Bad Influence! (1992-96)

My first thought was, 'Who let Andy Crane out of the broom cupboard?', but he did an okay job on his feet, showing an admirable amount of enthusiasm in the presenter role. His co-host of the show is Violet Berlin, which is a name that most UK folks who were into gaming back in the 90s will recognise.

It wasn't as good as the similarly themed GamesMaster (1992-98) series that aired on a rival channel, but Bad Influence!'s focus was broader.

It states on Wiki that the show was like a 'Tomorrow's World' for kids, which is an observation I agree with. Of course, it means nothing if you don't already know what kind of a show Tomorrow's World was. In both cases, new technology that was either still under development, in the testing phase or already on the market was showcased in an easy to understand way that didn't compromise the scientific nature or importance of the product. Features were either in the studio or on location and showed the presenter(s) getting hands-on with the new tech.

The techy stuff was cool, but the main focus was Video Games, Consoles and Home Computers. By 1992 the 16 bit consoles had taken a strong hold, but CD-based options were appearing. It's fun to look back and see how things like the Panasonic branded '3DO Interactive Multiplayer' and the 'Phillips CD-i' were heralded as the next big thing, when in fact they were the next big failures.

Interestingly, product reviews even included third-party devices, such as the kind that enabled gamers to circumvent copy protection on cartridges, allowing for import carts to be played on UK machines. The friendly warning that the use of such gray area products voided your warranty seemed more like a necessary addition to keep the team on the right side of the law than anything else.

The competitions were mostly amazing; in one episode they even gave away a Neo Geo with games! In the UK at the time, a Neo Geo was like the Holy Grail - in fact, it was better, because you can't play Metal Slug on the Holy Grail.

57 episodes, approx 20 minutes each.

3 super-fast datablasts out of 5

Knightmare (1987–94)

As a young Faustus I loved all things fantasy and supernatural. Fighting Fantasy books, Dragonlance and Forgotten Realms novels, HeroQuest gaming sessions, etc, so it's no great surprise that Knightmare fit perfectly into my life.

Four adventurers (kids under 16) entered the Castle of Confusion in the hope of conquering its dungeon. One wore the Helmet of Justice, which limited what he/she could see, and entered the dungeon proper. The remaining three stayed behind to act as guides, able to see on a screen where their friend was, to direct and keep the Dungeoneer from falling into imaginary pits of doom and suchlike.

The rules of the game were overseen by Treguard the Dungeon Master, pictured above, a noble(ish) born Saxon, he would give occasional clues and hints to either help solve a puzzle or feed the team's nervousness. Treguard rocks!

Even though it was all for the children, the adults were the real stars. They treated the chroma key (blue screen) locations as a kind of stage, treading boards that weren't there as enthusiastically as they would if they actually did exist. In short, they were a theatre troupe doing what they do best: bringing theatrical life to an otherwise empty space. In addition, they had to ad lib when the kids turned out to be more stupid than they'd anticipated for, which was often. It's not unfair to say that some of the contestants hit every branch of the stupid tree when they fell.

Each year the dungeon would shift, offering new challenges and presenting new recurring characters. Even Trequard (Hugo Myatt) got himself an aide or two, my favourite being the elf Pickle (David Learner), who started out a little annoying but grew into a truly memorable part of the show in his second year.

The rules were unevenly enforced; it could be overly-harsh one minute and too forgiving the next, depending on how thick the kids were. It started out pandering to them, but soon got bored with that approach. In S3 the cast toyed with humiliating them, successfully, and in S4 the level design almost sent a few of the clumsier ones to the casualty ward. When a team who knew what they were doing featured, the show became the thing that it was envisioned to be: magical.

112 episodes, approx 25 minutes each.

4½ watchers of illusion out of 5

Lipstick on Your Collar (1993)

You've maybe already guessed by the cover that Lipstick is set in the 1950s, which means music plays an important role. Dennis Potter has a peculiar knack for making existing music and lyrics fit his narrative in unusual ways. He plays with them, opens them up and in doing so changes the intent in an often playfully ironic way. It's so successful that in the future when I hear many of the tracks used in the production I'll be smiling while thinking of the scenes they're attached to.

Of all the Potter TV Miniseries I've reviewed so far, Lipstick is my favourite for a number of reasons, the first of which is mentioned above.

There's also the top-class characterisation to consider, and the way some of the principals drift into their own fantasy realm when life bores or distresses them. In a few of the author's other works the fiction spills over into the reality, but here the reality becomes a part of the fiction; boring old farts who would rather be dead than caught dancing in their underwear are launched into spotlights to spin and twirl their stuffy stuff in a hilarious manner.

At the centre of a majority of the daydreams is Pte. Mick Hopper (Ewan McGregor), a clerk who's desperate for his national service term behind a translator's desk at the Foreign Office in Whitehall to end so that he can live life to the full.

The blonde girl is Sylvia Berry (Louise Germaine), the kind of beauty they paint on the side of bombers, but she's as common as muck when she talks. Nevertheless, a number of people are utterly besotted with her, which invariably leads to trouble.

The lives of workers and residents intertwine at various points along the timeline, deepening our understanding of their situation and even on occasion changing our opinion of them. There's occasional nudity and the politically incorrect notions of the era aren't overlooked, so folks that are easily offended probably will be.

6 episodes, approx 60 mins each.

4½ barely bloody drinkables out of 5

Kamen Rider Kiva (2008-09)

Imagin Sentai Kamen Rider Den-O (2007-08)

Dennis Potter’s Cold Lazarus (1996)

The second part of Potter's final work requires you to have seen all four episodes of the first part, Karaoke (HERE). I won't drop ruinous spoilers about CL's plot, but I'll need to refer to Karaoke, so please think carefully before reading anything beyond this point if you've any interest in watching Karaoke and have yet to do so.

As we saw previously, armed with the knowledge of his failing heath, Daniel Feeld prepared for the future of the people he felt close to. In contrast, the author was unprepared for what awaited him in his own future, 374 years after his death.

The introduction of cryogenics into Karaoke's plot may have seemed odd in isolation, but it makes sense when you consider CL. Scientists unearth the frozen remains of Daniel and plug him into a machine that translates activity in his brain into visual images that can be recorded and analysed by a people who've lost sight of what it means to be human. Their society is in chaos and, for reasons that aren't fully explained, their historical records are inadequate. They believe that memories of the past may help them better understand their present.

The fact that memory, being the subjective construct that it is, is an inherently unreliable source of information is addressed a little but not enough to build a foundation for the entire process to stand solidly on. Similar criticisms can be applied to various parts of CL's plot. At times its reach overextends the length of its component parts, and the whole suffers. When it isn't doing that, when it sticks to more relatable concerns, it explores the nature of free will and deepens our understanding of why Daniel was the person he was in Karaoke.

The scientists are an odd bunch, only a few of whom are any good at acting, but luckily it's those few that get the most screen time. They're at the mercy of a hedonistic evil bitch named Martina Masdon, played with zeal by Diane Ladd. Martina is one of the most memorable characters, and yet many of her scenes are largely superfluous. I'm unsure if that was a kind of commentary in itself, but I'm convinced that some of the subtext is purposefully imbalanced.

On the flip side, some views are so blatant that they're like a punch in the face. I can imagine the author having one final laugh as he contemplated the BBC's reaction to a story about a corporate attempt to control a dying writer's mind.

4 episodes, approx 50 minutes each.

3½ button pushers out of 5

Dennis Potter’s Karaoke (1996)

The first part of Potter's final work was broadcast two years after his death. He wrote it with the full knowledge that he was dying, which makes viewing it a deeply poignant experience. You might expect the situation to have pushed him towards tapping into the bleaker side of his talent, but there's a huge amount of darkly wry humour in the script. There's also a feeling that inevitability can't be conquered, so it should be thoroughly mocked instead, as best we can.

The main protagonist is a screenwriter named Daniel Feeld. Daniel, played with intensity by Albert Finney, is diagnosed with the same painful medical condition that killed Potter in real life, so it's fair to assume that it's at least partly autobiographical in nature. His most recent work is causing grief for both himself and the director of the TV adaptation (Richard E. Grant). It's fiction but, as is already established, fiction often has a modicum of reality in it.

When Daniel, in his real life, encounters people who resemble his written characters he begins to feel somehow responsible for what happens to them.

The director, the one filming Daniel's burgeoning fiction, is tethered to a single scene that repeats over and over for both him and us. As he struggles to make sense of it, the wider story and the parts each person plays within it, like we do in our actual lives everyday, begins to resonate more and more, driven forward by Daniel's need to prevent his words becoming someone else's reality.

The journey toward completion sends tendrils of consequence into the fates of everyone involved. The people at the centre of the drama obviously get it the worst, but even the ones on the periphery are affected.

I mentioned at the beginning that Karaoke is the first part of Potter's final work. The second part is Cold Lazarus (see HERE), which came out the same year.

4 episodes, approx 50 minutes each.

4 artistic temperaments out of 5