Don't Tell Mom - I've Gone British

It's a sad confession that I find myself bored with America, or American television rather. So I'm moving my sights across the pond, if you'll pardon the expression. No. Don't try and stop me. No mention of tired forensics dramas and misplaced science fiction will draw me back, no matter how fresh it pretends to be.

I now live on BBC America and spend my time shuffling through every DVD and clip of Doctor Who, The Friday (Sunday) Night Project, Primeval - ok, so just look up the schedule and pick a show. I've downloaded the soundtracks and watched the fanvids on YouTube. I've researched the accents and phraseology. Let's face it - I'm halfway to begging a dual citizenship! I told you it was sad.

In all reality, there are still a few shows created in my homeland that I adore. I can still sit through a marathon of Law and Order. Boston Legal frequently intrigues me. And if I could do nothing all day but revel in the morality tales that are episodes of Star Trek, I surely would. But I think I've drained the tap of brilliance in America - on to the country where, apparently, every thing is brilliant!

The Secret Pavarotti Compartment

Watching the second act of Dr. Horrible's Sing Along Blog, I came to an old conclusion once again. Everyone in Hollywood must have a secret Pavarotti compartment on them. Unlike old Hollywood, where you had to proclaim your ability to sing, dance, and act on your resume, new Hollywood asks that you hide your vocal abilities until some talented and enterprising creator (such as Joss Whedon) asks to borrow them for a project. Judy Garland and Gene Kelly would have been a bundle of surprises in modern Hollywood.

I first saw the SPC principle at work when my college dorm mates forced me to watch Moulin Rouge. I hated it. But I couldn't take my ears of Ewan McGregor. Obi wan can sing? Well? Get out! Then there was the musical Buffy episode. That was a whole new revelation. Joss Whedon writes musicals? Decent musicals? No way! Now there's Dr. H and his fabu Sing-Along, and the strange sensation of Mal Reynolds (yes, I know - his real name is Nathon Fillion) performing his chords out.

So what other performers are hiding gold in the Secret Pavarotti Compartment. What would Stargate SG-1 have been with a musical episode? I would certainly have loved to hear Daniel Jackson angsting in song for all his lost loves, and wouldn't Sam Carter have a perfect swan song in "Why Do All My Love Interests Die?" Of course the coup de gras must be Col. Jack O'Neill singing the jazzy number "Magnets: The Answer is Magnets."