Post by kblover on Nov 15, 2005 6:33:31 GMT
Found this on the net and thought I would share it with you.
Eyes down for a fooled house
14 November 2005
In all my time of writing this column I have never carried over the same subject two weeks running.
This week I'm making an exception because on Monday last I attended the final night of the latest Most Haunted Live from The Round Chapel in Lower Clapton when the team of Yvette Fielding, her husband, Karl Beattie, medium Derek Acorah and the usual technical crew went to locations in Whitechapel.
It was Acorah's final outing with the Most Haunted team (and I can categorically say that this will be the last time I ever write about it) and came on the back of a damning expose in the Mirror in which the resident parapsychologist and sceptic, Dr Ciaran O'Keefe, supposedly branded the show, and Derek in particular, a charlatan.
I have watched Most Haunted almost from its inception - not because I believe they are making contact with the dead, but because I'm utterly fascinated how a programme can build up such a strong cult following out of screaming in the dark, filming specks of dust floating past the camera and Derek getting possessed and pushing things over.
It's comedy gold.
Making a whole programme (an hour in the filmed series and three hours plus a night on the live shows) in which nothing measurable actually happens is a stroke of marketing genius and has almost singlehandedly catapulted the satellite and cable channel, Living TV, into the big league.
Amazingly, the beginning of Saturday's live show pulled in a bigger audience than the X-Factor results which were broadcast at the same time on ITV1.
That's the sort of viewing figures Channel 4 would die for.
So there we are, my wife and I, with directions to meet at The Round Chapel at 7pm on Monday for drinks in the marquee and to collect our access all areas wristbands.
We arrived 10 minutes early, got our security passes and were directed to the gate which was obliterated by fans in Most Haunted T-shirts screaming for an autograph from diminutive hair and make-up girl, Cath Howe (yes, this is the show where the crew are stars, too).
A strange German woman begins berating us for being late, even though we are early, and we are escorted convict-like through the studio, past series director and producer, Karl Beattie, and into our seats at the back of the chapel, far away from the front rows marked for competition winners. (A full hour later the remainder of the press contingent were shown to their seats in the balcony, so heaven and Derek only know what that was all about).
However, it did give me a close insight into the Most Haunted phenomena and how its followers will continue to be convinced no matter what evidence may exist to the contrary as they compare mobile phone pictures of ghostly orbs which are usually just reflections, insects or specks of dust.
Then Derek himself is stood just inches from where I'm sitting. We exchange a cursory nod (I'm not about to introduce myself, he should know already, shouldn't he?) before the stereotypical Waynettas in front of me besiege the poor bloke with wet kisses and whining cries of "we love you Derek", which he takes with an embarrassed humility.
A little while later as he and my wife enjoy a cigarette outside the same thing happens.
Pity his spirit guide, Sam, didn't warn him about that.
So for the next four hours I did what I always do when I'm out - I people-watched.
I watched bald of head and big of ears Julian Clegg tell every row on each side of the aisle he would be walking down to smile if he shook their hands as they would be "on camera."
I watched Derek's replacement, diminutive Scot Gordon Smith, nervously pacing behind me waiting to be introduced to Derek's ardent and very partisan fanbase.
I watched presenter David Bull, also on his last Most Haunted, talking himself through his introduction before switching on his "camera face".
And I watched a joking Yvette, Derek, Karl and Ciaran wondering how after the Mirror article Ciaran's position had not become untenable. That was a question I intended asking him at the after-show drinks.
But mostly I watched the audience - the most stereotypical collection of soap addicts, computer geeks and mummy's boys I have ever seen gathered in one place - not, as I had expected, desperate for some proof, any proof of the afterlife, but already convinced beyond argument because Derek would never lie to them.
And I realised I didn't need to meet the Most Haunted team because it's not about being a good actor, it's simply knowing how to face a TV camera.
It's not that I don't believe in something - I've still got the previous occupant of my house wandering about the hall and utility room occasionally and she's a bloody nuisance - and at the end of the day I don't care if Most Haunted is fake.
It's entertainment, not a scientific study, and after Monday I went from being an open-minded sceptic to a detached, but amused, bystander.
And if the blind followers still chose to believe everything they see (or in this case don't see), that's their problem.
Eyes down for a fooled house
14 November 2005
In all my time of writing this column I have never carried over the same subject two weeks running.
This week I'm making an exception because on Monday last I attended the final night of the latest Most Haunted Live from The Round Chapel in Lower Clapton when the team of Yvette Fielding, her husband, Karl Beattie, medium Derek Acorah and the usual technical crew went to locations in Whitechapel.
It was Acorah's final outing with the Most Haunted team (and I can categorically say that this will be the last time I ever write about it) and came on the back of a damning expose in the Mirror in which the resident parapsychologist and sceptic, Dr Ciaran O'Keefe, supposedly branded the show, and Derek in particular, a charlatan.
I have watched Most Haunted almost from its inception - not because I believe they are making contact with the dead, but because I'm utterly fascinated how a programme can build up such a strong cult following out of screaming in the dark, filming specks of dust floating past the camera and Derek getting possessed and pushing things over.
It's comedy gold.
Making a whole programme (an hour in the filmed series and three hours plus a night on the live shows) in which nothing measurable actually happens is a stroke of marketing genius and has almost singlehandedly catapulted the satellite and cable channel, Living TV, into the big league.
Amazingly, the beginning of Saturday's live show pulled in a bigger audience than the X-Factor results which were broadcast at the same time on ITV1.
That's the sort of viewing figures Channel 4 would die for.
So there we are, my wife and I, with directions to meet at The Round Chapel at 7pm on Monday for drinks in the marquee and to collect our access all areas wristbands.
We arrived 10 minutes early, got our security passes and were directed to the gate which was obliterated by fans in Most Haunted T-shirts screaming for an autograph from diminutive hair and make-up girl, Cath Howe (yes, this is the show where the crew are stars, too).
A strange German woman begins berating us for being late, even though we are early, and we are escorted convict-like through the studio, past series director and producer, Karl Beattie, and into our seats at the back of the chapel, far away from the front rows marked for competition winners. (A full hour later the remainder of the press contingent were shown to their seats in the balcony, so heaven and Derek only know what that was all about).
However, it did give me a close insight into the Most Haunted phenomena and how its followers will continue to be convinced no matter what evidence may exist to the contrary as they compare mobile phone pictures of ghostly orbs which are usually just reflections, insects or specks of dust.
Then Derek himself is stood just inches from where I'm sitting. We exchange a cursory nod (I'm not about to introduce myself, he should know already, shouldn't he?) before the stereotypical Waynettas in front of me besiege the poor bloke with wet kisses and whining cries of "we love you Derek", which he takes with an embarrassed humility.
A little while later as he and my wife enjoy a cigarette outside the same thing happens.
Pity his spirit guide, Sam, didn't warn him about that.
So for the next four hours I did what I always do when I'm out - I people-watched.
I watched bald of head and big of ears Julian Clegg tell every row on each side of the aisle he would be walking down to smile if he shook their hands as they would be "on camera."
I watched Derek's replacement, diminutive Scot Gordon Smith, nervously pacing behind me waiting to be introduced to Derek's ardent and very partisan fanbase.
I watched presenter David Bull, also on his last Most Haunted, talking himself through his introduction before switching on his "camera face".
And I watched a joking Yvette, Derek, Karl and Ciaran wondering how after the Mirror article Ciaran's position had not become untenable. That was a question I intended asking him at the after-show drinks.
But mostly I watched the audience - the most stereotypical collection of soap addicts, computer geeks and mummy's boys I have ever seen gathered in one place - not, as I had expected, desperate for some proof, any proof of the afterlife, but already convinced beyond argument because Derek would never lie to them.
And I realised I didn't need to meet the Most Haunted team because it's not about being a good actor, it's simply knowing how to face a TV camera.
It's not that I don't believe in something - I've still got the previous occupant of my house wandering about the hall and utility room occasionally and she's a bloody nuisance - and at the end of the day I don't care if Most Haunted is fake.
It's entertainment, not a scientific study, and after Monday I went from being an open-minded sceptic to a detached, but amused, bystander.
And if the blind followers still chose to believe everything they see (or in this case don't see), that's their problem.