The season of plane crash shows
Irecently travelled to Sydney in an aircraft so small it’d been taken off the Hokitika to Westport run. Great flight, good service but too cramped. I’m sure I heard the cabin crew recommend you stow your legs in the overhead locker.
The aircraft type is described on your ticket in the sort of abbreviation that doctors use to prescribe treatment for fungal toes. You have to learn to break the code.
Is there anything worse? Yes, TVNZ has pulled a series about aviation nightmares out of the sock drawer, then scheduled it for holidays. It’s called World’s Worst Flights (TV One, Tuesdays). It ranks with Gran’s Remedy for smelly feet but I watched it.
In a monotone, a funereal voice claimed that one of our greatest fears is a plane crash. True. Then the episode described everything that could go wrong. It even interviewed the survivors.
The worst example was the British Airways flight from Las Vegas to Heathrow in September 2015. Full of 170 passengers who’d lost their money at the casino, they were now going to ‘‘do their chips’’ on the runway.
Just before take-off, the captain heard a dull thud, the plane stopped and an engine full of jet fuel burst into flame. Smoke filled the cabin. There was no reassuring voice from the cockpit but a spare pilot burst into economy, looked out the window and ran back again.
It’s the equivalent of putting your toe in the water to see if it’s wet. Yes it was burning. About 90 seconds later passengers were told to evacuate. Using the three emergency slides that worked, they slid to safety. We were never told about the luggage. Did the souvenirs from Caesar’s Palace survive or the programmes autographed by Celine Dion?
There were two other examples. An engine failed above Longbeach, California and a light plane crashed into shark-infested waters off Hawaii. There was nothing wrong with the episode’s production values. It was well scripted, alarm was etched into the faces of the survivors and cellphone footage was helpful. I just question the programme’s timing and motivation.
The Casketeers (TV One, Mondays) is a most unlikely TV series, but it succeeds. It’s about people and the jobs they do. The best stories in the world are about people, unless they’re the Kardashians.
The publicity blurb says Francis and Kaiora Tipene take the ‘‘taboo out of death and address it with dignity and aroha’’. For once it’s right. We see Francis delivering Monty Busby’s casket to the Wanderers Club in Mangere where he spent a lot of his time, then back to the funeral chapel overnight.
It could be a grave undertaking but it’s not. Francis has an infectious sense of humour. I’m sure, in the future, he’ll buy a his and hearse people-mover. In a further sequence he administers the exhumation of Somers Edwards’ body. Part of a skull is found but it’s enough to relocate it closer to the family.
When Francis isn’t looking after dead bodies he’s on a health kick, going to the gym, drinking protein shakes, checking the building for dust and trialling his new Turbo-vac.
If you think funeral directors suck, think again. Instead they blow and Francis and Kaiora blow with them. It’s a great series.
If you’re looking for a slow moving thriller then White Dragon (Soho 2, Wednesdays) might do the trick. It’s hardly out of first gear but, with six episodes to go, it’s due for supercharging.
Jonah Mulray is a British academic who learns his wife, Megan, has been killed in a car accident in Hong Kong. She spends part of her year there. When Jonah arrives to identify the body he’s drawn into a web of conspiracy. He discovers she’s also married to ex-cop David Chen and has a daughter, Lau Chen. Then there’s the British consul officer, Sally Porter, whose fiancee, Ben, steals confidential information to blackmail an opponent. He finishes up as dead as Megan.
White Dragon could be as big as Benhur or as befuddled as Brexit.