Screech from Saved by the Bell, America's least funny yet strangely popular teen sitcom, is in the Big Brother house. One former fan, at least, is pleased
Screeeech! Saved by the Bell's Samuel 'Screech' Powers, last seen letting it all hang out in his self-directed, self-released sex tape, is back. Bigger, beardier and straight into the Big Brother bungalow last night, sending children of the 90s down a nostalgic rabbithole. Bayside High! Mr Belding! Lisa's scrunchies! Saved By The Bell was perhaps one of the worst teen sitcoms of our generation. Huge in the US, it trickled down to Limey youngsters after school on Channel 4, hungry for the tales of the fictional California faculty peopled with US teen cliches. We knew little of bleachers, proms and valedictorians. But, by God, if Tumblrs on the 90s are anything to go by, we loved it anyway.
Witness the collective reaction to Dustin Diamond's BB entrance on Twitter last night (clue: lots of screeching). Happily, for the newfound but unbidden hankering I might now have for the once runty school geek, Dustin seems to be on an even keel. Sure, there was the sex tape and the time he trashed his fellow Bell-ers in his autobiography. But apart from that, he's got a sense of humour. And so he should, when his career is built on the shaky foundations of one of America's least funny, yet strangely popular, shows.
Saved By The Bell never had the cool of Freaks and Geeks or the enduring appeal of My So-Called Life. The class of morally responsible 14-year-olds took part in mundane, low-stakes adventures under the tutelage of good-natured authoritarian Mr Belding. Zack was the good-looking wise guy who got the all-American girl, Kelly. Over the series he tussled with reactionary jock AC Slater for her affections. Glamorous, fashion-obsessed Lisa was the object of Screech's unrequited love, and Jessie was the feminist brainbox of the group who would later become meathead Slater's girlfriend, with hilarious consequences.
Not hilarious; I'm lying. I don't think I ever once laughed while watching it. But watch it I did, almost every episode, like some Stepford-eyed drone. Where its popularity sprang from, nobody knows. Grange Hill it was not – though it did try to tackle drug addiction once, when Jessie got hepped up on caffeine pills and whited-out during a mid-term (that's an "exam" to the uninitiated). Aside from that, no one had sex, smoked, drank or in any way acted like a teenager at all.
It was heavy on morals, the importance of friendship and courage through slight adversity, such as not being voted class president. It wasn't identification that chimed with UK audiences, because they weren't experiencing any of the early teenage problems we did. No one at Bayside threw up through homesickness at Guide camp or broke friends with Heather Willingale because she wouldn't give them her best Hungarian stamp. They lived in America and wore leather jackets and had their own lockers. And boyfriends. Boyfriends! As if.
Maybe, to a 14-year-old, Leamington Spa stamp collector librarian like me, watching Saved by the Bell was like reading Judy Bloom to the fast girls in my class. It provided safe, American, Fisher Price issues covered in mild, sugary peril, just the way I liked it. So I'd love to see Screech win Celebrity Big Brother, just for managing to fan the meagre flame of his public renown for this long without giving up.
Gooooooo Bayside! Reported by guardian.co.uk 12 hours ago.
Screeeech! Saved by the Bell's Samuel 'Screech' Powers, last seen letting it all hang out in his self-directed, self-released sex tape, is back. Bigger, beardier and straight into the Big Brother bungalow last night, sending children of the 90s down a nostalgic rabbithole. Bayside High! Mr Belding! Lisa's scrunchies! Saved By The Bell was perhaps one of the worst teen sitcoms of our generation. Huge in the US, it trickled down to Limey youngsters after school on Channel 4, hungry for the tales of the fictional California faculty peopled with US teen cliches. We knew little of bleachers, proms and valedictorians. But, by God, if Tumblrs on the 90s are anything to go by, we loved it anyway.
Witness the collective reaction to Dustin Diamond's BB entrance on Twitter last night (clue: lots of screeching). Happily, for the newfound but unbidden hankering I might now have for the once runty school geek, Dustin seems to be on an even keel. Sure, there was the sex tape and the time he trashed his fellow Bell-ers in his autobiography. But apart from that, he's got a sense of humour. And so he should, when his career is built on the shaky foundations of one of America's least funny, yet strangely popular, shows.
Saved By The Bell never had the cool of Freaks and Geeks or the enduring appeal of My So-Called Life. The class of morally responsible 14-year-olds took part in mundane, low-stakes adventures under the tutelage of good-natured authoritarian Mr Belding. Zack was the good-looking wise guy who got the all-American girl, Kelly. Over the series he tussled with reactionary jock AC Slater for her affections. Glamorous, fashion-obsessed Lisa was the object of Screech's unrequited love, and Jessie was the feminist brainbox of the group who would later become meathead Slater's girlfriend, with hilarious consequences.
Not hilarious; I'm lying. I don't think I ever once laughed while watching it. But watch it I did, almost every episode, like some Stepford-eyed drone. Where its popularity sprang from, nobody knows. Grange Hill it was not – though it did try to tackle drug addiction once, when Jessie got hepped up on caffeine pills and whited-out during a mid-term (that's an "exam" to the uninitiated). Aside from that, no one had sex, smoked, drank or in any way acted like a teenager at all.
It was heavy on morals, the importance of friendship and courage through slight adversity, such as not being voted class president. It wasn't identification that chimed with UK audiences, because they weren't experiencing any of the early teenage problems we did. No one at Bayside threw up through homesickness at Guide camp or broke friends with Heather Willingale because she wouldn't give them her best Hungarian stamp. They lived in America and wore leather jackets and had their own lockers. And boyfriends. Boyfriends! As if.
Maybe, to a 14-year-old, Leamington Spa stamp collector librarian like me, watching Saved by the Bell was like reading Judy Bloom to the fast girls in my class. It provided safe, American, Fisher Price issues covered in mild, sugary peril, just the way I liked it. So I'd love to see Screech win Celebrity Big Brother, just for managing to fan the meagre flame of his public renown for this long without giving up.
Gooooooo Bayside! Reported by guardian.co.uk 12 hours ago.