EastEnders: Live

To celebrate its 25th anniversary, the BBC's flagship soap EastEnders aired a special live episode last Friday. I tuned in, mainly because it's a novelty watching a drama air live (as many used to in "the olden days") and a fun technical/logistical nightmare for the cast/crew to contend with. Anyway, I thought they did a good job and it was fairly ambitious at times, not to mention brave in tackling an important climactic storyline in this manner. The embedded video above highlights all the errors, some of which I spotted and laughed at myself (actor Scott Maslen badly fluffing his lines, the cameraman spotting Jake Wood making himself retch, Charlie Clements' fingers moving when he was "dead"), but most of the mistakes weren't too bad.

But I have to say, the concept of filming something live may be enticing (a huge 16.6 million watched this episode) but it detracts too much from the episode itself. Maybe I'm in the minority here, because I just wasn't invested in the plot, but I spent the half-hour feeling very anxious about the actors and hoping nothing too embarassing would happen. So, it wasn't exactly enjoyable, more uncomfortable, and that "live feel" basically means there's a weird slackness to everything.

EASTENDERS: I Wanna Get Freaky With You

That was fun. EastEnders don't do light, breezy episodes where it's all played for simple laughs and entertainment-value. Well, not often. But writer Jeff Povey just gone and done one. It was silly and fairly redundant in the big scheme of things, but the 30-minutes whizzed by. Ronnie and Roxie (the Mitchell Sisters™) struck poses for a clichéd photographer (who blurred every photo!), because he was there to take snaps for the Barmaid Of The Year competition.

Dawn is Roxie's main competition -- as sis Ronnie pulled out later on, and I don't think Shirley has entered the contest. Funny that. So Dawn was strutting her stuff in the Square, convinced she has Barmaid Of The Year in the bag, until the photographer mentions the "academic" side to the competition. Y'know, remembering orders and stuff. Dawn's face fell. She can only just remember where she lives, poor thing. As a bad omen, Wellard then muddied her favourite dress by leaping up on her, causing dog-walker Sean to comment: "Dirty dog. Isn't she, Wellard." Wha-wha-wha-whaaaaaa....

The only plot with any real point belonged to Steven; the evil twin of Tim Henman, who kidnapped his own father and shot his stepmother in the womb just before Christmas. But that was nearly 6 months ago, so things have moved on. It's a fast-paced life on a soap, isn’t it? Any indiscretion is brushed under the carpet by the weekend. Slept with your brother's wife? He'll have forgiven you by the Sunday omnibus. Killed your mum? There could be a prickly atmosphere for a few weeks at the dinner table...

Steven is now trying to woo Stacey Slater into bed, who I thought liked her men like she likes her biscuits: ginger. But the pouty, doe-eyed Steven has made Stacey consider sleeping outside of the Branning family. Steven's excited and understandably nervous about losing his virginity, so steals some condoms and leaves a tenner on the shelf. Then he heads home and finds himself groping a dummy. No, not Stacey. Not yet. It's a mannequin dad Ian has broguth back for daughter Lucy. Oh, is runaway Lucy back? I've missed some episodes. That was nice of Ian, wasn't it. Every teenage girl I know wants their own mannequin to play dress up. Hmm. Steven's a magnet of bad luck, though – first dropping his condoms for Mickey to see, and now the poor lad's slothful reactions means Ian and Christian have time to unlock and open a door, catching him in a pre-grope stance. Oh dear.

Naturally, it's up to Ian to give Steven "the talk". Not the "birds and the bees" talk, no. It's chapter 2 of Ian Beale: How To Seduce A Lady. To be fair, he did somehow get Cindy into bed, and Jane's not exactly a troglodyte. Maybe he has something to offer. He's ginger, so his technique should work particularly well on Stacey, surely. As Steven squirms, Ian's pearls of wisdom are spoken: if you get too excited, mentally name-check the England squad (including subs), and it helps to play some Daniel Beddingfield to set the mood. Steven makes his exit.

Later, it's the moment of truth. Steven arrives at the Slater's, armed with flowers and condoms. He correctly presents Stacey with the flowers. Does he have a Daniel Beddingfield CD? No, no. Good so far. Stacey's wearing a leopard print dress that shows plenty of leg; probably something from her stall. She's made the front room all romantic (turned off the lights, lit some candles and, most importantly, made sure Big Moe's out). Steven and Stacey sit on the sofa slurping alcopops, as she prods him to hold her and touch her knee. As they lean in for a kiss, Stacey's nutcase mother returns home (bringing two similarly bonkers friends back with her.) Like all soap characters, she's oblivious to the room's ambience – and soon has those curtains open and candles blown out.

Elsewhere, psycho Sean -- who has kicked Gus out of their flat, because Gus didn't like him sleeping with his new girlfriend (this is all rational to Sean) – starts smoking the pipe of peace. No, it’s nothing to do with gay Christian. He asks Gus round to bury the hatchet over a delicious spaghetti meal. But the little joker's only gone and cooked Wellard the dog up for owner Gus to chow-down. Hohoho. Fortunately, even EastEnders' writers know Sean isn’t that depraved: it was all a little joke.

Bradley (Stacey's red-cheeked husband she's divorcing) gets closer to sheep-faced Claire, who's only interested in Bradley because he's the only up-and-coming male in Walford (and the only bloke who has a job that means leaving the Square and commuting somewhere.) Yes, she's another sexy gold-digger character, narrowly avoided by Ian recently. She finally seems to have her man, as she smooches with Bradders on the sofa at Dot's house. But he breaks it off. He's too busy thinking about Stacy and feels guilty. Yes, just a few months after throwing Stacey's attempts at a reconciliation back in her face, he's hungry for more leopard-print rumpy-pumpy. Even with Gemma Bissix attached to his face. The fool.

Back at Chez Slater: Stacey and Steven are in bed naked. But they haven't "done it". I'm not sure what they did, but maybe Steven took his dad's words to heart and started imagining the England team... and then got to Rooney? Whatever happened, Steven makes his excuses and leaves. Back home, he beats up Lucy's mannequin/love doll, takes out a gay magazine (there must be a tenner on the top shelf in the Minute Mart, too) and drools over the hunky men inside. Maybe all that thinking of the England team made him come early when he got to Frank Lampard?

It was a funny episode. I enjoyed it, even when it got a bit too stupid for its own good (the dog's dinner) and we had to endure seeing red-faced Heather huffing and puffing on a running machine. I can’t complain too much about any episode that conspired to have Roxie, Ronnie and Dawn modelling, Stacey in leopard print, and the return of Claire in her knee-high boots. Also loving the wheelchair-bound little girl Penny (talented young actress Mia McKenna Bruce), who can spit out a put-down that puts actors twice her age to shame, while dressed as the poison dwarf from Don't Look Now. Classic.


17 April 2008
BBC1, 7.30 pm

EASTENDERS: Bianca belts one out...

This is toe-curling stuff, but curiously addictive and it makes me smile. "So bad, it's good" is the overused phrase. So I'll use it.

But why stop here, EastEnders bosses? You could do a whole season of these ads: Clare Bates and "These Boots Are Made For Walking" (please, please, please), Phil Mitchell belting out "I Shot The Sheriff", Gary singing "Somebody To Love", Peggy and "God Save The Queen (Vic)", or Heather and Pat duetting for "Fat-Bottomed Girls"?

EASTENDERS: Rickaaaaaay!

Okay, so which one was the April Fool's joke?

Is Frank Butcher really dead? Or was it the cruel threat that Ricky and Bianca will be returning to the show? I just can't decide...

But, seeing as comic actor Mike Reid really did die last year, my money would (ordinarily) be on the latter. Unfortunately, we've been carpet-bombed by BBC trailers that numbskull Ricky Butcher and fiery red-head (the polite term for ginger) Bianca are returning to Albert Square. For the dozens of you clamouring for the return of these idiots (the Palmer family and Sid's agent), you must be very, very happy.

Am I alone is thinking EastEnders is always at its worst whenever it attempts anything too "arty"? We only had a few flashbacks and voice-overs here (hardly a brave new world for TV narratives), but whenever these devices are used in soaps it totally drags me out of the show. Regardless, the sepia-tinted flashbacks arrived to show Frank and fat Pat getting married. Sepia? For 1989, not 1889? Weird.

On his death-bed, Frank had wrapped a present for Pat to open alone after he was gone. What's was in the box? A severed head? No. Some marital trinkets? No. Some ill-gotten cash? No. It was a battery-powered spinning bow-tie and white collar -- which Pat wore with pride in the mirror immediately, stirring a memory of this nightmare. The word "embarrassing" doesn't do this scene justice. We need a new word. Squirmbarassing?

With Ricky back for his dad's funeral, soppy now-lesbian sister Diane in tow, and a "surprise" appearance by Janine Butcher -- who appears to have landed on her feet, judging by the flash car she's driving. I reckon the motor was paid for by cash actress Charlie Brooks' earned from her fitness video. See, it's only after actors leave EastEnders that they get in shape. Just look at once-porky Natalie Cassidy. She's now not-as-porky. I bet Pam St. Clement is counting down the days to retirement.

As emotional funeral episodes go, it was a big let-down. It just doesn't work trying to make viewers teary-eyed about the death of a character who hasn't been on the show for years. No matter how beloved they were. Imagine Coronation Street doing a funeral episode for long-absent Mavis? Who cares! Now, I loved Mike Reid's comic touch with Frank Butcher, but the sadness over Reid's real death seems like a long time ago now – and since the only obvious difference between Mike Reid and Frank Butcher was a hat, audiences have already grieved for the loss of Frank/Mike.

None of it worked for me, even with the sepia reminders of Frank's cheeky, lovable nature. And anyway, it all played like a convenient way to tie-up Mike Reid's absence while reintroducing Ricky and Bianca. But I don't want them back. I don't mind cretin Ricky too much (he just belongs in the Arches looking nonplussed), but Bianca was a hideously screechy creation I longed to see vanish from our screens...

And now she's back. The BBC adverts, based around her "catchphrase" of "RICCKAAAAY!" were amusing – but they sum up her character: very irritating. Only now, the woman who thinks a silver puff jacket over a pink tracksuit is a good look, has a gaggle of tearaway kids to shout at, too. Oh, joy.

EastEnders has every right to remember its classic characters with fondness and respect, but bringing them back rarely works. Just look at Dirty Den. Oh, and they should have played this as Frank's coffin was carried into the church.


1 April 2008
BBC1, 7.30 pm

EASTENDERS: Goin' Underground

Every once in a while, EastEnders pulls out a ridiculous storyline that will undoubtedly pull in big audiences, but cause its actors difficulty in making the storyline "play". One such moment arrived last night, when Max Branning was buried alive by wronged wife Tanya and her scheming lover Sean...

Good plots tend to be cyclical on soaps, with most actors spending a few months standing around as glorified extras until they get their chance to shine in something meaty. A few actors are lucky enough to roll straight into the juicy repercussions of previous plots -- and that's what happened for Jake Wood (Max) and Jo Joyner (Tanya)...

After discovering her serial-cheat hubbie was having an affair with his own son's teenage wife on Christmas Day, Tanya has been involved in a bitter divorce ever since. Of course, 3 months is long enough in soapland for a divorce to drag on for. There's only so much you can do before a divorce story gets samey and irritating, so Tanya began to devise a far-from-perfect murder: drug her husband's wine, get loverboy Sean to pick up a coffin, and bury her husband alive in the local woods...

Well, it beats a drawn-out custody battle for the kids, I guess! It's a shame Max hadn't seen Kill Bill Volume II, but the episode just about managed to avoid total stupidity. I have a tough time believing cuddly Tanya could become so demented to murder, or vindictive enough to recreate her husband's worse childhood nightmare, but it was still a memorably bonkers episode.

After filling the grave in, Max's groans were still audible (no, they didn't bother digging six feet down), but Sean and Tanya still headed home. It was perhaps inevitable that the story wouldn't end there, though -- Tanya looked like a conspicuous mess when she arrived home to be confronted by her kids wondering where dad was. Sean's sister Stacy saw him changing his clothes into uncle Charlie's grey jumper (a definite sign of a distracted mind!), and guessed something had happened with the Brannings. Stacy arrived at Tanya's to confront her, but convinced her Max was asleep upstairs. Conflicting the story she'd told her girls.

You could already visualize the Judge sending Tanya and Sean down for life in a summer episode. I'm sure some dog-walker would find that grave soon enough. And why did Sean take receipt of a coffin on the night Max went "missing", your honour? And why was the accused's white van seen on CCTV heading towards the gravesite? Etc, etc.

Sean lay on his sofa, contemplating the night's awful activities. Tanya did likewise, alone on her double-bed. Hours passed. Surely Max would be dead now, with only a coffin full of oxygen? Tanya went downstairs and was reminded how much her girls love their dad after spotting some school-made sweets they'd made for him. After vomiting in a sink, extreme guilt took over and she drove back to the woods.

After digging down to the coffin and pulling off the lid, Max was revealed. Dead? No. A gasp and a lunge signalled his survival, and Tanya pulled him out of the hole. After regaining his breath, he tried to strangle her (well, do you blame him?), before a heart-to-heart chat with buckets of tears changed his outlook on things. Disgusted that his affair has led Tanya to take such chilling steps, Max agreed to leave Tanya and the kids, not challenge the divorce, and let her have custody of the kids.

After arriving home (the most uncomfortable car journey ever, surely?), Max lived up to his word -- and left with no fuss. Much to Sean's disbelief, as he reaized Tanya really was just using him all along. Himbo.

I defy anyone not to have been gripped, even if the storyline was unquestionably silly and OTT. Much of its success was down purely to actress Jo Joyner (whose fine performance kept the crazy storyline just about credible), and Jake Wood made Max's change of heart work in a fantastic graveside scene with Joyner.

So yes, it was a sensationlist idea and ridiculous in its quick construction, but EastEnders just about got away with it because of the strong performances.


24 March 2008
BBC1, 8.00 pm

EASTENDERS: I Predict A Riot

What's going on in Albert Square these days, hmm? Well, teenage demon-child Lucy threw a party while her dad Ian and stepmum Jane went to stay in Alan Partridge's Travel Tavern room (did Ian check to see what was in the top drawer?), as part of a special romantic treat before Ian meets the Queen. Don’t ask me how fish n' chip magnate Ian wangled a meeting with Her Maj, I missed those episodes...

With the house all to herself, Lucy gets rid of Jane's gay brother (lead singer of The Feeling?), her own brother Steven, and invites her mates around for a party -- where they inevitably trash the joint once it's overrun by boozed-up gate-crashers. 'Cos that's what always happens when "da kids" get together these days, see. It isn't just isolated news-worthy cases, no-no-no.

I know teenage party's sometimes get out of control and valuables gets broken and/or vomited on, but the gang that descended on the Beale's were from Cliché City (twinned with Hell): spraying graffiti on garden fences, zooming around outside on motorbikes, throwing beer bottles at innocent passers-by, ripping pictures off walls, smashing small tables. Even Lucy thought it would be a great idea to break the television. Rock n' Roll, man! But I bet she'll regret that by the time the Hollyoaks omnibus rolls round...

Tim Henman's evil twin (calling himself Steven Beale) called to get dad Ian back home, after the police were called in by neighbours. Ian, having assessing the damage with his usual slack-jawed disbeleif, blew a fuse with smug daughter Lucy – who was still lounging around on the sofa with a job-well-done smirk on her stupid face. After the expected argument, Ian's fiery temper got the better of him and he slapped her across the face. Yay! I mean; oh dear.

Y'see, in the high-minded BBC world of EastEnders; teen-parties are an understandable certainty when dealing with tearaways, but no parent should ever hit their own kid. Never ever. Not even if she really, really asked for it. Or has just destroyed your home, causing thousands of pounds worth of damage, and gloats about it in front of you. No, if that scenario happens, parents should have a nice heart-to-heart, stop their pocket money for awhile, ground them for a bit, and take away their mobile phone. That'll teach 'em.

Lucy ran away from home the next morning, leaving Ian feeling guilty that he handled the situation badly. He hasn't told Jane he hit Lucy, see -- but I'm hoping Jane's reaction when he tells her will be to say: "when can I punch her?"

Elsewhere, another hateable character has belly-flopped on the Square, in the bulbous shape of Daisy-from-Keeping-Up-Appearances – now playing fat Heather's porky mum, whose only friend is a caged budgie. Oh, her name's Queenie. I don't think she's the person Ian was meant to be meeting, though.

Queenie claims she's been made homeless and endears herself to daughter Heather by immediately ridiculing her size (ahem – pot, kettle?) and scoffing at her plan to marry Minty. I don't blame her for the latter, as that storyline is a bit daft – with dullard Minty still hoping to get his hands on £20,000 if he wins a magazine's wedding competition, in the wake of his actual fiancée leaving him...

Even with a charm bypass on that scale, Queenie is still given a roof over her head -- much to the chagrin of housemates Minty and Gary. I'm not sure why Minty and "Gal" don't put their foot down and demand Queenie get out of their bloody house – but they instead choose to steal Queenie's budgie and leave a hand-written threat on the coffee table. Something with the subtext of: get out, or the bird gets it.

Meanwhile, Tanya is still plotting her escape from cheating husband Max (who slept with his own son's fiancé/wife). She persuades Max to sign a document that allows her access to £100,000 he has, which she'll use to run away with ginger hunk Sean – but the sweetener involves sex with the bald cheat. After discovering the lengths Tanya will go to the next day, lover Sean reacts like he's been punched in the gut. I mean, sleeping with the man you've slept with hundreds of times before – how could you, Tan?!

Anyway, slimy Max is one step ahead of his wife; having got his rocks off with her, he just rips up the document. Tanya finds the document ripped up in the folder she keeps it in, but Max swears he's posted it to their solicitor's. Why don't soap characters ever dispose of incriminating evidence properly? It takes two seconds to put something in a bin! Mind you, if Max had binned it, you can bet your life on the bin-liner splitting as Tanya took the rubbish out – and the secret would be exposed that way. It's soapy fate.

Speaking of fate, Max's is to be buried alive by Tanya and Sean (as the TV magazines and newspapers have spoiled weeks before.) It's a horrible situation that's actually happened to him once before, as a kid, at the hands of his dad and some adult friends. Yep, lovable Jim Branning -- in one of EastEnders least plausible "developments" of a character for years -- locked his son in a coffin! Cuh. You think you know someone...

But anyway, the seeds of Tanya's crazy "buried alive" plan looks to have been sewn by the amount of times daughter Abby spends pining over her dead hamster Marge – now buried in a grave outside the house. Don't worry, Marge was definitely dead when she was buried -- her death had nothing to do with Tanya getting some practice in. She wasn't working herself up from small rodents to big rat-like husbands.

You know what, when you vent about EastEnders' ridiculous nature of late, you actually begin to realize how entertaining it is – in a stupid way. We get quantity, not quality, with British soaps these days – hence the sheer amount of daft plotlines. But, scarily, EastEnders actually resembles a hard-hitting documentary when compared to Emmerdale...


17 March 2008
BBC1, 7.30 pm

EASTENDERS: Feeling uncomfortable yet?

What a horrendous episode of EastEnders tonight! I'm not one of those snotty people who condemn soaps (as I was brought up on a diet of 'Enders, Coronation Street and Emmerdale), and still dip into them sometimes, but EastEnders is the one I keep a closer eye on -- and it's been atrocious recently. Hasn't it?

Tonight's episode was just hideously clunky in every respect. Ian Beale being targeted by sexy, young femme fatale Claire (typecast Hollyoaks actress Gemma Bissix)? It was extremely uncomfortable to watch, and not even in a funny way. Of course, Bissix is absolutely gorgeous (her breasts deserve their own National TV Award!), but she's incredibly stunted as an actress -- inflicted with a curious way to speak all her dialogue veryveryquickly... then... sort of pause, for effect... beforegoingveryveryquick again. Oh, in-between the odd pout, fluttering eyelashes and a leaden come-on. "Are you stiff?" She's a trained masseuse, see.

Needless to say, the sexual chemistry between Bissix and Adam Woodyatt is non-existent, and no amount of cleavage shots could gloss over seeing Ian's scrawny lily-white body sprawled over a two-person sofa, dirty soles of his feet exposed to Claire -- who returned from upstairs, showing more cleavage than a Dolly Parton lookalikes convention! Yeucch.

Elsewhere, we have to suffer one of those cringe-making comedy subplots, with cab driver Charlie being immediately ostracized by Yolande because he "touched her bottom". Clearly a sex-pest, Charlie spent the evening propping up the bar with sour-faced mother-in-law Big Moe, soaking up snide remarks from Yolande, husband Patrick and Terrahawk-faced barmaid Shirley. But it was okay in the end, because Charlie was actually just unsticking a humbug from Yolande's rear-end. The writer obviously watched this Simpsons episode recently.

And, if you weren't already chewing a pillow at the tackiness of everything going on, we were also "treated" (inflicted) with the Branning family's karaoke. The two kids just about managed to murder Britney Spears' "Toxic" believably, but watching soon-to-be-divorced Max and Tanya wail their way through "Where The Wild Roses Grow" was simply awful. Okay, it was at least meant to be uncomfortable to watch, but this entire episode was fuelled by skin-crawling irritations like that...

Oh, and has there every been a character more irksome than Stacy's dotty mum Jean? That woman's whiny voice and mannerisms make my teeth itch; forever bumbling around and giggling inanely. Give it a rest. Yes, I know her character's battling mental illness, but that rarely gets mentioned. I think the writers just want her to be considered amusingly scatterbrained now, but her every appearance makes my eyes roll.

Or did everyone else enjoy this on a so-bad-it-was-good level?

ECHO BEACH: Reverberations

Echo Beach. Filmed in and around Watergate Bay, Cornwall. An apt name, given the scandal being broadcast by ITV...

1. Martine McCutcheon is having a less-than-perfect moment, with the former EastEnders vixen reduced to a frump who'll cry at the slightest mention of former lover Dan, and is one cornish pasty away from beaching herself on the sand...

2. Jason Donovan is grappling heroically -- with his accent. It's a losing battle, mate. Despite having spent the best part of his post-Neighbours life over here, he's still putting on that affected cut-glass English voice all foreigners do. Why, oh why, couldn't they let him just keep his Aussie accent and invent a back-story that fits? Maybe we can ask executive producer Jonathan Pope over on Moving Wallpaper, hmm? During a web-chat, or something. Oh yeah, he's not real...

3. Mrs McCluskey from Grange Hill has mysteriously turned up, too -- now in retirement from the innercity London school. Watch how she valiantly remembers (just about) to not look at the camera when turning her head. What an old-school pro.

4. Mike Baldwin is still suffering from Alzheimer's and is now shuffling around a caravan park thinking he's Cornish. Mike's funeral on Coronation Street must have been an elaborate hoax, that's the only way this make sense. It's definitely ol' Mike, y'see -- he does the same downward stare when he's thinking about something. Or upset. Or about to deliver a line.

5. Bobbi Lewis has also washed-up. Yes, soap fans, you remember Bobbi: the sexy knicker factory worker on Corrie, played by Naomi Ryan about 6 years ago? But she hasn't even recognised her old employer Mr Baldwin...

6. And the bloke from The Full Monty is refusing to get his kit off, and God knows this show needs something to spice it up.

The main question running through my mind now is: why is this on at 9.30 pm? For all its faults, it's perfect bad daytime television -- firmly at a Doctors level of quality. Well, just about. A 6 o'clock showing is as late as I'd schedule it -- but 9.30?! Primetime?

Maybe Echo Beach is supposed to cheer us all up now we're back from Christmas holidays and facing 3 more months of winter? It's the drama equivalent of those Thomas Cook adverts. Only it makes me want to emigrate, just to escape it.

But what of behind-the-scenes comedy sister show Moving Wallpaper, which precedes each episode? You know, the "mockumentary" that's instead filmed like a sitcom. Has nobody involved seen The Office?

It's not rocket science to realize you need to make viewers believe in the reality of your situation -- is it? So, y'know, don't cast people we recognise would be a good starting point. But no, we have the bloke from Primeval (Ben Miller, undoing the good work of his BBC sketch show in one swoop), that grey-haired bloke who turns up everywhere (usually sketch shows), and the sardonic Traveloge porter from I'm Alan Partridge.

Moving Wallpaper is constantly played too broad and the jokes are signposted, or unfunny... but, at least it as a bit of spirit and movement to it -- unlike the Echo Beach main event. It's probably the best ITV sitcom in years already, which isn't really saying much.

I read a defense yesterday that Echo Beach is supposed to be crap, so it's actually doing its job perfectly. I don't buy it. If it was meant to be a funny pastiche of bad soaps, it would be funnier, and wouldn't need a mockumentary appetizer. I'm not saying it has to be blunt and bang us over the head with obvious pastiche, but if its meant to be intentionally bad, it's not even doing that right! It's just... bland. Ask him. Or him. Or her. But not him -- 'cos he sort of liked it.

Soaps are notoriously difficult things to "get going", but even 90s uberflop Eldorada had more plots and characters underway in its first 2 episodes. Why has Echo Beach distilling everything down to a simple family-vs-family/sinister past plot? It's all too narrow. And then they dragged up the old arranged marriage chestnut for the one ethnic character! Do me a favour....

Anyway, I don't even think of Echo Beach as a soap now. The Home & Away beach vibe tricked us. It's just a 12-part drama. On ITV. The home of bad drama for a good 10 years now, and likely to retain its crown in 2008, despite Michael Grade's drama New Year revamp.

MOVING WALLPAPER / ECHO BEACH 1.1

Lord knows we have enough soaps on British television, but there's a new one in town; courtesy of former EastEnders' executive producer Tony Jordan. Having helped reenergize the cop drama, by adding a time-travel twist in Life On Mars, Jordan turns his attention to reinvigorating soap...

Jordan's twist this time? Well, the serial drama in question (Echo Beach; a glamorous fantasy of Cornish coastal life), has a sister show called Moving Wallpaper, starring Ben Miller as Jonathan Pope – Echo Beach's fictional executive producer. It's here that we see the comedic behind-the-scenes mishaps that inform the soap...

To be fair, it's an enticing gimmick. But it's a gimmick all the same. What you end up with is a fictional behind-the-scenes show, poking fun at another fictional show. Miller looks to be having a great time, but treats everything like an extended sketch. Which it is, really. But his character is played too broad and the unsubtle comedy just highlights how utterly fake everything is. Which isurely means a mockumentary has failed in its aim?

There's very little sense of credibility anywhere – just a broad pastiche of what the layman expects to see a television production company do in the name of "art": Pope upsets the writers with constant demands for unpopular rewrites, he makes a child actress cry for the camera, and gets a blowjob from former-Footballers' Wives sex-kitten Susie Amy (who, very improbably, is desperate for a line in a cameo!)

Moving Wallpaper was light and fluffy, neutered by the fact it can't be aggressive in its ribbing of Echo Beach's or its C-list stars... because it knows, and we know, it's all made by the same gang. The best you get is a little nod to the fact Martine McCutcheon only agreed to star because she was told she can sing. Ooh, bet that one stung! Hmmm.

Quite why anyone would watch Moving Wallpaper is just beyond me. It doesn't really add anything to the "main show", and only highlights the fact that Echo Beach is fake. And, while every level-headed person knows that already, it seems very indulgent to have concocted a show to spell that out for us.

Echo Beach itself is set in the fictional Cornish coastal town of Polnarren – imagine Home & Away's Summer Bay, but with British weather.

Actually, to be fair, the production did a good job of making the place look sunny and vibrant, with the aerial photography and glamorous flybys of beaches, country lanes and posh houses suitably dynamic and appealing. It's only a matter of time before the filming location is deluged by fans, upsetting the locals. But the gorgeous Cornwall landscape was Echo Beach's only highlight, as everything else was horribly predictable and quite uninteresting.

Martine McCutcheon plays Susan Penwarden, married to Mark Penwarden (The Full Monty's Hugo Spear), with kids Jimmy (Ed Speleers) and Grace (Laura Greenwood). Into Susan's life comes old flame Daniel Marrack (Jason Donovan), a single-parent of teenagers Brae (Christian Cooke) and sexy Abi (Hannah Lederer-Alton), whose reappearance in town reignites feelings in Susan and jealousy from husband Mark.

It's bad enough that the cast is comprised of two washed-up soap stars (EastEnders' McCutcheon, never making it big -- despite a credible singing voice and "breakout" role in Love, Actually) and Neighbours' Jason Donovan (cashing-in his I'm A Celebrity fame and kitsch-appeal), but there's also the surreal sight of Coronation Street's Mike Baldwin (Johnny Briggs) propping up a bar and doing a terrible Cornish-Cockney accent. Hilarious!

There was a bit of fun to be had in spotting the knock-on effects of Moving Wallpaper's storylines on the soap itself, but can that sustain the whole series? Here, we knew why the café had no furniture (Miller's character had used the budget on his office), we saw that Susie Amy's blowjob had won her a speaking part, and we had already been told that Donovan's character would be staying on -- which was obvious, but how many other secrets will be spoiled by Moving Wallpaper in the weeks to come?!

Of course, Moving Wallpaper told us the writers' original intention was for his character to move on and make Susan and Mark realize how much they love each other – which would make absolutely no dramatic sense! So, the obsessive fictional producer proved he's made better decisions than his writers... and what does that tell you about creativity in the TV industry?

It seems to me that Moving Wallpaper/Echo Beach are a symbiotic relationship that undermine each other. Wallpaper is a an unfunny and unsophisticated "mockumentary", that would be cancelled after a few episodes if it was a standalone series -- but it will survive because it's tied to Echo Beach.

The problem is, Echo Beach is similarly vapid and unconvincing, and the only entertainment came from spotting the result of Wallpaper's storylines -- which was still distracting and mainly served to distance you from the show's "reality". My prediction? Both will limp along together for this 12-episode run, before drowning in a sea of viewer of apathy. Quite why noted soap-writer Tony Jordan did the Wallpaper comedy and other people wrote the Beach soap is also beyond me...

There is a chance that both shows will rapidly improve once they settle into their concepts, but at the moment it looks like a commendably unique idea... that doesn't work in practice. I'm grateful ITV are trying to rebrand their drama output in 2008, but viewers need something more tangible than a self-involved gimmick and a few familiar faces.


10 January 2008
ITV1, 9.00 (Moving Wallpaper)
ITV1, 9.30 (Echo Beach)

THE BRITISH SOAP AWARDS 2007

ITV1, Wed 30 May 2007, 8.00 pm

The soaps really do have overinflated egos.

I'm not a snob. I've watched EastEnders pretty consistenly since the late-80s, Coronation Street has been a part of my life since childhood, Emmerdale has been a guilty pleasure since the "plane crash revamp" and I even watched Neighbours religiously after school until 1996.

I like soaps. It's just as well, because you can't really escape them! They're part of the British national psyche. You may hate them, but everyone knows who Ken Barlow, the Mitchell Brothers and the Dingles are. You may even have a basic grasp of a few storylines, purely through browsing listings magazines and overhearing colleagues chatting at lunchtime.

But, oh yes, soaps have egos. BIG ones. They view themselves as the touchstones of British television. There's an argument for this belief, certainly, but all the soaps are suffering from lapses in quality as their weekly episodes increase.

Soap egomania is best demonstrated every year at the British Soap Awards. Yes, I know there's a British Comedy Awards, but atleast the competition is wide-ranging there. In the Soap Awards it's a five horse race: EastEnders, Coronation Street, Emmerdale, Hollyoaks and Doctors.

As such, there's a bubbling sense of rowdiness you probably remember from school days. Make no mistake, this is the inter-school sports day of the soap world, with Philip Schofield and Fern Britten as bland referees.

Things began on a self-consciously glamorous note with the Red Carpet sequence. A few hundred soap actors pretending they're at the Oscars, set to orchestral bastardizations of soap theme tunes.

The awards ceremony itself is a mix of tacky and glossy. Cast and crews are crammed into a rudimentary ITV studio (black curtains, twinkly lights) to be greeted by Phil n' Fern, a "double act" who never seem entirely comfortable with each other outside of the This Morning studio. Philip got better support from Gordon The Gopher.

Just as the Red Carpet pretence of the Soap Awards being something trendy begins to dwindle at the sight of Fern Britten in a blue inkblot dress, it quickly hits the tackiness button with the first award's announcement: Sexiest Male.

An assortment of actors were nominated and shown customary slo-mo clips with Robert Kazinsky's cold stare in the audience proving very memorable. As EastEnders' Sean Slater, I'm sure Kazinsky's convinced he's destined for Hollywood (all the handsome 'Enders men do), but for now he'll have to suffer the indignity of a Sexiest Male nom...

In the interest of balance, Sexiest Female was next, of course. The Hollyoaks babes seem to have it in the bag (being sexy is, after all, the primarily reason any of them get work), but it was won by Lacey Turner, who plays slutty Stacy in EastEnders. She's been miserable since the show started, before looking horrified at the nomination (muttering "Jeeeesus...") but manages to perk up once she trots to collect her award.

While there's no denying the Soap Awards are a load of self-congratulatory tripe, there's plenty of unintentional laughs to be had along the way. Whenver someone from Hollyoaks or Doctors won, just watch everyone else asking "who the f*ck are they?" with their glassy stares and polite smiles.

The quality of celebs presenting awards was D+ at best. Just what has Keith Barron actually done in the last 20 years? League Of Gentlemen's Steve Pemberton was dragged on just to plug ITV drama Benidorm. Danny Dyer became even more of charicature cockney with his pronouncement of "Emmerdayowl". Penny Lancaster was there for the cash. Greg Rusedski must think being in anything with "British" in the title helps him keep his passport. Oh, and stick-thin Fern Cotton decided to wear a bin bag...

Harry Hill put in the best appearance ("looking at the audience is like looking at the cast of The Bill five years from now"), but then he ruined it by recycling some TV Burp footage. Grump Wiliam Roache didn't look happy to be compared to a ventriloquist's puppet, did he? Nothing could disguise that, not even the magic of editing making the show's scripted gags cause dangerous-looking bellylaughs.

The most memorable moment of the show was hearing Corrie's murdered Charlie Stubbs speak with a plummy voice. It's always disconcerting when working class characters are revealed as thespian luvvies. I still can't wrap my head around the knowledge that Pat Butcher has perfect diction... or that Fred Elliot doesn't talk like a stuck record.

Anyway, by the time X-Factor tosspot Ray Quinn popped up, still under the misapprehension people give a shit about his singing "career", my attention began to flag and Big Brother 8 beckoned...

To quote a clip of Deirdre from earlier, "It doesn't get any more rock bottom than this." Give the woman a Best Summation award!

EASTENDERS
Fri 18 May 07, BBC 1, 8.00pm

As is customary in soaps, every six months you need a life-or-death situation to boost ratings and allow the poor writers a chance to pen a gripping action thriller... on a shoestring budget.

Such a moment came on Friday for EastEnders with a nightmarish camping trip for rivals Phil Mitchell and Ian Beale. Both were forced to go on a camping trip with Ben Mitchell (Phil's son, Ian's half-brother), joined in their gloom by Ian's son Peter and Billy Mitchell.

To say things didn't go according to plan would be like saying "does Dot like fags?" Having already burned down their tent with an errant fire, Phil proceeded to crash their car trying to avoid a tree (heaven knows why a tree had fallen down in the summer...)

Ben had minor whiplash, a blessing given the sprog's run of bad luck (dead mum, abusive stepmum-to-be). Phil and Billy got off lightly with cuts and bruises, plus a severe ear-bashing from Ian soon after. Ian himself had hurt his arm, but the real casualty was his son Peter, breathing but non-responsive on the backseat...

So far, so tragic, but things were about to get worse... and silly.

Omens had been revealing themselves throughout the episode, of course. Whenever a group of blokes have their lives threatened in a soap, you can bet your back teeth their wives and girlfriends are having a wonderful time together. And so it came to pass. Cue the improbable sight of Jane, Peggy, Honey and Lucy having a sing-along to Mica in Tanya's beauty parlour! Of course, there was one boy there (little Bobby Beale) but he'd quickly developed a fascination with cross-dressing, to help the male/female division!

Back to the action and, wouldn't you just know it, Phil's mobile couldn't get a signal! Gah! You'd think they'd gone camping in the wilds of Kenya, not the outskirts of London. It must also have slipped Phil's mind to see if Ian's phone might work instead. In the world of EastEnders, they must all be on the same provider, I guess...

Anyway, Billy's a handy guy to have around if you need someone to run about flailing their arms, so he was dispatched to get help. Of course, the sight of Billy Mitchell emerging from a forest with a bloody forehead only made potential Samaritans drive off!

Back at the smashed-up car, a few moments after Phil's idea to single-handedly move a tree to the side of the road(!) had failed off-screen, he dragged Ian out kick-and-screaming, leaving the two kids on the backseat. It was now that EastEnders morphed into Final Destination 4 and the crashed car mysteriously began to roll down the road! The only possible reason for this was scrawny Ian's weight had been enough to keep a car rooted to the spot... and I'm certain he weighs less than porker Phil.

The car rolled down the hill at a slow pace, chased in futility by fat-boy Phil. But the bad luck didn't end there, as some idiot had put a lake at the bottom of the hill and the car splashed into its murky depths. As the vehicle sunk, kids screaming in the back, Ian desperately leaped into the water and had to be rescued by Phil.

Impending doom and a car-load of cold water had woken Peter up and both kids found themselves trapped underwater in an air-pocket. Phil dived down a few times, finally managing to drag Ben up to safety. Peter (who is a swimming Olympian-in-the-making, according to weeks of foreshadowing by Ian) swam out himself... but snagged his foot in a seatbelt. D'oh!

Luckily, Phil got down and freed him and we left the episode with Phil attempting mouth-to-mouth resuscitation... but not before the most bonkers moment in EastEnders for quite some time. Well, two weeks. Back at the Queen Vic, Peter's twin sister Lucy heard a spooky cry for help, confirmed an earlier statement from ditzy Honey that she might be "telepathetic".

Telly pathetic, more like...