This article was originally published in The Courier on 22nd February 2014.
My
Mad Fat Diary: Monday, E4
Edge
of Heaven: Friday, STV
Paul
Whitelaw
As the old saying goes, if you
remember the 1990s that's because they only ended 14 years ago. It
barely feels like the past at all. Also, I personally find it
difficult to wax nostalgically about the decade of my teens and
twenties, if only because doing so makes me feel horrifyingly old.
But that's one of the reasons why I
enjoy the charming teen comedy-drama My Mad Fat Diary: despite
being set during the Britpop era, it never wallows in cheap
nostalgia. The soundtrack may be rammed full of hits by the likes of
Black Grape and Oasis, but its evocation of those years is anything
but mindless and celebratory. The unfussily realised period setting
is all but incidental.
The focus rests instead on the
growing pains of Rae, an overweight teenage girl suffering from
severe depression and anxiety. Yet despite the sombre subject matter,
it manages to find welcome jabs of lightness and humour amid the
gloom. It's a delicate balancing act, skilfully exercised.
Based on the diaries of author Rae
Earl, it's clearly dredged from a laudable well of sincerity. It also
benefits from a sensitive, likeable, vanity-free performance from
Scottish actress Sharon Rooney as Rae. A realistically flawed
character, she may be sweet and sympathetic but she's hardly an
idealised pathos machine. Her moments of surliness, usually directed
towards her well-meaning mother, are an effective way of staving off
sentimentality.
Like the short-lived yet much-loved
teen drama My So Called Life, starring Clare Danes and
produced in the actual 1990s, My Mad Fat Diary isn't
interested in depicting a bowdlerised version of teenage life. It's
laudably warts and all.
As series two commenced, Rae was
seemingly happy at last. Head over heels in love with her boyfriend,
her only pressing concern was losing her virginity before starting
college. However, in a poignant twist typical of the show, it was
eventually revealed that Rae was living in denial. The narrative
device of an optimistic letter to her best friend, Tix, was, it
transpired, a red herring. It was a manifestation of grief. Tix, who
also suffered from mental health problems, had died, presumably by
suicide. Still in a trough of despair, Rae nevertheless took the
important step of realising she still has a long way to go in
therapy.
Few shows of my recollection have
handled mental illness in such a sensitive and believable way. That
it's produced by the otherwise tactless Channel 4 makes it all the
more remarkable.
If I was ever tasked with making a
parody of a generic, awful British sitcom, chances are I'd come up
with something along the lines of Edge of Heaven. Joyless
hack-work, this bland, predictable, primary-coloured comedy dutifully
encompasses every miserable sitcom cliché. The daffy granny! The
sex-mad mum! The fiery foreigner! The wacky gay couple! The chirpy
ukulele soundtrack! It's pitiful.
And what's the point of setting it in
an '80s-themed bed and breakfast? Aside from a brief snippet of
Madonna's Holiday (to signify that someone was going on
holiday), it didn't even feature any '80s music. Are we supposed to
find the sight of a Wham 'Choose Life' t-shirt inherently amusing?
And a quick note to the production
team: far from being an inspired visual gag, the conical bra-shaped
keys to the hotel's Madonna suite merely illustrated your ineptitude,
as Madge didn't actually adopt that look until 1990. You fools.
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