The
Crimson Field: Sunday, BBC
One
The
Trip to Italy: Friday, BBC
Two
Paul
Whitelaw
If the Sunday evening gulf left by
Call the Midwife is proving difficult, then The Crimson
Field should help to ease the pain. Similarly mired in suffering,
it's a death-infested medical drama set in an army field hospital
during World War One. While I wouldn't go so far as calling these
shows subversive, it's somewhat pleasing that BBC One's traditionally
cosy period drama slot is now the reserve of determinedly miserable
bedpan horror stories.
Our plucky heroines are a trio of
mismatched voluntary nurses. They're a carefully selected study in
contrasts: one plays by the rules, the other is a brusquely
perceptive rebel, and the third is a golly gosh posh girl who's
frightfully eager to please.
As played by Oona Chaplin, the
taciturn maverick is the only truly interesting character. Immediately
at odds with the stereotypically stern matron, she's a novel
protagonist – certainly for dramas of this nature – in that's
she's not immediately sympathetic.
“I didn't come here to make
friends,” she snapped, like a prototypical reality TV star. Indeed,
she didn't bond with anyone other than the possibly psychotic dying
soldier who physically attacked her and demanded that she save his
life. When she refused to beg for mercy, he crumbled in confusion.
How convenient. There was an intriguing suggestion that she doesn't
really care if she lives or dies, which given her circumstances is
probably an ideal state of mind.
As with most Great War dramas, The
Crimson Field makes a blunt point about the mercenary madness of
governing officers. We were treated to a visit from a straight-faced
General Melchett type who was practically frothing at the mouth at
the prospect of getting wounded men back in the firing line.
“If
they can walk and shoot then back up they go,” he barked, his
medals for cruelty glistening by gaslight. Not content with sending a
clearly traumatised young man to war, he then accused the patients of
faking venereal disease. Thank heavens, then, for the kindly hospital
chief played by Kevin Doyle, otherwise known as that nice Mr Molesley
from Downton Abbey. He's like a beacon of decency in a
quagmire of carnage.
The late arrival of Suranne Jones as
a strikingly modern Sister – she has a bob and rides a motorbike –
suggested an impending storm of friction, and there's
obviously something afoot with the quietly bitter Sister whose position she's usurped.
Written by former EastEnders
scribe Sarah Phelps, it's a slick and assured drama. While it was
hardly free of cliché, episode one was more or less a textbook
example of how to establish an ongoing drama. And hats off to Phelps
for including a plot strand about graphically depicted dismembered
toes and the incineration of amputated limbs. It was admirable in
that it would be insulting to shy away from the visceral realities of
World War One. I'm sure we've got a lot more discomfort to come.
One of the most purely pleasurable
shows I've seen in quite some time, The Trip to Italy reunites Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon
as barely fictionalised versions of themselves on a culinary road
trip through gorgeous scenery. Mostly free from the animosity that characterised series one,
their enjoyment of each other's company is contagious. Spending half
an hour with them each week is a grin-inducing treat.
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