Archive for the ‘Media’ Category

Eurosomethingorother

Sunday, May 17th, 2009

I’ve often thought I should try liveblogging. If only for my own entertainment. But y’know…

Firstly, at the time most liveblogworthy things are on, I’m usually getting kids to bed, loading the dishwasher and generally cleaning up the mess I’ve made earlier in the afternoon.

Secondly, and probably more pertinently, I live in South Australia so unless I want to liveblog the McGarey Medal count (a medal ceremony for local nugget-headed footballers (a tautology in itself), where they all sit at tables and gasp in amazement as a presenter on stage continually impresses them by counting to three), there’s very little point. See, we’re half an hour behind the east coast of Australia, so nothing is live here. I’d be reporting on who’s been eliminated from SYTYCD and commenting on Natalie’s frock, while in reality she would be back in the green room in her tracksuit pants downing her second Bacardi and Coke (because she’s a classy girl).

It’s also difficult with something like Eurovision, because we’re 8.5 hours ahead of western Europe and while it may seem a good idea to blog it that far in advance, there are obvious flaws in the plan. It’s a Saturday night deal in Europe but we have to content ourselves with watching a delayed telecast on Sunday evening.

I’ve been big into Eurovision since SBS started broadcasting it in the late 90s. It appeals to me because it’s the zenith of ironic consumption. Everyone in it is so into it and has such a great time, and seem to genuinely participate in the rivalry, even though everyone knows it really is a little bit shit.

It’s still fun to watch and it’s getting a bit more of a following over here now but I’m not sure a lot of people here get that it’s kind of supposed to be sort of crap. Australians love to take the piss but, I dunno, I kind of get the idea that it’s more derisive and genuine than being in on the joke. I kind of miss how we used to get the British feed with Terry Wogan with his reserved and veiled sarcasm, which again, you kind of had to get it to get it.

I nearly didn’t watch it tonight though, after the local Channel Nine news, in an act of sheer televisual bastardry, blurted out that Norway had won the competition as they threw to a commercial break. No ‘we’ll give you the winners after the break’ or ’stay tuned for the winner of Eurovision’ just a completely unexpected announcement in what must have been a deliberate attempt to fuck it up for anyone that wanted to watch it later. It would be competing with 60 Minutes after all, so they took it upon themselves to ruin it for everyone.

Nul points, chaine neuf. NUL POINTS!!

(Cynical attempt to) fool media

Monday, September 1st, 2008

A recent article in The Australian accuses the Australian Federal Police of releasing a story when “half the country’s media” was on strike.

Now, fair call; it does seem a bit suss but the criticism is a bit rich. Obviously, the story wasn’t buried. At least one astute reporter picked it up. He asks in his article:

Can the AFP please explain why it appears to have delayed its inevitable public embarrassment until very late on a day when the news stood a good chance of being buried.

Apart from the mystifying lack of a question mark at the end of that question, the writer acknowledges that “it appears” to have tried to befuddle the Australian media.

The whole thing is bullshit. If half the country’s media want to go on strike (even if it’s for a good reason), then they might not get every story. You can’t then turn around and ask news not to happen just because you’re not there to see it. It’s like a goalie in a soccer match, after watching a penalty sail into the back of the net, saying “Oh, I wasn’t looking. Have it again”

If the media decides that striking is more important than being there for every news release, then don’t blame anyone releasing news for failing to report on it. I dont’ care if it’s a strike or the Olympics.

The media chooses what to report on. If the story’s important, give it status but if you’re too busy going after the big-rating stories, giving front-page space to sport as if it matters, then don’t get angry at the world because you’re not on your guard.

Four years on…

Friday, August 15th, 2008

I was thinking about writing a post on the Olympics until I realised I did that four years ago.

Here, and here.

Only the city has changed, really.

And last night I watched handball.

Hollowriteypeople

Sunday, August 10th, 2008

The ABC series The Hollowmen has only been running, what, five weeks? But it’s already become the journalistic cliché for all comparison to the goings on in government.

There was a comparison in the Australian yesterday by Caroline Overington in her opening paragraph. I’ve heard or read countless comparisons in the last few weeks. Hell, I heard Matt Abraham utter the sentence “It sounds like an episode of The Hollowmen” after only one episode had aired! I assume when he said ‘an episode’ he must have meant ‘the only episode that anyone has seen’. That said, he does work for the ABC, he may be privy to screenings we plebs (and ex-employees) aren’t.

Overington’s mention yesterday read:

So much of what happens in Canberra these days sounds like an episode of the ABC political satire The Hollowmen…

Can I just say, to every ideas-challenged journalist that makes the comparison: of course it is! That’s the whole point of the bloody show! It’s supposed to sound like the actual goings on of what happens in politics. That’s why it’s called political satire! It’s Rob, Tommy and Santo making the comparisons. Just because you write about it, doesn’t make you clever or even make good copy.

They’re the clever ones; you’re  just stating the obvious.

Please, no more naked kiddies (the wowsers are getting off on it)

Monday, July 7th, 2008

Sometimes I get a bit riled up and do a bit of a dissertation on some current affair or other. It’s usually something that’s been in the media a while, usually to saturation point and I get a bit sick of that and feel compelled to share my oh-so-unique insights on it.I would do this more but I usually just can’t be bothered; I’m not quick enough on the uptake to get my thoughts into some coherent form. This happened with the Bill Henson thing and it was a bit of a post script when I actually got around to writing something. Even then it was a bit half-arsed.

But the issue has raised its head again after Art Monthly published a very tame image on the cover of a young girl who had no clothes on. A bit of a publicity stunt probably but they say it’s in protest of the furore that ensued after Henson’s work was confiscated from a Sydney gallery.

So I’d like to make two points about it while it’s still relevant. And they’re my opinions, which you can feel free to disagree with if you want.

The thing that annoyed me from the beginning about the whole debate over the images in question is that the frame of reference by which we were being asked to view the images was through the eyes of a paedophile. I don’t think it’s fair to impose a standard on the whole of society because a very small percentage may get the wrong idea about something. I don’t want to have to ask myself whether a p/phile would get his rocks off whenever I look at a picture on a wall. Who else would I have to be worried about? What would a murderer think? What would a foot fetishist think? What would a Liberal voter think? What would a [insert religious following here] think?

A fellow blogger made the point that nasty p/philes get off looking at ads for bathers in the Target catalogues. Yet there’s no call to ban department store publications. If the result is the same gratification from a fetish, why does one depiction have calls for it to be banned and not the other? People are becoming frantic whenever they see a bit of under-18 skin, almost as if they’re afraid p/philia may be contagious and they might catch it if they look at bare kiddy bums.

The second point I want to make, related to this is the way politicians try to speak for the entire population on a moral issue.  Now, the PM, from what I’ve seen in my admittedly limited exposure to interviews on the topic, has at least prefaced his comments by saying they’re his personal views. He said Henson’s images were ‘revolting’, from memory. It’s a shame he feels that way. I’d hate for him to see my daughters’ bums and say they’re revolting. How can you say the depiction of a certain thing is revolting yet not say the thing itself is.

Anyway, Mr Nelson, who doesn’t even represent a majority of Australian voters since his party lost the last election (a fact they still seem to be having trouble coming to terms with), has said Art Monthly is sending a “two-fingered salute to the rest of society” as if it’s AM against Dr Nelson and his loyal, every-single-person-in-the-country posse.

It’s pathetic. I wish politicians, who are elected largely on their economic credentials, would just shut their fucking mouths (sorry, Gordon Ramsay is on TV right now) and leave the moralising to those qualified to impose their morals on society at large. By whom, I mean no one.

So, you think?

Friday, June 27th, 2008

First there was the Australian version of the American version of Idol. Then we had Ice Skating with People Who Have Been On TV, which nobody watched because we don’t really ice skate much in this harsh, hot land of ours. This was followed by Dancing with People You’ve Heard Of and So You Think You Can Dance Even Though You’re Not Famous, the rules of which were slightly broken by Rhys “Elf” Bobridge, who was already a professional performer, having appeared in a TV series and in sellout live shows all around the country. He got away with it though by being famous only to girls under the age of eight.

But I digress. TV networks are scraping the barrel of the performance/knockout genre, with Seven recently subjecting us to Battle of the Groups of Bad Singers (I mean if I wanted to see amateurs who can barely sing, doing bad numbers that were neither written nor arranged for ensemble performance, I’d go to an eisteddfod).

So, in an effort to play my part for the discerning viewer, I’d like to pitch some suggestions to TV execs. We can discuss terms later.

  • So You Think You Can Write A Novel, in which contestants must write a new chapter every week, to be read out in front of a screaming crowd and panel of judges. Of course, each chapter must be edited to fit into the 90 seconds of performance time given to each contenstant.
  • Gardening With The Stars: a bit like the celebrity segment of Burke’s Backyard, only competitive, with contestants having to produce a crop of veges, plant a native garden, and strike a fruit tree from a cutting
  • Australian Flirt in which the judges and presenters are probably more likely to win
  • Battle of the Abstract Impressionists. A group of painters must produce a work based on a subject of the judges’ choosing each week. Bonus, adults-only episode screens after 9.30 pm in week six. Yes, life drawing
  • Train Surfing with the Stars. I’m really excited about this one. Given the risky nature of the activity can I suggest we get Daryl Somers, Sam Newman, Will Anderson, the Australia-wide presenters of ACA and TT. Oh, and the cast of Home and Away
  • So You Think You Can Sleep. Surely it would be better than those late-night infomercials. Who wouldn’t want to see the semi-final, in which a travel agent from Queensland loses out to production assistant from Tassie after a Horlicks-related lactose-intolerance-causes-late-night-farting-and-insomnia incident
  • Chess with the Stars. Riveting viewing, this one. They’d have those special clocks. Sandra Sully would be an early casualty, finding it mentally taxing having to think more than one move ahead
  • So You Think You Can Whittle: these twelve rocking chairs on this porch… will eventually become one
  • Self-immolation With The Stars. There’s just not enough kerosene really, is there.

What have you got, people?

Tribute

Thursday, June 26th, 2008

I know I’m cynical about it, and I can’t believe that more people aren’t. I’m talking about whenever someone dies, the commercial news programs wheel out their slow-motion montages of the recently deceased, complete with inspirational wind-beneath-my-wings type power ballad as backup.

There was one recently for a famous cricketer’s wife. And be assured, I’m not in any way trying to malign the deceased or their significant others in this, just the news programs that seem to think the best way to pay tribute to someone is to create a slow-motion montage, complete with sucky wind-beneath-my-wings type power ballad as backup.

Yuck!

I can see its worth in something like Big Brother. When a housemate is evicted, before they leave in their new car, or whatever, they get to sit through a montage of slow-motion clips of themselves doing crazy, whacky and sometimes downright embarrassing things to a not-so-sucky pop tune or piece of backing music (because the demographic is entirely different, you understand. We’re talking Bette-Midler-free zone).

And I think to be in that situation and see yourself in that way must be great. In fact, wouldn’t it be great if all of us, every birthday or so, see the year that was in a slo-mo film clip of our favorite song from the previous year… hanging out at the pub, throwing the frisbee, doing the dishes, staying up late and working, watching TV with your loved one, getting scared by a spider/snake/mouse, running for the train, making a stupid face at someone, getting angry in traffic, reading the paper and sipping a piping hot cup of tea on a Saturday morning, snorting said tea through your nose after laughing at the Far Side comic.

Y’know, just nice, everyday moments, made special by virtue of the fact they’re in slow motion to the tune of a song you really like.

Tongue numbing

Monday, June 16th, 2008

For any readers outside South Australia, there’s been a recent crisis in this state’s hospital industry, with doctors and other specialists arguing over wage increases. Related story here.

The issue has come to a head and many emergency doctors and staff have not just gone on strike but resigned their positions altogether.

Take that!

I’d like to put out a message to directors of TV and radio outlets now, as it’s timely. I’m mostly a humble guy and don’t like to blow my own trumpet, as it were. I don’t think I’m arrogant or self-righteous and I don’t often judge or condemn people. However, there are times when I believe a base level of competence should go along with certain jobs. So my message is this.

If you’re running a Radio or TV newsroom, please get in touch with me and offer me a job. Why? Well, for starters, I can correctly pronounce the word anaesthetist.

Seriously, I should put this on my résumé.

It’s been an interesting week of watching and listening to various media, hearing them say that word and completely fuck it up in about 90 % of cases.

Another word a lot of journos have trouble with is vulnerable. People, the first l is NOT SILENT.

If you hear a newsreader or reporter this week saying “South Australia’s health industry is in a vulnerable position following the recent mass-resignation of emergency doctors and hospital anaesthetists,” listen for the gurgling sounds that follow as their throats go into spasm and they invariably choke on their tongues.

I once met a med student studying to become an anaesthetist and she couldn’t pronounce it. While I hope she, and other anaesthetists, can successfully pronounce the drugs they’re administering, I’m not going to judge, as long as the right drug goes in the right patient and everyone who’s supposed to be alive, stays alive at the end of the day.

But journalists? They’re supposed to be guardians of the language. They’re the one group of people who are supposed to get this right.  Still, when most people on TV news are either ex-footballers (read: trained monkeys (and even then, I’m not that sure how well trained)) and sexy young uni grads with zero life experience, what hope is there?

Your dirty mind

Friday, May 30th, 2008

While I don’t claim to know everything concerning the polical machinations of the Bill Henson case, I will say this.

Honi soit qui mal y pense.

By which I mean, if you can look at a picture of an impassively posed, naked 13-year old girl and see something salacious, shame on you.

You know you’re a parent when…

Tuesday, April 22nd, 2008

Sunday night, watching TV with C. Richard Roxborough’s girlfriend has just arrived from London. They’re having a conversation.

C: What have I seen her in?

Me: Playschool.

C: Yeah, that’s it.