This article was originally published in The Dundee Courier on 9th July 2016.
Brief Encounters: Monday, STV
B is for Book: Tuesday, BBC Four
Essentially
The Full Monty with lingerie and sex
toys, Brief Encounters is, aptly, a
skimpy affair about a group of ordinary women in early ‘80s Sheffield who decide
to sell goods from the Ann Summers range.
Though
billed as a comedy-drama, it doesn’t deliver on either front. Inevitably,
scenes of the women presenting living room demonstrations of their “naughty”
toys and undergarments are delivered in a light-hearted fashion, but they’re
only gently amusing. Cosy comedy. The dramatic elements are so rote and
predictable, they almost feel tacked on as an afterthought.
It’s
not exactly bad as such. The very concept of faint praise could’ve been invented
for this typically inoffensive ITV confection, in which an able cast of
familiar faces do what they can with a competently written, wholly unsurprising
script. Like an ageing married couple slipping into sexless twilight torpor,
we’ve seen it all before.
It’s
stocked full of archetypal, sub-Mike Leigh characters - Leigh stalwart Peter
Wight crops up - such as the nouveau riche snob, the permed, predatory sexpot,
and the frustrated middle-class housewife (Penelope Wilton). Every box is
ticked with a kind of dutiful flourish.
Sophie
Rundle (Happy Valley) is a quietly
appealing presence as protagonist Steph, a young married working-class mum who
seizes her chance to make some extra money when she spots an advert for Ann
Summers saleswomen in the local newspaper. It’s also a way of escaping from her
workaday rut – she’s a part-time cleaner for a well-off neighbour – and
fulfilling her dreams of a worthwhile career.
The
Ann Summers parties, though initially regarded with nervous suspicion by some
of the women, present an opportunity to have fun and make new friends. What’s
more, in a domestic world where disapproving patriarchs rule the roost, it’s a
form of rebellious empowerment.
Thematically,
it’s a sound premise. But Brief
Encounters is stubbornly unwilling to explore its potential as a piece of gender
commentary or social history in any great depth.
When
Steph’s husband (Rundle’s Happy Valley co-star
Karl Davies) is made redundant, the script goes through the motions of showing
his wounded pride resentment of his wife’s new career.
The
menfolk will doubtless come to terms with it in episode six, thus symbolising
society’s gradual acceptance of sisters doing it for themselves (award yourself
a tart beverage when Annie and Aretha appear on the soundtrack).
This
is all projection, of course, but when confronted with a show which basically
writes itself, even Nostradamus would be bang on the money.
However,
it does feel more substantial if you regard it as an ominous prequel to harrowing
BBC drama Threads, in which early
‘80s Sheffield was destroyed in a nuclear war.
A
delightful celebration of the written word, B is for Book followed a group of Hackney primary school pupils as
they discovered the joys of reading.
The
“emotional journey” arc is one of the most clichéd devices in modern
documentary-making, but in this case its usage was entirely apt and rewarding.
Watching these kids gradually learn to read and grow in confidence over the
space of a year was, dare I say it, quite magical.
Even
the potentially twee conceit of using the kids as narrators supported the
central theme of how important it is to encourage literacy at a formative age.
This
charming essay was also one in the eye for critics of Britain’s education
system. Good, dedicated teachers literally
change lives.
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