Jak's View of Vancouver v.3

I am very disappointed that Knowledge Network is spending scarce resources on re-running episodes of Death in Paradise.

For those not aware, Death In Paradise is a British TV crime series. From what I understand it is one of the top three shows, by audience, on British TV and has managed to last for thirteen seasons, now being broadcast in most countries of the world.

Set on a fictional island, a British possession in the Caribbean, each episode of the series sets up a murder mystery — often a variation of the locked room genre — that needs to be solved by the police led by a visiting British detective inspector. It is often comedic in a lighthearted way, and highly formulaic.  The setting is beautiful (filmed on Guadeloupe) and, for what it is, the acting is fine.  Nearly every episode has one or more guest stars who are well-known personalities on British TV.

It is, however, racist to the core and a paean to colonialism.

It is racist because, although most of the local — black — police characters are shown to be both interesting and good at their jobs, in no case is the murder ever solved by anyone other than the white detective. In the formula used to close every episode, he — always a he — gathers all the potential suspects together and explains in detail how he has brilliantly worked out the mystery.  Applause all around while the British detective takes his bows.

As for the colonialism, there is no attempt to have a local officer work their way up to the inspector level. The inspector is always seconded from London. And always white. It is as if black British actors such as Idris Elba, David Ajala, or Lenny Henry don’t exist.

I am probably making too much of this; after all, I am sure the production gives lots of work to local actors and crew. But it does piss me off.

For those not aware, Death In Paradise is a British TV crime series. From what I understand it is one of the top three shows, by audience, on British TV and has managed to last for nine seasons, now being broadcast in most countries of the world.

Set on a fictional island, a British possession in the Caribbean, each episode of the series sets up a murder mystery — often a variation of the locked room genre — that needs to be solved by the police led by a visiting British detective inspector. It is often comedic in a lighthearted way, and highly formulaic.  The setting is beautiful (filmed on Guadeloupe) and, for what it is, the acting is fine.  Nearly every episode has one or more guest stars who are well-known personalities on British TV.

It is, however, racist to the core and a paean to colonialism.

It is racist because, although most of the local — black — police characters are shown to be both interesting and good at their jobs, in no case is the murder ever solved by anyone other than the white detective. In the formula used to close every episode, he — always a he — gathers all the potential suspects together and explains in detail how he has brilliantly worked out the mystery.  Applause all around while the British detective takes his bows.

As for the colonialism, there is no attempt to have a local officer work their way up to the inspector level. The inspector is always seconded from London. And always white. It is as if black British actors such as Idris Elba, David Ajala, or Lenny Henry don’t exist.

I am probably making too much of this; after all, I am sure the production gives lots of work to local actors and crew. But it does piss me off.

None of us today — at least none of us in the industrialised north and south — can remember a time when there wasn’t either the TV or the movies to give us animated entertainment.  But life before us wasn’t dull or without its own mechanical delights.

The always interesting Low-tech Magazine has a fascinating series of articles covering the Panorama, the Stereoscope, the Magic Lantern, and the Peep Show.

Well worth the time.

For those not aware, Death In Paradise is a British TV crime series. From what I understand it is one of the top three shows, by audience, on British TV and has managed to last for nine seasons, now being broadcast in most countries of the world.

Set on a fictional island, a British possession in the Caribbean, each episode of the series sets up a murder mystery — often a variation of the locked room genre — that needs to be solved by the police led by a visiting British detective inspector. It is often comedic in a lighthearted way, and highly formulaic.  The setting is beautiful (filmed on Guadeloupe) and, for what it is, the acting is fine.  Nearly every episode has one or more guest stars who are well-known personalities on British TV.

It is, however, racist to the core and a paean to colonialism.

It is racist because, although most of the local — black — police characters are shown to be both interesting and good at their jobs, in no case is the murder ever solved by anyone other than the white detective. In the formula used to close every episode, he — always a he — gathers all the potential suspects together and explains in detail how he has brilliantly worked out the mystery.  Applause all around while the British detective takes his bows.

As for the colonialism, there is no attempt to have a local officer work their way up to the inspector level. The inspector is always seconded from London. And always white. It is as if black British actors such as Idris Elba, David Ajala, or Lenny Henry don’t exist.

I am probably making too much of this; after all, I am sure the production gives lots of work to local actors and crew. But it does piss me off.

Just fifty-five years ago today, viewers and listeners in the UK were shocked to hear for the first time on the BBC someone saying the word “fuck” without it being bleeped.

The protagonist of this drama was the theatre critic and essayist Kenneth Tynan, a well-known provocateur.

“On 13 November 1965, Tynan participated in a live TV debate, broadcast as part of the BBC‘s late-night satirical show BBC-3. He was asked whether he would allow a play to be staged in which sexual intercourse was represented on the stage, and replied: “Well, I think so, certainly. I doubt if there are any rational people to whom the word ‘fuck’ would be particularly diabolical, revolting or totally forbidden. I think that anything which can be printed or said can also be seen.” 

Paul Johnson later called Tynan’s use of the word “his masterpiece of calculated self-publicity”, adding “for a time it made him the most notorious man in the country”. There were apologies from the BBC and even a House of Commons debate about it.

Now, a generation and more after, we are more surprised by TV and film dramas where that word — and many others — are not used.

I am becoming ever more irritated with newsreaders (especially) who add a pause before the final couple of words in each sentence. If the final phrase had some special meaning then perhaps it might be OK. But usually it is just the end of a sentence — nothing special — and it is used as some kind of effect.

I suppose they are taught this in broadcasting school, and I am noticing it more frequently these days with younger anchors. Scott Roberts on CTV News is a prime example of a pauser.

It really annoys me.

Many of us might be familiar with the recent news that the Fred Perry Company has stopped producing a particular style of polo shirt because the clothing has been adopted by the fascist Proud Boys and similar neo-Nazi scum. In light of that, the Everloving came across an interesting article in BuzzFlash which led to others supplying a brief historical background to the uses and abuses of fashion by fascists.

For example, Manjima Bhattacharjya wrote in her Firstpost column titled “Dressed to kill”, that the age of high fascism and fashion are inextricably and insidiously linked.

“The Italian fascist party through the 1930s and 1940s systematically employed the fashion industry as a tool to mold the cultural expressions of nation, class and gender in the ‘new Italy.’” After the Nazi occupation of  France, “Hitler used fashion as propaganda, organizing photo-shoots of stylish people in Paris alongside his soldiers, to show that people were living happily under the occupation.”

Fashion historian Kimberly Chrisman-Campbell, author of Worn on This Day told Fast Company:

“The appeal [of the Perry shirts] for the Proud Boys seems to be in its laurel wreath logo—a sports reference inconveniently reminiscent of Nazi imagery—and specific color combinations,” Fast Company’s Elizabeth Segran noted that “Adolf Hitler’s ceremonial flag, for instance, featured a black swastika in the center of a yellow wreath.”

On October 8, Glossy’s Danny Parissi reported that

“Groups like the Proud Boys have a long history of co-opting fashion brands and aesthetics to appeal to potential new members, and that aesthetic has been moving further toward high-fashion. (The polo sells for $90 at Bloomingdale’s.) For the brands who these groups latch onto, the association can be hard to shake.” The same article noted that “Dr. Martens, whose boots have been a staple in British and American fashion for decades, has long been dogged by associations with Neo-Nazi groups and skinheads, who adopted the Doc Martens boot as part of their aesthetic in the 1980s. That association has followed the brand ever since. In 2017, the brand was criticized widely for a billboard showing a black boot with red laces, a color combination that is often worn by skinhead groups, with the red laces specifically denoting that one has ‘spilled blood’ for the cause.

As Howard Graves comments, there is little the companies can do: “The furthest reaches of it are out of the brands’ hands. If the Proud Boys want to keep saying they love Fred Perry and wearing Fred Perry, they’re going to keep doing it. They’re relentless. But I tend to think that an open refutation of groups that are co-opting your brand for fascism is the least you can do and heartening when I see it.”

In advance of World Press Freedom Day on Sunday, Visual Capitalist has this interesting map indicating the level of press freedom around the globe.

Select image for a detailed look.

One doesn’t have to accept the figures given as gospel. It does however allow a good general indication.

For those not aware, Death In Paradise is a British TV crime series. From what I understand it is one of the top three shows, by audience, on British TV and has managed to last for nine seasons, now being broadcast in most countries of the world.

Set on a fictional island, a British possession in the Caribbean, each episode of the series sets up a murder mystery — often a variation of the locked room genre — that needs to be solved by the police led by a visiting British detective inspector. It is often comedic in a lighthearted way, and highly formulaic.  The setting is beautiful (filmed on Guadeloupe) and, for what it is, the acting is fine.  Nearly every episode has one or more guest stars who are well-known personalities on British TV.

It is, however, racist to the core and a paean to colonialism.

It is racist because, although most of the local — black — police characters are shown to be both interesting and good at their jobs, in no case is the murder ever solved by anyone other than the white detective. In the formula used to close every episode, he — always a he — gathers all the potential suspects together and explains in detail how he has brilliantly worked out the mystery.  Applause all around while the British detective takes his bows.

As for the colonialism, there is no attempt to have a local officer work their way up to the inspector level. The inspector is always seconded from London. And always white. It is as if black British actors such as Idris Elba, David Ajala, or Lenny Henry don’t exist.

I am probably making too much of this; after all, I am sure the production gives lots of work to local actors and crew. But it does piss me off.