Now that New Year’s Eve has been and gone we can conclusively say 2014 was absolutely rubbish. Of course, some of you were already saying that in November or, in my case, last January.
Premature perhaps. There was a chance it could have turned out ok if we’d fixed everything horrendous before the end of EnWhyEe (the only noise most people can make by 2am on 1 January while draped in Kings Cross kebab meat). Sadly, the carbon-drenched, troll-infested, science-abandoning, testicle-heavy botch of a year was allowed to ooze across the finishing line unhindered, making it officially regrettable in its entirety, even though there was that Thursday in March that was quite good.
For those of us stuck indoors, the ABC was there, as always, to verify 2014 was definitely gone with its NYE coverage. I can’t imagine a TV gig any worse than broadcasting a massive party into the homes of people who failed to go to one (myself included). Well done, then, to Julia Zemiro and Toby Truslove who proved relentlessly affable company for the whole marathon and made a wise choice to stay standing for most of the evening.
You might think that an odd thing to observe, but Lawrence Mooney and Stephanie Brantz sitting pretty last year made it feel as though we were watching some particularly underwhelming Olympics coverage. If I’m carefully incubating a sofa, I don’t need to tune in to see other people spending New Year’s Eve the same way. I could just erect a mirror for that.
Thanks to ABC’s two hosts, this year’s broadcast felt more active and even the segments were funnier. Particular props go to Peter Helliar’s guide to spending the evening alone, Tom Ballard’s non-event report over a dark patch of ocean, and Alan Kohler’s financial review-style wrap up of a typical New Year’s Eve. Mooney was put to better use this year too, playing to his strengths as a quiz host rather than having to attempt stiff decorum for a four-hour stretch.
Overall, then, a success. Which isn’t to say it was incredible television – how could it be? It was epically long. Slap in a song about mountains and it could have been another instalment of The Hobbit. And if having a 3D Gandalf battle a troll inches from your face isn’t enough to keep you awake, what chance does the ABC have?
Eventually the fireworks went off, which I bet you thought weren’t good enough because they didn’t write your name in the sky or something. But for me, here was the final proof of 2014’s demise – what better way to wave off a year in these times of economic uncertainty than by blowing up tonnes of money in front of the public?
Why 2015 will be worse
Gogglebox is coming to Australia in 2015, a show where you watch people watching television. To add to the confusion, I’ll probably end up writing about it, essentially reviewing people reviewing television. And then you lot will comment below, reviewing my review of reviewers.
No-one will know where the show ends and reaction to the show begins, turning us into a giant human centipede of pointless opinion. Obviously I think it’s a terrible idea, but then all you Jeremy Bentham-esque “everything is valid” keyboard goblins will defend it because it’s entertaining, much like looped footage of an elderly pedestrian slipping on a large bird dropping.
If it’s successful in Australia, I’ll release my first album, Audioguff: 12 tracks of the noises people make while they’re listening to music. I’ll follow up with Movieplop: three hours of footage of cinemagoers watching The Hobbit. And I might end up with The Week in Columns: a Guardian column where I type in real time what I’m thinking while I read Guardian columns.
Dear me. Can we skip to the fireworks already and get 2015 over with?
