Showing posts with label TV. Show all posts
Showing posts with label TV. Show all posts

Tuesday, 22 September 2015


The Sixties: Getaway People
(UK, Channel 4, 1982) 


Interesting (alright, mostly dull) documentary about the rise of car culture in Britain during the 1960s. Simple but effective title sequence, which finishes with 'The Sixties' in the same typeface as The Avengers tv series. Plenty of provincial town planners tempered with good archive footage. Well, it passes the time.

Particularly pleasing to see Reyner Banham in full ghetto-pimp clobber at 08:00, and adverts for Robochef and Ian Carmichael shilling for Paul Masson's California Carafes at the end of part one. Ah, memories!

Saturday, 7 February 2015

He's dead, Jim...


Well, you would be forgiven for thinking that, given the recent inactivity on this blog. I've had a few distractions, and then I had a chat with my old pals from Mounds and Circles about our shared interest in the original Star Trek TV series, and found I had been press-ganged into a new project, What Is Brain?  Come and check it out.

We're going to revisit all 79 episodes and hopefully review them in an entertaining fashion. For the record: we are NOT Trekkies and we will be as disrespectful as necessary! There are plenty of good things about the old Star Trek, especially its dafter moments, but we will show no mercy when it becomes tedious and dull.

I used to enjoy the series when it was regularly shown by the BBC in the 70s and 80s but have absolutely no interest in any of the subsequent films or Next Generation spin-offs. I have owned three pieces of ST merchandise in my life, only one of which remains:

1. A model of the USS Enterprise that fired yellow plastic discs. I think I got this for my 6th birthday. I thought it was brilliant, though soon lost the little shuttle craft that came with it. Now missing, presumably lost in space.

2. A replica of a communicator that someone gave me in my early twenties. It reminded me of a cheap electric shaver and fell to bits just as quickly.

3. The picture disc of the soundtrack for the pilot episodes (pictured). The cheesy quality of picture discs is entirely appropriate for such recordings.

One to beam up.







Friday, 18 July 2014

Peanuts!


Ever find yourself muttering "Jungle Fresh, Jungle Fresh" when you hear the word 'peanuts'? Maybe it's just me.

Anyway, Shelf Life is taking a commercial break for a few weeks over the summer and will return ready for action at the end of August. Stay hungry!



Tuesday, 29 April 2014

Johnsonian / Smithsonian

 
The Smithsons on Housing
Prod. B.S. Johnson
BBC, 1970

Television can be a cruel medium, sometimes deliberately through malicious direction and camera work, or sometimes because the subject before the lens just doesn't fit comfortably into the aesthetic conventions of the small screen.

Peter and Alison Smithson, the dynamic duo of postwar New Brutalist British architecture, can be seen struggling here as they are afflicted by both B.S. Johnson's raw cinéma vérité style - tight static close-ups, stark colour - and a personal awkwardness in front of the camera - an oddly halting diction, an uncertain evasive gaze, Expressionist make-up and too much lower front dental work. Hey, now it's my turn to be cruel! We must award 10/10 for effort on their wardrobe. Peter's pattern shirt and rhinestone tie combo and Alison's futuristic silver astro-bondage blouse seem like a distinct attempt to ape the young fashions they no longer quite suit, but I like it.
It could be contended that given their small number of realised designs, the Smithson's disproportionately inflated reputation was what they built best, so it is good to see them actually working on real project.
The film examines the Smithson's design for Robin Hood Gardens estate next to London Docklands, which had ceased to be a major port by the mid 1960s and was already part derelict and demolished.
The 'streets in the sky' utopian vision seems appealing at first but the monotone delivery of the upbeat pitch eventually gives way to tedious moaning about the lack of respect tenants have for their building.

Perhaps the vandalism they complain of illustrates that well-intended design can only go so far in creating a better society, when their middle class professional frustrations confront working class poverty, ignorance and mass unemployment.
The powers that be at the BBC did not care for the film and Johnson, being a pugnacious sort, probably took issue with this. It marked the end of his relationship with the BBC, which seems a terrible waste given the other excellent short films he made. It's not as if this was even Johnson at his most experimental and provocative, but thankfully he produced several more films for ITV before he ended his brief but productive life aged only 40 in 1973 by slitting his wrists.

Despite campaigns by residents who loved the place and modernist preservationists, the upkeep and repair of the buildings were deemed too expensive and demolition work began on Robin Hood Gardens last year to make way for residential developments for City workers at neighbouring Canary Wharf. Another victory for Mammon - I wonder what the Smithsons or Johnson would say?

Wednesday, 23 April 2014

Reyner Banham Loves Los Angeles



Reyner Banham Loves Los Angeles
BBC, 1972

I don't find Reyner Banham a particularly likeable individual but there are plenty of good things in this film about Los Angeles architecture, including a brief visit to the Eames House (Case Study No.8) in Pacific Palisades, possibly my favourite modernist architectural environment. Plus a chat with artist Ed Ruscha at an old-skool drive-in about his responses to LA architecture through his photobooks of Sunset Strip and paintings of gas stations.
I haven't read Banham's book on Los Angeles but I suspect it would be an interesting companion to Robert Venturi and Denise Scott Brown's seminal text Learning from Las Vegas, Banham's Modernism versus Venturi's Postmodernist approach.

Both cities were exemplar studies in the state of American architecture in the 1970s. As Banham was from Norwich and Venturi Scott Brown were a Chicago-based architectural practice, I wonder whether it took an outsider's perspective to appreciate what was going on with super-highways and the 'decorated shed'.
The film also has me laughing every time as Banham's appearance always seems so unlikely he looks like the world's worst under cover cop, and reminds me of Peter Seller's Inspector Clouseau in one of his more ridiculous disguises. Can you spot the Banham?