LIKE many parents of dinosaur fanatics, I think I ought to be awarded an honorary palaeontology degree. Having read the Collins Book of Dinosaurs at least eight million times, I know my sauropodomorpha from my ornithischians.
I therefore tuned into the upgraded series of Walking with Dinosaurs (BBC1, Sundays, all episodes on iPlayer) without expecting to learn anything new. I enjoyed the original series, first shown in 1999, which creatively tells the stories of dinosaur discoveries using impressive computer animation. The 2025 version looks, weirdly, less realistic. If anything, it is over-animated, and its slick “Can’t see the joins” production makes it seem somehow more fake.
Narrated by Bertie Carvel, this contains all the emotionally manipulative, anthropomorphic cues that you might expect, encouraging us to root for George the Gastonia, our gentle, veggie-eating character, and then watch while he is hunted down by the nasty raptors. Spoiler alert: it doesn’t end very well for any of them, but then, it does begin with footage of actual palaeontologists digging their bones out of the Utah desert, 113 million years later. It is worth watching if your appetite for dinosaurs remains unquenched, but it is a distant second to the CBeebies classic Andy’s Dinosaur Adventures.
When Bruce Springsteen came to Britain (BBC2, 31 May) is a must-see for any music fan — or, indeed, anyone interested in British social history. It is a celebration of the 50th anniversary of Springsteen’s first UK concert, at the Hammersmith Apollo, but it also explores his relationship with Britain throughout his career, showcasing other significant performances.
Contributors include his fellow musicians Sting and Peter Gabriel, plus mega-fans such as the comedian Rob Brydon. Michael Palin, who was at the Hammersmith gig in 1975, reflects on the concert, and observes that Springsteen looked nothing like a rock star, but more like “someone who had just serviced a car”.
This probably explains his appeal to people from the beleaguered industrial heartlands of the north and the Midlands, particularly during the 1980s, a time of cripplingly high unemployment. Here was a man who was “one of the people”: an American who wrote about the New Jersey turnpike and the grim vista of the oil refineries. Rob Brydon showed the lyrics to his grandmother, describing them as “pure poetry”. To a teenager who grew up in the shadow of the Port Talbot steelworks, Springsteen’s words conjured up a familiar landscape.
Springsteen remains a fervent Anglophile, crediting British music as the source of his inspiration. He is a quiet and humble man, who came alive on stage as an astonishing live musician — a true “soul-baring performer”.
