HAPPY VALLEY | WHEN MOTOWN CAME TO BRITAIN | STONEHOUSE

This article was originally published in The Courier on 31st December 2022.

NEXT WEEK’S TV

Happy Valley – New Year’s Day, BBC One, 9pm

Rightly regarded as one of the greatest British TV dramas of the last ten years, Sally Wainwright’s gripping magnum opus returns for its third and final series this week.

When series two concluded in 2016, that appeared to be the end of the line. However, Wainwright always had one more chapter in mind. 

Preview copies weren’t available, but here’s the gist: while investigating a local gangland murder, Sergeant Catherine Cawood (Sarah Lancashire) unravels a chain of events which lead her back to imprisoned murderer Tommy Lee Royce (James Norton). 

Happy Valley is so much more than a mere cop show, it resonates on a deeper level. It’s a major piece of work, a classic for the ages.

Stephen Sondheim’s Old Friends – Hogmanay, BBC Two, 5:35pm

Stephen Sondheim, who passed away towards the end of 2021, was one of Broadway theatre’s greatest ever composers and lyricists. His hits include West Side Story, Sweeney Todd and Into the Woods. 

Earlier this year, West End impresario Cameron Mackintosh produced an all-star tribute to the great man, the proceeds of which went to the Stephen Sondheim Foundation, a recently formed initiative for young writers. 

Spectacularly staged by a team of renowned choreographers including Matthew Bourne, the show practically heaves with talent: Michael Ball, Helena Bonham Carter, Rob Brydon, Petula Clark, Judi Dench, Damian Lewis and many more all share the spotlight. 

This is fabulous showbiz incarnate, folks, a real end-of-year treat.

Jools’ Annual Hootenanny – Hogmanay, BBC Two, 11:30pm

Jools Holland’s New Year’s Eve bash was, for obvious reasons, a more stripped-down affair in 2020 and 2021, but it’s back in full studio-packed swing this year. 

His guests are Cat Burns, George Ezra, Andy Fairweather Low, Fine Young Cannibals, Gabrielle, Ruby Turner, 1970s British soul group The Real Thing, and Mercury Prize nominee Self Esteem. And at the stroke of midnight, raise a glass in the general direction of the Pipes & Drums of the 1^st Battalion Scot Guards. 

Jools’ Hootenanny is a comforting thing, it exists only to ease us gently into another year, a year in which we’ll hopefully benefit from at least some good fortune. Enjoy yourselves, it’s later than you think.

When Motown Came to Britain – New Year’s Day, BBC Two, 10pm

It’s easy to forget that the first-wave legends of Motown were initially regarded as cult artists in Britain. Sure, they had occasional hits, but the average UK pop fan was generally more familiar with beat group cover versions than the sainted R&B originals. 

This charming documentary digs deep into Motown’s first package tour of Britain in 1965, when a relatively small group of multi-racial soul obsessives preached the gospel on behalf of their heroes. 

Your contributors include Claudette Robinson from The Miracles, Otis Williams from The Temptations and Ready Steady Go! producer Vicki Wickham. It also serves as a tribute to selfless soul proselytiser Dave Godin, an unsung hero in the grand scheme of things.

Stonehouse – Monday to Wednesday, STV, 9pm

In November 1974, the prominent Labour MP John Stonehouse attempted to fake his own death. A real life Reginald Perrin, except Reggie was far more sympathetic than this utter clown. 

Stonehouse, which stars that gifted comic actor Matthew Macfadyen, is presented as a sly farce about a pathetic, philandering opportunist and serial liar who grasped at every opportunity to satiate his selfish needs. Remind you of anyone? 

Stonehouse eagerly worked for the Czech secret police, not out of any moral imperative with regards to far-left politics, but because they paid him handsomely (despite being a terrible spy). He ended up mired in debt, hence his desperate hoax. 

This unforgiving and grimly entertaining satire is all the man deserves.

2022: The Year from Space – Tuesday, Channel 4, 7:30pm

The immense tumult of 2022 is surveyed in this ambitious 90-minute documentary, which feeds upon all-seeing satellite footage. It captures numerous stories of joy and terror, life’s rich pageant in all its contrasting shades. 

So, while we’re treated to feel-good images of, for example, hitherto undiscovered penguin colonies, we’re also confronted with terrifying evidence of our climate change catastrophe. The war in Ukraine looms large throughout; there are scenes of terrible destruction. 

I haven’t seen the programme, it didn’t turn up in time for my deadline, but the synopsis I’m working from makes it sound like the sad musings of a remote non-interventionist deity trying to make sense of an experiment gone drastically wrong.

The Light in the Hall – Wednesday and Thursday, Channel 4, 9pm

Joanna Scanlan stars in this new six-part drama about the tormented mother of a teenage girl who was murdered 18 years ago. 

One day she receives some news that she’s been dreading: the killer (Iwan Rheon) is being released on parole. He confessed to his crime, but claims – apparently in all sincerity – to have no memory of where he left the victim’s body. She’s never been found. 

Meanwhile, a journalist (Alexandra Roach) and erstwhile family friend mulls over whether she can in all good conscience cover this traumatic story. 

A ruminative study of grief, redemption and journalistic ethics, The Light in the Hall is intriguing. It’s also, by pure coincidence, a tangential thematic companion piece to Happy Valley. 

LAST WEEK’S TV

The Smeds and The Smoos – Christmas Day, BBC One

The latest animated Christmas missive from beloved children’s storytellers Julia Donaldson and Axel Scheffler was a lovely little rhyming parable about tolerance, kindness and the utter insanity of all forms of prejudice. 

Set on a far-off alien planet awkwardly cohabited by the red Smeds and the blue Smoos, it delivered its humane message in a sweet, funny and gently profound way. 

The Smeds and the Smoos disliked and mistrusted each other, despite not really knowing why. That was just the unquestioned way of their world. Thankfully, a star-crossed Romeo and Juliet-esque entanglement taught them all a valuable lesson, a lesson that children will hopefully absorb and put into practice throughout the rest of their lives.

Dogs in the Wild: Meet the Family – Wednesday December 28, BBC One

This irresistible series narrated by Chris Packham celebrates all 37 species of wild canid. Wolves, foxes, jackals and dogs, they all receive their due. It’s basically three hours of stunningly beautiful creatures going about their daily business. What more could you ask for at this forbidding time of year? 

It began in Tibet, before jetting off to the Sahara and South America. Somewhere, where e’er he may be, David Attenborough nodded approvingly. His legacy is in safe hands. The BBC, for as long as it’s allowed to exist, will continue to make great programmes of this nature. No pun intended. 

Happy New Year, fellow TV enthusiasts. Give your canid a hug from me.

TV Column: DRACULA + DOCTOR WHO

This article was originally published in The Courier on 28th December 2019.

https://www.thecourier.co.uk/category/lifestyle/entertainment/tv-film/

NEXT WEEK’S TV

DRACULA

New Year’s Day to Friday, BBC One, 9pm

If, like me, you eventually grew tired of Steven Moffat and Mark Gattis’ unbearably self-indulgent Sherlock, you might be pleasantly surprised by their muscular take on Dracula. A 19^th century period piece, it borrows heavily from Bram Stoker’s novel while going its own freewheeling way (e.g. traumatised solicitor Jonathan Harker recounts his terrible tale to a drolly straight-talking, Godless nun). Despite containing flashes of slyly affectionate meta-commentary on established vampire lore, this Dracula isn’t a send-up. It’s witty, yes, but it’s also grimly atmospheric and unabashedly horrific. It may be one of the goriest dramas ever made by the BBC. Main selling point: a commanding performance from saturnine Danish actor Claes Bang as an utterly ruthless, cocksure Count.

DAME EDNA RULES THE WAVES

Hogmanay, BBC One, 9:05pm

The great Dame emerges from semi-retirement to host this one-off special from her enormous luxury yacht (it’s three times the size of Wales). Her celebrity shipmates include Sharon Osbourne, Judge Rinder, Emily Atack and Anita Rani, all of them eager to be insulted in inimitable passive-aggressive Edna fashion. Now aged 85, Edna’s material isn’t quite what it was. Her opening monologue falls flat, sadly, although it does contain this touching tribute to her late sidekick Madge Allsop: “She went peacefully… she died in my sleep.” All is not lost, however: once the guests come out, traces of her sharp improvisatory wit can still be detected. She can’t help being naturally funny, that gift never disappears completely.

DOCTOR WHO

New Year’s Day, BBC One, 6:55pm

The Doctor returns with a skittish two-part Bond pastiche called Spyfall (like Skyfall; such wit), featuring guest-stars Stephen Fry as a Q-style MI6 official and Lenny Henry (more of whom below) as a villainous billionaire businessman. I’m no fan of tin-eared showrunner Chris Chibnall; he is, at best, a competent hack. Spyfall is Chibnall at his best. It’s a fairly enjoyable run-around in which a mysterious race of aliens launch an attack on international intelligence agents. Chibnall pulls off a couple of decent set-pieces, Ryan and Yaz actually get to do something for once, and Jodie Whittaker makes her mark whenever the script allows her to. Things can only get better?

IMAGINE… LENNY HENRY: YOUNG, GIFTED AND BLACK

Thursday, BBC One, 12am

This thoughtful profile of Sir Lenworth has, for some mystifying reason, been buried at midnight. So what if you can watch it whenever on iPlayer? He deserves better. It’s a poignant companion piece to his recently published autobiography, in which he focuses, not on his years of fame and fortune, but on his early struggle to make a name for himself on the ‘70s working men’s club and television circuit: a seemingly insurmountable task for a black teenager in a predominantly white - and covertly racist - environment. He reflects upon the importance of delivering race-based jokes before the audience got there first. It was a defence mechanism, he had no choice. Today he’s a figurehead for the diversity movement.

LAST WEEK’S TV

A CHRISTMAS CAROL

22^nd December to Christmas Eve, BBC One

The zillionth adaptation of Dickens’ festive classic starred Guy Pearce as Scrooge and Stephen Graham as Marley. It was written by Steven ‘Peaky Blinders’ Knight, hence the knowingly mannered, sooty charcoal aesthetic and salty language. Knight was obviously more interested in exploring Scrooge’s eloquent nihilism than his eventual redemption, but it was the resolutely dark Christmas Carol we deserved this year. An enjoyably nasty addition to the canon.

MARTIN’S CLOSE

Christmas Eve, BBC Four

Mark Gatiss – that man again – wrote and directed this boring adaptation of an M.R. James ghost story about a 17^th century nobleman accused of murdering a young woman with learning difficulties. I admire Gatiss’ commitment to reviving the BBC’s Christmas tradition of supernatural yarns, but his efforts tend to be little more than fanboy homages. They lack the haunting impact of the adaptations he adores. RIP Jonathan Miller.

GAVIN & STACEY CHRISTMAS SPECIAL

Christmas Day, BBC One

There are few things worse than a reunion with people you didn’t much care for in the first place. This unnecessary comeback confirmed the wisdom of that stone-clad sitcom edict: don’t bother. Have Corden and Jones learned nothing from Only Fools and Horses and David Brent: Life On The Road? It’s a nice enough show, fairly well-observed, but leave it where it belongs: somewhat fondly remembered in the third tier.

I HATE HOGMANAY

This article was originally published in The Courier on 31st January 2013.

http://www.thecourier.co.uk/lifestyle

HOGMANAY

If there's one thing the bitterest of enemies can secretly agree on, it's this: Hogmanay is the coldest time of the year.

Supposedly a time for celebration, in which we bid farewell to the year departed and anoint the head of the days anew, in reality it's a hollow festival of unnatural optimism and desperate, drunken delusion during which we're expected to sup from a goblet of universal harmony with people we'd quite happily avoid in our normal daily lives.

That probably sounds needlessly misanthropic and excessive. But let me assure you, I'm not being contrary for the sake of it. This isn't an affected blast of “bah humbug” rebellion. I've genuinely never enjoyed Hogmanay, and I know I'm not alone. Every year I recognise kindred spirits in the haunted stares of fellow unwitting revellers, as we wander the streets like lost survivors of nuclear Armageddon. We want the nightmare to be over. We want to go home. We want our lives back.

So let's raise a glass to those of us who shudder at the prospect of a miserable party followed by an endless, frostbitten walk home at 2AM when taxis are rarer and marginally less expensive than the lost riches of Atlantis.

It's nothing to do with getting older. I've always felt this way. My dislike of Hogmanay took root in childhood, when it beheld a monstrous significance as the official end of Christmas – that magical, wondrous time! - and the looming harbinger of school-based drudgery. Adolescence and adulthood merely confirmed it as a period of weird, desolate limbo, where Christmas had vanished for another year, yet people still sank themselves into oblivion to avoid facing up to the future.

Now, I enjoy a drink as much as the next man, but I've always been fiercely opposed to the oppressive bulwark of enforced fun. And at no time of year is that regime more in force than at Hogmanay. Shouldn't we have fun on our own terms, at our own pace and leisure? Isn't that what fun is all about? Why should we be expected to gather at midnight on January 31^st to toast the fact that we've survived life on Earth for another year?

Rather than fill me with joy and optimism for the future, it's a melancholy reminder that life is short. And how are you spending it, this rare, precious gift of existence? Standing outside a packed pub on a freezing winter night, trying to avoid conversation with well-meaning strangers and wishing you were somewhere else.

To which you might reasonably respond: cheer up, you miserable sod! And you'd be right. I suppose. But I'm actually quite happy in my alienated state at this time of year. After all, it's only one annual night of brutal endurance. We anti-Hogmanay types will never enjoy it. But we'll get over it. We'll be fine.

Happy new year!