Wednesday, September 22, 2004
I'm Gonna Learn How To Sing - High
Does anyone remember The Biz? The answer to that is probably no-one and, if you do you're unlikely to remember it fondly, as it was a piss-poor stage school thing which was solely responsible for bringing Paul Nicholls fame, although it did have a good bit at the end of the theme tune where someone went "The Biz" in a someone-has-just-discovered-the-world-of-vocal-effects kinda way. Anyway, while the general public may not remember it, the BBC clearly do, as the first episode of I Dream, The Biz for the 21st century and a 19 Management production, was launched this afternoon on CBBC1.
The programme itself started off with the slightly dodgy premise of an elderly man, Christopher Lloyd, sending out DVD's to a bunch of talented teenagers, one of whom appeared to be 27, encouraging them to come and visit him at Avalon Heights where he promised to fulfill all their dreams, including those that they never even knew they had. Rather than handing it into the police immediately, the kids decide instead that the best course of action is to break into an impromptu song and then get on a bus to the school despite the fact that no-one has heard of this place and their parents never seemed to get consulted. Fortunately, both for them and the plot of a children's programme, it turns out that Christopher Lloyd is not a paedophile, but is instead the headmaster of the greatest performing arts school in the country - though it's credentials must surely be brought into doubt given that S Club 8 are pupils there - and is not averse to suddenly performing piss-poor knock-offs of Smash Mouth songs. He greets them and their adventures, such as they are, begin.
This week's episode centred around the kids - oh and given this is a BBC production, all the talented kids are attractive and middle-class, though we reckon there'll be a token working class kid with a heart of gold turning up in later episodes - overhearing a conversation about tomato plants and assuming that they were about to be sent home from the school, leading us to surmise that, as opposed to the more standard word processor, a crowbar is the writer's tool of choice for this show. They also introduced a sub-plot involving the fame-obsessed girl (posh, blonde, self-obsessed, wears short skirts and is definitely in no way ripped off from Alicia Silverstone's character in Clueless) and the for-real girl (brunette, wears baggy trousers and army shirts, sarcastic and plays an instrument) not quite getting on. What a surprise!
Of course, while it may be badly acted, written and exist in a version of Britain which not only is constantly sunny, but also has never existed outside the fevered imaginings of Daily Telegraph readers, we're still going to be watching each episode, and why not? It's already proved to be more entertaining than The Biz.
The programme itself started off with the slightly dodgy premise of an elderly man, Christopher Lloyd, sending out DVD's to a bunch of talented teenagers, one of whom appeared to be 27, encouraging them to come and visit him at Avalon Heights where he promised to fulfill all their dreams, including those that they never even knew they had. Rather than handing it into the police immediately, the kids decide instead that the best course of action is to break into an impromptu song and then get on a bus to the school despite the fact that no-one has heard of this place and their parents never seemed to get consulted. Fortunately, both for them and the plot of a children's programme, it turns out that Christopher Lloyd is not a paedophile, but is instead the headmaster of the greatest performing arts school in the country - though it's credentials must surely be brought into doubt given that S Club 8 are pupils there - and is not averse to suddenly performing piss-poor knock-offs of Smash Mouth songs. He greets them and their adventures, such as they are, begin.
This week's episode centred around the kids - oh and given this is a BBC production, all the talented kids are attractive and middle-class, though we reckon there'll be a token working class kid with a heart of gold turning up in later episodes - overhearing a conversation about tomato plants and assuming that they were about to be sent home from the school, leading us to surmise that, as opposed to the more standard word processor, a crowbar is the writer's tool of choice for this show. They also introduced a sub-plot involving the fame-obsessed girl (posh, blonde, self-obsessed, wears short skirts and is definitely in no way ripped off from Alicia Silverstone's character in Clueless) and the for-real girl (brunette, wears baggy trousers and army shirts, sarcastic and plays an instrument) not quite getting on. What a surprise!
Of course, while it may be badly acted, written and exist in a version of Britain which not only is constantly sunny, but also has never existed outside the fevered imaginings of Daily Telegraph readers, we're still going to be watching each episode, and why not? It's already proved to be more entertaining than The Biz.
