I was feeling a bit poorly (or perhaps I should say pawly) the other week, and as is often the case at such times I ended up sprawled in front of the TV mindlessly watching whatever was on for two days. It happened to coincide with half-term, and children’s satellite/cable channel Boomerang seemed to obsessed for the week with Scooby-Doo! cartoons.
Now I admit, Scooby-Doo! was one of my first big favourites shows as a kid, when I was about four or five. Its blend of mystery solving and horror/monsters pretty much still to this day sums up my genre preferences, after all. As far as being under the weather is concerned, this was perfect – a golden opportunity to revisit my childhood.
I hadn’t realised that there had been so many iterations of the show over the years: the one I remember with the most nostalgia is the original 1969 series Scooby-Doo, Where Are You? which ran eternally in the BBC early evening children’s slot even though there were only ever 25 episodes. This set up the basic format of the show and its main characters: Scooby the great Dane, his cowardly owner Shaggy, and the rest of the Mystery, Inc. team – Fred, Daphne and Velma. However these episodes do now show their age, especially with painful 60s and 70s hippyish references, and the stories can best be described as ‘basic’ with the culprit unmasked at the end sometimes never having been seen in the episode till then. Continue reading
The good news: it’s not the total unmitigated catastrophe that it had established itself in my memory as being. There are even some good moments in it. And it’s certainly no where near as awful and unlikeable as, say, the corresponding fifth movie in the Die Hard franchise turned out to be. In fact you might say that it would make a middling episode of the original TV series’ third and final season (which as true fans will know is indeed damning with faint praise.)
Not, I should immediately make clear, by the story and events of “The Name of the Doctor”, the series finale of the extended staccato season 7 of Doctor Who. As has so often been the case with Steven Moffat’s work down the years, what appeared at the outset to be brain-scrambling head-twister of a puzzle is by the end almost charmingly simple and straight-forward by the time it’s explained – and I mean that as a sincere compliment, an example of the craft of writing at its highest level.
Let’s cut through the suspense and deliver the bottom line: is it any good? The answer is yes, very. If you love the 2009 JJ Abrams-helmed reboot (
I say ‘billed as a crime drama’ because to be honest it feels more like a comedy pastiche at times, right from the opening titles which are impressively and stylishly done but which play exactly like a modern video game. Then there’s the fact that everyone’s so ruddy jolly and perky, busy having illicit sex in blacked-out rooms at the height of air raids, chuckling to their favourite radio show, heading off to dance houses and generally having a whale of a time of it.
Now that cinema has picked the bones of Dr Lector clean, it’s time for television to have its go with a brand new project entitled – oh, how imaginatively – Hannibal. But it’s not a new adaptation of the novel/film of that name, nor is it a new run at the prequel: although set prior to the events of Red Dragon, it’s not as far back into Lector’s childhood. Instead it takes as its jumping off point certain references from Harris’ first book referencing how a young FBI profiler by the name of Will Graham – cursed with exceptional empathy and insight into the minds of serial killers – first met and eventually exposed Lector.



