Hoping for some snappy writing, good acting, evocative settings, etc. I started to watch a 2009 series, Trinity, about life in an English university. I lasted ten minutes.
One of the puzzlements of my earlier life was trying to decide if I had a good dose of intuition and could assess some things very quickly, or if I were that dreaded demon of The Sixties, a "judgmental" person. I later decided, in the interests of inclusivity, that I was both and happy to be so.
So that's why, after only ten minutes, I "intuited" that Trinity was execrable crap. If a TV series (!) starts out with two of the extremely unlikeable leads --selfish cad and cad-ess--literally bouncing around a room in noisy coitus, this is not a sign that the writing and plot will be of quality. And when the blond skank --after refusing to led her cad come-- then meets Numinous Negro in the hallway (he's streetwise sexy but a brilliant scholar) for a game of come-on and come-off. And when the group of Christians in the school --the plot starts from the death of the heroine's vicar-professor-father-- are slimily cast as homely retarded killjoys.
Well, welcome to modern England. An island asylum.
Add to that a note from Mr. Blake about the arrest and incarceration of the leadership of an anti-Muslim and anti-immigrant movement there. Hatred of one's own kind and a mewling deference to the barbarians in your midst who'd happily slit your throat and have lunch on your body is deeply entrenched in this country, where Post-Imperial Nervous Breakdown Syndrome seems to be turning a once Great Britain into Orwell's nightmare.
One of the puzzlements of my earlier life was trying to decide if I had a good dose of intuition and could assess some things very quickly, or if I were that dreaded demon of The Sixties, a "judgmental" person. I later decided, in the interests of inclusivity, that I was both and happy to be so.
So that's why, after only ten minutes, I "intuited" that Trinity was execrable crap. If a TV series (!) starts out with two of the extremely unlikeable leads --selfish cad and cad-ess--literally bouncing around a room in noisy coitus, this is not a sign that the writing and plot will be of quality. And when the blond skank --after refusing to led her cad come-- then meets Numinous Negro in the hallway (he's streetwise sexy but a brilliant scholar) for a game of come-on and come-off. And when the group of Christians in the school --the plot starts from the death of the heroine's vicar-professor-father-- are slimily cast as homely retarded killjoys.
Well, welcome to modern England. An island asylum.
Another indicator of rot.
A telling image.
A telling image.
Add to that a note from Mr. Blake about the arrest and incarceration of the leadership of an anti-Muslim and anti-immigrant movement there. Hatred of one's own kind and a mewling deference to the barbarians in your midst who'd happily slit your throat and have lunch on your body is deeply entrenched in this country, where Post-Imperial Nervous Breakdown Syndrome seems to be turning a once Great Britain into Orwell's nightmare.
2 comments:
Mr. Black is a fine name for a reservoir dog, but I'm Mr. Blake.
My apologies.
Post a Comment