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Left: Laser Kiwi, an act from 60 Seconds. Below: Laura Daniel, Tegan Yorwarth and Pax Assadi, judges. (Photos: TVNZ, Image Design: Tina Tiller)
Left: Laser Kiwi, an act from 60 Seconds. Below: Laura Daniel, Tegan Yorwarth and Pax Assadi, judges. (Photos: TVNZ, Image Design: Tina Tiller)

Pop CultureMarch 14, 2022

Review: 60 Seconds is a bizarre, confusing delight

Left: Laser Kiwi, an act from 60 Seconds. Below: Laura Daniel, Tegan Yorwarth and Pax Assadi, judges. (Photos: TVNZ, Image Design: Tina Tiller)
Left: Laser Kiwi, an act from 60 Seconds. Below: Laura Daniel, Tegan Yorwarth and Pax Assadi, judges. (Photos: TVNZ, Image Design: Tina Tiller)

New Zealand’s Got Talent? We do, but TVNZ’s new show 60 Seconds is an even more high-concept version of the old talent-show standby, writes Sam Brooks.

Any adequate description of 60 Seconds makes it sound like one of those fake shows from 30 Rock. It’s essentially New Zealand’s Got Talent, with an extra wrinkle: each act has only 60 seconds to perform, then the judges bid their money (real money!) on whether they want to take the act through to the next round, as part of their team. But wait: Clint Roberts, the host, also gets to save one act to take into the next round. Oh also, the acts include a Hogwarts-themed dog show, a Jenga-based circus stunt, the obligatory big-voiced singer, and a man who tells stories with sand. 

Sound confusing? Yes, because it is! But it’s also a lot of fun.

Tiffany and Vixen, the Hogwarts cosplaying duo. (Photo: TVNZ)

Luckily, understanding the intricacies of 60 Seconds isn’t really necessary. If you’ve watched a talent show before, you know enough. The judges – comedians Laura Daniel and Pax Assadi, and Mai FM presenter Tegan Yorwarth –  have plenty of banter from the off, and are engaging enough to breeze past the labyrinthine rules of the game. We watch talented people do their thing. Some people make it through, others don’t. At the end of the competition – eight episodes in this instance – we have a winner.

60 Seconds wisely adapts the standard talent show format for our distracted 21st century minds. Each act is introduced with a teaser TikTok, after which the judges (and by proxy the audience) have to guess what the act’s specific talent is. Each judge gets one question each, which is played up for comedic effect if a judge senses the energy is lagging, and then we see the act in question. It’s short, it’s quick, and the show manages to squeeze five very different talents into an hour without it seeming overstuffed or rushed.

The first episode wisely spreads the talents across several acts, and although no talent show is complete without one a singer, I wish they hadn’t started the show with one. No shade to Verity Howells, who can obviously sing – and her original track was moving – but singing isn’t the real selling point of these sorts of variety shows. There are already a lot of singing-based talent shows! There aren’t, however, a lot of talent shows where three talented weirdos do Jenga stunts or a dog cosplays as Harry Potter (and the world is worse for it, frankly).

The main tension within 60 Seconds right now is that it is, truly, bizarrely complex. The bidding system isn’t inherently confusing – even though it seems to be weighted towards acts who perform near the start of the episode, when the judges have more money to bid – but the way that it is implemented is. It’s unclear, at this stage, what it means to be on a judge’s team as they move into the semi-finals, there’s a “stealing” element that has yet to come into play, and it frankly seems an exercise in piling on enough logistical debris so that (legally) it’s not just a copy of the Got Talent franchise.

The acts from the first episode of 60 Seconds. (Photo: TVNZ)

Leaving aside the rules, though, 60 Seconds is a charming watch. As judges, Daniel, Yorwarth and Assadi perform like seasoned pros, shuttling us between acts while giving generous praise and measured critiques in turn. Roberts is an entertaining host who quite visibly puts the acts at ease – after all, performing for an audience of thousands down a camera is not quite the same as performing for an audience of hundreds at SkyCity Theatre. But what we’re here for are the acts.

My personal gripe with the preponderance of singers on variety shows aside, the acts on 60 Seconds are a goddamn delight. The Disciples are goofy but seriously talented dancers. Marcus Winter tells the myth of Papatūānuku and Ranginui as he draws it with sand, which is (subjectively) cool and objectively quite difficult. Tiffany (human) and Vixen (dog) do a routine that retells Harry Potter being chosen by the Sorting Hat which, yes, is deeply bizarre. But it’s a cute dog on stage doing tricks – there’s very little not to love.

However the highlight of episode one has to be LaserKiwi, a trio who remind me of what Aunty Donna would be like if they were significantly more acrobatically inclined. They start off with a bit featuring an olive (funnier than it sounds), and then proceed to deliver a very well-rehearsed, visually impressive stunt featuring some seriously impressive Jenga skills. LaserKiwi is the act that reveals what 60 Seconds can do best: provide short, sharp showcases for incredibly talented people that you wouldn’t see on any other TV show.

So, yeah, 60 Seconds is a bit too complex for its own good – I’ve watched the first episode twice and I’m still not sure if I’ve got a completely solid grasp on what the rules are, and I expect they’ll change over the eight episode run – but when you’re watching each act do their 60 second, the rules fade away. You’re watching talented people do the thing they do best. And that’s just bloody delightful, isn’t it?

60 Seconds begins tonight 7:30pm on TVNZ2

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Image: Starz/Tina Tiller
Image: Starz/Tina Tiller

Pop CultureMarch 14, 2022

Outlander recap: Birth, death and the power of Roger’s beard

Image: Starz/Tina Tiller
Image: Starz/Tina Tiller

Who knew facial hair could make a man so wise? Tara Ward recaps episode two of season six of Outlander. 

Friends, we can never complain that Outlander is boring. This might be the second episode in a super short season, but it was fuller than a swollen pair of Beardsley tonsils. In one sweet hour of television, Outlander gave us politics, power plays, recreational drug use, a revelation, a birth and a funeral for someone who wasn’t even dead. Oh, and Bree invented matches.

Grannie Wilson was a kidder from way back, but this time she’d gone too far

After all that, I am now Grannie Wilson, lying on a plank with chunks of bread on my stomach and needing a wee sleep to recover from the absolute state of things. Episode two threw delicious detail after detail at us to quench our Outlander thirst, and yet, not a lot happened. Lizzie and the Beardsley brothers are a throuple now? Sure! Ian had a child while he lived with the Mohawk? Why not! The Major is allergic to cats? Delighted to meet you, mon ami.

Where has Grannie Wilson been all our lives, anyway? The old woman was dead, and then she wasn’t, and then she was dead again. It was an emotional rollercoaster, much like the unpredictable ride of being an Outlander fan. We soared to the passionate highs of Jamie and Claire having sex like it was 1743 all over again, only to then hurtle into the scene where drunk Fergus suckles on Marsali’s breast to bring on labour contractions.

Nearly old enough for their Gold Card FYI

Look, what a married couple does in the privacy of a time traveller’s medical surgery is their own business, but at that point I could have done with some homemade ether myself. Is there a better time to bring up “this is what we did in the brothel” than when your wife is nine centimetres dilated and preparing to expel a human out of her orifice? Grannie Wilson wouldn’t have put up with it, I tell you that.

Such is the circle of life on Fraser’s Ridge. Grannie Wilson departed, baby Henri-Christan was born with achondroplasia, and Roger was the Ridge’s emotional rock. He cheered Bree up when everyone thought her matches sucked, he helped a lost child and he gave drunk Fergus a good talking to. I don’t know what magic power lies in Roger’s facial hair, but ever since that beard grew in he has become a bushy tree of knowledge. Plant this shrub of common sense in the garden, Claire Fraser, and make a salve from his whiskers immediately.

“Matches suck, and don’t even get me started on elastic”

While Jamie wrestled with his knowledge of the upcoming American Revolutionary War and whether he should help arm the Cherokee, his nemesis Tom Christie continued to seethe his way around Fraser’s Ridge. Tom narrowed his eyes at everything he disapproved of, like women, fresh air, and the way the winter light brings out the rich russet tones in Jamie Fraser’s ponytail.

Christie’s new church was nearly finished, but after the shenanigans at Grannie Wilson’s funeral, he banned Claire from setting foot inside. It would have been powerful to see Tom accuse Claire of witchcraft, but instead Outlander let Claire casually drop this bombshell into the dinner conversation, somewhere between Marsali’s labour pangs and Roger’s thoughts on his sermon for a woman who wasn’t even dead.

Look, if Claire’s not bothered about being called a witch, then we’re not bothered either. Plus, we all knew Christie was bin juice, but now it seems he’s bin juice who mistreats his children. After Jamie told Christie to chill out, Christie was so mad he went home to beat his daughter Malva. The only thing that stopped him was his damaged hand, which Claire later agreed to operate on. Honestly, witches have more patience than a woman waking up at her own funeral.

Tom Christie, having a lovely time in North Carolina

Claire continued to rely on her DIY anaesthetic to control her PTSD, in between fun philosophical debates with Christie about whether God prefers goats over people (jury’s still out) and whether Christie is too scared to let a woman operate on him. Wait until he finds out what Bree can do with white phosphorus, or whatever the heck Lizzie’s up to with the Beardsley brothers. That’s a storyline we need to hurtle into, ASAP.

It’s no wonder we’re out for the count like a weary octogenarian covered in breadcrumbs.  Until next week, let’s channel the wisdom of Roger, the bravery of Marsali, and the fury of Grannie Wilson. At the very least, we can rest in the knowledge that the last thing Grannie saw was Jamie Fraser’s tricorn. A blessed exit, indeed.

Outlander screens on Neon, with a new episode every Monday night. Read more of Tara Ward’s Outlander recaps here.

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