This article was originally published in the Courier on 15th February 2014.
Babylon:
Sunday, Channel 4
Line
of Duty: Wednesday, BBC2
Given the current weight of
controversy surrounding police misconduct and media chicanery, you'd
think an incisive black comedy satirising the whole sorry mess was
just begging to be made. Unfortunately, Babylon isn't it.
Billed as a comedy-drama, the pilot
failed to make much impact as either. Although clearly not intended
as a rib-tickling farce, the stabs at humour were curiously mannered
and self-conscious.
A scene in which Metropolitan Police
chiefs were confused by incoming reports of a shooting spree was
particularly laboured. And James Nesbitt, as a beleaguered police
chief, delivering a convoluted description of what would befall him
if he erroneously issued a citywide lock-down felt like an awkward
barrage of watered-down The Thick of It.
This is hard to forgive, seeing as
Babylon was written by Jesse Armstrong and Sam Bain, both of
whom worked on Armando Iannucci's exemplary political satire. It was
like a weak tribute to their own work. Creators of the excellent Peep
Show, they also collaborated with Chris Morris on his thoughtful
suicide bomber comedy Four Lions. Their CV speaks for itself.
And yet Babylon took
tantalising elements from their previous efforts and squandered their
potential. Poorly plotted and characterised, it was a tonally
confused, boring mess.
Largely set in the Met's
communications department, its tackling of PR, spin and corporate
gobbledegook felt awfully rote and familiar. Lines such as “This is
so far off the record even I don't know I'm saying it” were the
stuff of half-hearted fan fiction.
Director Danny Boyle – yes, that
one – did at least succeed in providing a surface sheen of energy
to Babylon's hectic world of rolling news, camera phones and
Twitter And the overall point about the police struggling to project
an image of honesty and transparency in a world increasingly
monitored by the media and a tech-savvy public was, while crushingly
obvious, adequately delivered.
As a state-of-the-nation address,
however, it was limp and underwhelming: a missed opportunity. Its
depiction of the police may be fair – like any sprawling
institution, it's populated by terrible idiots and well-meaning
professionals – but Babylon rang hollow as comedy, character
drama and social commentary.
By sheer coincidence, the ethical
failings of the police were addressed in another TV highlight this
week. But Line of Duty is a far more assured and enjoyable
affair.
A satisfyingly self-contained story,
series one of this dynamic thriller was hardly begging for a sequel.
But on the evidence of episode one, series two promises to be just as
compelling.
Once again based around a British
police force anti-corruption unit, it introduced Keeley Hawes as an
apparently conscientious officer suspected of involvement in the
violent death of three colleagues and a mysterious witness.
As before, writer Jed Mercurio
established an intriguing guessing game riddled with unexpected
twists. The biggest shock of all, and one that left me grinning from
its sheer audacity, was the cliffhanger death of Call the
Midwife's Jessica Raine, who'd only just been introduced as a
major new character.
Although I should've seen it coming –
Mercurio pulled off the same trick in series one with Gina McKee's
character – it still worked beautifully as a devilish bit of
rug-pulling.
That barely controlled yet confident
sense of anything-goes mania is what sets Line of Duty apart
from the vast majority of UK cop shows. It shows Babylon how
it's done.
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