John Byrne looks back on the season two finale of True Detective, a new post-apocalyptic US comedy, and surrenders to a Frank Sinatra double bill on BBC 4.
Reviewed: True Detective (Monday, Sky Atlantic): The Last Man on Earth (Dave, Monday); Sinatra: All or Nothing at All (Friday, BBC 4); Friday Night at the Proms: Seth MacFarlane Sings Sinatra (Friday, BBC 4); Rick Stein From Venice to Istanbul (Friday, BBC Two)
The second season of True Detective (Monday, Sky Atlantic) reminded me of listening to a new album by a band I liked, and growing increasingly disappointed as one crap song followed another. Then, suddenly, episode six delivered an engrossing hour, the pretentiousness and flab were gone, and we had a thriller on our hands. Could this season manage to redeem itself?
Last week's penultimate episode also impressed, although the killing of Taylor Kitsch's Paul Woodrugh was a little on the lame side. Still, suddenly it was all set up for a satisfying ending after five hours of tedious nonsense. Then the finale happened.
I can take or leave the idea of an extended episode ending a show's season, but after what fans had sat through with TD2, well, I always was the kind of person who felt that less was more. Unfortunately, the finale opened up with Colin Farrell's Ray and Rachel McAdams' Ani in bed together, competing for the Dullest Monologue of the Season Award. They went on and on, and then some more, and Farreller's raspy mumble only made matters worse as it's near impossible to decipher. His character's voice sounds like a blend of Marlboro man and morse code.
There was a slightly less monotonous conversation between Leonard and his missus, before the episode livened up with a series of pretty bog-standard action scenes, where the body count just kept on growing to compensate for the lack of a coherent plot. When the dust settled another two of the four main characters were without a pulse, Ani was in Venezuala and thank God it's all over.
I wouldn't give up completely on True Detective - the first season was too good for such a fickle act - but there's a serious danger that it could go down the same creative black hole that rapidly turned Heroes in to a big fat zero a few years ago. Season three needs an immediate impact or this show is finished.
No such early-season expectations with The Last Man on Earth (Dave, Monday), a new US comedy created by and starring former Saturday Night Live staffer Will Forte. Set in 2020, Phil Miller (Forte) is seemingly the only human left here a year after a deadly virus swept the planet.
Being a bloke - even one in his forties - Miller embarks on a semi-adolescent journey that involves copious amounts of alcohol, tons of snack food, roomfuls of rubbish, and turning a swimming pool into an outdoor toilet.
Despite making new friends by painting faces on a variety of balls (as in tennis, basketball, etc), loneliness gets the better of him. But just as he's about to give in and commit suicide, he sees smoke in the distance. The source of the fire turns out to be Carol Pilbasian (played by Flight of the Conchords' Kristen Schaal), a shrill, ultra-orthodox and nagging woman rather than the malleable babe of his dreams.
Despite plenty of rave reviews in its native US and lofty notions of 'entertaining scenarios that express Phil's existential struggle', all I saw was one clichéd boorish male at odds with a similarly stereotypical nagging female. I'd give it another episode, just for the hell of it. There were a few funny moments, but the prognosis is poor if the characters remain cardboard cut-outs.
From the ridiculous to the sublime, as BBC 4 began celebrating the centenary of Frank Sinatra's birth by screening the first part of Sinatra: All or Nothing at All (Friday, BBC 4), an HBO four-parter by ace documentary maker Alex Gibney, whose impressive body of work includes Mr Dynamite: The Rise of James Brown.
Using similar techniques, which also worked very well in Asif Kapadia's recent Amy Winehouse documentary, Gibney welds words and visuals together to create an audiovisual portrait of Sinatra, a man who cast an enormous shadow over popular music during the 20th Century.
Okay, it's only the first of four episodes, but this opener set the bar almost as high as Ol' Blue Eyes used to when he was playing live or recording. As well as utilising a remarkable cachet of footage and commentary, the series weaves around rarely-seen footage of Sinatra's famous 1971 Retirement Concert in Los Angeles. The documentary's narrative is shaped by his choice of eleven songs for that concert, which Gibney interprets as the singer’s musical tour of his own life. Part one journeyed through Sinatra's formative years and was fascinating in its thoroughness and scope. Can't wait for the rest of the story . . .
As a companion to Sinatra: All or Nothing at All, BBC 4 also aired Friday Night at the Proms: Seth MacFarlane Sings Sinatra, a live broadcast from the Albert Hall in London, one of the world's great concert venues.
MacFarlane is best known for being the genius behind animated TV shows such as Family Guy and American Dad, but he's also quite a good singer. He's no Sinatra, mind, but with the John Wilson Orchestra on tap, this was a rapturous 90 minutes of pure entertainment. Focusing on Sinatra's Capitol years, when he was at an artistic peak, the orchestra utilised the arrangements of Sinatra collaborator Nelson Riddle to great effect. It was a dizzying musical journey.
MacFarlane took the odd break, with actor/singer Jamie Parker and then jazz singer Claire Martin joining in the fun. A personal favourite was a thumping version of Cole Porter's I've Got You Under My Skin - quite possibly the greatest song ever written. So sad to think that Sinatra's voice has been silenced forever. He may have been a repugnant human being, but he could hold a tune like no one else.
Finally, Rick Stein From Venice to Istanbul (Friday, BBC Two) had me yearning once more for Venice, where he starts this culinary journey through the eastern Mediterranean. It's the kind of place where you wish you and yours were the only visitors, and that the local grub could be consumed without any weight-gain. This show went beyond being a mere guilty pleasure and I was looking up flights well before the credits rolled.
As usual, the cooking looked easy and Stein was effortlessly affable, but - also as usual - I think I'll stick to consuming. I'll have the Spaghetti alle Vongole and a bottle of fizzy white wine. Grazie!
John Byrne
