling as a two hour film, and quickly forgotten. without the costumes.

In television the drama unfolds quietly and slowly, allowing the audience to really get to know the characters – a luxury films don’t have. A film has to work harder make its point quickly. It’s challenging, but ultimately less of a commitment for those involved than a 22 episode drama.

While still regarded by some as the retarded little cousin of film, quality television is finally starting to get the respect it deserves. Many actors are turning their backs on the life of the jobbing film actor. A starring role on a TV show can even turn a career decline around. Both the Sutherlands have done it – Keifer’s profile has never been higher now he’s the star of 24 and his dad Donald is enjoying his OAP years in Dirty Sexy Money. Sarah Jessica Parker became a household name after years as a Broadway baby and minor film star the moment Carrie Bradshaw first typed out the words ‘I couldn’t help but wonder’ in Sex and the City, winning herself an Emmy for her troubles. For some it’s a chance for steady work with regular hours; Gary Sinise (probably best known as Forrest’s reluctant friend Lieutenant Dan in Forrest Gump) is currently the lead detective dealing with the 9/11 death of his wife in high profile spin-off CSI: New York and now enjoys the steady work it provides.

When Ellen Degeneres came out as a lesbian on her sitcom Ellen it shocked, and confronted attitudes. Here was a character and actress with a ready-made devoted following. If the show had begun with an openly gay character, in the early 90s, it’s doubtful it would have succeeded, but television allows an audience time to build an attachment. Similarly, The Cosby Show helped to mainstream the idea of a successful, professional black family, and Buffy paved the way for shows with strong female leads.

Fans of a TV show are more passionate and loyal than fans of one movie; there’s a reason Trekkie’s remain the stereotype for geekiness. When post-apocalyptic drama Jericho was cancelled after one season last year fan outcry and petitioning salvaged it for another season (the devotees were passionate but few in number and it’s been announced that the seven episodes of season two will be the end for Jericho, unfortunately).

And after four years of bitter disappointment since the end of Sex and the City, with the prospect of a movie repeatedly dangled and cruelly pulled away, the film was finally green-lit last year and is due this May. The internet buzz has been O.T.T., and obsessed fans alone guarantee a hit. It’s a comfort thing – fans already know the characters, they’ve invested time (and money, with DVD buying) in watching six seasons, so they’ll watch for nostalgia if nothing else.

Some films cry out for serialisation. Think about the disappointed Harry Potter fans left sad that many favourite moments from the books have been left out of the films because there’s simply not enough time. The books tracking seven years of the boy wizard’s life could easily be made into a seven season show to include nuances of the rich universe J.K. Rowling created. (Yes, I am a Potter geek and I’m not ashamed.) The Sixth Sense could have been a cool kid detective show, Haley Joel embracing his creepy gift to help dead people move on. I’d love to have seen more of Leon: Jean Reno and Natalie Portman taking on the criminal underworld one kill at a time. What a missed opportunity!

Still, there’s a magic about cinema that TV can’t always emulate. My recent favourites have existed in their own worlds. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind – can anybody imagine this as anything other than the beautiful two hours of mind-bending memory-chasing that it is? I think most audiences would switch off after two episodes out of sheer confusion if it were a show. And musical Moulin Rouge!, with its quirky costumes, dazzling sequences and story-within-a-story theme is a frenetic, theatrical piece of celluloid that could never translate into a series.

So perhaps the age of cinema isn’t dead yet. Though if I see one more trailer for another Paris Hilton project, or Eddie Murphy-in-a-fat-suit ‘comedy’, I might reconsider. I’m always amazed by how many rotten films get made. That’s the advantage TV has over film – it’s unforgiving. If a show is bad people will stop watching and it gets cancelled. If a film is bad then people blow money to see it once, can’t ask for a refund based on poor content quality, and the film can be called a success. And then similar dross gets made.

TV is more democratic. But maybe I’m wrong; how else can I explain why Rosie O’Donnell still has a career?  

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*This has been about American shows, but for all international readers out there I'd like to mention two brilliant British shows that everyone should try and see if they can. SpooksLife on Mars is an out-there show about about a man who wakes up to find he has been transported back to 1970s Manchester, where gender politics, racial politics and fashion are all rather different.... (US title MI-5) is a one hour show in its sixth season about the secret service that is just as good, if not better, as any US equivalent such as Alias or 24. And Life on Mars is an out-there show about a man who wakes up to find he has been transported back to 1970s Manchester, where gender politics, racial politics and fashion are all rather different...

Comments

From Crystal -- March 29, 2008

You make a good point about TV taking more time to let you connect with characters... that's why I get so frustrated with movies made from books; sometimes they are so concerned with fitting in the plot elements that they lose the connection to the characters.

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From Rachel -- March 31, 2008

A series has the ability to create real fondness for a character. I know that in my year at school the amount of girls practially in love with Spike from Buffy was insane. I don't think any of us would have become so attached to him had it not been for 5 seasons of one program and character growth. The level of disapointment that James Marsters isn't really British, or a trench coat wearing Billy Idle wannabe in real life is just too much. Well, almost.

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From Whitney -- March 31, 2008

I pretty much agree with you on all points. I am a tv fanatic, as well as an avid movie-watcher. I think Harry Potter would have made a MUCH better tv series. TV often have more creativity these days too. Take for instance Pushing Daisies, 24, Lost, or Eli Stone. I don't think any of those would translate well to the big screen. There's also great shows where the characters are the ones that really sell them, like psych, Heroes, and again with Lost and Pushing Daisies. There's no way such shows could do as well if they had started as movies. And it would be a creative tragedy to be without these shows.

But then there are movies that are so perfect as movies due to there clear cut and satisfying end. Recent movies like this include August Rush, Penelope, Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium, and Enchanted.

I must say, I'm definitely going to enjoy reading your editorial each week.

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 From Sarah -- April 1, 2008

Thanks for the support Whitney.

And for brevity's sake I missed out many of the shows I love but could have rambled on about easily enough because I am such a tv geek (only about certain shows, I'm not much of one for mindlessly flicking through the channels). Pushing Daisies is one I'm very excited about, and I keep meaning to watch Psych.

And I'm waiting for Lost season 4 on DVD because I keep missing it when it's on. Is it as good as the second half of season 3 was?

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March 22, 2008

This has been one busy week for this particular Britican. I’ve been doing some interning for the Sunday Telegraph, which is amazing. It was time I really should have been using to write articles for my portfolio of work for my journalism diploma – but when the Telegraph wants you, you don’t say no, and it’s incredible experience.

Now, all that journeying around London has led to my strong feelings about the topic for this week’s what I love about America: Jamba Juice. When hurrying about the city desperate for a healthy snack or a perky drink I’m at a loss. Usually I succumb to the ever-present Upper Crust croissant, or a dismal take-away tea from whatever coffee stand is nearest. My problem, which makes my existence in the modern day western world nigh-near impossible, is that I loathe coffee. Coffee cake is delicious; coffee flavoured Thornton’s chocolates are divine. But the actual drink makes me want to scrub my tongue bare of all taste-sensation and consume anything in sight that can eliminate the memory of the foul fluid. Jamba Juice is my heaven-sent American snack/drink combo that solves all my problems. The smoothie (my favourite is the blueberry one with an immunity shot) is that perfect cross between a filling snack – or if you get the truly gargantuan one then it qualifies as a meal on its own – and a pep-me-up drink. If we had Jamba Juice in London I would never touch a croissant again*. Jamba Juice, if you can hear me from the clouds above, then please, please rent a space in Marylebone/Warwick Avenue/Oxford Circus/ or Victoria station just for me and my blueberry smoothie. I should be eternally grateful.

Consider this week’s what I love about Britain an homage to my many flame-haired friends, for today I admit that I love gingers. I never pronounce the g’s hard because red hair and the accompanying fair skin is the ultimate in delicacy. Perhaps that’s why gingers are so famous for having fiery personalities – to compensate for such dainty colouring. It could be because of the obvious comparison between the colour of fire and the colour of red hair, but I prefer my own psychological take (it makes me sound smarter, agreed?). When I moved to Aberystwyth, Wales, to begin my degree I was inexplicably housed with, and next-door to, an astonishing number of gingers. Out of the 12 people in the two houses, five had red hair. That’s obviously way above the average ratio of gingers to everyone else, even in Wales. Once I’d recovered from the shock (as soon as the first box of chocolates were bandied about), I realised I was actually quite jealous of my ginger compatriots. In Britain it takes a strong person to survive childhood with ginger hair; no one knows why but every ginger kid in the country is bullied for it. So my new housemates were already maturely ahead of me – they’d overcome adversity and managed to not murder someone in a rage after snapping from one taunt too many. I’d never been bullied or teased or pushed to the end of my tether because of something so trivial as hair colour. So that’s one thing I love about Britain – the ginger friends who have survived with humour (and hair) intact.

I had planned to write more but I think I’ll save it for next week. This week I’m going to be busy – writing, writing, writing! But please get in touch with any queries you might have about Calliope, this column or literature in general; I would love to hear from you.

*Note: I reserve the right to go back on my word and continue eating croissants, but only in France. Or hotels.

Comments

From Sean -- March 22, 2008

You don't like coffee?!?!?!?!?!?! I would understand if you had said coffee in France... LOL

And yes, Jamba Juice rocks. I can walk to one from my apartment, er, flat. :)

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 From Becky -- March 29, 2008

ahhh... coffee and ginger hair, how i love these two worlds that we split (you more so than me) our lives between...
I never had the famous juice, but if it is anything like most of the 'juices' you can get stateside, i think it might well indeed be awesome!
Thank you, for the nice words about gingers, its a nice sentiment to be wanted!
xx

March 15, 2008

Welcome one and all. I am your humble Britican beginning my weekly round up of things British, American and in between. But before I bore you with my opinion on Hillary (yuck), Obama (hmm), McCain (I’m reserving judgement for now), Brown (double yuck), and Cameron (please Lord, anything but Brown), let’s talk about Calliope for a bit.

I’m excited about our new little magazine. I want it to encourage writers of all ages, experience levels, and confidence levels. I want it to be a place of quality writing and fresh ideas. The entries we got this month for our debut edition have been varied and inspiring, and I hope you all enjoy reading them. My particular favourite was Luigi Marchini’s poem Gnocchi and Barolo – a beautiful taste of Italian family life.

My cause of the week: While less of a cause and more of a government proposal, the

William Wilberforce Trafficking Victims Protection Reauthorization Act was drawn up last year to combat white slavery. I’m Calliope’s resident feminist, as anyone who has checked out my blog nuggetoftruth will know, and the issues of sex trafficking, pornography and the sexualizing of underage girls are all big concerns of mine. However I’m not interested in writing over-generalized rants about men. Fear not, I’m not a man-hating, leg-hair growing, bra-burning Feminist! I’m a feminist with a lower case f. 

What I love about America: The television shows. Seriously. Some of the one-hour dramas we can watch for free right now are better than the rubbish we pay £8 (that’s $16 to our American readers – yes, that’s how much we’re scandalously overcharged here in Britain) to see in the cinema. At the moment my favourite is Supernatural - I’ve been developing something of an obsession with the DVDs. It’s a show that just keeps getting better with each season. The weekly one-hour ‘movie’ experience about two demon-hunting brothers is in its third season and it’s not slowing down or getting bogged down with extra characters we don’t care about but is staying true to itself. Watch it!

What I love about Britain: I must confess that I’m too depressed about the state of my birth country to find much to love about. I’d like to say the only way is up, but unfortunately I think we’re going to continue spiralling down this path of incompetence, apathy, increasing government control and decreasing citizens’ rights. However we do still have the local British tea-shop in most towns, which kind of makes up for all the infuriating chipping away at British greatness that has been going on. The best way to experience these quaint tea rooms is to ditch London, head to a small country town (preferably lined with thatched roof cottages) and find a little place with rose coloured table cloths covering every table. Order tea for two and a slice of Victoria sponge cake and be glad that something good remains in this country; before tea is banned for import ‘footprints’ and cake becomes subject to fat-tax.

Comments

From Kate -- March 19, 2008

Sarah- you are not the only one who appreciates Supernatural. Unfortunatly due to the writers strike it has not been on the air. Although i'm for everyone getting paid it is quite aggravating.