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Play All: A Bingewatcher’s Notebook
A world-renowned media and cultural critic offers an insightful analysis of serial TV drama and the modern art of the small screen
Television and TV viewing are not what they once were—and that’s a good thing, according to award-winning author and critic Clive James. Since serving as television columnist for the London Observer from 1972 to 1982, James has witnessed a radical change in content, format, and programming, and in the very manner in which TV is watched. Here he examines this unique cultural revolution, providing a brilliant, eminently entertaining analysis of many of the medium’s most notable twenty-first-century accomplishments and their not always subtle impact on modern society—including such acclaimed serial dramas as Breaking Bad, The West Wing, Mad Men, and The Sopranos, as well as the comedy 30 Rock . With intelligence and wit, James explores a television landscape expanded by cable and broadband and profoundly altered by the advent of Netflix, Amazon, and other “cord-cutting” platforms that have helped to usher in a golden age of unabashed binge-watching.
Television and TV viewing are not what they once were—and that’s a good thing, according to award-winning author and critic Clive James. Since serving as television columnist for the London Observer from 1972 to 1982, James has witnessed a radical change in content, format, and programming, and in the very manner in which TV is watched. Here he examines this unique cultural revolution, providing a brilliant, eminently entertaining analysis of many of the medium’s most notable twenty-first-century accomplishments and their not always subtle impact on modern society—including such acclaimed serial dramas as Breaking Bad, The West Wing, Mad Men, and The Sopranos, as well as the comedy 30 Rock . With intelligence and wit, James explores a television landscape expanded by cable and broadband and profoundly altered by the advent of Netflix, Amazon, and other “cord-cutting” platforms that have helped to usher in a golden age of unabashed binge-watching.
200 pages, Hardcover
Published August 30, 2016
37 people are currently reading
443 people want to read
About the author
Clive James
94 books289 followersLibrarian Note: There is more than one author in the GoodReads database with this name. See this thread for more information.
An expatriate Australian broadcast personality and author of cultural criticism, memoir, fiction, travelogue and poetry. Translator of Dante.
An expatriate Australian broadcast personality and author of cultural criticism, memoir, fiction, travelogue and poetry. Translator of Dante.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 85 reviews
January 30, 2024
The literary and media journalist Clive James wrote this ode to binge-watching during his last years, confined to a home life that consisted of books by day and television by night, the latter often accompanied by his wife and daughters. He is matter of fact about his leukemia diagnosis, never mawkish, ever so slightly rueful, in that wonderfully unsentimental way that many British people have about life-changing, life-threatening, and life-ending occurrences (although James himself was an Australian expat). What a marvelous chap.
His writing is wry, highly opinionated, often deadpan, always entertaining. Earlier chapters extol the many virtues of The Sopranos, Band of Brothers, West Wing (I really have to watch that one), and The Wire. Later chapters are more free-form, as he moves back & forth from praising shows like House of Cards, The Americans (eventually unwatchable for me), Weeds, and The Good Wife to burning shows he dislikes like Breaking Bad (a surprising opinion to read), Top of the Lake, and basically all of the many icy Scandinavian detective serials. His chapter of both critique and praise for Mad Men was surprising: he appreciates it overall, but faults the realism of its take on advertising executives from that era, whose intelligence he feels the show underrates. I could barely get through the first half of his chapter on Game of Thrones because he spends so much time being embarrassed about liking a show with swords and dragons, but eventually his clear love for such populist entertainment (LOL) forces him to actually talk about the good things.
Throughout the book are usually generous appraisals of the work of the actors on display, as well as a rather old man-ish take on the pleasures of watching beautiful women combined with a passionate appreciation for the changes that feminism has created, and also a light sprinkling of praise for Western civilization in comparison with the often female-diminishing cultures of the Islamic world. Perhaps the wildest chapter was the wide-ranging "Breaking Understandably Bad" which moves rather incoherently but always entertainingly from critiquing Steve Buscemi's miscast face in Boardwalk Empire to praising Lena Dunham's ability to really put it all out there in Girls.
I particularly loved this bit on the importance and meaning of the character Tyrion from Game of Thrones, and why his plot armor was so necessary:
His writing is wry, highly opinionated, often deadpan, always entertaining. Earlier chapters extol the many virtues of The Sopranos, Band of Brothers, West Wing (I really have to watch that one), and The Wire. Later chapters are more free-form, as he moves back & forth from praising shows like House of Cards, The Americans (eventually unwatchable for me), Weeds, and The Good Wife to burning shows he dislikes like Breaking Bad (a surprising opinion to read), Top of the Lake, and basically all of the many icy Scandinavian detective serials. His chapter of both critique and praise for Mad Men was surprising: he appreciates it overall, but faults the realism of its take on advertising executives from that era, whose intelligence he feels the show underrates. I could barely get through the first half of his chapter on Game of Thrones because he spends so much time being embarrassed about liking a show with swords and dragons, but eventually his clear love for such populist entertainment (LOL) forces him to actually talk about the good things.
Throughout the book are usually generous appraisals of the work of the actors on display, as well as a rather old man-ish take on the pleasures of watching beautiful women combined with a passionate appreciation for the changes that feminism has created, and also a light sprinkling of praise for Western civilization in comparison with the often female-diminishing cultures of the Islamic world. Perhaps the wildest chapter was the wide-ranging "Breaking Understandably Bad" which moves rather incoherently but always entertainingly from critiquing Steve Buscemi's miscast face in Boardwalk Empire to praising Lena Dunham's ability to really put it all out there in Girls.
I particularly loved this bit on the importance and meaning of the character Tyrion from Game of Thrones, and why his plot armor was so necessary:
"...without Tyrion Lannister you would have to start the show again, because he is the epitome of the story's moral scope; and anyway he is us, bright enough to see the world's evil but not strong enough to change it. His big head is the symbol of his comprehension, and his little body the symbol of his incapacity to act upon it. For all his cleverness, there are times when only a quirk in the script can save him. Real life could kill the dwarf, but the show couldn't. So finally Game of Thrones stands revealed as a crowd pleaser. To despise that, you have to imagine you aren't part of the crowd. But you are: the lesson that the twentieth century should have taught all intellectuals. Now it is a different century, and they must go on being taught."Perhaps not the most sensitive way of making his point, but a point that is so real and true nonetheless.
November 18, 2017
Wondering what Clive James would have thought of Game of Thrones feels a bit like wondering what Ruskin would have thought of Banksy, and yet here, delightedly, we are. As James likes to remind us in his columns, he isn't actually dead yet, despite a nasty leukaemia that's looked like finishing him off any day for the last five years. And what better way to pass this borrowed time than by sitting with his two daughters and binge-watching our new golden age of TV programmes. The Sopranos, The Good Wife, 30 Rock, Breaking Bad and dozens more are all here, filtered through his customary sardonic learning, impossible to read without hearing the cadences of his nasal, mellow Australian tones.
It should be no surprise that he's turned his attention to these shows: his Observer column in the 70s so revolutionised television criticism that it practically invented it. Indeed his glee at engaging with what used to be called ‘low culture’ is one of his most appealing traits, the more so because he approaches it with a more formidable arsenal of high culture than almost any other critic around. When he compares Don Draper to Truffaut's L'homme qui aimait les femmes, part of the pleasure is in recognising that he would also review Truffaut with reference to Don Draper, and probably has.
Not that what he is actually saying is particularly new. When he comments that Mad Men allows us to ‘revel in the opportunity to look back and patronize the clever for not being quite clever enough to be living now’, or that the show ‘is a marketing campaign: what it sells is a sense of superiority’, he is saying the same thing that the other critics already said, only better than they said it. That's enough reason to read him, but more insights might have been nice too. There is also an edge of amiable but over-persistent leeriness to some of his expositions, which means you come away from this book knowing that he fancies Cersei more than Daenerys, finds Kate Mara delectable, and considers that the only reason to watch Ghosts of Mars is ‘Natasha Henstridge in a teddy’. I can roll my eyes over this stuff, but I'd rather not have to, even when I agree with him. It's not the content but the tone that feels misjudged, and being tone-deaf is not a criticism you would ever associate with Clive James on form.
It suggests that, in at least a few ways, he is not quite keeping up with the contemporary mood (despite some completely unexpected references in here to The Witcher 3 and Amy Schumer's ‘Last Fuckable Day’ sketch). And this goes for more than just mood. He spends a paragraph of his introduction considering the grammatical justification of talking about ‘box sets’ rather than ‘boxed sets’, but doesn't grasp that no one has used either of those terms since streaming services made them both obsolete. Someone get this man a Netflix subscription, pronto.
Anyway, the pleasures of this book vastly outnumber its niggles. Some of the lines in here are fantastic: on Mad Men (again) he talks about the women having to deal with ‘a glass ceiling that's been set at floor level’, while Peter Dinklage in Game of Thrones ‘had such an impact that he suddenly made all the other male actors in the world look too tall’. Whatever its subject, a sentence written by Clive James is always worth reading, indeed studying. I hear him in everything I write, and after he's gone I'm going to spend the whole time wondering what he would have thought about whatever new cultural phenomenon is in circulation. This book, which answers the question, can only feel like a gift.
It should be no surprise that he's turned his attention to these shows: his Observer column in the 70s so revolutionised television criticism that it practically invented it. Indeed his glee at engaging with what used to be called ‘low culture’ is one of his most appealing traits, the more so because he approaches it with a more formidable arsenal of high culture than almost any other critic around. When he compares Don Draper to Truffaut's L'homme qui aimait les femmes, part of the pleasure is in recognising that he would also review Truffaut with reference to Don Draper, and probably has.
Not that what he is actually saying is particularly new. When he comments that Mad Men allows us to ‘revel in the opportunity to look back and patronize the clever for not being quite clever enough to be living now’, or that the show ‘is a marketing campaign: what it sells is a sense of superiority’, he is saying the same thing that the other critics already said, only better than they said it. That's enough reason to read him, but more insights might have been nice too. There is also an edge of amiable but over-persistent leeriness to some of his expositions, which means you come away from this book knowing that he fancies Cersei more than Daenerys, finds Kate Mara delectable, and considers that the only reason to watch Ghosts of Mars is ‘Natasha Henstridge in a teddy’. I can roll my eyes over this stuff, but I'd rather not have to, even when I agree with him. It's not the content but the tone that feels misjudged, and being tone-deaf is not a criticism you would ever associate with Clive James on form.
It suggests that, in at least a few ways, he is not quite keeping up with the contemporary mood (despite some completely unexpected references in here to The Witcher 3 and Amy Schumer's ‘Last Fuckable Day’ sketch). And this goes for more than just mood. He spends a paragraph of his introduction considering the grammatical justification of talking about ‘box sets’ rather than ‘boxed sets’, but doesn't grasp that no one has used either of those terms since streaming services made them both obsolete. Someone get this man a Netflix subscription, pronto.
Anyway, the pleasures of this book vastly outnumber its niggles. Some of the lines in here are fantastic: on Mad Men (again) he talks about the women having to deal with ‘a glass ceiling that's been set at floor level’, while Peter Dinklage in Game of Thrones ‘had such an impact that he suddenly made all the other male actors in the world look too tall’. Whatever its subject, a sentence written by Clive James is always worth reading, indeed studying. I hear him in everything I write, and after he's gone I'm going to spend the whole time wondering what he would have thought about whatever new cultural phenomenon is in circulation. This book, which answers the question, can only feel like a gift.
February 28, 2019
Debarred by fate from military prowess, Tyrion has never been able to influence events except with his brain, and his trial is the show's clearest proof that in an unreasonable society to have reasoning power guarantees nothing except the additional mental suffering that accrues when circumstances remind you that you are powerless. Your only privilege, even as a son of a noble house, is to understand the fix you are in, and to express yourself neatly when neatness can avail you nothing...
Clive James - author, critic, broadcaster, memoirist and general bon vivant - takes on the advent of the boxed set in eleven essays devoted to the binge. I came for his thoughts on Thrones of course, yet you will also find him expounding on treats like The Sopranos, The Wire, Band of Brothers, West Wing and Mad Men among others...asserting, and rightly so, that this is what it's come to; here is where the current artistic value lies in filmed media, ousted as it has been from the cinema by the superhero turn the movies have taken.
Mr. James has many clever things to say. Interspersed among them are the darker truths faced by those who are dying. He has been ill for quite some time, and battling, and this brings a mordant wit to bear on our literary proceedings. (I can't say I found the insights sharper, but there is a winsome insouciance in the freedom of his devil-may-care.)
A quick read to fit between the seasons of whatever series has captured your fancy.
Clive James - author, critic, broadcaster, memoirist and general bon vivant - takes on the advent of the boxed set in eleven essays devoted to the binge. I came for his thoughts on Thrones of course, yet you will also find him expounding on treats like The Sopranos, The Wire, Band of Brothers, West Wing and Mad Men among others...asserting, and rightly so, that this is what it's come to; here is where the current artistic value lies in filmed media, ousted as it has been from the cinema by the superhero turn the movies have taken.
Mr. James has many clever things to say. Interspersed among them are the darker truths faced by those who are dying. He has been ill for quite some time, and battling, and this brings a mordant wit to bear on our literary proceedings. (I can't say I found the insights sharper, but there is a winsome insouciance in the freedom of his devil-may-care.)
A quick read to fit between the seasons of whatever series has captured your fancy.
January 4, 2018
I have a serious man-crush on Clive James.
He's cultured. He's perceptive. He writes with a distinct style and he's damned funny.
In short, he's the full writerly package.
I've long admired him, and throughout the many of his books that I have read his writing somehow manages to be both treacle-smooth and razor sharp, a jumbo jar of fine-grade honey laced with surgical scalpels.
James is a confessed bingewatcher of TV shows, regularly smashing the decency-threshold of four episodes in one sitting, and this is the foundation of Play All; A Bingewatcher's Notebook - a fine collection of criticism and discussion of modern big-ticket shows such as Game of Thrones, the West Wing and The Sopranos.
(It's comforting - as I lie in the grip of my beanbag, biscuit crumbs and spilled tea-drops dotted over my chest while I binge-watch my latest show - knowing that literary luminaries like Clive James have the same bad habits we mortals do. The difference is that James has turned his poor habits into another fine book, while mine have done little more than expand my waistline)
It’s a genuine pleasure to see James' laser-guided cultural sense, and his well-honed critical blades turned once again to television - something so often viewed in as being beneath the consideration of capital-L Literary writers. Informed, witty and always entertaining, James is a writer who can seamlessly move from discussing Nietzche to the finer points of James Gandolfini’s performance as Tony Soprano.
James was once a TV critic (His collected works are available in a book titled The Crystal Bucket, an entertaining read that sadly discusses shows that are mostly lost to history now) and he knows his stuff. From NYPD Blue to Breaking Bad to Scandi crime thrillers, James has watched them all, and is able to place any show within the broader history of the form. All the way through his book you get the impression that he genuinely cares about good television, and respects the herculean efforts it takes to put good stories onscreen.
James is pleasingly human in his writing, discussing his weakness for a beautiful face (for both women and men, but particularly for women) and the sometimes irrational reasons he had for putting off viewing certain shows (a long-standing policy against anything containing dragons, for example).
The pleasure James takes in viewing and discussing these shows is palpable. This is a fairly light collection- we aren't dealing with war, death and the fate of nations here - but it's damn enjoyable and a timely reminder that James is still as perceptive a writer as he has ever been.
Some reviewers have criticized James' use of the phrase 'box sets' as being hopelessly out of date, but to my eye this is excessive nit-picking. James mentions numerous times that dvd sets are being superseded by the internet, and as a librarian whose library lends DVDs by the thousand I can tell you that the streaming revolution has a long way to go before people stop using discs.
It's rare for a writer to be able to mix intelligent, piercing critique with humor, but James is that writer, an author whose works have made me laugh at loud as often as they've made me think, sometimes simultaneously. Reading one of his works is much like spending time with an erudite, entertaining uncle who is possessed of a sharp tongue and a great turn of phrase.
James notes several times that he is living under a death sentence (he has leukemia), and that this might be his last book. While I hope wholeheartedly that this isn't the case, Play All is a good book to go out on- a work that once again demonstrates his deft hand at approaching any subject in the enquiring, educated and playful style that is his hallmark.
He's cultured. He's perceptive. He writes with a distinct style and he's damned funny.
In short, he's the full writerly package.
I've long admired him, and throughout the many of his books that I have read his writing somehow manages to be both treacle-smooth and razor sharp, a jumbo jar of fine-grade honey laced with surgical scalpels.
James is a confessed bingewatcher of TV shows, regularly smashing the decency-threshold of four episodes in one sitting, and this is the foundation of Play All; A Bingewatcher's Notebook - a fine collection of criticism and discussion of modern big-ticket shows such as Game of Thrones, the West Wing and The Sopranos.
(It's comforting - as I lie in the grip of my beanbag, biscuit crumbs and spilled tea-drops dotted over my chest while I binge-watch my latest show - knowing that literary luminaries like Clive James have the same bad habits we mortals do. The difference is that James has turned his poor habits into another fine book, while mine have done little more than expand my waistline)
It’s a genuine pleasure to see James' laser-guided cultural sense, and his well-honed critical blades turned once again to television - something so often viewed in as being beneath the consideration of capital-L Literary writers. Informed, witty and always entertaining, James is a writer who can seamlessly move from discussing Nietzche to the finer points of James Gandolfini’s performance as Tony Soprano.
James was once a TV critic (His collected works are available in a book titled The Crystal Bucket, an entertaining read that sadly discusses shows that are mostly lost to history now) and he knows his stuff. From NYPD Blue to Breaking Bad to Scandi crime thrillers, James has watched them all, and is able to place any show within the broader history of the form. All the way through his book you get the impression that he genuinely cares about good television, and respects the herculean efforts it takes to put good stories onscreen.
James is pleasingly human in his writing, discussing his weakness for a beautiful face (for both women and men, but particularly for women) and the sometimes irrational reasons he had for putting off viewing certain shows (a long-standing policy against anything containing dragons, for example).
The pleasure James takes in viewing and discussing these shows is palpable. This is a fairly light collection- we aren't dealing with war, death and the fate of nations here - but it's damn enjoyable and a timely reminder that James is still as perceptive a writer as he has ever been.
Some reviewers have criticized James' use of the phrase 'box sets' as being hopelessly out of date, but to my eye this is excessive nit-picking. James mentions numerous times that dvd sets are being superseded by the internet, and as a librarian whose library lends DVDs by the thousand I can tell you that the streaming revolution has a long way to go before people stop using discs.
It's rare for a writer to be able to mix intelligent, piercing critique with humor, but James is that writer, an author whose works have made me laugh at loud as often as they've made me think, sometimes simultaneously. Reading one of his works is much like spending time with an erudite, entertaining uncle who is possessed of a sharp tongue and a great turn of phrase.
James notes several times that he is living under a death sentence (he has leukemia), and that this might be his last book. While I hope wholeheartedly that this isn't the case, Play All is a good book to go out on- a work that once again demonstrates his deft hand at approaching any subject in the enquiring, educated and playful style that is his hallmark.
February 7, 2017
My interest in long-form drama is relatively recent . I went almost a decade in my 20s without a television. Without articulating it, I think I was drawn to the format by the potential for both pacing and proportion. Perhaps it was the adaptation of Little Dorrit, it was certainly The Wire. Historically I have slated these binges for the summer when futbol takes a brief hiatus and those frequent, fleeting spots of holiday.
Clive James freely admits he's living on borrowed time and that he's steeped in the vices and virtues of the small screen. An unfortunate aspect of this text is that while praising a series he gives away critical plot developments. That said I am now looking to view the Arne Dahl adaptations in the near future.
Here are my favorite shows of the last year:
Preacher
Silk
Mr. Robot
I think without emphasis, James is also attracted to the binge as a shared activity. He vividly paints the viewing and ensuing conversations with his daughters. I can relate to that with my nerdy interest in philosophy and Jean-Luc Godard. It is nice watching Indian Summers with my wife and then talking about such on a long walk. That said, I can't fake it. Outlander and Peaky Blinders fail to move me. Cue the final line from Some Like It Hot.
Clive James freely admits he's living on borrowed time and that he's steeped in the vices and virtues of the small screen. An unfortunate aspect of this text is that while praising a series he gives away critical plot developments. That said I am now looking to view the Arne Dahl adaptations in the near future.
Here are my favorite shows of the last year:
Preacher
Silk
Mr. Robot
I think without emphasis, James is also attracted to the binge as a shared activity. He vividly paints the viewing and ensuing conversations with his daughters. I can relate to that with my nerdy interest in philosophy and Jean-Luc Godard. It is nice watching Indian Summers with my wife and then talking about such on a long walk. That said, I can't fake it. Outlander and Peaky Blinders fail to move me. Cue the final line from Some Like It Hot.
December 31, 2016
Few critics are as astute and funny about TV as Clive James. This work honors the long form TV that I now prefer to the old days of scheduled episodes and impatient waiting.
Some of his dead-on observations -- On Madmen:
"Don Draper is Don Giovanni in a Brooks Brothers shirt."
The Sopranos :
"On the more subtle level of mental torture, Artie the restaurateur, who by his gift for foolish investments has brought his enterprise to bankruptcy, is saved by a loan from Tony. Being saved by Tony ensures that he will be enslaved forever. ...Once, Tony and his family ran up a tab that was only rarely paid. Now it will never be paid. Artie's torment shows in his compulsorily merry face, and shows the true cost of being in the mob's grip."
On Tyrion in GOT :
"He is the epitome of the story's moral scope; and anyway he is us, bright enough to see the world's evil but not strong enough to change it. His big head is the symbol of his comprehension, and his little body the symbol of his incapacity to act upon it."
I can't say I agree with him in his take on Scandi crime. I greatly admired Krister Henriksson' s Wallander-- whose face speaks volumes, and I can still hear him calling for his dog Jussi -- but James writes the show off as boring.
While he does devote a chapter to The Wire, it just doesn't seem long enough to delve deeply enough into this study of post-industrial urban America, with its sad waste of human lives. But he appreciates the unforgettable episodes: Bunk and Jimmy at a crime scene, repeatedly uttering one and only one foul-mouthed expletive, letting it serve as noun, verb, adjective and adverb, all in the space of 5 minutes; Prez's breakthrough in solving the code drug bosses use to communicate with their corner crew; the season-long (maybe more) take on Snoop, a killer who only seems to be in the game for the thrill of taking lives.
James brings a lifetime of film and TV-watching to his analysis, and it all makes for a truly entertaining read. Would love to be in the same room with him, binge watching.
Some of his dead-on observations -- On Madmen:
"Don Draper is Don Giovanni in a Brooks Brothers shirt."
The Sopranos :
"On the more subtle level of mental torture, Artie the restaurateur, who by his gift for foolish investments has brought his enterprise to bankruptcy, is saved by a loan from Tony. Being saved by Tony ensures that he will be enslaved forever. ...Once, Tony and his family ran up a tab that was only rarely paid. Now it will never be paid. Artie's torment shows in his compulsorily merry face, and shows the true cost of being in the mob's grip."
On Tyrion in GOT :
"He is the epitome of the story's moral scope; and anyway he is us, bright enough to see the world's evil but not strong enough to change it. His big head is the symbol of his comprehension, and his little body the symbol of his incapacity to act upon it."
I can't say I agree with him in his take on Scandi crime. I greatly admired Krister Henriksson' s Wallander-- whose face speaks volumes, and I can still hear him calling for his dog Jussi -- but James writes the show off as boring.
While he does devote a chapter to The Wire, it just doesn't seem long enough to delve deeply enough into this study of post-industrial urban America, with its sad waste of human lives. But he appreciates the unforgettable episodes: Bunk and Jimmy at a crime scene, repeatedly uttering one and only one foul-mouthed expletive, letting it serve as noun, verb, adjective and adverb, all in the space of 5 minutes; Prez's breakthrough in solving the code drug bosses use to communicate with their corner crew; the season-long (maybe more) take on Snoop, a killer who only seems to be in the game for the thrill of taking lives.
James brings a lifetime of film and TV-watching to his analysis, and it all makes for a truly entertaining read. Would love to be in the same room with him, binge watching.
January 3, 2026
Clive James was one of the most intelligent, insightful, poetic and funny observers of popular culture to have put pen to paper, and as far as Australian literary figures go he deserves to be celebrated far more than he has been. A poet, novelist, autobiographer, translator, lyricist and critic, he was the very apogee of the polymath, but one who never ever lost his common touch. In Play All: A Bingwatcher's Notebook we are offered the perfect embodiment of his unique quality to sit astride high and low culture, whilst making what he writes vivaciously witty. If ever there was a book that confirms the thesis that contemporary television series cab be as rich as (for example) the 19th Century European novel form, then James' work is the one.
The core reason why James succeeds in accomplishing his aim of reviewing a plethora of DVD box sets during his last (and terminal) illness is that he never underestimates the readers' ability to access and understand the duality of his prose. Whether this be melding intellectually complex ideas with simple obervsations, or juxtaposing a HBO series with a canonical text by Proust etc, or mining the personal experience of watching whilst providing generalist observations as to a show's mass appeal, James does it again and again. There are some chapters, some essays that don't quite work, and this is often because the reader may not be familiar with the program James discusses. In his closing chapter much is said about 'The Good Wife' which, ignorant as I am of its contents, left me a little underwhelmed. However, even then, there is James' prose, his way with words, to make sure we stay tuned to his writing.
One of the most intriguing, and I would argue correct, theses that James presents in Play All: A Bingwatcher's Notebook is how recent television drama as produced and presented in bingeable series is both connected to canonical texts from previous years, but also forms a new canon. In the opening chapter to the book James notes:
"St my writing desk, after a lifetime of failing to engage with Spencer's 'The Faerie Queen', I at last engaged with it, and it struck me that the fair Duessa, the shape-changing femme fatale who causes so much trouble for the Red Cross Knight, has affinities with Melisandre, the scarier woman in 'Game of Thrones' who causes so much trouble for Stannis Barethorn among others....It's as if classical literature has faded into the mind's background, and images on the screen had becomes one's first frame of cultural reference. In view of this possibility, it becomes a positive likelihoodfor the next generation they will be the only reference."
This quote demonstrates how James is able to straddle both the world of intellectual critic, steeped in significant literature, whilst also engaging with a deeper appreciation of contenporary populist television. It's a considerable achievement to be able to posit this argument so effectively, and then use it throughout the book, as will be noted later. Having said that, his prognositication is a bit off, in that with the advent of social media and online texts that are designed to stimulate the emotions in a very short space of time, relying on the viewers' endorphins and the platforms' algorithms to deliver abrupt and simplistic texts that are for the most part incredibly shallow and non-intellectual, even the likes of 'Games of Thrones' or 'Breaking Bad' have lost their ability to inform wide and deeper cultural appreciation.
One can't complain too much about the variety and depth of James' selections for viewing and criticism, though for the most part the programs chosen are now upwards of twenty plus years old. 'Band of Brothers', 'The West Wing', 'Breaking Bad', 'The Sopranos', 'Mad Men', The Wire' and 'Game of Thrones' all serve as focus points for chapters/essays, with scope for more dramas thrown in as supplementary or complimentary material for James' discussion. James is particularly interested in Aaron Sorkin's 'The West Wing' and the much less successful 'Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip', in part because Sorkin's work is so incredibly literate, dialogue heavy and ideas driven, and partly because it gives him a chance to extol the virtues of Martin Sheen and Alison Janney (the latter being as much a figure of long distance desire for me as I think it is for James). Personally I would've liked ot have seen more said about one of my all times favourite shows from this era, HBO's 'Rome'. To his credit the author captures the visceral slaughter shown in one episode when Pullo engages in bloody combat with several gladiators. Having said that, discussing how history can and will be (mis)represented in the chapter on 'Mad Men' could have been neatly complemented by a review of 'Rome'. Additionally, I think James is too dismissive of 'The Pacific' and 'Treme', both programs that I believe packed a real punch emotionally and culturally.
James' chapter on 'Game of Thrones' is one of the best in the book, and he again makes the intriguing leap of melding a fantasy epic with past canonical literary texts, whilst throwing in a few punchy gags and sly sensual comments on female characters/actors. For example, here is James speaking to Cersei Lannister's character:
In a cast list where almost everyone stands out, the evil queen Cersei Lannister stands out among the women for she combines shapely grace with limitless evil in just the right mixture to scae a man to death while rendering him helpless with desire. She is Kundry and Lilith, Lulu and Carmen. She is Proust's mother, who tormented him so much by wilfully neglecting to climb the stairs to kiss him goodnight that he spent his entire life writing a long novel in revenge. Superbly equipped by the cold edges of her classically sculpted looks to incarnate the concept of a femme fatale, Lena Headey beams Cersei's radiant malevolence into the viewer's mind that she reawakens a formative disturbance. Did my mother look after me because she loved me, or was she doing all that only because she had to?"
Who else but James could reference in the same paragraph Proust, Freudian questions about motherhood, and a HBO dragon fantasy? It's heady stuff and makes for not just challenging prose but serious cultural insight. The man knew his way to turn television criticism into high art.
Play All: A Bingwatcher's Notebook is a very impressive tome, and one that deserves reading if you are a serious student of television, a devotee of culture studies and/or a fan of Clive James. One could argue that this is a relatively slight title in James' corpus, but that belies its impressive intellectual construct as well as its highly engaging prose. It is sad to think that this great Australian is no longer with us, but his writing in works such as this will still resonate.
The core reason why James succeeds in accomplishing his aim of reviewing a plethora of DVD box sets during his last (and terminal) illness is that he never underestimates the readers' ability to access and understand the duality of his prose. Whether this be melding intellectually complex ideas with simple obervsations, or juxtaposing a HBO series with a canonical text by Proust etc, or mining the personal experience of watching whilst providing generalist observations as to a show's mass appeal, James does it again and again. There are some chapters, some essays that don't quite work, and this is often because the reader may not be familiar with the program James discusses. In his closing chapter much is said about 'The Good Wife' which, ignorant as I am of its contents, left me a little underwhelmed. However, even then, there is James' prose, his way with words, to make sure we stay tuned to his writing.
One of the most intriguing, and I would argue correct, theses that James presents in Play All: A Bingwatcher's Notebook is how recent television drama as produced and presented in bingeable series is both connected to canonical texts from previous years, but also forms a new canon. In the opening chapter to the book James notes:
"St my writing desk, after a lifetime of failing to engage with Spencer's 'The Faerie Queen', I at last engaged with it, and it struck me that the fair Duessa, the shape-changing femme fatale who causes so much trouble for the Red Cross Knight, has affinities with Melisandre, the scarier woman in 'Game of Thrones' who causes so much trouble for Stannis Barethorn among others....It's as if classical literature has faded into the mind's background, and images on the screen had becomes one's first frame of cultural reference. In view of this possibility, it becomes a positive likelihoodfor the next generation they will be the only reference."
This quote demonstrates how James is able to straddle both the world of intellectual critic, steeped in significant literature, whilst also engaging with a deeper appreciation of contenporary populist television. It's a considerable achievement to be able to posit this argument so effectively, and then use it throughout the book, as will be noted later. Having said that, his prognositication is a bit off, in that with the advent of social media and online texts that are designed to stimulate the emotions in a very short space of time, relying on the viewers' endorphins and the platforms' algorithms to deliver abrupt and simplistic texts that are for the most part incredibly shallow and non-intellectual, even the likes of 'Games of Thrones' or 'Breaking Bad' have lost their ability to inform wide and deeper cultural appreciation.
One can't complain too much about the variety and depth of James' selections for viewing and criticism, though for the most part the programs chosen are now upwards of twenty plus years old. 'Band of Brothers', 'The West Wing', 'Breaking Bad', 'The Sopranos', 'Mad Men', The Wire' and 'Game of Thrones' all serve as focus points for chapters/essays, with scope for more dramas thrown in as supplementary or complimentary material for James' discussion. James is particularly interested in Aaron Sorkin's 'The West Wing' and the much less successful 'Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip', in part because Sorkin's work is so incredibly literate, dialogue heavy and ideas driven, and partly because it gives him a chance to extol the virtues of Martin Sheen and Alison Janney (the latter being as much a figure of long distance desire for me as I think it is for James). Personally I would've liked ot have seen more said about one of my all times favourite shows from this era, HBO's 'Rome'. To his credit the author captures the visceral slaughter shown in one episode when Pullo engages in bloody combat with several gladiators. Having said that, discussing how history can and will be (mis)represented in the chapter on 'Mad Men' could have been neatly complemented by a review of 'Rome'. Additionally, I think James is too dismissive of 'The Pacific' and 'Treme', both programs that I believe packed a real punch emotionally and culturally.
James' chapter on 'Game of Thrones' is one of the best in the book, and he again makes the intriguing leap of melding a fantasy epic with past canonical literary texts, whilst throwing in a few punchy gags and sly sensual comments on female characters/actors. For example, here is James speaking to Cersei Lannister's character:
In a cast list where almost everyone stands out, the evil queen Cersei Lannister stands out among the women for she combines shapely grace with limitless evil in just the right mixture to scae a man to death while rendering him helpless with desire. She is Kundry and Lilith, Lulu and Carmen. She is Proust's mother, who tormented him so much by wilfully neglecting to climb the stairs to kiss him goodnight that he spent his entire life writing a long novel in revenge. Superbly equipped by the cold edges of her classically sculpted looks to incarnate the concept of a femme fatale, Lena Headey beams Cersei's radiant malevolence into the viewer's mind that she reawakens a formative disturbance. Did my mother look after me because she loved me, or was she doing all that only because she had to?"
Who else but James could reference in the same paragraph Proust, Freudian questions about motherhood, and a HBO dragon fantasy? It's heady stuff and makes for not just challenging prose but serious cultural insight. The man knew his way to turn television criticism into high art.
Play All: A Bingwatcher's Notebook is a very impressive tome, and one that deserves reading if you are a serious student of television, a devotee of culture studies and/or a fan of Clive James. One could argue that this is a relatively slight title in James' corpus, but that belies its impressive intellectual construct as well as its highly engaging prose. It is sad to think that this great Australian is no longer with us, but his writing in works such as this will still resonate.
January 22, 2017
I found this deeply frustrating.
To get a minor, but persistent, annoyance out of the way... this was published in 2016, and yet the title and repeated references are to box sets. I.e., physical media. Really? No mention of streaming or Netflix? Even to comment on what effect the relevant companies have on prestige TV? Fine. Whatever.
One would think that a mind that could get from Total Recall to Leni Reifenstahl within two sentences would have some fun insights to dig through. But, much like his preoccupation with every actress's physical charms, his observations are very surface level.
The initial essay rightly sets up that long form TV allows for a depth of character and theme development that movies just don't have time for. But then those themes and characters aren't actually analyzed. They are referenced, and compared to previous cultural iterations, but I didn't see much attempt at new insight.
I don't really know who this book is for. I watch *a lot* of (prestige) TV, and a fair amount of movies, and I did not have the breadth of references to fully follow along. However, I also read and listen to a good deal of TV criticism, and much of what I read in this book doesn't really compare in depth or thoughtfulness to some of the better blogs I read.
Also, he makes a quick argument that Weeds is more creatively successful than Breaking Bad. I meeeaaaannnnn.... it was hard for me to get back on board after that. It's one thing to say you enjoyed one show over another, but one show is carefully plotted with an incredible supporting cast and several complex themes, and the other has Mary Louise Parker. Which, no shade! She is incredible and a charisma machine and can wear a sundress and gnaw on a Starbucks straw like no one else, but she was basically the only reason to watch that show.
Ugh. Why am I writing about this book so much? It angered me.
To get a minor, but persistent, annoyance out of the way... this was published in 2016, and yet the title and repeated references are to box sets. I.e., physical media. Really? No mention of streaming or Netflix? Even to comment on what effect the relevant companies have on prestige TV? Fine. Whatever.
One would think that a mind that could get from Total Recall to Leni Reifenstahl within two sentences would have some fun insights to dig through. But, much like his preoccupation with every actress's physical charms, his observations are very surface level.
The initial essay rightly sets up that long form TV allows for a depth of character and theme development that movies just don't have time for. But then those themes and characters aren't actually analyzed. They are referenced, and compared to previous cultural iterations, but I didn't see much attempt at new insight.
I don't really know who this book is for. I watch *a lot* of (prestige) TV, and a fair amount of movies, and I did not have the breadth of references to fully follow along. However, I also read and listen to a good deal of TV criticism, and much of what I read in this book doesn't really compare in depth or thoughtfulness to some of the better blogs I read.
Also, he makes a quick argument that Weeds is more creatively successful than Breaking Bad. I meeeaaaannnnn.... it was hard for me to get back on board after that. It's one thing to say you enjoyed one show over another, but one show is carefully plotted with an incredible supporting cast and several complex themes, and the other has Mary Louise Parker. Which, no shade! She is incredible and a charisma machine and can wear a sundress and gnaw on a Starbucks straw like no one else, but she was basically the only reason to watch that show.
Ugh. Why am I writing about this book so much? It angered me.
August 12, 2022
I love the way Clive James writes about pretty much anything. I do have to consider the possibility, though, that in this case I've given a bonus star on the basis that not only does he love The Wire, The West Wing and The Sopranos, and discuss that love with equal parts warmth and erudition, he also seems to agree with me in thinking Breaking Bad more than a little bit overrated (please send all angry mail to the usual address).
August 8, 2016
I received this book from Good Reads.
OK, I admit it: I binged read this book about binge watching television shows, in boxed sets. Frankly, I didn't read all the critiques about shows I never watched: Mad Men in particular and Good Wife. However, I read with great interest his comments on Game of Thrones and NYPD Blue. I agree with the author totally on the character of Andy Sipowicz.
The problem with such books as this is that they get old really fast. In five years, people won't even remember, say, Good Wife.
And he didn't even mention one of my favorite box sets, Homicide: Life on the Street.
OK, I admit it: I binged read this book about binge watching television shows, in boxed sets. Frankly, I didn't read all the critiques about shows I never watched: Mad Men in particular and Good Wife. However, I read with great interest his comments on Game of Thrones and NYPD Blue. I agree with the author totally on the character of Andy Sipowicz.
The problem with such books as this is that they get old really fast. In five years, people won't even remember, say, Good Wife.
And he didn't even mention one of my favorite box sets, Homicide: Life on the Street.
June 12, 2018
I haven't seen any of the TV shows discussed except for the Sopranos, but I will read anything by Clive James. This is a wonderful book. I binge read it.
May 2, 2022
A scholarly look at binge watching television boxed sets without resorting to big exotic words or going off the subject, and mentioning how he and his family reacts to various series without going off on tangents.
He mentions how good- or bad-looking various performers are, not to be lecherous but to prove that how people look in a visual story does make a difference as much as how the costumes and sets look. He mentions facts that unlike the Godfather movies, real gangsters do not protect the little guy but get in line to exploit them like everybody else, and that being small, or large, or ugly, or beautiful, does make a difference in real life, and it mattered in the past as in the present. An interesting but fortunately not overdetailed read.
He mentions how good- or bad-looking various performers are, not to be lecherous but to prove that how people look in a visual story does make a difference as much as how the costumes and sets look. He mentions facts that unlike the Godfather movies, real gangsters do not protect the little guy but get in line to exploit them like everybody else, and that being small, or large, or ugly, or beautiful, does make a difference in real life, and it mattered in the past as in the present. An interesting but fortunately not overdetailed read.
January 17, 2018
I am now searching for more Clive books.He is funny,erudite,obviously troubled(2 daughters)
and loves beautiful women.I would have finished the book much earlier,but I had to google pictures of almost all the actresses he mentioned.4.5 stars
and loves beautiful women.I would have finished the book much earlier,but I had to google pictures of almost all the actresses he mentioned.4.5 stars
January 29, 2018
Clive James remains a thing of joy, even while facing death these last years. His musings on the new "binge watching" method and the narrative changes it brings to entertainment are constantly pleasing. Especially since he mostly analyzing those series I have seen.
May 8, 2017
Like the cover of the book says, the text on Game of Thrones is really worth reading. And we really should start The Good Wife again. Not so sure about NYPD Blue...
January 4, 2017
The First Book of 2017, and what a corker!
When he was in the process of dying, Christopher Hitchens wrote a condensation of his philosophy called MORTALITY. Hitchens's friend, and fellow wit, Clive James is now in the process of dying but he gives us a collection of astute yet hysterical essays on television shows. James and his family have been watching boxed sets of TV shows during his recent illness (leukemia, in fact). He covers, in his own way, The Sopranos, Band of Brothers, The Pacific , The West Wing, The Wire, Breaking Bad, Mad Men, The Americans, Homeland, Game of Thrones, and The Good Wife, among other shows. He looks at each show critically (He finds The Sopranos more honest than The Godfather, and Weeds superior to Breaking Bad), with the eye of a literary critic and the worldview of someone who knows that, although there are more important things in life, every deserves a serious look. It is one of the funniest books I've read in years. There is a quotable line on every page, with a consistent theme of how television interprets the world. Would you have guessed that Game of Thrones was a parable of pre-law society? James is a cultural treasure and if this is his final book, it is a grace note at the conclusion of a brilliant career.
When he was in the process of dying, Christopher Hitchens wrote a condensation of his philosophy called MORTALITY. Hitchens's friend, and fellow wit, Clive James is now in the process of dying but he gives us a collection of astute yet hysterical essays on television shows. James and his family have been watching boxed sets of TV shows during his recent illness (leukemia, in fact). He covers, in his own way, The Sopranos, Band of Brothers, The Pacific , The West Wing, The Wire, Breaking Bad, Mad Men, The Americans, Homeland, Game of Thrones, and The Good Wife, among other shows. He looks at each show critically (He finds The Sopranos more honest than The Godfather, and Weeds superior to Breaking Bad), with the eye of a literary critic and the worldview of someone who knows that, although there are more important things in life, every deserves a serious look. It is one of the funniest books I've read in years. There is a quotable line on every page, with a consistent theme of how television interprets the world. Would you have guessed that Game of Thrones was a parable of pre-law society? James is a cultural treasure and if this is his final book, it is a grace note at the conclusion of a brilliant career.
July 23, 2016
I really don't know what I expected from this book, since the subject, getting the most out of binge watching entire series hardly seemed to need an entire book. But it also promised information on how tv has allowed storylines to expand. However, when all is said and done, I felt this would have been a good article, not a 200 page book. James is a respected critic who, during a recuperation and enforced period of rest, binged on boxed sets of long running series. When he's discussing the merits of well known, iconic shows as Sopranos, his interest draws comparisons between that show, the Godfather trilogy, I Claudius and Rome. He obviously favors the structure and content of crime based dramas -- admittedly less interest in those dealing with sociological issues (i.e., Treme). James mentions several times that he watched these entire sets with members of his family. Granted, tastes are subjective, and I actually found myself agreeing with his daughters about the merits of several shows he found wanting. Additionally, I was surprised to find a few, arguably petty, inaccuracies, surprising in a book of essays by an expert on the subject. The book needs some fact checking.
December 13, 2016
It is always a great pleasure to read scholarly AND entertaining writing on television - a form that still remains film's poorer cousin when it comes to serious analysis. James is a bingewatcher after my own heart, and it helped that his interests in TV series are very similar to mine. But, even if you haven't seen most of the stuff he talks about, it is difficult not to enjoy this book. Equal parts insightful and hilarious (I almost died laughing while reading his description of Claire Danes in Homeland), I am thankful that the book has introduced me to a writer I am definitely going to read more of.
November 20, 2016
I binge-read this book about binge-watching TV shows. I skimmed over chapters on shows I have no interest in, but enjoyed James's perspective on shows I have watched and enjoyed. I particularly appreciated his perspective on Mad Men, which was different than most other commentaries on the show (critiquing the show's lack of explicit critique of the advertising industry by the characters themselves). I also loved the frame story, of an ailing father binging TV with his daughters, and thought he was particularly astute in his comments about the deeper meaning to our current "Golden Age of Television." This is a quick read, and well worth the time.
July 19, 2016
Interesting book on the virtues of binge-watching. Provides decent synopses of many series, both here and abroad. Overly opinionated in spots, and not very good on recommendations. (Mad Men? The Good Wife? Please!). For anyone who has read Clive James before and would buy this book as a matter of course, I would redundantly recommend this book. Otherwise, you're as well off reading the crap on the Rotten Tomatoes website.
March 13, 2019
Forgotten how much I enjoyed Clive James' writing. Renews the love for TV, and banishes any thought that watching a box set is a waste of time. Has a great way of having the ideas and chapters flow together, unlike other books where each chapter is completely self-contained. It's great having someone put forward an opinion, able to justify it and compare with negative examples and also look at the thread of the history of TV leading to current age.
February 15, 2017
If only he could write with a little more condescension and sexism about women it would just be so awesome. Aside from which, he just has very little that's interesting or insightful to say about any of the shows that he's binged.
February 18, 2017
A scattershot approach clumsily stitched together and in desperate need of a better copy editor (the Cheers character is not called Frazier, Borgen isn't Swedish, etc.), but James' sparkling prose and thoughtfulness at taking TV seriously is a joy to read.
January 26, 2022
"… intelligible fiction, which we discuss with one another all the more learnedly because we don't really understand what Putin is up to in Ukraine, or what, whatever it is, can be done about it." (pg. 22)
A slight, conversational ramble through our purported 'Golden Age of Television', Play All ultimately disappoints. Veteran critic Clive James does not bring his full weight to bear on an examination of our prestige-drama, binge-watching age, and limits himself to only short, passable chapters on whichever box set he and his daughter are powering through at the time.
Despite some good lines (Peter Dinklage's performance as the dwarf Tyrion in Game of Thrones is said to have such an impact "that he suddenly made all the other male actors in the world look too tall" (pg. 167)), James' insights into the various TV shows are unremarkable and the book as a whole lacks focus. He neither traces out a narrative of a 'Golden Age' of television nor skewers one, and his observation that part of the appeal of the long-form TV drama is that it allows an opportunity for longer exploration and development of a character (pg. 33) is an obvious one. The only time the reader feels animated by the commentary is when the author delivers an odd (and usually unsubstantiated) opinion, such as that Weeds is better than Breaking Bad (pg. 105) and that Walter White is dull (pg. 101), or that Mad Men is unconvincing because the men in it do not read books (pp129-30).
Ultimately, Play All fails because there's no attempt at objectivity or level-headed analysis; James delivers his verdicts based on idiosyncratic personal preference. By far the most bizarre manifestation of this is his casual lechery, harmless as it is. Just about every female actress is noted for how attractive they are, and the worth of any particular TV show heavily influenced by how 'delectable', 'voluptuous' or 'magnetic' James finds its female stars (I wasn't keeping a tally, but it became so routine that when James mentioned Elisha Cuthbert of 24 and didn't comment on her sex appeal, it stood out like a sore thumb). Breaking Bad became less interesting for him when the 'beauty' Jane left the show (pg. 104), and Weeds was a better show because it had a female lead to hold his red-blooded interest (pg. 105).
I don't have a problem with James being toothlessly leering in this way, as clumsy as it is, though I can't say I'm a fan of it either. Certainly, the TV shows today don't have any qualms about using sex to sell their product, so it shouldn't be an issue that James, the consumer, repays them in kind by judging them on that basis. The problem here is twofold: firstly, that this superficial drooling forms about 40% of the total content in Play All, which is far too much; and secondly, James allows it to influence his commentary to a ridiculous extent. As with the rationale above that Weeds is better than Breaking Bad because of the interesting female, it is worth noting that James is entirely dismissive of True Detective (pg. 111). He provides no argument for this, but the vast majority of his writing on this particular show (which amounts to just a single page) concerns the sex scene with Alexandra Daddario, despite this being one entirely gratuitous scene unconnected to the wider story. I asked myself, not for the first time and not for the last, why I should care about James' thoughts on any of this.
James' peculiarity, then, has a detrimental impact on the quality of his book as a whole, and the lusty cataloguing of various actresses' delectability makes it even more bewildering when he criticises Mad Men for providing a 'parody' of a sexual woman in Christina Hendricks' Joan (pp128-9). In truth, it is James who is falling into a self-made trap of self-parody, and the flaky icing on the poorly-conceived cake comes at the end, when he delivers a ham-fisted and entirely left-field speech on "justice for women", not only in TV or entertainment but in politics and society as a whole, for when men step aside, we will find that the women are "wiser than us" (pg. 197).
Tacked on at the end, this mealy-mouthed appeal did nothing to remedy the fact that the book had lacked a coherent through-line. Even without a theme, the book could have retained some value had it provided some originality when discussing its pick-'n'-mix of TV shows. Success in a book like this would be if the reader went away wanting to know what the author would think about other TV shows that have emerged since, but, though James is genial company, we don't. Often we don't even know what he thinks – in sufficient depth – about those he has mentioned.
A slight, conversational ramble through our purported 'Golden Age of Television', Play All ultimately disappoints. Veteran critic Clive James does not bring his full weight to bear on an examination of our prestige-drama, binge-watching age, and limits himself to only short, passable chapters on whichever box set he and his daughter are powering through at the time.
Despite some good lines (Peter Dinklage's performance as the dwarf Tyrion in Game of Thrones is said to have such an impact "that he suddenly made all the other male actors in the world look too tall" (pg. 167)), James' insights into the various TV shows are unremarkable and the book as a whole lacks focus. He neither traces out a narrative of a 'Golden Age' of television nor skewers one, and his observation that part of the appeal of the long-form TV drama is that it allows an opportunity for longer exploration and development of a character (pg. 33) is an obvious one. The only time the reader feels animated by the commentary is when the author delivers an odd (and usually unsubstantiated) opinion, such as that Weeds is better than Breaking Bad (pg. 105) and that Walter White is dull (pg. 101), or that Mad Men is unconvincing because the men in it do not read books (pp129-30).
Ultimately, Play All fails because there's no attempt at objectivity or level-headed analysis; James delivers his verdicts based on idiosyncratic personal preference. By far the most bizarre manifestation of this is his casual lechery, harmless as it is. Just about every female actress is noted for how attractive they are, and the worth of any particular TV show heavily influenced by how 'delectable', 'voluptuous' or 'magnetic' James finds its female stars (I wasn't keeping a tally, but it became so routine that when James mentioned Elisha Cuthbert of 24 and didn't comment on her sex appeal, it stood out like a sore thumb). Breaking Bad became less interesting for him when the 'beauty' Jane left the show (pg. 104), and Weeds was a better show because it had a female lead to hold his red-blooded interest (pg. 105).
I don't have a problem with James being toothlessly leering in this way, as clumsy as it is, though I can't say I'm a fan of it either. Certainly, the TV shows today don't have any qualms about using sex to sell their product, so it shouldn't be an issue that James, the consumer, repays them in kind by judging them on that basis. The problem here is twofold: firstly, that this superficial drooling forms about 40% of the total content in Play All, which is far too much; and secondly, James allows it to influence his commentary to a ridiculous extent. As with the rationale above that Weeds is better than Breaking Bad because of the interesting female, it is worth noting that James is entirely dismissive of True Detective (pg. 111). He provides no argument for this, but the vast majority of his writing on this particular show (which amounts to just a single page) concerns the sex scene with Alexandra Daddario, despite this being one entirely gratuitous scene unconnected to the wider story. I asked myself, not for the first time and not for the last, why I should care about James' thoughts on any of this.
James' peculiarity, then, has a detrimental impact on the quality of his book as a whole, and the lusty cataloguing of various actresses' delectability makes it even more bewildering when he criticises Mad Men for providing a 'parody' of a sexual woman in Christina Hendricks' Joan (pp128-9). In truth, it is James who is falling into a self-made trap of self-parody, and the flaky icing on the poorly-conceived cake comes at the end, when he delivers a ham-fisted and entirely left-field speech on "justice for women", not only in TV or entertainment but in politics and society as a whole, for when men step aside, we will find that the women are "wiser than us" (pg. 197).
Tacked on at the end, this mealy-mouthed appeal did nothing to remedy the fact that the book had lacked a coherent through-line. Even without a theme, the book could have retained some value had it provided some originality when discussing its pick-'n'-mix of TV shows. Success in a book like this would be if the reader went away wanting to know what the author would think about other TV shows that have emerged since, but, though James is genial company, we don't. Often we don't even know what he thinks – in sufficient depth – about those he has mentioned.
October 22, 2017
I must confess that I got my copy of this book from my local Gleebooks specials section (my lifeline to just about all the books I have acquired recently, often at half to a third of the original prices!) solely for the purpose of “cheating” on the comparatively recent craze of “bingeing” on boxed sets of DVDs of television series — I wanted to know what the fuss was all about. I concluded that it was no more than what the name implies: it is a means of “catching up” on “long-narrative” television programs that have dominated the market in the area of filmed entertainments. As such, it reaffirms the social imperative of “keeping up with the Joneses” so one does not feel left out of the current gossip relating to these forms.
That’s about it, really.
I am more concerned with some kind of evaluation of the content of the series being binged on, such as: are they worth the effort?; are there any redeeming values beyond current social conformity?; etc. None of this is forthcoming in the book. I ask these questions because one often hears of: the wonderful production values; the brilliant dialogue and acting; the cleverness of the multiple story lines; the immediate relevance to contemporary issues — all praised to the highest levels — yet usually lacking in any in-depth analysis (presumably because, as some allege, the works themselves are supposed to contain such elements within its narrative structure itself). Yet, so far, most of the endings (if they be endings) of these works have resulted in many aficionados of a series being “disappointed”, or left unsatisfied…
These so-called “long narratives” have been extolled by so many people as being the “saviour” of television and films in general, especially because the format can be extended almost indefinitely, thus providing more complex and convoluted strands which can be explored “in depth” over long saga-like narrative arches, which tell us… what? — well, in a sense, everything; and, equally, nothing! — and, the longer the “narrative” becomes, the more repetitive it becomes, and the more it is repeatable in other versions as well… This has suckered in all sorts of creative talent (here, at least, is where all the money is!). Excess for its own sake. And this is already now, only at what threatens to be just the beginning of a persistent (marketing?) device to be perpetuated for decades to come: hundreds and hundreds of hours of (mostly?) junk for more and more of smaller and smaller groups of devotees to binge on, only to be left ultimately dissatisfied… I can’t help but think that some form of Ockham’s Razor is needed, to “clear things up” a little!
The above two paragraphs are just the tip of what could be a huge iceberg of my concerns about the current state of the art when it comes to “movies” — and I beg your indulgence and forgiveness for my rantings… None of these issues are appropriately dealt with in this book. But to be fair, this is none of Clive James’ fault. This is, after all, just a notebook of his, based on his late experience of over-indulging in boxed-set binge mania. He enjoys the experience, but his main interest seems to be more or less limited to certain actors involved in what he is watching, and his cross referencing to them (as actors? as characters?) in other works of theirs, and even sometimes to other characters in other art fields. His writing is, as usual, quite clear and refreshing, and we find his clever flashes of wicked (slightly cynical?) wit as he tries to deal with the plethora of possible threads provided by the experience. From this perspective, lovers of James’ writing will no doubt find this a pleasurable addition to his oeuvre.
Unfortunately, my experience of this book was disappointing, most probably for the wrong reasons!
That’s about it, really.
I am more concerned with some kind of evaluation of the content of the series being binged on, such as: are they worth the effort?; are there any redeeming values beyond current social conformity?; etc. None of this is forthcoming in the book. I ask these questions because one often hears of: the wonderful production values; the brilliant dialogue and acting; the cleverness of the multiple story lines; the immediate relevance to contemporary issues — all praised to the highest levels — yet usually lacking in any in-depth analysis (presumably because, as some allege, the works themselves are supposed to contain such elements within its narrative structure itself). Yet, so far, most of the endings (if they be endings) of these works have resulted in many aficionados of a series being “disappointed”, or left unsatisfied…
These so-called “long narratives” have been extolled by so many people as being the “saviour” of television and films in general, especially because the format can be extended almost indefinitely, thus providing more complex and convoluted strands which can be explored “in depth” over long saga-like narrative arches, which tell us… what? — well, in a sense, everything; and, equally, nothing! — and, the longer the “narrative” becomes, the more repetitive it becomes, and the more it is repeatable in other versions as well… This has suckered in all sorts of creative talent (here, at least, is where all the money is!). Excess for its own sake. And this is already now, only at what threatens to be just the beginning of a persistent (marketing?) device to be perpetuated for decades to come: hundreds and hundreds of hours of (mostly?) junk for more and more of smaller and smaller groups of devotees to binge on, only to be left ultimately dissatisfied… I can’t help but think that some form of Ockham’s Razor is needed, to “clear things up” a little!
The above two paragraphs are just the tip of what could be a huge iceberg of my concerns about the current state of the art when it comes to “movies” — and I beg your indulgence and forgiveness for my rantings… None of these issues are appropriately dealt with in this book. But to be fair, this is none of Clive James’ fault. This is, after all, just a notebook of his, based on his late experience of over-indulging in boxed-set binge mania. He enjoys the experience, but his main interest seems to be more or less limited to certain actors involved in what he is watching, and his cross referencing to them (as actors? as characters?) in other works of theirs, and even sometimes to other characters in other art fields. His writing is, as usual, quite clear and refreshing, and we find his clever flashes of wicked (slightly cynical?) wit as he tries to deal with the plethora of possible threads provided by the experience. From this perspective, lovers of James’ writing will no doubt find this a pleasurable addition to his oeuvre.
Unfortunately, my experience of this book was disappointing, most probably for the wrong reasons!
February 18, 2021
This is a short book about the state of modern serial television drama, described with wit and eloquence by Australian-born media and cultural critic Clive James. Published in 2016, at the cusp of the streaming boom that now dominates the market, he often references shows presented to the public in “box sets”, DVD collections which were highly popular in the first 15 years or so of the twenty-first century. In the course of his essay, he covers mafia tale The Sopranos, Second World War epic Band of Brothers, crime story The Wire, period piece Mad Men, political satire House of Cards, and dozens of other popular shows, mostly American, but with a few nods to French and Nordic crime as well. Written while the author was ill with leukemia, he acknowledges that he had a lot of time to spend on research in front of the television. As he watched along with his estranged daughter, it also helped him to reconnect with her, a sentimental but bittersweet footnote to the task, as he passed in 2019.
I remember watching James in his heyday in the 1980s and 1990s, when he had his own TV shows and published frequently. However, I’m pretty sure that this is the first time that I’ve read him. Although his sardonic style comes through clearly, he doesn’t seem to be as funny as I recall. That might be a function of his age (or mine), or his illness, or perhaps his acerbic prose needs his wry vocal delivery to add the sucker punch that makes you laugh. He’s also far too brief in his discussion of some landmark programmes, and hardly mentions British series at all except in passing. Nevertheless, he managed to produce this short volume in his twilight years, and its sarcastic analysis of familiar popular culture is certainly amusing. It might whet your appetite for his earlier work.
I remember watching James in his heyday in the 1980s and 1990s, when he had his own TV shows and published frequently. However, I’m pretty sure that this is the first time that I’ve read him. Although his sardonic style comes through clearly, he doesn’t seem to be as funny as I recall. That might be a function of his age (or mine), or his illness, or perhaps his acerbic prose needs his wry vocal delivery to add the sucker punch that makes you laugh. He’s also far too brief in his discussion of some landmark programmes, and hardly mentions British series at all except in passing. Nevertheless, he managed to produce this short volume in his twilight years, and its sarcastic analysis of familiar popular culture is certainly amusing. It might whet your appetite for his earlier work.
February 25, 2021
Clive James is the master of the short essay: he published his travel columns under the heading “Postcards,” and that succinctness continued to shape his brilliant essays on popular culture, right up to the point in 2011 or so when he announced his imminent demise from leukemia. Feeling sure that he had little time left he distilled everything he had to say on books in a series of essays so exquisitely focused that they continued ONLY the good stuff, those few paragraphs that define the heart of the work, and published them in “Latest Readings,” with a lovely forward to the reader effectively saying goodbye. Much to his embarrassment, however, he didn’t succumb; he recovered enough to settle down with his daughter to binge-watch TV series, and has continued to publish brief, brilliant essays: most recently “Play All: A Bingewatcher’s Notebook,” the cleverest, funniest discussion of television that I have ever read. His essay on “Game of Thrones” was sidesplittingly funny, and his insights into race, feminism, crime, loss, nationality, and mimesis are all the more penetrating for their modest thoughtfulness. He watches TV with his daughter, and her fresh young eyes are as dear to him as his own opinions. Speaking of TV censorship, and slapstick, he says: “. . . the language of set, structure, development and fulfillment is one of the languages of imagination. She speaks it already. I took a long time to learn it, and soon I will speak it no more. But it will go on being spoken as long as all these marvelous people are free to create. What a festival they have given us, and how hard it is to leave.”
January 31, 2022
I have watched very few of the series and films that CJ refers to, and only one of those he discusses in detail (Band of Brothers), but that really didn’t matter, he was such a fun guide. Despite his glowing reviews of the best of them, I’m not sure I shall be moved to watch them - I almost feel like I know them well enough thanks to this neat little book.
The personal touches are also (mostly) a pleasing addition, and a balance to some of the grand pronouncements: watching and re-watching these series with his daughter, and what she thinks of things; the critic’s illness and mortality; and, rather less happily for the post-feminist (or old school gentlemanly) reader, but in a sense unavoidable so long as casting decisions are made in the way they are made… who the critic fancies.
James has interesting and largely positive things to say about most of the productions he reviews, but to my ear he was particularly eloquent and meaty on Mad Men and Game of Thrones. It is in pointing out flaws that the pungency of a critical wit can really be appreciated, and these two do not escape that treatment where they deserve it, but James is almost equally quotable when praising, summing up or doing character study (in this case, of Peter Dinklage’s Tyrion Lannister):
“In an unreasonable society, to have reasoning power guarantees nothing except the additional mental suffering that accrues when circumstances remind you that you are powerless” (ch.11)
We’ve never met, but he knows me so well.
;-)
The personal touches are also (mostly) a pleasing addition, and a balance to some of the grand pronouncements: watching and re-watching these series with his daughter, and what she thinks of things; the critic’s illness and mortality; and, rather less happily for the post-feminist (or old school gentlemanly) reader, but in a sense unavoidable so long as casting decisions are made in the way they are made… who the critic fancies.
James has interesting and largely positive things to say about most of the productions he reviews, but to my ear he was particularly eloquent and meaty on Mad Men and Game of Thrones. It is in pointing out flaws that the pungency of a critical wit can really be appreciated, and these two do not escape that treatment where they deserve it, but James is almost equally quotable when praising, summing up or doing character study (in this case, of Peter Dinklage’s Tyrion Lannister):
“In an unreasonable society, to have reasoning power guarantees nothing except the additional mental suffering that accrues when circumstances remind you that you are powerless” (ch.11)
We’ve never met, but he knows me so well.
;-)
September 17, 2025
Still hooked
To the joy of his admirers, Clive James is continuing to live on borrowed time in the respite from his illness ("I'm not off the hook, but the hook is holding me upright; and it doesn't even hurt, which makes me a lot luckier than some of the people I see at the hospital" [p4]) and has produced this little book as a companion to his Latest Readings, sharing how he's supplanted his reading with viewing. This reminds us of how he first came to the wider public eye as a TV critic (his collected columns from the Observer are still essential reading), but he's looking at something newer here: the box set which contains entire seasons of a drama serial. As usual, he writes intelligently and memorably about what he sees, and what he thinks of it. The fact that I've never seen any of the shows he discusses (apart from a few clips of Game Of Thrones on youtube) never spoilt my enjoyment of the book.
Originally reviewed 30 May 2018
To the joy of his admirers, Clive James is continuing to live on borrowed time in the respite from his illness ("I'm not off the hook, but the hook is holding me upright; and it doesn't even hurt, which makes me a lot luckier than some of the people I see at the hospital" [p4]) and has produced this little book as a companion to his Latest Readings, sharing how he's supplanted his reading with viewing. This reminds us of how he first came to the wider public eye as a TV critic (his collected columns from the Observer are still essential reading), but he's looking at something newer here: the box set which contains entire seasons of a drama serial. As usual, he writes intelligently and memorably about what he sees, and what he thinks of it. The fact that I've never seen any of the shows he discusses (apart from a few clips of Game Of Thrones on youtube) never spoilt my enjoyment of the book.
Originally reviewed 30 May 2018
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