Countdown

Countdown returns on Monday, C4, with its all-new presenting team – Jeff Stelling (“Stelling is the name -  six consonants, two vowels”) at the desk, and the very smiley Rachel Riley wrangling the letters and numbers.

We’ll have a full review from our Countdown correspondent Ian Jones, but – briefly – how’s the relaunched show looking?

Well, the answer is – in my opinion anyway – pretty good. Initially Stelling takes a bit of getting used to; he’s arguably too slick, sports a bit of a rictus grin and is overly preoccupied with working in the football references. But he’s keen to assure us: “This is the same Countdown you’ve grown to love over the years”.

And it is. By the time you get to the first numbers game – and you’re reminded of one of the most joyous 30 seconds on telly (that bit where both contestants immediately twig a solution, and then spend the rest of the half-a-minute quietly making it clear they’ve done so) – you’ve forgotten anything’s afoot. Well, aside from the set, which looks like it was based on one of those plastic balls you put in the washing machine… but is rather pleasing nonetheless.

Rachel Riley

Jeff Stelling

Come the 45-minute mark, it’s like it’s always been this way. Rachel hopes her student chums at Oxford are tuning in from the bar, while Jeff doggedly (and with a Whiteley-esque lack of grace) pursues some Fawlty Towers chat with Dictionary Corner guest Andrew Sachs – despite the fact Sachs had earlier gone to great pains to stress he was a versatile actor, with more than just the one consonant (that being “Qué?”) on his CV.

It would seem, for now anyway, Countdown‘s condundrum has been resolved.

Magic for Saturdays

Britain doesn’t have a particularly deep well of folk myths to draw from, so it’s not surprising TV screens have for so long been empty of even low-key attempts at tales of myths and legends.

The story of Arthur and his overblown feats involving recalcitrant swords, rowdy dragons and, to coin a phrase, strange women lying around in ponds is too hoary for revisiting. It’s also currently being milked to death in the West End. All the more reason, then, to welcome this adroit side-stepping of all that King of the Britons baggage and recast history from the point of view of his sorceror-in-chief, Merlin.

The BBC need to throw everything at this production, both to do it justice and to to match its own hype. On the basis of the first episode, the big guns/big budget approach has worked. This is really quite thrilling television, a country mile ahead of its stable-mate Robin Hood in terms of coherency, structure and acting.

It’s nicely-paced, dispenses with the boring scene-setting very quickly, and unfurls Merlin’s wizardry in wisely staggered moves. For once we’re given a Young Hero whose naivety isn’t embarrassing to watch and whose humanity (perversely, for a magician) is plausible. Colin Morgan, whenever he’s not pulling gawky faces and being given poor stage directions, is persuasive in the title role. The supporting cast – Richard Wilson, Anthony Head, Angel Coulby – all do the job as you’d expect. Inevitably, the leading member of the BBC Wales repertory company, Eve Myles, turns up, but she’s killed after two minutes (this isn’t giving anything away) so that’s fun.

There are a few weak points. The incidental music follows the pattern set by previous BBC Wales fantasy dramas (Doctor Who, Casanova) in turning one too many scenes from functional storytelling into a Tex Avery cartoon; there’s a lazy preponderance of women looking suggestively from high windows; and the dialogue falls down the same mantrap as Robin Hood in shuttling disconsolately between a Blackadder-esque vernacular (“Yeah, what?” “My fans are waiting!”) and an unconvincing grope at authenticity (“A hand to hold, a voice to guide…”).

In addition, Camelot perhaps looked a bit too stylised and well-scrubbed. Confining the action – exciting as it was – to a very limited number of interiors couldn’t help but focus attention on the upholstery at the expense of the acting.

Even so, watching the episode, there’s something about the Merlin legend that returns again and again to override any grievances you might have. Maybe it’s just that it’s never been properly told on television before, unlike the life and times of Merlin’s future employer. Depicting Arthur, at this point in his life, as thoroughly unlikable adds to the charm of proceedings. It’s always good to see a hallowed icon brought down to earth.

There’s much to enjoy here, and much potential. Hopefully the series will conjure up enough swagger and imagination to render its early flaws forgettable.

Merlin begins on BBC1, 7.30pm on Saturday

The Family

“There’s nothing remarkable about this family at all, except one thing…”

So runs John Simm’s narration at the top of C4′s keenly anticipated new fly-on-the-wall series. Very much posited as a successor to Paul Watson’s 12-part documentary of the same name – which followed the fortunes of the Wilkins of Reading over two months in 1974 – this series, unbelievably, proves itself equal to the task.

Filmed around the clock over a period of 100 days, cameras bring us into the home of the Hughes family in Canterbury, Kent. They’re defiantly ordinary (although, with a penny or two going by the size of their house) and very likeable.

The opener focuses on two strands. Firstly, mum Jane’s upcoming 40th. “I couldn’t sleep – because I’m old,” she says. “I’m getting old! I don’t want to be 40… can we turn the clock back now?” Secondly, and more potently, we also follow the continuing conflict between Jane, husband Simon and 19-year-old daughter Emily. The teen is constantly spending nights in clubs, calling in sick to work, and stomping around the house, removing herself from all family activities. “Emily! Em! You’re doing that thing where you’re missing out again!” shouts Simon up the stairs, as Jane’s birthday unfolds in the kitchen.

There’s real drama -”I don’t know who the bloody hell she thinks she is – what have we raised?” (Simon again) – but also moments of real affection. The Hughes’ 14-year-old, Tom, is openly loving to his parents, and there’s a heart-warming sequence put to Neil Diamond’s Sweet Caroline.

Most of all, there’s the messiness of family life. A terse encounter with Emily – which is interrupted by two mobile phone calls – ends when Dad asks: “Shall we stop now? Because we’ve got roast duck for dinner.” And, as you’d expect, there’s no real sense of closure. Despite an afternoon spent mucking about with her mum and singing pop songs together, Emily still opts to go out on the town, ruining a “nice” day. Simon and Jane seem powerless. “I don’t know what to do,” he says.” She craves independence but won’t let go… of us.”

Clearly the best programme screened so far by C4 this year, The Family starts on Wednesday 17 September at 9pm.