British Television verses US Television

I've recently been thinking about how British television compares to US television and why these differences come about. It's no real secret that in general, British series (seasons) last for much shorter, often totalling 6 episodes in comparison to longer US seasons, and the episodes themselves are often shorter, too. But the entire culture of what types of programmes get made and continue to multiple series is also vastly different, too.

In part, this is because of the unique way the BBC is funded. To watch live television in the UK, people need to purchase a television license. This is the main way the BBC gets funding. On paper, the BBC is a not for profit organisation that is accountable to the British public. (In practice, there are commercial arms of the BBC, such as BBC America, where they can sell programmes both domestically and internationally) The BBC's primary source of funding is the license fee that British people pay in order to legally watch live television. Because of this, they are held accountable to the public, and do not employ advertising on their channels.

Because there is no space for advertising on the BBC, programmes are often made for shorter slots, approximately half an hour, as opposed to forty-five minute 'tv hours' that would account for commercial breaks.

Due to this, the BBC has a responsibility to create programmes that are within the 'public interest'. This means that alongside high-budget fiction such as Doctor Who and Sherlock, they are able to create documentaries and non-fiction programming with an emphasis on quality of content.  In stark contrast, the American rating system for television puts greater emphasis on viewing figures (as the number of people who watch a particular show affects the price of advertising in that timeslot, and thus the revenue of the channel), and so programmes aim to be commercially successful over being high-quality. The BBC's official mission as set out in their charter is: "To enrich people's lives with programmes and services that inform, educate and entertain." Creating entertaining programmes is only a third of their mission statement, as opposed to many American networks where it is the majority of their content.

British broadcasters almost always have to work with a smaller budget than American shows. This leads to smaller series with tighter writing, and often clever ways of writing around lack of special effects, many locations and large casts. British broadcasters excel at small dramas and comedy shows with fast-paced plots and a tight-knit group of characters, whereas American shows tend to be higher in spectacle yet an overarching plot can last three times as long as a similar British show.

All of this comes some way to explaining why American reboots of popular British television shows have done so poorly. Being Human was a surprise success in Britain (it aired on the young adult oriented BBC Three, often used as a proving ground for shows the BBC don't feel would have a wide enough appeal to put on BBC One), yet the American reboot was critically panned on both sides of the pond. America has attempted to adapt cult classic Red Dwarf twice, and both attempts never made it past the pilot episode.

Of course, there are cultural differences at play, too. A lot of successful British comedy uses a style of self-depreciating humour that simply does not translate to American viewpoints. Part of the comedy of Being Human was that being located in Bristol was part of the tragedy of the characters. The character of Lister on Red Dwarf is a likeable slob who revels in his disgusting ways, but is a preferable character to the uptight coward of Rimmer. Bad Education, The Inbetweeners, Skins, etc. all take a painfully honest look at some of the worst parts of awkward teenage years. This style of humour doesn't fully translate to American audiences, whereas Britons are very quick to utilise self-depreciation. 

How Not To Adapt Books to Films: The Golden Compass

I may have mentioned a few posts ago that I prefer to focus on positives over negatives in media. But every once in a while, there comes a film so terrible, so badly thought out and so insulting to its viewers that it sends me into a frothing rage just thinking about what could have been, yet sadly wasn't. So, with that in mind, let's talk about The Golden Compass.

In 2007, New Line Cinema took a stab at adapting Phillip Pullman's epic children's fantasy 'The Northern Lights' for cinema. What it achieved, like so many book-to-film adaptations, was a mediocre family blockbuster. It lacks the controversial and darker tones of the books in order to maintain both funding and a PG rating. That's not to say there weren't things I enjoyed in the film.

Dæmons were handled particularly well, both in the way actors reacted/didn't react to them and the meticulous CGI used throughout - in fact, the film's only Oscar was for Best Achievement in Visual Effects. My only nitpick is the occasional use of real animals, presumably to cut down costs, which jarred me out of the world a little bit. I'd prefer one method or the other, not a mixture.

Dakota Blue Richards as an actress deserves high praise, and indeed many of the awards the film has received have been specifically for her. She is a pitch perfect Lyra; gifted liar, often proud, yet selfless and brave despite being convincingly terrified. Given how difficult it is to find gifted child actors and to work with them around schooling and ethical concerns, this was no easy feat, and they deserve the credit that is due for this.

What a shame it is, then, to contrast that with Nicole Kidman's bland performance. Every single line she delivered felt obviously 'acted' and lacked all the subtlety of her character. Since when can you get Nicole Kidman to fail at being a simmering, manipulative seductress? She was, however, let down by some of the scripting, but I felt as though she almost anticipated how the film was go and was distancing herself from it as soon as she could.

I winced every time a character said 'Golden Compass' as an obvious name drop, usually immediately before or after the device's real name - alethiometer. I was all ready to go into a rant about American publishers/producers changing names to make it simpler for American audiences, too (like Harry Potter's Philosopher's/Sorcerer's Stone), but apparently it's a very subtle reference to Paradise Lost (let's not argue that it refers to 'golden compasses' as in the geometric tool instead of the navigation one). The fact that it just happens to be easier to remember than alethiometer is a coincidence...anyway, in this particular case, I am willing to give them a pass. This is the only one they're getting.

I'm aware that this is such a minor thing to be irritated over, but the music is so bland I've already forgotten it. I love collecting and recognizing various movie soundtracks, but if you were to play me any part of that soundtrack, I wouldn't be able to remember where it was from. It doesn't have anything instantly recognizable about it, in the same way that The Lord Of The Ring's score would instantly link you to Middleearth, or Harry Potter's score takes you to Hogwarts. This is a shame, mostly because a lot of care has been taken to give Lyra's world a very distinct visual feel which is so different to our world, but it's not supported by the music. It's just incredibly generic and of no consequence, good or bad.

The small exposition scene with Lord Asriel in the Arctic honestly adds nothing to the plot, and only serves to show off Daniel Craig's action movie credentials. The book didn't need it, so I'd have preferred the screentime and budget to have been spent on...almost literally anything else.

There's one line: "the alethiometer says they'll hurt Roger" added purely to add suspense. Apart from being very lazy writing, if it was asked about anything in relation to Roger, the whole 'being sacrificed to form a gateway between worlds' would definitely have come up, even in vague terms. Of course, in the film, they never actually get to that point, which makes me wonder how they were planning to tackle the second and third books without covering Roger's death. Or, indeed, any of the darker themes of the books in general.

There is exactly no mention of Stannislaus Grumman (AKA Jopari, AKA John Parry, AKA Will's father) at all, most notably in the retiring room. I can understand why they wouldn't want to whip out a frozen decapitated head in the opening sequence of a family film, but not even hinting at his existence would have made things problematic come the second film. It would have made things seem far more coincidental than they already were. "Oh, so Will's father was missing because he was in Lyra's world? Didn't see that coming. And Lee Scoresby just happens to be bringing him to the right place to be reunited with his son? Pft."

All the complex characters who had complex motivations or situations had them changed to either paint them as wholly good or wholly evil. Iorek gets his own section below, but off the top of my head: Lord Asriel does terrible things in the books, but here he's painted as a heroic adventurer capable of no wrong. Similarly, the Master at Jordan College no longer has any part in Asriel's attempted poisoning, blackmailed or otherwise. Mrs. Coulter is just a straight up villain, now, whereas the book portrayed her in more shades of grey - doing villainous things, certainly, but there are some hints about more complex reasons as to why. Her motivations are something that is completely glossed over in the film.

Oh, Iorek. Poor, proud warrior king, what did they do to you? You were exiled for being beaten by another bear? (for non-book readers, or those in need of the refresher, he was exiled because he killed another bear by accident - while fights are common to establish hierarchy, murder is against their laws. More specifically, Iofur drugged the other bear, so he didn't give in where he would have done normally. Resulting in Iorek – the rightful ruler of Svalbard, but that got glossed over in the movie – being exiled and Iofur taking control) Aside from being an insult to his very character, it makes no logical sense. If 50% of all bears who have ever been in a fight get exiled, why aren't more of them wandering lonely around the Arctic? How is Svalbard still populated, what with them being a proud warrior race where fights are fairly frequent? And of course, it makes armored talking bears a lot less cool. All this, presumably for the sake of the PG rating. Again, I wonder how they would have handled such themes as death, all out war between worlds, killing God, original sin, etc. in the later films...it's almost lucky this film was as bad as it was, because the films could only diverge more from the books from here on out.

In the vein of panserbjørne, how did Iofur (now name changed to Ragnar) gain power as a bear king? By poisoning the previous king. Let's not think about the fact that panserbjørne cannot be tricked unless they're acting like a human. Between this and the way the circumstances behind the exile changed, Iorek has no more claim to rule the bears than any of the nameless bears of Svalbard.

Many things have been sacrificed in order to keep the PG rating as low as it is. Here's some things that weren't: Iorek punching off Iofur's/Ragnar's lower jaw, Iorek ripping Iofur's/Ragnar's throat out, Lyra almost having her soul cut away, Mrs Coulter being violent and abusive, and Lyra's dæmon being touched without consent. Oh, and the massive fight with the gyptians, witches, bears and kids verses the Bolvangar guards.

Changing the order of events in the plot isn't necessarily a bad thing. When done well, it's seemless. This was decidedly not. Essentially, when Lyra is kidnapped, she is taken to Svalbard instead of Bolvangar (which makes no sense; at Bolvangar, they would have been greatly rewarded, whereas at Svalbard, she's merely 'a gift for the king'), the events happen sort of similarly to the book, then Iorek takes Lyra over to Bolvangar. This means the bears get involved in Bolvangar in a way they didn't in the book, and weren't holding Asriel captive as per Iofur's agreement with Coulter, and so, essentially, the bears aren't part of the film's plot in any meaningful way. They could have been removed entirely, if they weren't the best selling point of the film.

The whole thing is a mess, really. It boils down a thoughtful, intricate children's series with layers of complex themes, imagery and symbolism to the most basic of storylines, relying on beautiful imagery over a well-thought out script. It's nothing short of an insult to the books and the people who love them. I can't help but be thankful that they never got around to butchering the entire trilogy.