Stand Aside, Helen of Troy
Jul 26th, 2007 by Eats Wombats
Recently, I built a digital video recorder. Already, it’s transformed my use of television. It’s a bit of a cliché that there’s never anything on, and that when there is, there’s invariably a schedule conflict. Not any more.
Now, I can now browse and record programs almost as easily as browsing the web. I can pause live television. Skip advertisements. Burn a program to DVD. There’s no fooling with video tapes (what’s on this one?) or with infuriating timers (what’s channel 27?). Best of all, one soon accumulates a backlog of films and documentaries. Good things broadcast at inconvenient times are readily available. Suddenly, the idea of having to watch something at a particular time seems almost absurd.
It’s almost as I imagined it would be, and all happily installed in time for us to catch a wave of the future tomorrow when the BBC releases its new iplayer.
I began with a utilitarian vision of information as the third utility, after electricity and running water. Seamless access, automatic backup, a home free of media clutter, and a digital family legacy–eventually.
However, what I have enjoyed most so far about the collision between computing and television has been a surprise:
NEW TECHNOLOGY BRINGING HISTORY TO LIFE!
Two moments stand out, both involving naval battles that influenced the course of history.
First, was the battle of Midway in 1942 between the US and Japanese navies.
The story was recounted in a BBC series made by Peter and Dan Snow on Twentieth Century Battlefields. Snow senior has long been a BBC visual special effects man, popularly associated with the communication of election results and speculations and with his trademark swingometer. Son Dan is a historian. Both have been mocked a little for their slightly overenthusiastic manner.
Their reconstruction of the battle of the Midway relied on old film, photographs, published and first hand accounts, and on computer graphics. The use of 3D computer graphics to show the disposition, movement and range of ships and planes brought the story dramatically to life. Mixed with historical footage it made compelling television. The outcome of the battle hinged in the end on a gamble by the Japanese Admiral to allow his planes to land on his aircraft carriers to refuel, resulting in their being caught on deck by American planes, where they were unable to prevent the loss of the carriers.
It takes a visual replay of the entire sequence of events to really apprehend the strategic picture, the closeness and importance of the battle, and the breathtaking courage of those who fought it, the pilots in particular. They were shown taking off from ships that might not be there for them to return to if the enemy found them first, and on whose behalf they were expected to sacrifice their lives if the opportunity arose. The reconstruction did a remarkable and heroic story justice. I pulled a couple of books on WWII from my bookshelves afterwards and reread the sections on the battle to see how their accounts of this pivotal victory compared. They simply paled by comparison.
Second, the battle of Salamis in 480BC between the Greek and Persian navies.
This story was recounted, also with the aid of computer graphics but sans the boyish gusto, by historian Bettany Hughes in a Channel 4 documentary on Athens: The Truth About Democracy. I recorded this speculatively. Really. I had no idea that the presenter, author of a book on Helen of Troy, is herself an exquisite jewel, exactly the kind of English woman that quickens the pulse of men who like brains and beautiful enunciation as well as looks. She can certainly launch my trireme, although my wife (and, I confess, Emma Thompson) might claim some priority.
It was no surprise to discover that the pulchritudinous historian has other admirers. This one needs a smack and to be told to get her name right, but his puppyish enthusiasm is, well, understandable if a little ridiculous
Yes I can say in 3 words one of the reasons history matters to me. “Doctor Bethany Hughes”. With the David Starkey’s, Simon Shama’s and Peter Ackroyd’s shoving themselves into camera shot on every occasion they can – mostly when history programmes are on (which my missus loves)I find something more urgent to do. Like watching paint dry in another room, which hasn’t been re-decorated in a decade. But then I saw one of Doctor Hughes’ historical programmes and was hooked. What a shallow person I am! I usually yell at the men presenters draping themselves all over my view of the pyramids, whatever. But ask me what subject each Bethany Hughes’ programme was on, be it an hour or even two hours long and I would no doubt only mutter incoherently “Bethany! Bethany!” I am a disrespectful viewer with Peter Ackroyd – his shows on The Romantics and London were wonderful but his constant presence on the screen looking moodily off into the middle distance irritated the heck out of me. But I consider it a frame of film wasted if Dr Hughes isn’t in it. Her head, just so, the sun glinting of that raven black hair. I go weak. Hey, can someone move those damn pyramids out of the way? Ready for your close up, Dr Hughes!
As a sensible married man he will not have been at all devastated, crushed or even mildly disappointed to discover his goddess was married with children. Unless… he’s old enough to resemble Zeus.
I can see it now, Persephone telling dinner guests, with a knowing smirk, that I like history programs “because of the 3D computer graphics.”
