Did you see Six Feet Under, Monday? I was supposed to be at my writing class, but wimped out.
The FT reviewed it this morning, rather unfavourably. And, er, three days late, I reckon. But I take issue with:
"the core drama is no less banal, and no more daring, than that of an average episode of thirtysomething."
Thirtysomething was agenda-setting television; it reflected the real lives we might have aspired to for the first time. Banal, it's not.
Anyway, Six Feet Under struck me as a little formulaic, but vastly better than any current UK drama, with the exception of Spooks. Did you catch Fields of Gold? Anna Friel may be breathtakingly beautiful, but it's been all downhill frankly since she had that lesbian kiss on Brookside; she can't act for toffee. And the story doesn't work; I mean, if you were bundled into a van by four masked men and dumped miles away, wouldn't you be just a teensie bit frightened? Anna bounced back with perfect make-up and even remembered to take the disc out of her camera whilst being abducted. She's brighter than she looks, then.