Some TV shows you watch for the characters. Some you watch for the plot. Some you watch for the scenery — at least I do. But only occasionally does a series come along that you watch for all of the above.
“800 Words” is one such little gem. It’s currently broadcast by WLIW/21 on Friday nights at 10 p.m. — literally a sleeper of a slot — which is probably why I had to learn about it by word of mouth.
A friend of mine — another writer — had said, “You’re a columnist, Judy, so you must be a fan of ‘800 Words.’”
“Not really,” I answered her. “Not when 750 will do. That’s my usual limit.”
“Not you, silly — I mean the TV show! It’s about an Australian man who writes a column for a Sydney newspaper, and he calls it that because it’s the one thing he insists on — his weekly column must be 800 words. Not 799, not 801, but exactly 800.”
I didn’t say so, but I instantly thought him a dilettante, because who in their right mind can be so persnickety? Sure, I land near my goal pretty often, but there are times when you can achieve either a comprehensible thought or an exact word count — but not both.
Still, my interest was piqued, so I set up my digital “fishing net” — the DVR — and the next week there it was, flapping away, a bright shiny episode of “800 Words!”
George Turner is a widower whose wife’s recent death has devastated him and their two teenage children, daughter Shay and son Arlo. Still shattered, George abruptly decides to up sticks and move them all across the Tasman Sea, to the tiny seaside town of “Weld,” New Zealand (a composite of several North Island locations).
George’s teens take this as well as you can imagine, namely kicking and screaming — especially Shay, who is livid at being hijacked to “the arse-end of the world.” It doesn’t help when it turns out that George has bought “the wrong house” from an internet ad — not the spacious summer home he remembers from childhood visits, at the top of the hill, but a shack lower down. Then their car catches fire, the cargo ship with their belongings sinks in a storm, and… you get the picture.
Through it all, two consolations emerge. For one thing, Weld is breathtakingly gorgeous, complete with misty tropical mountains and world-beating surf. Just watching the show feels like a mini-vacation.
And then there are the people. Weld is one of those small towns where your neighbors know your news as soon as you do — maybe sooner. But after an initial cold shoulder, they also show up to help you through it.
It turned out that Weld was the kind of place I wanted to return to myself. And I didn’t want to wait another whole week. So I ventured onto my computer and purchased an “Acorn” membership via Amazon prime… my first serious binge!
After watching all three seasons that were available, I learned there is a fourth, but if the internet is to be believed, there will not be anything more.
“800 Words” has a zany charm reminiscent of the 1990’s CBS series “Northern Exposure,” which made a star of Rob Morrow as the newly minted doctor from New York who must serve out his contract in tiny Cicely, Alaska.
“800 words” also reminds me of the PBS program “Doc Martin.” My husband and I started watching that for the scenery, too — the whitewashed cottages and narrow cobblestone streets of a Cornwall village, with beautiful flowers spilling out of every window box.
Perhaps there is something about villages, because Doc Martin’s village also contains a goodly number of wackos. One of the wackiest is the hapless would-be restaurateur/barman/contractor Bert Large, played by Ian McNeice. Everything his character touches goes awry, yet he never stops trying.
In the show’s postscript, however, McNeice had a serious point to make to his audience, namely that being picked up by American public television was the best thing that could happen to a television series. It might even have extended their run by a season or two!
So I want you to get up, go to your computers, and send word somehow to Channel 21 that you want more of “800 Words”! You’ll be doing yourself — and me — a favor. But especially me. I’m over my limit now, but I’ll spare two more words: Thank you!
