A version of this article was originally published in The Dundee Courier on 6 August 2016.
The ‘80s with Dominic
Sandbrook: Thursday, BBC Two
Versus: The Films of
Ken Loach: Saturday, BBC Two
Unless
you happen to be a wealthy capitalist such as pop star Tony Blair or war
criminal Gary Barlow, most rational people agree that Margaret Thatcher was the
worst thing that ever happened to this country.
She
destroyed British industry. She trampled over the poor. She encouraged a blind
philosophy of selfishness and greed which led directly to the chaos of our
miserably divided modern age.
That’s
not subjective opinion, it’s a matter of historical fact. Or so I thought until
my perceptions were altered to mind-blowing effect by The ‘80s with Dominic Sandbrook.
According
to the maverick historian, despite what you may have thought in your blissful, woolly
ignorance, Thatcher didn’t forge the consumerist boom of the ‘80s. She was
merely reacting to it. If anyone is to blame for what happened during that
destructive decade, it’s you, the avaricious consumer, not poor, benighted Mrs
T.
Sandbrook,
in typically rebellious style, didn’t actually support this leftfield theory
with any persuasive evidence. He didn’t need to. The man has some sort of
degree, he obviously knows what he’s talking about.
Sure,
his programmes may look like glib, superficial overviews of a complex subject
in which he presents dubious right-wing conjecture as objective fact. But that’s
only because we’ve become brainwashed by “experts” who favour qualified rigour
over self-consciously challenging revisionism. Michael Gove, as always, was
right.
With
his glasses, tank-top and reassuringly bald bonce, Sandbrook has the mien of an
affable college lecturer. He seems harmless. But don’t be fooled by his disarming
act. He’s Columbo, if Columbo had forgone a career apprehending wealthy
criminals in methodical detail to pursue the far more important task of
skewering received wisdom with the haphazard precision of an attention-seeking
assassin.
Cynics
might argue that Sandbrook’s central theory that Delia Smith, not Margaret
Thatcher, was the most powerfully influential woman in ‘80s Britain, is an
example of contrary posturing at its most egregiously self-satisfied. To those
people I’d say this: when was the last time you manufactured an ill-informed opinion
for money on BBC Two? You’re just jealous.
History,
as they say, is written by its Blue Peter
competition winners. Sandbrook has more than earned his badge.
One
can only imagine Ken Loach’s reaction to Sandbrook’s tract. I hope he didn’t
electrocute himself by smashing a sensibly-shoed foot through his television.
The
transmission of Versus: The Films of Ken
Loach just two days after Sandbrook’s apologist guff felt like an
accidental effort by the BBC to honour their commitment to balance.
This
elegant, insightful, touching profile of one of Britain’s greatest film/television
directors and “left-wing firebrands” highlighted the difficulties he’s faced
over a remarkable, and inspiring, 50-year career.
Equal
parts social justice campaigner and cinema artisan, Loach has always been
driven by determined moral outrage and compassion. But his best work never
feels didactic. Truth and humanity are always paramount.
Sometimes,
that’s a questionable approach. Did he really need to film the wee,
tear-stained boys from Kes being
caned for real during an admittedly powerful scene? He can be ruthless in his
pursuit of authenticity.
During
Sandbrook’s beloved Thatcher years, Loach was reduced to directing McDonald’s
adverts for money. “That sits really badly on my conscience,” winced the self-effacing
Marxist nation-hater.
Nevertheless,
like Sherlock and Moriarty, Loach and Sandbrook have much in common. Both
disguise their true motives behind an unassuming, genteel veneer.
The
key difference is that Loach actually lives in the real world.
