Gems in American Television

When it's good, American television is very, very good, with writing that routinely surpasses its silver-screen competition for sheer quality. Whether it's the recently-retired President Bartlet running an inspirational West Wing, or the stressed-out and soon-to-be-retired mob-boss Tony Soprano attempting to keep order in the New Jersey ranks, I've been surprised to find myself drawn to television over recent years in a way that I never expected. I think that to an extent we're lucky here in the UK for generally only receiving the best American exports, with critical reactions in the US in some ways acting as a quality-control filter. The recent return of Doctor Who to British television (and subsequently the world after its stunning success), gave our industry a much-needed shot-in-the-arm, although we're still inundated with banal medical dramas and anything kitchen-sink in style that can be done on the cheap and still find itself winning National Television Awards.

One of the problems in the UK is that we have so little money in either film or television, especially in contrast to the studio-funded stateside productions. Before the rebirth of Doctor Who, perhaps the most imaginative British-made TV series screened in recent years was a Channel 4 production called Ultraviolet, a kind of vampire thriller that's since been remade in the US. That lasted one solitary season (and that's six fifty-minute episodes, as opposed to the dozen or so that usually form a minimum production commitment in the US). Ten years of creative stifling followed, with Doctor Who finally representing something a bit different, although still risky despite the programme's rich history and global fan-base. There is an audience for material beyond the everyday and the banal in this country, but I believe there is a prejudice towards it. Further, when the Americans have more money to throw at exciting new ideas, networks on this side of the pond would rather shell out for broadcast rights to established hits, than take a risk with something new of their own.

Recently, I've had to search around to route out the gems amongst the usual American imports. Luckily, I've found two massive winners. Firstly, crime drama The Wire is perhaps one of the best pieces of screen-drama I've ever seen, on film or TV. There are three seasons currently available on DVD in the UK (criminally ignored by the major networks, the series has only been picked-up by obscure cable-channel FX in the UK), with each telling the story of a single case stretching over twelve episodes, a crime novel told on-screen. The story is told fully from the perspective of both cop and criminal, and all the ingredients come together to form a hugely rewarding viewing experience.

My second discovery took me from left-field and I truly never saw it coming. As a 25 year-old, I never expected to be thrilled by Battlestar Galactica, but it's happened. The original series was axed almost thirty years ago and is best remembered for being regarded as a cheap Star Wars rip-off. Which it pretty much was. Four years ago it was given a radical makeover and became a mini-series, which in turn became a full season, which then became one of the highest-rated shows on US TV. As a sci-fi 9/11 allegory, it's perhaps one of the most topical and relevant television shows around right now, although many have been put off by the spaceships-and-lasers surface sheen. After all, sci-fi is for geeks... right?

The 2002 mini-series dealt with a devastating terrorist attack (the terrorists are androids named Cylons in the context of the show) that leaves fewer than 50,000 humans alive. As the survivors flee into the depths of space, they discover that the enemy, ironically created by Man in the first place (read what you like into the Iraq War), have evolved to impersonate humans, and that there are enemy 'sleepers' living among them, willing to sacrifice their own lives in their relentless pursuit to destroy humanity. As the situation intensifies aboard the military space-vessel Galactica, suicide bombers are endured, and suspected Cylons are stripped of their rights and tortured, in increasingly desperate attempts to preserve the remnants of the human race. It is, indeed, a brave new world. This is adult drama of the highest order; we've come a long way since the camp theatrics of the 70s.

Borat: Great Culture-Clash Comedy

Yesterday, I was lucky enough to catch a UK preview of Sacha Baron Cohen's first filmic outing as Kazakhstani journalist Borat, in the brilliantly titled Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan.

I've never been a huge fan of Cohen's more famous character, Ali-G, who was originally a late-night phenomenon here in the UK, but is now rarely seen on these shores. In contrast, I've always enjoyed Cohen's Borat sketches, which is strange considering that, as a very sheltered character with little experience of anything outside his own immediate life and culture, Borat is very similar to Ali-G.

The strength of Ali-G was always his ability to catch powerful individuals off-guard through his apparent charm and naivety, essentially tricking people into revealing their true thoughts on controversial subjects, from women in the workplace through to correct dinner-party etiquette.

Borat shares all Ali-G's abilities and more. The Kazakhstani government has rigorously attacked the film for its portrayal of the Kazakhstani people as backward, but the reality is very different. Borat is a physical embodiment of the Kazakhstani stereotype, and can even be seen to represent the way in which many westerners view the eastern-European and Islamic worlds in general. As a character Borat works on two levels; he satirises and mocks as unacceptable the derogotory views of women which are still prevalent in many cultures around the world, whilst simultaneously satirising the US stereotype of middle-eastern cultures by playing up to it.

As with Ali-G, the opinions that Cohen expresses as Borat succeed in drawing out prejudices and laissez-faire attitudes amongst individuals - and even crowds - he meets in the US. In the conservative Republican heartland that is the mid-West, Cohen delivers a particularly ballsy performance and manages to draw applause from a rodeo crowd for inciting little short of the total destruction of Iraq. Only when he asks for President Bush to drink the blood of the Iraqi people in celebration of their destruction, does the crowd begin to waver in their support for the general sentiment. The scenes are remarkably reminiscent of attitudes held towards the Vietnamese people forty years ago, by a people who had little understanding of the culture they were fighting against.

On the surface then, Borat is a culture-clash comedy following a bumbling Kazakhstani reporter as he sets out to document the American way of life, and instead initiates an impromtu roadtrip from New York to LA. So far, so accessible for the MTV generation. That might normally be something of a criticism if it wasn't for the fact that Borat is very, hysterically funny. Then, as if that wasn't enough, look just beneath the surface, and you'll find a biting satire of western prejudice and naivety.