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The only thing better than the fuzzy glow of nostalgia, is having everything you ever enjoyed remade so that you don't have to waste precious brain cells trying to remember it.

So our thanks go to those generous Hollywood moneymen who think nothing of ravaging our childhood like a Vermont priest (see yesterday's post) to save them having to come up with an original concept. In terms of fondly-remembered TV properties, few score higher than the A-Team, which is conveniently the latest TV show to be fed through the film industry's sausage machine.

The story of four wrongly imprisoned Vietnam veterans, the A-Team was everything a child of the eighties could wish for. Improbable action, cunning disguises (that usually involved a bushy grey moustache) and enough impromptu engineering to give Isambard Kingdom Brunel the horn.

Despite living off the grid to avoid recapture (the opening credits voiceover doubted anyone's ability to find them), the A-Team were regularly called upon by comely young ladies to protect their farms against ruthless developers with their own private militia. Every week the gang would show up, bicker and flirt, then get locked in a barn and have to devise a way of breaking out by cunningly building a cabbage-firing tank that could blast a jeep 18 feet in the air.

Although the show's concept has been updated to reflect modern reality, with the team now Iraq war veterans, director Jo Carnahan has promised to keep things light-hearted, claiming "You can … make a film that reflects on the real world without losing the great sense of fun and the velocity of action in a classic summer popcorn film."

Although fan-boy anticipation is understandably high, the movie's imminent release has been soured somewhat, thanks to a few thoughtless remarks made by Ultimate Fighter Quinton 'Rampage' Jackson, who is following in Mr T's jewellery laden footsteps.

When the Los Angeles Times visited the set, Jackson stated that “Acting is kind of gay. It makes you soft. You got all these people combing your hair and putting a coat over your shoulders when you’re cold. I don’t want a coat over my shoulders! I’m a tough-ass!"

Before anyone even had time to pity the fool, critics were calling him a homophobe and insisting on a boycott of the film. Since then, the beefy Bo Selecta-looking action star has been forced to retract his comments and issue a rather rambling apology on his personal website.

He's fine with gays, as long as they don't touch him, buy him drinks or 'hound' him. And besides, as Rampage points out, "MOST straight fans act GAYER than any guys that was at this gay bar that I visited." So as long as gays don't do anything too gay, like looking or acting gay, he's fine with that.

But, see, now I'm wondering whether he actually intended to go to that gay bar in the first place. Maybe he was ranting about "I ain't going in no damn gay bar, no fool ain't getting me in no gay bar." Then Hannibal gave him a glass of milk, he blacked out... You see where I'm going with this?

Acceptable in the '80s

Take a good look around. La Roux is at the top of the charts with an album that sounds like it was scraped together from a bunch of Yazoo out-takes. The A-Team, the Smurfs and T.J. Hooker are all being lined up for big-screen reinventions. And Patrick Dempsey is still one of the hottest actors around. It's safe to say that the 80s is no longer the forgotten decade.

The latest relic from the era of head-bands, leg-warmers and Wincey Willis to be hauled back into public consciousness is the ground zero of jazz hands, Fame. Starting out as a surprisingly gritty drama by Alan Parker, the original film followed the endeavours of some of New York's most compelling young talents. And a dull girl with a cello. But thanks to some toe-tapping tunes, energetic performances and a pair of very short shorts (thanks Leroy), the movie was a massive success and even won two Oscars.

Smelling a franchise, Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer was quick to recruit as many of the movie's unknown cast as possible, and lined up a weekly TV show. Despite being a staggeringly formulaic and amateurish production, it was another smash hit. For a while at least. New song and dance numbers were incorporated into every episode, and the cast regularly took to the road for extensive tours as "The Kids From Fame". Finally, in 1987, the show was cancelled and the cast shuffled off into relative obscurity, before being temporarily dragged out of it for one of Justin Lee Collins' nostalgia-fests on Channel 4.

So now, here we are anticipating Fame for a new generation. The trailer (embedded below for your viewing convenience) seems to tick all the right boxes. An R&B update of the iconic theme song, young people giving it their all with steely determination, and lots and lots of stretching. Unfortunately, what has changed is the context.

Back in 1980, Debbie Allen's voiceover declared "You've got big dreams? You want fame? Well, fame costs. And right here is where you start paying ... in sweat." So how is the movie going to work in an era when fame costs nothing? These days, fame is a simple commodity that can be acquired by being born, being hysterical, or sticking a wine bottle up your Jacob's Creek. There's no longer any need to pay in sweat, since any bodily fluids will suffice. Talent has become entirely incidental, and at times seems diametrically opposed to the very concept of celebrity.

Equally, breakthrough success is equated with selling-out. Instead, integrity and genuine creative expression live underground, on self-financed record labels and in independent arthouse movies.

Sadly, the sweetspot where talent and fame do actually converge is a troublesome nexus for many. The entertainment world has lost countless talents decades before their time because the conflicting pressures were just too great. As Irene Cara once sang, "I'm gonna live forever..." but only figuratively speaking.