TELEVISION

The Globe Review Column

Sighted: the great Canadian male
JOHN DOYLE
1025 words
28 February 2006
The Globe and Mail
R3
English
All material copyright Bell Globemedia Publishing Inc. or its licensors. All rights
reserved.
Tonight's Canadian TV is entirely dominated by two fellas. One's a caustic comic
and the other is a caustic coroner-turned-politician. Both are familiar figures,
popular and known for their no-b.s. attitude.

We have some kinda heroes in this country — Rick Mercer and Dominic Da Vinci. I
put it to you that these are the great Canadian male figures of our time. Hockey
players? You've got be kidding. They lumbered off to Turin and failed miserably.
Canadian women won the Winter Olympics for us.

It's the women who are tough. The Canadian male role model of today is a guy who
is swift of mind, sarcastic and far from physically tough.

Check this out: “If I'm going down, I'm taking somebody with me.” It's a good line.
Not brilliantly original, but it kick-starts the tension. It suggests that you pay
attention because something dramatic is going happen. Anger and betrayal are in
the air. Asses will need to be covered.

The line is uttered by an angry female cop, not by some guy. She continues, “Now,
I'm being investigated by the goddamn coroner's office and if you two aren't
backing me up, you're both going down with me.”

We're on Da Vinci's City Hall (CBC, 9 p.m.) and it's dark. In Vancouver at night, it's
raining and the mayor is in a mood. He's cruising the city in his official car. Every
now and then he gets out and takes a meeting. He glides into the backroom of a
bar or restaurant and glares at somebody. There's a muttered conversation filled
with threats. Not physical threats, but hints of retaliation.

Da Vinci's City Hall tackles the theme of power and corruption in a big city. It's not
a unique theme, but in movies and TV series, the theme is usually drenched in
melodrama. There are big speeches and tears. Mayor Da Vinci and his cohorts don't
go in for that. On tonight's final episode, there is plenty of drama. But it is drama in
the manner that city politics are probably conducted — in phone calls and late-night
meetings, in brief conversations about who will benefit if things go the mayor's
way.

If you've been watching the series, you'll know that the mayor is at war with the
police chief. The cops have been winning. The mayor's plan to have both the cops
and the fire department cross-trained in order to co-operate and deal pragmatically
with a real city's real problems has been set back. Now the mayor is fighting back.
This guy fights dirty when he's mad, but nobody gets beaten up. There's plenty of
anger and raw emotion, but the physicality doesn't come from the mayor, our hero.
It's the shifty millionaire Lloyd Manning (superbly played by Eugene Lipinski), who
has been trying to make some sweet deals, who reacts badly when things go awry:
“I'm a goddamn Canadian,” he says. “I worked my way up from the gutter. . . . I'm
gonna break some heads.”

Yes, this is the final episode of Da Vinci's City Hall (a City Hall TV movie is a strong
possibility — see related story on page R1) but this could and should be the future
of Canadian TV — drama that's cool, understated and utterly assured, like the hero.

The Rick Mercer Report (CBC, 8 p.m.) is a best-of show with a few new bits. This
season's Mercer Report is much improved. Mercer's got a sharper edge, the items
are more deftly constructed and edited to have oomph.

Tonight, Mercer does one of his favourite things — he hangs out with the Canadian
Armed Forces and has a fine old time. Over the years, through This Hour Has 22
Minutes and this show, Mercer has been the single Canadian commentator to focus
relentlessly on the Armed Forces, lambasting Ottawa for how it treats and equips
our soldiers. Clearly, they love him for it. He's an unlikely hero for the military, but
it works for them. The guy's got a helluva mouth. One of the bits tonight is his
parachute jump with General Rick Hillier, Chief of the Defence Staff. The new bits
include a timely rant about the first days of the Stephen Harper government. Few
can nail hypocrisy like Mercer. And Harper himself appears briefly, taking some
shots — literally — at Mercer.

Also airing tonight: Murderball (A&E, 10 p.m.) is an Oscar-nominated documentary

that, although it has won acclaim, has not been seen by many people. It's a
stunner and often not easy to watch. It's about the full-contact sport known as
“quad rugby,” which is played by quadriplegics who go at it full tilt in armoured
wheelchairs.

The characters we meet are tough, strange and driven. These quad rugby players
have suffered injuries leaving them with limited function in all four limbs. Some
were injured in a car crash, others in a gunfight and still others by bacteria after
suffering an innocuous injury. The point of Murderball is to reveal the men, both
on-court and off, and diminish every stereotype about the handicapped. It achieves
that with aplomb. The documentary is also about masculinity and, in that, it can
sometimes be vaguely terrifying.

The Lens (Newsworld, 10 p.m.) is also often difficult to watch. A very personal film
by Cindy Banks, it is about dealing with childhood sexual abuse. After giving birth
to a daughter in 1995, Banks felt she was falling into insanity. It was the memory
of sexual abuse that haunted her and caused her to lose focus on the present and
her new daughter. What we see is a troubled woman's terrible struggle to face the
past and be at peace with the present.

Dates and times may vary across the country. Check local listings.
jdoyle@[Link]

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TELEVISION
Column
The devil is in the details
JOHN DOYLE
755 words
28 February 2006
The Globe and Mail
A4
English
All material copyright Bell Globemedia Publishing Inc. or its licensors. All rights
reserved.
Marshall Rothstein seems like a nice enough fella. A boring old white guy, mind
you, but not a crackpot or unduly uptight. He can talk about swingers clubs without
smirking or appearing embarrassed.

He's from Winnipeg, but he's been around. He's been in the legal racket for
decades, but he hasn't been living in isolated grandeur. No way. As a student he
held a real job working in the dining car of a train. Working in close quarters with a
bunch of other people, he learned a few things about tolerance and reliability.
These things have stayed with him.

That's the gist of what we learned about Judge Rothstein when he spent hours on
national TV yesterday. For the first time, there was a public, televised hearing to
review a nomination to the Supreme Court of Canada, and Judge Rothstein was the
virgin nominee-for-grilling.

This sort of televised hearing happens all the time in the United States. Down there,
they have a format for it. It's Star Chamber time. The senators look senatorial in a
TV-drama way, as if they were suddenly on The West Wing, and they had to speak
pithily and in complete sentences. The nominee for the U.S. Supreme Court is
grilled on specific and controversial issues. It can get testy. It is not always gripping
TV, but the process has bite.

As television drama, what happened yesterday in Ottawa was ostentatiously lacking

in drama. There was zero tension, no bite. However, like all live TV coverage, the
landmark hearing was revealing. The devil is in the details, and nothing reveals the
telling details like live TV.

Thus, anyone who paid close attention (they had to be very few, watching paint dry
was more fun) learned that Marshall Rothstein is very, very old school. He worked
hard to move up through the judicial ranks, never learned French and let the
missus raise the kids.

Judge Rothstein started with a joke, like all good public speakers. His self-
deprecating joke about not boring his audience was well timed. The panel of MPs
had been warned that they could not ask questions about controversial issues such
as abortion or same-sex-marriage. It was up to Judge Rothstein to give up the vital
information about himself.

That's what he did when he talked about his weakness in not speaking French. It
seems odd for a man working at the highest level of our federal system. And when
he talked about his long hours working as a lawyer and later as a judge, he said, of
his wife, “Sheila largely raised our kids.”

Now, that's old school.

Judge Rothstein didn't have the air of a man being interviewed for a job. It was
more that of a man who knew he had the job and that the best course was to say
nothing. In the early going, his answers to questions displayed an admirable grasp
of platitudes. “Disputes are best resolved by negotiation,” he said. If a question
veered slightly toward the political — as in a question about poverty and
discrimination, he said, “It's a matter for the legislative, not the judicial branch.”

On TV, it all rolled along at a funereal pace. Only when there was commentary from
pundits did the experience liven up. CBC Newsworld had the best and most
qualified pundit, former Supreme Court judge John Major, who was scornful of the
public hearing process.

He said the process was based on “the myth of activist judges.” As far as Mr. Major
is concerned there is no proof that activist judges exist in Canada. He said
repetition of the phrase was “similar to a big lie.”

He also spoke scathingly of Professor Peter Hogg and his statements about the
need for the hearings. Prof. Hogg had said such hearings happened in South Africa,
and Mr. Major pointed out that South Africa was emerging from the trauma of
apartheid and truly need a transparent procedure. The connection with Canada
baffled him.

Prof. Hogg closed the proceedings by saying they had been conducted with “civility
and moderation.”

True, but where's the fun in that?

The proceedings were similar to a lot of Canadian TV — slow-moving, polite, out-of-

touch and self-consciously good for society. The star, Judge Rothstein, also seemed
a bit out of touch. But, obviously, he's got the job.

jdoyle@[Link]

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TELEVISION
The Globe Review Column
CRTC finally does something for viewers
JOHN DOYLE
980 words
1 March 2006
The Globe and Mail
R3
English
All material copyright Bell Globemedia Publishing Inc. or its licensors. All rights
reserved.
In its infinite wisdom, the CRTC has decided that, soon, the beleaguered Canadian
consumer can pick individual TV channels to buy, rather than be forced to buy
bundles of them.

Okay, it's not going to happen immediately. In a few years, after everybody has
had time to get used to the radical idea, the consumer gets to pick. For the old-
fashioned cable systems and digital, the providers will still be obliged to offer
bundles of channels, just so that the shift isn't traumatizing for everybody.

For years, people have complained that if, say, they want to buy TSN to see some
sports, they're also obliged to pay for MuchMusic, a channel in which they have
zero interest. The hand-wringing response from the Canadian Radio-television and
Telecommunications Commission and the honchos in the TV racket is that Canadian
channels and their Canadian programming need to be supported by a method that
obliges you to pay for material you don't want but, maybe, you'll watch because it's
there on TV for you.

The prospect of a new system is undoubtedly terrifying the bosses at certain

channels. What if they have to sell the channel as a standalone service? What if the
fees don't just roll in from people who never watch your channel? It's stomach-ulcer
time.

But it is high time some cable channels were required to justify their existence. The
pitiless truth must be told.

Looking at tonight's TV menu, I have to wonder if anyone, being of sound mind and
body, would actually pay for the twinkie channel that is W. When W went on the air,
it was WTN, the Women's Television Network. Its mandate was to offer intelligent
programming for women, made by women. It was based in Winnipeg and relied
heavily on local talent. When licensed, it got a choice place on the dial — in Toronto
it's right next to CBC Newsworld. Even people with a tiny number of cable channels
got WTN. There was no choice. A few years ago, Corus Entertainment swallowed up
WTN. Corus got rid of most of the staff; left a handful working in Winnipeg and
moved things to Toronto. Soon, WTN became W and, now, W is, like, totally about
shopping.

The Shopping Bags kicks things off at 7 p.m., as it does every night, Monday to
Thursday. In case you're wondering, this slice of Canadian content is devoted to
“Delivering practical consumer information for those who like to shop.” Also,
“Award-winning journalists Anna Wallner and Kristina Matisic take their favourite
pastime to new levels, putting a wide range of products and services to the test.”

It's about shopping, for god's sake, just like the commercials that arrive every few
minutes during the show.

Next on W, at 7:30 p.m., comes Take This House and Sell It. What's this? Well, it's
“For anyone who wants the latest tips and trends on getting one's home ready for
an immediate and lucrative sale, this reality series is sure to provide great ideas. In
a fun and fast paced half-hour romp. . . .” It's about buying stuff to improve the
possible sale of your house.

Then, if you really need more evidence, comes You Are What You Eat, at 8 p.m. It's
not Canadian content. It is a British production about buying food and eating it.
Because it's a British production, the W web site reminds us that there are 14
pounds in a stone. The Shopping Bags is back on at 10 p.m., if you need to watch it
twice.

The W website is one of the most unnerving I've ever seen. And I've seen plenty of
TV-related websites. Right now, W is kind of obsessed with Jennifer Lopez. First,
there's a notice proclaiming, “Are you a J. Lo in the making? Take the quiz
( [Link] ).” No thanks. On
Saturday night, W unleashes the movie Gigli, starring J. Lo. It is, by consensus,
perhaps the worst movie ever made. W encourages you to watch with this come-
on: “See for yourself if the critics were right — and witness the beginning of the
relationship that sparked that whole name-blending trend (remember Bennifer?).
Jennifer Lopez and Ben Affleck partner up in a kidnapping scheme and wind up
falling in love.”

Don't tell me it's a guys-versus-gals thing. There is no way on earth that anybody
should be asked to pay for the W channel. It's filled with cheesy, air-headed
garbage. It should be free. And there should be an experiment to see if some
people could possibly be induced to watch it if they were paid.

Congratulations, CRTC.

Airing tonight: Free Ride (Fox, Global, 9:30 p.m.) is a sneak preview of a new Fox
sitcom. It's a partly improvised thing that aims to be zany — way-out zany.

The hero, Nate (Josh Dean), is a sweet but dorky guy, just graduated from college
in California. Amazingly, he returns home to live with his parents in a small Missouri
town. He also wants to woo the gal he loved in high school. But it turns out she's
engaged. It doesn't help that his parents are in therapy and bicker all the time. Or
that his old school friends are still morons. One informs him apropos of nothing,
“Ninety per cent of street fights end on the ground, so karate is totally useless.”
Because it's partly improvised, there are moments of inspired, cutting comedy, but
Free Ride is more silly than hilarious.

Check local listings.

jdoyle@[Link]

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TELEVISION
The Globe Review Column
Dark, crude and Canadian
JOHN DOYLE
804 words
2 March 2006
The Globe and Mail
R3
English
All material copyright Bell Globemedia Publishing Inc. or its licensors. All rights
reserved.
So a bunch of puppets steal a car.

The car gets rolling after the puppets have a bitter argument about a chocolate bar.
There's a lot of swearing. Soon enough, the car's owner calls the cellphone he left
in the car. “Listen, you greasy little punk,” he says. “You get the car back. Don't
escalate this any further.”

Of course, it turns out that there's a body in the back of the car. But the guy's not
dead. In fact, he's got a gun and he's ready to use it on the puppets. The puppets
deal with the guy after they've continued that bitter, foul-mouthed argument over
the chocolate bar. Later, one of the puppets hitches a ride with a couple driving a
fine old car. In no time at all, puppet guy is doing it in the back seat with the hot
lady, whose husband has moseyed off.

The story sounds ludicrous, the work of some stoned teenager who doesn't get out
much. Who would buy into it? Actually, a lot of people, including those who hand
out the Gemini Awards.

Puppets Who Kill (Comedy Network, 10 p.m.) is back for a fourth season. It's as
mind-bogglingly weird as ever and, at times, it's very, very funny. If you've never
caught on, here's the deal. Four psychopath puppets live in a halfway house with
social worker Dan (Dan Redican) and manage to get into trouble constantly. They
smoke, drink to excess, fool around with other guys' gals and swear constantly.
Often, there is gunplay.

Into this madness comes a wide array of distinguished Canadian actors. In tonight's
episode, Tom McCamus plays the mob guy whose car is stolen by the quartet of
rude, crackpot puppets. He gets to do a delicious send-up of mob-guy clichés.
That's the point of Puppets Who Kill, really. Using the puppets, creative team
Redican, John Pattison and Shawn Alex Thompson mock TV, movies and most
available clichés in the popular culture. The puppets are shockingly vulgar and
sarcastic.

The show is on the fringe of Canadian TV, but only if you consider mainstream
drama and comedy on CBC or Global to be the centre of Canadian TV. Puppets Who
Kill, like the animated show Kevin Spencer and Showcase's Trailer Park Boys, is
part of a rich comic vein that incessantly celebrates the hoser lifestyle, welfare
bums and career criminals. The characters in this strong subgenre of Canadian TV
are as far from nice middle-class people as you can get. The shows are usually a bit
dark, sometimes brutally crude, are usually minimalist in style and amount to a
blissful attack on all things bourgeois.

In the matter of the future of Canadian TV, it's time we acknowledged the vigour of
this subgenre, instead of attempting to copy bland U.S. network models. I doubt if
the CBC's famed Alice, the quintessential computer-generated viewer, would
respond well to the premises behind Puppets Who Kill, Trailer Park Boys or Kevin
Spencer.

And, finally on the matter of Puppets Who Kill, here's a suggestion. The Juno
Awards are coming on CTV, which owns the Comedy Network. For reasons that
escape me, Pamela Anderson will host the Junos. The puppets from Puppets Who
Kill should join her. Look at how much fun everybody had at the East Coast Music
Awards the other night, when the Trailer Park Boys acted as hosts. The highlight of
the night was the audience singing along with Bubbles as he entertained them with
that sweet ditty, Liquor and Whores.

Also airing tonight: The Alma Drawings (Vision, 11 p.m.) is an award-winning

documentary about the mysterious Alma Kate Rumball and her even more
mysterious drawing. Rumball was born in 1902 and raised a devout Christian in
Huntsville, Ont. She had very little contact with the world beyond her cabin home.
One day, remarkable drawings began to pour forth from her. She claimed she had
been directed to draw by a spiritual power. So she drew as if in a trance, and drew
often, until her death in 1980.

When the drawings surfaced in the larger world in the 1960s and 1970s, they were
studied and collected. Some drawings had clear connections with Tibetan Buddhist
symbols, a subject about which Alma was apparently ignorant. She also drew
obsessively about the mythical lost city of Atlantis. Was it madness or what some
call “psychic automatism”? The film, by Jeremiah Munce, drenches us in the strange
drawings and asks us to be generous in our interpretations.

Dates and times may vary across the country. Check local listings.

jdoyle@[Link]

Illustration

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staying in: TELEVISION

The Globe Review 7 Column
Once upon a time, it was about the movies
JOHN DOYLE
1040 words
3 March 2006
The Globe and Mail
R32
English
All material copyright Bell Globemedia Publishing Inc. or its licensors. All rights
reserved.
Oscars, I wish I knew how to quit you.

Every year, it's the same — a bunch of overpraised movies, overcoiffed and
underdressed stars and a lot of blather about the “edgy” new host. Can anyone
remember anything about Chris Rock last year? Apart, that is, from the fact that
some people were having spurious conniptions about letting the guy into the Oscar
tent. This year, it's Jon Stewart.

Cute idea. Need a Dubya joke? Need an extra-helping of Dick Cheney jokes? Jon is
the man. But he's not showbiz. Will he bomb, like Letterman? It could be he's just
too cool, ironic and weird for the Academy Awards. Me, I can't say I'm on
tenterhooks.

Not that it matters. Stewart could steamroll through the evening, slaying the
audience with killer jokes and put-downs. He could make incisive comments about
the nominated movies, but it wouldn't matter in the slightest. Years ago, there was
a coup at the Academy Awards. The awards were taken over by the stylists. One
feels like a codger for even expressing this, but once upon a time, even young and
attractive lady actors approached the Oscars with gravitas. They spoke of the
honour of the craft of acting and the importance of making movies that had some
significance in the culture. Now, the gravitas is gone and it's about fame built on
frocks. The object of the entire shindig is to get on some magazine's best-dressed
list. That's immortality. Movies are ephemeral, but Bjork's swan-like outfit is
famous forever.

Keep in mind the situation of Judi Dench. Nominated for best actress for Mrs.
Henderson Presents, the great Dame Judi has been entirely absent from the buildup
to Sunday's frock opera. Rarely seen in magazines or on TV talk shows, she's like a
ghost at these awards. Why? She's old, that's why. Gifted, gorgeous in her strength
and piercing wit, she has, one hears, been rejected by many TV shows doing pre-
Oscar prattle. The thing is, she could make mincemeat of Jon Stewart in the joke
department. Me, I'll be looking out for her on Sunday. At least she can manage to
act interested in something other than the red-carpet routine.

The Oscars coverage that matters starts late on Sunday afternoon. You can take
your pick. The red-carpet coverage from the E! channel, now anchored by Ryan
Seacrest, Giuliana DePandi and the eccentrically twisted Isaac Mizrahi, starts at
5:30 p.m. ET on CITY-TV stations and Star! It's all about the frocks and flippant
remarks as Mizrahi offers catty, in-your-face commentary and fashion critiques.
CTV's eTalk coverage is, of course, the “official Canadian red-carpet preshow,” with
Ben Mulroney and Tanya Kim handling the coverage of the clothes, the stars, and,
Lord save us, maybe the nominated movies, starting at 6:30 p.m. The 78th Annual
Academy Awards show itself starts at 8 p.m. ET (CTV, ABC).

I'm sure that by the end of the evening we'll know more about the frocks and gift
bags than we'll know about directors and writers. Oscars, I wish I knew how to quit
you.

Marketplace: Chasing the Cancer Answer (Sunday, CBC, 7 p.m.) is Wendy Mesley's
personal search for answers about why so many people have cancer. She says of
her own experience of learning that she had the disease, “I'd been pretty healthy. I
thought I'd been careful. I had no idea why I got cancer.” She learned, to her
astonishment, that she had a one-in-two chance of getting it. A doctor tells her in
the program, “the more money we spend, the more cancer we get.” The program is
not about Mesley's personal experience. It's a journalist's journey to figure out why
so little money is spent on cancer prevention.

Hearts of Dartmouth: Life of a Trailer Park Girl (Sunday, Showcase, 9 p.m.) is a

delightful, sweet doc about the Trailer Park Boys phenomenon. Made by Annemarie
Cassidy, who is married to TPB creator Mike Clattenburg, it's about the origins of
the series, the minutiae of making it, and it offers a glimpse of life in the midst of it
all. It's about the show as a triumph of group efforts. You'll learn a lot about the
writing of the series and the struggle to keep the authentic, rough language intact.
You'll learn about the problem of finding a real trailer park for filming. You'll hear
Alliance Atlantis executives congratulate themselves, shamelessly, for putting the
show on the air — as if they wrote and directed it. You'll see me for a few minutes,
but you can skip that bit. This is essential viewing for anyone who likes Trailer Park
Boys. Ignore the Oscars for an hour, or tape it for later.

Dates and times may vary across the country. Check local listings.

jdoyle@[Link]

DOYLE'S QUICK PICKS

MONDAY

WORDS TO MUSIC

You've read about this great evening — Leonard Cohen and Anne Murray, among
others, being inducted into the Canadian Songwriters Hall of Fame. Now you can
see and hear it. The special features outstanding performances by k.d. lang, Willie
Nelson and Rufus Wainwright. It's all about the music, not the fame or frippery of
the business. Then there's Cohen himself, moved and obviously very emotional
about the honour.

CBC, 9 p.m.

TUESDAY

AT THE HOTEL
Here's the launch of a six-part drama, Ken Finkleman's most substantial work in
years. It's set at the plush Chateau Rousseau, where we get to know the sozzled
owner (Martha Henry) and the array of workers and guests. There is comedy,
drama and poignancy as the layers of the story shift and connect. At its heart is
chambermaid Jenny (Natalie Lisinska, above), who floats through the hotel wide-
eyed, and, eventually, becomes as knowing as the viewer.

CBC, 9 p. m.

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TELEVISION
The Globe Review Column
What would you do with this convict?
JOHN DOYLE
964 words
8 March 2006
The Globe and Mail
R3
English
All material copyright Bell Globemedia Publishing Inc. or its licensors. All rights
reserved.
There are days — a Wednesday in March for instance — when you don't feel like
leaving the house. In fact you don't feel like talking to anyone or participating in the
world. People appall you. They are reliable only in the sense you know for sure that
they will let you down.

In the annals of unreliable people, the name L. Wayne Carlson stands out. To call
him mercurial would be an understatement. He has achieved many things in his life
of 63 years, including a byline in this newspaper.

In May of 1998, Carlson wrote a fine feature for the Focus section. Well written and
funny, it had a nice bit of comic business about the meaning of the word
“blackguard.” At the time he wrote it, Carlson was ensconced in Alberta's
Drumheller Institution. The introduction to the article noted that he had spent 30
years in prison since 1960; on charges ranging from armed robbery to jail break.

The fifth estate: You Be the Judge (CBC, 9 p.m.) tells you a great deal more about
L. Wayne Carlson. It's an extraordinary story. The title is taken from the core event
of the program — Carlson's appearance at a parole board hearing in Victoria. What
we see there is Carlson at the age if 63, asking for yet one more chance to prove
that he can be a decent, reliable person and never commit another crime.

You see, a short time after Carlson wrote that fine piece for The Globe and Mail, he
was released. He seemed to have stabilized. He'd done very good deeds in prison,
including teaching other prisoners to write. When released, he worked with the
Samaritans, a group to help the suicidal. He met a good woman named Hildy, who
was a rock of support.

He also wrote a book about his criminal life, Breakfast with the Devil, and it brought
him praise and fame. On the fifth estate we see him doing readings and signings.
We also see him as a celebrity author, appearing on The Mike Bullard Show with
actor Tim Roth. Bullard introduces him as the guy who holds the record for the
most prison escapes in North America.

Then, in a pattern that seems inevitable, things went awry. To find out why, you
have to watch the program.

In the parole hearing we see a gnarled Carlson talking to the parole board
members. He tells them, “I think I always saw myself as a Jesse James type
character . . . it gave me a sense of identity.” He says that in his many robberies he
never drew blood, never used his gun. The parole board members are perplexed by
him, and are very wary of a man with such a long, long history of crime.

The program (Carlson's story is told by Linden MacIntyre) got unusually free access
to the parole board hearing, and watching the footage of the meeting is both
fascinating and difficult. In the end, the viewer is required to decide if Carlson
deserves another chance. Or if he can only be relied upon to let everybody down.
Of course, we don't actually make the decision, but we do learn a lot about the
process, and the tricky business of deciding the fate of a man such as L. Wayne
Carlson.

Starved (Showcase, 10 p.m.) is beyond belief. It is the sort of TV show that makes
you despair, not just for television, but also for humanity.

Exactly why this failed garbage has ended up in Canada on Showcase is a mystery.
Starved aired some time back in the United States, on cable outfit FX. It lasted a
few episodes and was then cancelled. It was cancelled because everybody hated it.

Starved is about people with eating disorders. Specifically, it's about a group of
oddball New Yorkers with eating disorders. Several are men, which is unusual in
terms of the reality of eating disorders. But this is dumb American TV and there
must be men so that the women have characters to flirt with and the guys can talk
about the possibility of sex with the women.

While it is meant to be a satiric comedy, Starved is not actually punctuated by

jokes of any sort. Scenes of people binge-eating, retrieving food from the garbage
or vomiting the food they've eaten punctuate it.

The very existence of Starved is an insult to the intelligence of viewers. The fact
that it was quickly cancelled suggests that the FX network knew it had a stinker.
The fact that it ends up here, on Showcase, is worse than an insult.

America's Next Top Model (UPN, CITY-TV, 8 p.m.) returns tonight. It's the sixth
outing for the cheesy, but apparently addictive, reality series about bickering
popsies competing for the prize of working for Ford Models and appearing in Elle
magazine.
There are 13 competitors. Following in-depth research, I can report that one is a
chemist, another is a translator and one is a housepainter. Many of the young
ladies are in retail. What they are competing to achieve is, of course, less than it
seems. What happens on the show has little to do with the manner in which real
fashion models are found and acquire experience. This is about the idea of being a
model — plus the bickering, being tearful and sentimental with a bunch of other
young ladies.

Tyra Banks is the woman in charge of the thing and it goes on for two full hours
tonight. It's your choice.

Dates and times may vary across the country. Check local listings.

jdoyle@[Link]

Document GLOB000020060308e2380001j

TELEVISION
The Globe Review Column
Your tax dollars at work: a CBC survey
JOHN DOYLE
1020 words
9 March 2006
The Globe and Mail
R3
English
All material copyright Bell Globemedia Publishing Inc. or its licensors. All rights
reserved.
It is with profound reluctance that I return to the subject of the CBC today. In case
you're groaning already, I'll try to make it an interesting journey with a few
colourful digressions. Okay?

First, do you get the most extraordinary things in the mail? I do.

Of course, the stuff that arrives in the mail is never what you want. The cheque to
pay for that tiny portion of the excruciating dental work, the tiny bit the insurance
company has sullenly agreed to pay, never arrives. Like the jokes on Ken
Finkleman's newest opus, they are promised but never arrive.

And then there's retrieving the mail. I live happily in downtown Toronto. There's a
post office nearby, at the back of a Shopper's Drug Mart. It's a great place. The
staff is obviously told to limit their words in speaking to customers. The list includes
“yeah” and “no” but precludes “please” and “thank you.”

Sometimes, registered mail arrives or a package that requires a signature. I've

asked my cat Mick to take care of this, but he declined, there being the matter of
his afternoon nap and all. Thus, a card is left, directing me to visit a post office
miles away, to retrieve my mail. It's a 45-minute walk in fine weather, or two
streetcars and a one-hour trip in inclement weather. Or an $8 cab ride. It makes no
sense, being directed to a place miles from my home and obviously not the nearest
post office. I once wrote to my MP about this, one Tony Ianno. I received neither
acknowledgment nor action. Tony is no longer my MP, which cheered me up no
end.

On Tuesday, here at the TV Cranny, a letter arrived from the office, in Ottawa, of
Robert Rabinovitch, president & CEO of CBC/Radio-Canada. “Dear Mr. Doyle” it
began, which is a change from some of the mail I get. It continued: “I am writing to
invite your participation in a new initiative that will help to both measure
CBC/Radio-Canada's performance and give shape to your national public
broadcaster's plans for the future.” There follows some idle flattery, referring to me
as part of something called “Canadian opinion leaders.” That's me — can't even get
a reply from my MP and I'm an opinion leader.

The upshot is that I'm asked to participate in an on-line questionnaire, administered

by Phoenix Strategic Perspectives Inc. I am informed that this has something to do
with “core elements” to be “integrated into the Corporation's performance
measurement framework.”

Hello? If Rob Rabinovitch thinks I'm taking part in some survey to help the CBC, he
is out of his mind and, worse, wasting money. I'm a journalist writing about
television. My opinions on CBC's performance are there in the paper all the time. No
need to spend oodles of taxpayers' money to find out what I think — buy a damn
paper!

Apart from the letter being hilariously pompous, it happens to epitomize the
problem at CBC right now. Tons of money is being spent on studies and research,
the better to prop up the professional existence of bureaucrats. From this research-
mania emerged the all-powerful Alice, the faux-viewer who allegedly approves
everything on CBC.

No, I'm not doing the CBC's survey. I'm not even replying to Rabinovitch's letter.
My response is here, for everyone to see. Just send me the tapes of the shows.
Then read the review. It's simple enough, and inexpensive. Not that anyone in
Ottawa will pay attention. Ianno and Rabinovitch and all those who sit in their
offices up there are, you know, clueless about your time and money, and mine.

Airing tonight: Heavy Metal: A Mining Disaster in Northern Quebec (APTN, 9 p.m.)
is a powerful and very disturbing documentary about a horrendous environmental
disaster. Mainly it's about the unlikely duo of Cree environmentalist Joseph
Blacksmith, and American geologist Christopher Covel. They joined forces to expose
a horrific degradation of the land and water that has secretly been devastating the
people and the environment for more than 40 years. Fifty years of ever-expanding
gold and copper mining wreaked havoc on the Cree who literally live off of the land
and the water.

Covel is an unusual character in the drama, an American who became involved by

accident. Based in the United States and almost completing his professional
qualifications, he was told he needed another course, so he opted for “Cree Culture
and Sustainable Society,” mainly so that he could get out into the bush. He found
himself one of the leading figures in the exposure of high levels of arsenic, cyanide,
lead, mercury and other heavy metals in the water, fish and humans of the Ouje-
Bougoumou Cree nation of northern Quebec.

The In-Between World of M.G. Vassanji (Bravo!, 8 p.m.) is an exemplary,

captivating profile of Vassanji, the Giller-winning writer who is, perhaps, the least
well-known of Canada's major writers today. Made by Robin Benger, the program is
a delight because it captures a great deal about a man described at one point as
“the shy Indian physicist” who happens to be a very important storyteller. We get a
vivid picture of Dar es Salaam, Tanzania, where Vassanji grew up, and the situation
of Asians and Africans there.

The bookstores and libraries in Dar es Salaam don't have copies of Vassanji's
books. They are widely available here, but aren't read enough. He's won the Giller
twice and yet many don't know that his novel No New Land is, perhaps, the finest
work written about the immigrant experience in Toronto. He's a writer you should
know and this excellent doc is a good way to start.

Dates and times may vary across the country. Check local listings.

jdoyle@[Link]

Document GLOB000020060309e23900017

TELEVISION
The Globe Review Column
The most irritating Canadian goes off air
JOHN DOYLE
803 words
10 March 2006
The Globe and Mail
A1
English
All material copyright Bell Globemedia Publishing Inc. or its licensors. All rights
reserved.
In the annals of Canadian infamy, he was a colossus.

He represented so much to so many people. He was the utterly unacceptable face

of the mild-mannered Canadian male. He was a stalwart symbol of the neutered,
new male. He was everybody's idea of the irritating neighbour. He was the smiling,
smug, know-it-all guy with the cool tools and the always-working, automatic
garage-door opener.

He was no Joe Canada, of I Am Canadian fame, that's for sure. He looked like he'd
never had a brewski or even worn a tuque. His flannel work shirt was always way
too clean. His Canada was limited to Canadian Tire. He was the Canadian Tire Guy.

Now he is no more. Yesterday, it was announced that Canadian Tire would launch a
new advertising campaign with a new advertising agency. The Canadian Tire Guy
(played by actor Ted Simonett) and Mrs. Canadian Tire Guy (played by Gloria
Slade) will not be part of it. It is truly the end of an era.

Like Don Cherry or the health-care system, the Canadian Tire Guy was a subject on
which every Canadian had an opinion. He was with us for almost a decade. As a
television critic, I felt that I knew him well.

He was not a man's man. He was nobody's man. Except, that is, for his long-
suffering wife.

As so often happens in real life, people hated him and felt sorry for his wife. They
felt protective about her. They wondered how she put up with him.

He seemed to have turned her into an automaton. Her smile was forced and her
words of agreement about some new wrench or air mattress rang false.

Many Canadians expected to wake up one day and read that the Canadian Tire Guy
had been found dead, the victim of a severe beating with windshield-wiper blades.
His wife was being questioned.

Canadians would sigh and say they saw it coming. If only she had gotten out
earlier.

His hobbies were camping and bothering people.

In fact, the tipping point in his notoriety came when he started bothering people. At
first, he talked to TV viewers or, more likely, to himself. Then friends and
neighbours were suddenly being pestered about new Canadian Tire products.

The equipment owned and used by other people was always useless. The Canadian
Tire Guy has the good stuff. Those friends and neighbours thanked him for the
advice, but everyone knew that behind his back they loathed him. The super-
trimmed beard, the smile, the smug attitude, it was enough to put anyone on edge.

It was notable that the neighbours who were the victims of his advice were never
seen again. They'd moved away, as anybody would.

Before he started bothering people, he was merely a nuisance. His creators, the
advertising agency Doner Canada, even won awards for the Canadian Tire Guy's
escapades.

He was benign and, for TV viewers, better company than the cackling Scrooge who
came every winter to tell us to buy like Santa and save like Scrooge at Canadian
Tire. When he began pestering people, the tide turned against him.

Some saw him as a symbol of rampant wussiness. Real men feared being compared
with him. All Canadian men avoided looking like him. Canadian comedians found
him a gold mine of material. Along with his long-suffering wife, he appeared on
Royal Canadian Air Farce. Rick Mercer extrapolated from his work and created
devastatingly funny comedy.

In the Canadian TV industry, where cynicism reigns, insiders were surprised that
CBC failed to offer the Canadian Tire Guy his own series.

Newspaper and magazine columnists began to turn to him for inspiration during
those days and weeks when there was nothing to write about. He was an easy
target because everyone knew him and despised him.

In April, 2004, this columnist invited readers to vote on the matter of Most
Irritating Canadian (television-related) and, from the first day, the Canadian Tire
Guy led the field. Only a new season of Canadian Idol brought true competition, in
the form of Ben Mulroney, but it was the Canadian Tire Guy who really stirred
venom from readers. Readers fantasized about murdering him. It was always a
very grisly end involving power tools.

One reader e-mailed many times to vote for the Canadian Tire Guy. Each e-mail
merely had “The Canadian Tire Guy” written hundreds of times. In the final tally,
the Canadian Tire Guy was, officially, the Most Irritating Canadian (television-
related).

Today, Canadian comedians and columnists mourn his passing. His like will not be
seen again. Now, there is no one left to hate.

Illustration

Document GLOB000020060310e23a0007j

TELEVISION
The Globe Review Column
There's no mistaking the war on error
JOHN DOYLE
996 words
4 April 2006
The Globe and Mail
R3
English
All material copyright Bell Globemedia Publishing Inc. or its licensors. All rights
reserved.
Citizens, we are in the middle of a war on error, and it is not going well.

I have been watching our all-news channels, CTV Newsnet and CBC Newsworld, and
I am ashamed.

Our Glorious Leader, the Prime Minister, is being criticized and mocked.

As a member of the gang of conspirators called The Canadian Media, I feel partly
responsible. Further, as a member of a faction of The Canadian Media — a faction
called The TV Critics Branch (membership: five) — I feel duty bound to urge the
sniveling revisionists of the TV medium to repent and act in the best interests of
our nation and Our Glorious Leader.

The Prime Minister is being criticized for his decision to make his government less
accessible to the media. He has been criticized for the bulk of his waistline. He has
been mocked for the clothes he wears.

For shame!

Me, I hang my head, and Don Newman of Newsworld and Mike Duffy of Newsnet
should do the same.

What's the fuss? The Prime Minister has restricted access to ministers after cabinet
meetings and he's told them their comments to the media must be cleared by his
office.

“Uno duce, una voce” was Mussolini's slogan, and it served him well.

He made the trains run on time. His slogan translates as “one leader, one voice,”
and in the case of Our Glorious Leader, so be it, say I.

In this space, henceforth, the Prime Minister will be referred to as Our Glorious
Leader (OGL, pronounced “ogle”) and I encourage such nattering nobodies as
Messrs. Newman and Duffy to do the same. Tonight at 10 p.m. I expect Pastor
Mansbridge to open his newscast by announcing that Our Glorious Leader has
graced Parliament with his presence today. Lloyd (Boy) Robertson will do the same,
if he knows what's good for him.

Obviously, Our Glorious Leader is restricting media access as part of his war on
error. Approved information from his office is the most potent weapon against
errors of thought and opinion.

The girth of Our Glorious Leader is not an occasion for mockery. It is an occasion to
praise his humanity. He is one of us, a doughnut eater. When he strides across this
great nation, his girth is a reminder of our collective greatness as doughnut eaters.
When our hockey heroes failed so heinously in Turin and we all watched so avidly,
did we not notice that there were more advertisements for Tim Hortons than there
were goals?

We are doughnut eaters, and Our Glorious Leader tells us this by embodying our
ethos, our culture. Such is his greatness, that he need not speak. In appearance,
he is us. He is OGL.

As for his attire, on his stunningly successful visit to Mexico to meet other glorious
leaders, so what if he looked like Red Green? Who among us has not travelled to
Mexico and felt that we looked like Red Green when surrounded by swarthy,
handsome Latinos and sleek Americans? Our Glorious Leader is merely confirming
his paid-up membership in the Possum Lodge. Again, he need not speak. Such is
the genius of his cunning, that he silently embodies us in both girth and attire.
Our Glorious Leader does not need to pay attention to the snivelling revisionists
who populate our TV news programs, mocking his actions. He has learned from the
actions and ruminations of other great leaders in history. He has a five-point
program. Who among us has not heard of the Five Year Plan?

In his first trip to foreign places, Our Glorious Leader chose to visit Afghanistan, to
praise and give comfort to our fighting men and women. Oh, shrewd Glorious
Leader! He has learned from the lessons of the past and from the cunning of other
glorious leaders — the idolization of the military is a matchless tactic in uniting the
populace and girding the nation in the ceaseless war on error.

Yesterday, I watched CTV Newsnet and CBC Newsworld as the government of Our
Glorious Leader began its duties in Parliament. On Newsworld, one know-nothing
revisionist referred to the government of Our Glorious Leader as “a house of cards.”
Shame. On CTV Newsnet, a smirking fool called the government “precarious.”
Shame again! Remember this, revisionists of the TV medium: “Uno duce, una
voce.”

As for smirking revisionist Rick Mercer (whose alleged comedy unfolds on CBC at 8
tonight) and his cabal of cronies at 22 Minutes and Air Farce, they are clearly in
cahoots to undermine Our Glorious Leader. They will not succeed! The war on error
will unfold on TV. It will be galvanizing drama.

Airing tonight: Pepper Dennis (The WB, 9 p.m.) is about people in the TV-news
racket and, in particular, the title character. This Pepper Dennis lady is played by
Rebecca Romijn, a model-turned-actor. She's tall, leggy and lovely in the bland,
conventional way of TV-news types. Here, her acting involves a lot of smiling,
glowering and falling over. Pepper is an ace reporter at a Chicago TV station. Oddly,
she dresses like the assistant manager at a branch of Suzy Shier.

The plot of this comedy-drama involves Pepper (real name, Patti Dinkle) wanting to
be the news anchor — there's a position that needs to be filled. Things go awry.
First, Pepper sleeps with this guy, and it turns out he's been hired as the new
anchor. This guy, Charlie Babcock (Josh Hopkins), has a secret: He's from Canada.

Hilarity ensues. Then, the show goes all mushy. That's it.

It is fitting that this show, which makes a mockery of TV-news types, airs on the
very day that I make my call for an end to revisionism and for the TV medium to
unite behind Our Glorious Leader.

jdoyle@[Link]

Document GLOB000020060404e2440001f

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