SAS recruits giving their ‘everyfing’
‘‘There’s so much more peace in war.’’
The contradictory remark came from Ant or Foxy or one other of the effing instructors in SAS: Who Dares Wins (TV3, Wednesdays). They were training recruits to become members of the British Army’s special forces unit. The pearl of wisdom was never explained.
The instructors appeared bored in the episode. Training’s alright, but it’s not as good as the real ‘‘fing’’. They were so in love with the ‘‘f’’ word, they preferred it to ‘‘th’’.
The new series of SAS: Who Dares Wins is set in a remote part of Morocco. Twenty-five recruits are being trained – make that brutalised and humiliated – in the art of counter terrorism, hostage rescue and all sorts of covert action. If they took part in Australian Spartan, they’d win and then destroy the set and maim the judges.
The first episode was engrossing in a bizarre sort of way. Instead of saying ‘‘follow me, we can do this’’, the instructors’ job was to harden and dehumanise the recruits. Four pulled out in the first day. I don’t blame them.
We saw them fighting toe to toe, holding packs over their heads as they ran, pulling themselves across a canyon on a single rope and being blindfolded, interrogated and subjected to hours of intermittent sleep.
Amuz, a recruit, suffered a panic attack. But, after his canyon ordeal, he said: ‘‘I can overcome anyfink.’’ I’m sure he can – except for the English language. Amuz could find more peace in war, but probably lose his humanity along the way.
Chuck Lorre is a gifted TV writer who loves creating people so damaged or botoxed that they’ll gift their bodies to Tupperware when they die. In Mom (TV2, Wednesdays), he’s created Christy and Bonnie Plunkett. They’re a dysfunctional daughter and mother, who have a back story so huge it’s more front and sideways.
All the characters are deliberately weird. It means Chuck and his team can give them one-liners to match their personalities. Mom has a basic plot. It has to be simple to enable the characters to wisecrack through each episode. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t.
This week, Jill, a wealthy divorced socialite, returns from a wellness retreat a changed woman. Bonnie checks her out. ‘‘She’ll have new boobs and a neck like a baby’s.’’ So, she gets up close and personal to find out. ‘‘No scarring. Good work.’’ Bonnie’s impressed.
Jill’s changed life means she doesn’t pick up the tab anymore, which causes resentment. If Bonnie wants to have sex with her pudding, she can pay for it herself, Jill says. The lines don’t get any better.
Meanwhile, Christy wants to go to law school, but misses out with every application. The episode peters out, but not without some laughs. Another character, Wendy, is intuitive, cries a lot and is ‘‘our canary in the coal mine’’. I pity the miners.
Allison Janney is superb as Bonnie. She’s turned her character into a reincarnated Joan Rivers. The rest of the cast are adequate and only as good as their dialogue.
We’re now into the fifth season and it’s time for another sitcom. Chuck, your Trump card should be the chaos in the Oval Office? But, if you go there, remember your cast must get fired every episode.
I loved the 1970s and raised my hopes that the TV series would allow me to relive the great moments of the decade. But instead, The Seventies (TV3, Tuesdays) wallowed in American TV.
It regarded All In The Family as the harbinger for future domestic comedies. Archie Bunker’s bigotry should have stayed in the family and not escaped out the back door. It was MASH, The Muppets and even Charlie’s Angels that illuminated our screens 40 years ago.
Caught On Dashcam (TV3, Mondays) is more than carnage on the roads. Instead of showing every smash, the reality series carries the sort of instructions you find on cigarette packets.
They were valuable – don’t drive through red lights, stay on your side of the white line, don’t spill petrol when refuelling your vehicle and don’t be a spectator at rally events.