Where would I be without the internet? I've posted before about the sheer badness of Spanish telly, and it's gone past the point where I can watch it with a sort of snooty ironic detachment (except for Pasapalabra, but that's another story). Thank god, then, for TV via the internet, and for the big unctuous spurt of joy that the new year is bringing.
First up,the new Battlestar Galactica is back for the last time. I love this show, mainly because it's so utterly perverse and obverse and not-what-should-be. Surely huge-budget long-form American Sci-Fi should be packed full of young, beautiful heroes running around in spaceships, always beating the aliens, then making with the witty puns as they all drink space-beer and fall in love? Y'know, like Buffy or something?
Instead, it's spent the course of its four seasons getting dark, bleak, and genuinely unsettling. Last week's premiere was 45 minutes of depression and disillusionment for pretty much every single character. This show, which started with a holocaust, gave us another one in flashback. There was a suicide. Two old men, one drunk, both suicidal, talked about foxes drowning out at sea. Even the extras were in despair, fighting in the corridors of the Galactica. The soundtrack droned and wailed. It was fucking brilliant.
On a much lighter note, we're now blessed with QI again. I've been getting the extended Saturday-night versions from UKNova, letting my brain sink into a soothing sponge-like state as Stephen Fry reels off popular misconceptions in gaps between Sean Lock's (peerless) dick jokes. I know a lot of people can't stand Fry, and even more are vehement enemies of Alan Davies (fair, maybe, as he only really ever does one thing, but he's smart enough to do it on a show where it works) but I love it. The BBC took a tired format, gave it a twist, and just let it run. Not comedy gold, maybe, but at the very least comedy yttrium.
Finally, the most utterly-stupid-but-somehow-fantastic show on the planet, Lost, returned this week. I'm posting this before watching the two-part season opener, because I want to be enthusiastic about telly today, and Lost is so hit-and-miss that it could well be total shit-on-a-stick. Still, it's got a definite end date now, so we'll get these fabled "answers" sooner or later. It's like the barmiest choose-your-own-adventure book ever ("To turn the magic donkey wheel and make the island disappear, turn to page 56), and I don't have total faith that it'll end satisfactorily, but at least the writers have to try, and it'll be fun to watch them. Right?
Between these, Okami on the Wii and the rest of my Doctor Who DVDs, I am covered for audiovisual treats this term. I'll need it, too, because it's going to be a bitch.
Updating soon: This man, €180,000 and a baguette sandwich. Stay well, amigos.
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