View from across the steet

One of the spec scripts in my head is a TV series that is the antithesis of Ed or The Gilmore Girls--somebody from a big town moves to a small town and remembers why they left.

I grew up in a town of about 600, which is about as close to a panopticon as you can get and still get to choose your own meals. (OK, I exaggerate for comedic effect, but still.) Everybody knew what you were doing because voices carry.

One of the internets has a thing called Watching America, which reminds us that we are not alone on this planet, as much as the administration's foreign policies would indicate. Interesting reading, much like the BBC News or the Guardian.

Speaking of our friends across the pond, I find it quite strange that we'll pay for endless reruns of Bargain Hunt, but nobody will touch the relaunched Doctor Who with a ten-meter pole. OK, maybe the former is cheap as chips, but a little David Dickinson goes a long way... Warren Ellis's review got me interested:

Well, it’s better than that brainless monstrosity of a TV movie that poor old Paul McGann battled through.

And, for the comics readers in the audience, that is indisputably a Bryan Hitch-designed TARDIS interior.

Christopher Eccleston, as the Doctor, is a delight. I imagine he'll settle down as the series progresses, but right now he’s a walking mood-swing--Tom Baker's mad grin and sudden command, Jon Pertwee's physicality, Patrick Troughton's impish side. And he's got a great old leather jacket. He keeps his Northern accent, and when his new assistant asks him why he sounds Northern when he's an alien, writer Russell Davies gives him the fine line: "LOTS of planets have a North!"

The Sci-Fi Channel passed--I guess they turned the savings into Mansquito. There's money well spent!