To coincide with the 10th anniversary of 9/11, the History Channel showed the documentary 102 Minutes That Changed America, which unfolded in “real time,” using footage taken, mainly by amateurs, as the terrible events in New York on that day unfolded (some of the videos are here).
The video and audio was brilliantly edited together, with no commentary apart from a clock that silently recorded the time. Because it was all stitched together from recordings made at the time by ordinary New Yorkers, it gave a sense of being there that was almost impossible to watch at times.
Two women filmed the first Tower on fire, from their apartment window. At the time, they didn’t know a plane had crashed into it, or at least, not been deliberately crashed into it. It looked like a terrible accident. One of them said she thought she saw people falling. “It might have been paper,” the other said, trying to convince herself (I’m paraphrasing – this wasn’t a programme where you would stop and take notes). Then the camera lurched away and the women screamed. Continue reading
It's over, okay?
The arms I’m bidding farewell to are the many arms that embraced people in this episode: Santana’s round Britney, Kurt’s round Rachel, Rachel’s round Sunshine, everyones’ round Mr Shue. It was the exact opposite of Seinfeld’s ‘no hugging, no learning’ mantra. There was nothing but hugging and learning, in fact. And so, sad as it is to say ta-ta to a show one has followed from the start, I won’t be looking for a consoling hug from anyone. Unless Puck’s available. We’ve grown apart, Glee and I. It would be undignified for me to follow it slavishly into the next season by purchasing a Sky package or, more realistically, downloading it from some dodgy site. No, it’s time to let it go. If for no other reason that my credulity that these seasoned hoofers are school-kids is already stretched to screaming point.
This last episode was a microcosm of everything that makes Glee so great and so terrible. And alas, as with most episodes, the latter outweighed to former.
There were some terrific moments. The show being set in New York, it was inevitable that the score would be Gershwin and lifted straight from Manhattan, but hey, it worked. And how nice to hear the gorgeous opening bars of Rhapsody in Blue without having to listen to Woody whinging about his seventeen year-old girlfriend.