They made a huge mistake: Why Arrested Development needed to come back


'Have any of you people even seen a chicken?'

‘Have any of you people even seen a chicken?’

I had one of those surreal moments recently. Not surreal in the sense that I ate way over-left leftovers and the walls started melting. But surreal in that for once in my life, in fact the only time in my life, did a wish come true.* I sat down in front of my TV, surrounded myself with happysnacks (savoury on the left, sweet on the right) and watched brand freaking new episodes of Arrested Development. Yes, let that sink in like the floor of a shoddily built model home. As it was on May 26, thanks to Netflix, Arrested Development triumphantly beat Jesus’ record by seven years, three months and 13 days when it rolled the rock aside from its untimely tomb and was sensationally resurrected. It was such a momentous occasion that I’m afraid I just blue myself.

For those who haven’t heard of it, or haven’t seen it, do it. Do it now. Because it is the best comedy program ever. Arrested Development, the brainchild of producer Ron Howard and writer Mitch Hurwitz, was a brilliantly scripted, superbly acted and delightfully narrated breath of fresh air in a television schedule polluted with the likes of Two and a Half Men, According to Jim and god knows how many cancerous celebrity reality shows. It was not what audiences had come to expect from a weekly serialised 30-minute comedy series on Fox. The narrative was complex and at times intentionally confusing, there was no laugh track, the characters were completely unrelatable and ridiculous, the attention-to-detail insane and the gags were elegant strokes of masterful satire, allusion, wordplay, self-referential metaphor and absurdity. The shit was meta as fuck and funny as hell. I simply adored it, and that love has not faded with age, in fact, it greatly intensified when after only two-and-a-half seasons, it was cruelly taken away.

Of course I was not alone, but such was the magnetic charm of this show that you felt intimately attached to it. You weren’t just a bit miffed or disappointed… but outwardly devastated, jilted, shattered. The baffling decision by Fox to can it despite its obvious brilliance (it raked in six Emmys and dozens of other critical accolades) was simply unacceptable to anyone so blessed with the gifts of logic and reason. Of course, poor ratings were the cited cause of death, not the more glaringly apparent fact that the network completely mishandled its delivery.  It was frustrating for the fans, the creators and even the actors, that a project so unique and special was allowed to wither and die on the vine of outdated network broadcasting conventions. I sensed injustice, and given that I was a university student at the time, studying media culture no less – I did what anyone in that situation would do and took matters into my own hands. I hired a one-armed man to teach them a lesson. And when that didn’t work, I wrote an essay about it.

When I sat down, fuming, ready to bash some epic, world-changing wisdom into the keyboard, my approach was simple: point out how stupid America is and how evil giant media corporations are and how Rupert Murdoch kicks puppies in their faces. But, this wasn’t for a politics subject, it was media cultures – so I took American stupidity as a universal constant and instead identified the key variables in play: the tension between the creative and the lucrative; audience types; ratings methods; technology; content; viewing habits; fandom and past cases of unpopular cancellations . I investigated and researched and postulated my pants off – all the way down to the cut-offs. Simply, I crushed it (as demonstrated by this dope extract).

‘Shows like Arrested Development win audience appeal with a ‘comedy verite’ approach. That is, making full use of unconventional techniques to create whole new aesthetic, and defining true uniqueness to increase the perceived quality of the show… the audience was rewarded for its devotion, and a sense of mutual respect between creator and viewer was formed… this was not a program for a casual viewer nor casual viewing.
Beaumont, C. (2006) How audience habits and technology will affect traditional television methodology. pg 4.

With paragraph after paragraph of intellectual gold, including brilliant insights from experts such as Brook Barnes, P Waugh and E Thompson (yes, I had sufficient citations), I soundly proved the point that Arrested Development arrived in the world too early. The reasons why were numerous: the show wasn’t really suited to weekly airings; using Nielson ratings as the prime measure of a show’s worth was fundamentally flawed; and there was a stalemate between the network heads who wanted the show to flatten out and appeal to traditional TV sensibilities, and the creators who didn’t want to spoil their work for their fans and their personal creativity. But most critically, what caused its demise was that the shining copper-plated knight of the digital revolution was too late to gallop to the show’s rescue. Seven years, three months and 13 days too late, evidently.

It’s difficult to imagine, but six years ago ‘social media’ was still an emerging phenomenon. Twitter was but an infant hatchling and nobody knew what to do with it. Digital TV was still developing, Netflix itself was merely an online DVD rental service and ‘streaming’ was more widely known then as the act of streaking with streamers tied to your body rather than the currently popular method for watching TV and movies via the internet. Arrested Development was a victim of timing, caught in the fidgety awkward period when traditional TV broadcasting and ratings models was known to be flawed, but the digital revolution we all knew was coming, wasn’t quite there yet. The audience was certainly there, a passionate and fiercely loyal mob, but relatively voiceless without today’s social web – and their value was underestimated by the TV executives who were devout believers in the old traditions of advertising, prime time and ratings.

I ended my essay with this prophetic nugget of wisdom.

‘A. Stanley writes, “In this Balkanized media landscape, viewers seek and jealously guard their discoveries wherever they can find them.” This is the attitude typical of the fans of Arrested Development and Family Guy. Both shows offered a different viewing experience to the conventional comedy formula, and connected more intimately with their respective audiences. Along with this came extensive use of trademark allusional humour – be it Family Guy’s broad spectrum of cultural references, or Arrested Development’s rich catalogue of inside-jokes. But, despite being cancelled by Fox for poor network ratings, strong DVD sales and loud online support from fans might trigger the industry to rethink and re-evaluate what makes a television program truly valuable. It helped lead to a resurrection for Family Guy, and with the support for Arrested Development still burning bright, its conceivable such an extraordinary event could reoccur.’
ibid, pg 12

Note that this paradigm-shifting parchment of genius essay was written in the brisk autumn of 2007. I remember the unseasonable chill that laced the winds. As far as the world was concerned, the Bluth family were as dead as a dodo that was killed by a doornail. But I knew better than to say never. And I was right. So, given that I was right and a good few years ahead of the game, you’d be forgiven for thinking that I was given a lovely big 100%, double-tick and smiley face when I received this (rather important, might I add) essay back. But, no. my Principia of the modern age received the insulting score of… 83. Eighty-three! An unnecessarily frustrating two little marks off a high-distinction! It’s as if the tutor really liked my essay, but didn’t like-like it. I was so shocked I could do nothing but Charlie Brown-walk home and eat a whole thing of candy beans.

I know my tutor was an Arrested Development fan, he said so himself. And as a scholar of television media, he’d no doubt have found the story of its revival a fascinating and exciting study in the changing media landscape. Well, Mr mark-stingy tutor, does all this seem familiar?! Do you vaguely remember reading about this somewhere some time ago?! It was ME, dammit! MEEEE!!!

So, the new episodes? I decided to watch four a night. After watching six the first night, my seven-year itch was scratched. I still remember the very first time I watched Arrested Development, my cousin loaned me the series one DVD, promising me I’d enjoy it. “I dunno,” I said. “Is it better than Scrubs?” “Ha! You’ll see,” was his matter-of-fact reply. Unconvinced anything could better JD’s zany non-sequiturs, I finally got around to checking it out one morning when I was sick to go to uni (I sneezed twice before 10am, qualifying me as desperately bedridden sick). It took no time to fall in love. It was an unspeakably beautiful moment – I was, like so many unfortunate items in the path of Buster Bluth, hooked.

And now, miraculously that moment has returned – despite the odds. While nothing can ever match that first exhilarating thrill of discovery, this new second life for my favourite ever show did not disappoint. Despite the time and expectations, the new Arrested Development had no trouble making my banana stand. It’s a testimony to the brilliance of the show’s cast, creators and crew, and a glorious reward for the fans who kept the faith.

So all’s well that ends well, so they say. Well, almost.

I want my HD, you bastard!

*There was the time when I was 7 and I was given the massive fighter jet Transformers toy for Christmas. But it was the baby-spew green one and not the super-awesome black one, so it didn’t completely count.


You don’t need photons to be enlightened


science-dog

Science is rad. For reals. For so long, the world of ‘science’ suffered from its public image defined by the stereotypical lab coat-shod propellerheads with pocket protectors and sex appeal equal to fuglio septia. But now, it has managed to break free from all that and (to an extent) fashion itself a new certain coolness. In fact, 4.9 million people ‘Fucking Love Science’, according to Facebook, and I count myself as one of them. It’s this new brand of ‘science-all-up-in-your-face’ attitude that has reinvigorated its place in the public sphere.  Knowledge is cool, science is cool, biology is cool, the solar system is cool. Robots are so cool, they even formed a band – a kickarse band. But, it’s not as if the world of science has experienced a geomagnetic pole reversal and now all research findings are published as memes on Instagram or something. The eggheads still toil away uncovering the secrets of existence with their blackboards covered in alien language and particle-smashing multi-multi–billion dollar toys. And they are still as out of touch with the rest of the world as gravitational singularity.

So, who should we really thank for demonstrating that science is worth the love? If my calculations prove correct (and they always do), it’s those precious links between us and those in vanguard of discovery – the science communicators. They can be journalists, writers, spokespersons – or even practising scientists themselves, but they are the people who funnel and translate the impossibly esoteric mountains of information produced by experiments and research, and translate it into something understandable, informative – and most vitally – entertaining. They skilfully shrink down the overwhelming into something small enough for inexpert minds to grasp and enjoy, without insulting the intelligence of neither scientist nor reader alike. Without them, the undeniable awesomeness in all disciplines of science would remain invisible, foreign and boring.  It’s a rare ability we take for granted as we ooh and aah watching docos, or raise a fascinated eyebrow reading Scientific American.

The idea of bringing news from the scientific frontiers to the layman goes back to the early 20th century, when Science Monthly became Popular Science Monthly – signalling a shift toward relatable and entertaining science literature. Albert Einstein was indeed an advocate. He famously said: “If you can’t explain it simply, you don’t understand it well enough.”  His ageless concepts remain the foundation of modern quantum physics, and so are pretty much as synapse-snappingly complex as they come, but he proves his point by offering some explanation of his theories of relativity in a pithy, sorta charming way. “When you are courting a nice girl an hour seems like a second. When you sit on a red-hot cinder a second seems like an hour. That’s relativity,” said the great man.

Now, I (because it’s all about me!) was never destined to be a scientist. Lab coats don’t suit me, mathematics terrifies me and I’m simply not blessed with the focused intelligence the line of work demands. But I do have a healthy appetite for knowledge. My brain is never satisfied without an enormous feast of facts – no matter how obscure – actually, sometimes the more obscure the better. Often I find myself trapped on Wikipedia – unable to escape those enticing blue hyperlinks, lures that promise to take me to new enlightenments. One minute I’m looking up premier leageue statistics, then I’m boning up on nuclear dynamics, and suddenly I’m reading this and wondering how I ever got there. Imagine information as lillypads – I’m like a frog hopping from one to another, as if the lillypads were hot, and I didn’t have little frog-shoes on my frog-feet. That was an analogy. I’m fairly crap at them, as you can plainly see… And that is the reason why I’d never cut it as a science communicator either, unfortunately.

That really is a key to great communication – particularly in this field. Finding that great analogy – that spot-on simile  that simple metaphor that twists the tumblers of the ‘I-don’t-get-it’ floodgate and lets the waters of understanding rush into the sluice chambers of your ‘now-I-get-it’ brain aqueduct.  I’m simply not very good at it. I’m certainly not about to take up creative writing, for fear of ending up in some infinite tautological loop (“The sea glistened like a gigantic puddle of water’); nor romantic novels for fear of ruining the idea of romance for the entire literate world (“The dancing glow of the candles illuminated her gentle skin like a flickering TV left on in a dark room… she rolled her head back and inhaled deeply, feeling her desire escalating like the electricity bill from the carelessly forgotten TV set left on in the living room.”).

But there’s a difference between painting descriptive scenes with metaphor and striking a moment of mutual understanding with the reader. It’s the latter that is so important for scientific communication to work. If you notice in the first paragraph, I tried being clever and done flipped it around – tossing in a few obscure scientific allusions to the mix. Unless you were quite familiar with fungal growths, geophysics and quantum mechanics, it’s doubtful you’d readily comprehend what the hell I was talking about and so would be less inclined to read on. As with any matter, if the writing is too dense, it will sink. Had I used references more universally understood, then perhaps I’d have more success engaging you, the dear reader. And that’s why it is such a valuable skill in a communicator’s arsenal – particularly when it comes to explaining science. As much as I wish I did, I simply don’t have the knack for drawing perfect parallels – my mind doesn’t think along those lines (see what I did there?). But my lack of ability gives way to a heightened appreciation and respect for it.

So this is more or less a thank you to those people who enlighten us by taming the flames from the fires of great minds and lighting the torches of those who are out of reach. (Kinda better?). These are exciting times in all corners of the scientific realm, from the Higgs-particle; to new eco-innovations, robots (obviously), and bioethics – and without the talents of the world’s science scribes, we would barely even know such things could be exciting, let alone revel in the excitement of discovery. And that would be a tragic thing.

Excelsior!, dig?


20 Super Annoying Hollywood Habits


film-clichesWho doesn’t love settling in on a cold, rainy day to watch a movie? Or to spend a lazy Sunday glued to the TV for back-to-back episodes of that must-see show about the biker gang zombies who cook meth and sell it  to dragons? I know I do.  The problem for me though, is that I have an annoyingly hyperactive brain guarding the path to true immersion in whatever escapist fiction flickers on-screen. Perhaps I’m overly cynical, or perhaps it’s because I once trained myself to be resistant to hypnosis so as to prevent becoming a sleeper agent assassin for the KGB. In any case, it means I have an exhaustive list of Hollywood habits and clichés that will immediately snap my suspension of disbelief – which is already as brittle as Michael Bay’s New Year’s resolution to take it easy on the explosions.

Here are just some celluloid neuroses of mine:

1. People order drinks and food then never eat it – usually sticking someone with the bill

This is number one, because it’s most certainly the most irritating. If I were a café or bar owner in the film-world, I would lose my mind over the endless customers who saunter in, casually ask for something and then saunter back out again as soon as their order hits the grill-plate. Sometimes they might hang around until a drink arrives, but will exit immediately after they’ve indolently picked it up and waved it about a few times in conversation. Just think of the ruinous expenses of all that wastage and unpaid bills!

2. No-one looks at at anyone when they’re dropping some real heavy news

I get that sometimes dramatic things happen in life and breaking the news of some heavy shit can be pretty damned hard. But, whether you’re telling the President the zombie mutation virus has broken out of containment; or confessing to an extra-marital affair with your spouse’s bikram yoga instructor; or finally revealing to other soldiers in your platoon what really went down during Operation: Blue Typhoon and why you can never eat a banana again; at least have the common decency to look them in the eye! At the very least point your face at their face. None of this back-turning, mumbling rudeness!

3. Everyone has appalling phone manners

Have we really become such a socially abbreviated culture that we can’t even manage a mannerly goodbye at the end of a phone conversation? Characters just sit there on the line and wait until the crucial bit of info is revealed and then hang up. It’s just rude. No ‘thanks for calling’, no ‘see you later’, no ‘have a nice afternoon’, no ‘say hi to Frank for me’… just an abrupt end to the conve-

4. Dating in a big city a breeze

Even, no, especially in films about romance, it seems like a love life comes complimentary with your latte from the trendy city coffee shop as if cupid’s arrow tips were made of biscotti. Not only do you just happen to regularly bump into random acquaintances for witty banter over whatever semi-embarrassing situation you’re caught in (locked out of apartment, spilled coffee on self, dog running amok… etc), you then can simply peg a date with a simple: “Dinner Friday?”, “Sure”, “I’ll pick you up at eight.”… Done!  It matters not where this stranger plans to take you, or how they know where you live. Pfft details – it’s date time!

5. The best player in the team will only show up at half-time

What does it say about team commitment when the best players are NEVER around for that dramatically crucial match against the really slick, sinister-looking team who have heaps of money, a bully coach and shiny  black uniforms. It’s not until your team is one full cheek into a clinical and comprehensive arse-kicking when who should show up in the dressing room? Only the most vital member of your otherwise shithouse (yet totally lovable) team! Now get out there and win in the last few seconds in the most uncanny, slow-motion, tears-for-the-underdogs way possible!

6. People just kind of waltz into a room and pick up the conversation as if they’d been there all along…

Seriously!? Do important people hide around corners in government buildings just waiting for the opportune moment?
“It’s almost as if the alien mothership has some kind of-”
“-electron-pulse plasma forcefield, yes general, I took the liberty of entering the room and finishing your sentence so now everyone knows I’m the smart one around here.” Unfortunately it never works for me, though hopefully the next time I blurt: ‘ham sandwich!’ as I enter a room, it WILL make sense. I probably should increase my odds and walk into more delicatessens.

7. Gangs of ruffians never co-ordinate their attacks very well

I don’t condone wanton violence, nor gang affiliation… but nor do I condone a lack of respect for teamwork and role-based coordination tactics. So many attempted beat downs are thwarted because a lack of tactical cohesion completely nullifies the numerical advantage. Instead of gathering around in a circle and going in one at a time for a routine cycle of butt-kicking – why not pool your resources and attack with purpose? Guy in sleeveless leather jacket can feign a frontal attack to draw the target’s attention, opening up for a simultaneous pincer strike on the flanks from guy with shaved head and guy with bandana. While they close in, guy with metal pole can sweep low and take the legs out from under the target where they will be vulnerable to a good’n’proper stompin’. See street toughs of Hollywood? It’s not so hard.

8. Police think a car door is a bulletproof shield

Why? Why do cops do that?! Do they realise the baddies are firing lumps of lead at a really high velocity?! Unless you’re patrolling the streets in a Sherman tank, a car door isn’t actually going to stop a volley of bullets. You might as well hide behind a tissue.

9.  People hold torches funny

A torch (or, ‘flashlight’) doesn’t seem like the kind of object that requires any technique to use. You just kind of, point it and… not drop it… but the folks of Hollywood seem loathe to hold it any other way than next to the temple, with elbows pointed down. I suppose you could consider it the coolest way to point a torch – but you don’t always have to look cool, especially if all you’re doing is trudging knee deep in human refuse as you investigate the town’s sewers at night for whatever ominous reasons.

10. All doors can be opened by shooting them

Fair enough, I were packing heat, ‘shoot it’ would also rank high on my list of  troubleshooting solutions to overcome various problems, like say a jammed printer, a tight jar lid, a loud neighbour or even a locked door. But, would it actually work? Locks can be pretty hardcore these days, I’d be more worried about the slug ricocheting back into my groin from the 30cm distance at which I shot the stupid thing. Yeah, not a smart idea, better call a locksmith.

11. Looking at a photograph will change a character’s mind

They say a picture is a thousand words, to which every screenwriter in the business replies, ‘thank fuck for that’. In Hollwoodland, photographs are extra-super-mega persuasive and prolonged staring at an old photo of the family you once had will definitely thrust you into the third act guns blazing – figuratively and most probably literally.

12. Cops don’t take suspensions very seriously

I’m beginning to think that ‘You’re off the case’ is some sort of police code for: ‘Please continue the investigation, and make sure lots of things explode along the way’.

13. Dudes in suits are really awesome at fighting

This one I know a bit about, because I am both really, really good at fighting and also look really, really good in a suit. But, for reasons of restricted mobility and a little thing called Saville Row stitching, I refuse to combine the two – even if shit goes down at the charity ball. Disappoint the babes I may, but It’s simply impossible to execute an exemplary roundhouse kick in tapered trousers, and a bespoke Hugo Boss might look killer, but doesn’t make you killer. It’s also really hard to run at top speed in Italian loafers, so I don’t know who these try-hard suave Hollywood action men think they’re kidding.

14. The Wilhelm scream is really annoying

What was once a long-running inside joke in the film business has become a real pain in the aural receptors. The famous Wilhelm Scream appears in just about every mainstream Hollywood movie produced ever. I can barely sit through a blockbuster movie these days without the uncomfortable expectation of hearing that distinctive warbled cry clawing away in the back of my head. They could have at least recorded a semi-realistic scream; ‘Wilhelm’ sounds more like someone who fell in the toilet than a man who just received a bullet to the chest.

15. “I’m getting too old for this shit”

“Let’s get out of here”; “I’ve got a bad feeling about this”; “Get me the President”; “The monster is headed downtown”; “No, it’s too dangerous”; “Hold it right there”; “I’m hit! Go on without me”… So much lazy, lazy dialogue just won’t go away. I can honestly promise that I’ve never actually said any of these phrases in real life… well, except for in moments of extreme passion, and then it’s pretty much word-for-word in that order…

16. Profane old ladies are hilarious

No they are not. They just aren’t. A sweet old lady flipping the bird, swearing or laying down some ebonic trash-talk for ‘shock humour’ is not funny. Not even remotely. So, stop it. Now… Adam Sandler. Bad Adam Sandler!

17. If you own a fruit stall – a car WILL crash through it

It’s just a matter of time.

18. Electronic devices are noisy

Generally, if something electronic starts making noises, it’s most likely faulty and will probably electrocute someone. Unless of course it was programmed to make glitchy beeps and boops and crackles every time it is used. Though, why every high-tech piece of covert espionage equipment would be programmed to make more of a clamour than a startled R2-D2 is just too far a stretch for my logic.

19. There are commentators at children’s sports games

Despite the head injuries, I still remember my junior sporting days and NOT ONCE was there a card table and microphone set up for some play-by-play commentary of my team’s most nail-biting of encounters, 1998 under-12s grand final penalty shootout epic included. Though, if Hollywood were to believe every junior sports game features fully-fledged referees, grandstands and professional commentary. We were lucky if one of the mums remembered it was her turn to bring the oranges.

20. Batman can’t turn his head properly

This gets to me every time. Every stinking time! Get a more flexible suit already, you silly billionaire orphan!