Okay, so if you're one of my fannish girls (or boys? Do I have any menfolk around?), you're probably aware of the massive amounts of love I have for the original British
Life on Mars, starring John Simm and Philip Glenister. I haven't written too much fic, but I adore the show, and I love introducing it to new fans - and if you haven't seen it GO NETFLIX IT.
And I knew what I'd be in for if I watched the premiere tonight of the American remake, starring Jason O'Mara and Harvey Keitel. I'd scream and rant and throw things at my television, and I ended up doing all three (luckily, it was just a stuffed badger
fireflyinajar gave me).
But honestly, I won't be watching. It's like watching the Boise dinner theatre production of Henry VIII, with the way they've painstakingly reproduced everything the British version did with none of the heart. Not only did they crib dialogue WORD FOR WORD from the original, but they reproduced half the signature shots, too (watch the Bowie scene, it's like looking at a Van Gogh through the wrong end of a telescope). I can deal with the fact that most of the time, O'Mara can't act his way out of a paper bag (the opening and the confrontation with Willy Kramer excepting). I can deal with renaming Annie ("This is America! We don't need all those letters!" -
carla_scribbles), the complete elimination of Phyllis, and making Nelson into a wise guy from Poughkeepsie.
I can't deal with the complete and utter FAIL that is Keitel's Gene Hunt.
( And here is why. )