chrismoyles.net
- Tue Sep 24, 2002 10:26 am
#242275
From Media Guardian (Gareth McLean)
Live With Chris Moyles was the TV equivalent of a Burger King - distracting while you're consuming it but leaving no lasting impression
Live With Chris Moyles - or TFI Only Half an Hour - is tabloid television. This isn't a value judgement, simply a statement of fact. Its scamper through the day's news focused firmly on the Daily Star definition of current affairs (the nation's fattest trucker!), its competitions included prizes provided by Travel Inn, and there was even a nipple count. (That they were Moyles's own - and they were bleeding after his 10km run on Sunday - perhaps isn't what you would normally associated with a tabloid, but they were tweakable nevertheless).
All of this sounds jolly fun for what the man-behind-the-camera, Chris Evans, calls the three million disenfranchised young males with nothing to watch but Emmerdale, BBC2 sci-fi and Channel 4 News at 7pm on a weekday night. And he is quite right, the aforementioned males' penchant for flicking off to multichannel television notwithstanding. The show is lairy, loud and laddish; it does exactly what it says on the tin. Prizes by Travel Inn are hardly glamorous but entirely appropriate for the show's target demographic. Who needs room service when you're pissed out of your face on, we can only guess, Carling?
But even for these poor underserved blokes, Live With Chris Moyles may be a little thin. (This is ironic, I suppose, but only in an Alanis Morissette kind of way). Channel 5's director of programmes, Kevin Lygo, said we shouldn't expect anything revolutionary from the show and he was right. It isn't even slightly controversial. The swearing that there was - a * at around 7.10pm - came not from Moyles but from a viewer on a phone-in and was followed by much apologising.
The TV equivalent of a Burger King - distracting while you're consuming it but leaving no lasting impression - it entirely depends on Moyles's charms and his ability to interact with the audience (last night: a flock of whinnying student nurses). All but one of the items were disappointingly bland and you suspect that the show's eschewing of celebrity guests may not last long.
As Chris Evans' Maxi-Me, Moyles isn't half-bad and is a whole lot less obnoxious on television than he is on radio. This may only be down to nerves - for there was a whole lot of shaking going on - but long may it continue.
The only moment of brilliance in Live With Chris Moyles was the distinctly Evans-ish game, Push the Pint. A member of the audience has to push a pint along the bar and if it glides onto a letter A, the audience gets an electric shock and if it lands on an M, it's Moyles's turn. Last night the studio audience got the shocks. Now that's what I call interactive television. You could say it was pure genius were it not the wrong brand of booze.
Live With Chris Moyles was the TV equivalent of a Burger King - distracting while you're consuming it but leaving no lasting impression
Live With Chris Moyles - or TFI Only Half an Hour - is tabloid television. This isn't a value judgement, simply a statement of fact. Its scamper through the day's news focused firmly on the Daily Star definition of current affairs (the nation's fattest trucker!), its competitions included prizes provided by Travel Inn, and there was even a nipple count. (That they were Moyles's own - and they were bleeding after his 10km run on Sunday - perhaps isn't what you would normally associated with a tabloid, but they were tweakable nevertheless).
All of this sounds jolly fun for what the man-behind-the-camera, Chris Evans, calls the three million disenfranchised young males with nothing to watch but Emmerdale, BBC2 sci-fi and Channel 4 News at 7pm on a weekday night. And he is quite right, the aforementioned males' penchant for flicking off to multichannel television notwithstanding. The show is lairy, loud and laddish; it does exactly what it says on the tin. Prizes by Travel Inn are hardly glamorous but entirely appropriate for the show's target demographic. Who needs room service when you're pissed out of your face on, we can only guess, Carling?
But even for these poor underserved blokes, Live With Chris Moyles may be a little thin. (This is ironic, I suppose, but only in an Alanis Morissette kind of way). Channel 5's director of programmes, Kevin Lygo, said we shouldn't expect anything revolutionary from the show and he was right. It isn't even slightly controversial. The swearing that there was - a * at around 7.10pm - came not from Moyles but from a viewer on a phone-in and was followed by much apologising.
The TV equivalent of a Burger King - distracting while you're consuming it but leaving no lasting impression - it entirely depends on Moyles's charms and his ability to interact with the audience (last night: a flock of whinnying student nurses). All but one of the items were disappointingly bland and you suspect that the show's eschewing of celebrity guests may not last long.
As Chris Evans' Maxi-Me, Moyles isn't half-bad and is a whole lot less obnoxious on television than he is on radio. This may only be down to nerves - for there was a whole lot of shaking going on - but long may it continue.
The only moment of brilliance in Live With Chris Moyles was the distinctly Evans-ish game, Push the Pint. A member of the audience has to push a pint along the bar and if it glides onto a letter A, the audience gets an electric shock and if it lands on an M, it's Moyles's turn. Last night the studio audience got the shocks. Now that's what I call interactive television. You could say it was pure genius were it not the wrong brand of booze.
