Showing posts with label Ken Loach. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ken Loach. Show all posts

Saturday, 21 January 2023

THREE MINUTES: A LENGTHENING | EVERYONE ELSE BURNS | HAPPY VALLEY

This article was originally published in The Courier on 21st January 2003. 

NEXT WEEK’S TV

Storyville – Three Minutes: A Lengthening – Tuesday, BBC Four, 10pm

On Thursday 4th August 1938, photographer David Kurtz captured some informal silent film footage of the Jewish community based in the small Polish town of Nasielsk. Those haunting three minutes form the basis of this documentary. 

Nasielsk had 7,000 inhabitants in 1938, 3,000 of whom were Jewish. Fewer than a hundred of them survived the Holocaust. 

The only voices we hear throughout the film belong to narrator Helena Bonham Carter, Kurtz’s eloquent grandson, an actor quoting from contemporary accounts, and, remarkably, a survivor who grew up in Nasielsk before it was invaded by the Nazis. He’s able to put names to faces. 

This fragment of film brings ghosts back to life, it preserves their memories. They existed.

Robson Green’s Weekend Escapes – Monday to Friday, BBC Two, 6:30pm

In this cosy new series, Mr Affability visits various picturesque outdoor spots in the North East of England. He’s not alone, of course, each leg of his rural journey is enjoyed in the company of a celebrity chum. That’s how these shows must always operate. By law.

Guests this week include footballers Les Ferdinand and Jill Scott, actor Mark Benton and comedian Lost Voice Guy. However, in a shocking break from standard TV rules, he’s joined on Friday by members of his actual family. 

Weekend Escapes fulfils its unpretentious M.O. without any fuss. This is comfort viewing incarnate, an animated tapestry of pretty pictures populated by pleasant people indulging in mild banter. 

It’s winter, it’s freezing, it’ll do for now.

Everyone Else Burns – Monday, Channel 4, 10pm

Simon Bird stars in this new sitcom as the uptight patriarch of a puritanically religious family who believe the end times are a‐coming. They’ll be saved by the Rapture. 

I wasn’t impressed by the first two episodes, both of which go out on Monday. It’s fundamentally sympathetic towards the brainwashed followers of futile doomsday cults, that much is clear, but it falls short of its potential as a piece of character‐based social satire. 

The performances are fine, but the script is limp and obvious. Every attempted joke falls flat.

It’s frustrating, and I can’t help thinking how this bleak subject matter would be handled by Chris Morris, who once made a very funny, thoughtful film, Four Lions, about suicide bombers. 

Sort Your Life Out – Wednesday, BBC One, 9pm

The delightful Stacey Solomon has returned for another series of friendly life hacks. In episode one, we meet a family whose home is cluttered with unnecessary detritus. Solomon and co come to the rescue. 

Now, I’m instinctively suspicious of most programmes along these ‘life‐changing’ makeover lines, as they tend to judge people harshly. They sneer, poke, mock and belittle. But that’s not the Solomon way. 

It would appear that she actually gets to know these families, she engages sympathetically with the parents and children, so in the end you get the impression that everyone is genuinely satisfied. You’d hope so anyway. 

Such a misleadingly aggressive title, though. It sounds like something Dirty Den would bark at Angie.

My Kind of Town – Thursday, BBC Scotland, 8pm

I’m fully aware that this week’s column is preoccupied with travelogues, but I hope these outdoorsy recommendations provide you with some vicarious forms of escape from the January blues. 

If you haven’t seen this lovely little show before, it’s worth checking out. The latest episode finds Ian Hamilton and his guide dog Major exploring the Scottish Borders town of Hawick.

Iain Robertson Rambles – Thursday, BBC Scotland, 8:30pm

And the walks just keep on comin’. 

In this episode, the Scottish actor Iain Robertson concludes his epic 200 mile trek along The Hebdridean Way. He’s occasionally accompanied by a film crew, but for the most part it’s all filmed via Robertson’s light self‐affixed camera. We’re in the intimate presence of a ruminative man and his faithful dog friend, Mollie, both of them miles from anywhere while in the centre of something meaningful. 

As Robertson points out, communing with nature can do wonders for one’s mental health. 

Yes, there are some celebrity cameos ‐ actors Kevin McKidd and Alex Norton in this case ‐ but they enhance Robertson’s message: solitude and company exist in therapeutic tandem. 

Travel Man: 48 Hours in Salzburg – Friday, Channel 4, 8:30pm

Joe Lycett’s travelling companion this week is fellow comic Roisin Conaty. They are, as you’ve doubtless already gathered from the title, in the Austrian city of Salzburg. 

Food‐wise, they devour some schnitzel, strudel and Salzburg’s signature dark chocolate, marzipan and nougat sweet: Mozartkulgen, which translates into English as Mozart’s Balls. Salzburg’s most famous son would presumably see the funny side of that irreverent tribute. 

The Mozart theme continues during a visit to an imaginative art installation. Lycett and Conaty also check in to a luxury art‐filled hotel, visit a forest‐bathing workshop, and have the all‐singing time of their lives on Fraulein Maria’s Bicycle Tour, which takes in various locations from The Sound of Music.

LAST WEEK’S TV

Happy Valley – Sunday 15th January, BBC One

We’ve reached the halfway point of the final series of Sally Wainwright’s modern classic. I usually shy away from praise of that nature, as it tends to sound glib and excessive, but Happy Valley is a special case. 

The opening scene, in which Catherine and Clare confronted each other, was an acting and writing masterclass. No histrionics, just two people quietly dealing with a gamut of conflicted emotions. Wainwright understands how people actually communicate with each other.

As well as being a gripping thriller, Happy Valley is an empathetic meditation on physical and psychological abuse. Gas‐lighting narcissists cannot be reasoned with. We’re instinctively inclined to give people the benefit of the doubt, but those humane impulses are wasted on abusers. 

This Cultural Life: Ken Loach – Wednesday 18th January, BBC Four

For over fifty years, Ken Loach has been Britain’s foremost politically‐engaged left‐wing filmmaker. In the latest episode of this televised podcast, the great man sat down with journalist John Wilson to discuss some of his cultural touchstones. 

Formative memories included family visits to Blackpool where he enjoyed some of the great British comedians of the day, and the influence of 1960s Czech cinema on his exceptional body of work. Those films inspired him to capture “a life happening” on screen. 

Now aged 86, Loach remains a modest man driven by anger and compassion. With regards to his attitudes toward social injustice, this quote was key: “You can’t see it happen and be indifferent.”

Thursday, 11 August 2016

TV Review: THE '80s WITH DOMINIC SANDBROOK + VERSUS: THE FILMS OF KEN LOACH

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.