THE RESPONDER + THE NILSEN FILES + I, SNIPER: THE WASHINGTON KILLERS

This article was originally published in The Courier on 22nd January 2022.

NEXT WEEK’S TV

The Responder – Monday and Tuesday, BBC One, 9pm

Martin Freeman delivers a career-best performance in this queasy drama about an urgent response police officer struggling with mental health issues. 

Desperately overworked, he’s had enough. His beat on the mean streets of Liverpool feels futile. “I want to be normal,” he sighs to his therapist. But he’s somehow in the pocket of a local drug dealer (Ian Hart), and hopelessly trapped in a nocturnal odyssey of violence and death. 

Despite that sombre premise, The Responder is liberally peppered with amusing gallows humour: an existential howl of nervous laughter.

Written by former policeman Tony Schumacher, it’s unsentimental yet compassionate in the Jimmy McGovern vein. It feels painfully authentic, so much so that it won’t go down well in police recruitment circles.

Bradley & Barney Walsh: Breaking Dad – Monday, STV, 8pm

I like Bradley Walsh, but he is now officially the most ubiquitous man on television. It’s ridiculous, he’ll probably be presenting Newsnight next. 

But I can’t deny the simple pleasures of this series, in which Walsh and his affable son roam the globe in their massive RV. This week they’re in Hungary. Naturally, Walsh does the “no thanks, I’ve had breakfast” dad joke; it would be disappointing if he didn’t. 

Highlights include a visit to a museum dedicated to one of Hungary’s most famous sons, Harry Houdini. Walsh actually re-enacts the great escapologist’s straitjacket stunt, which involves him hanging upside down from a slowly burning rope, 150 feet above the ground. I kid you not.

The Nilsen Files – Monday, BBC Two, 9pm

In 1983, after dismembered human remains were discovered in his flat, the serial killer Dennis Nilsen confessed to claiming the lives of up to 16 young men. This sensitively handled series gives voice to his victims and their families. 

A stark document of early 1980s Britain, it reveals how those men weren’t just victims of Nilsen, but also of mass unemployment, rising homelessness, police indifference and systemic homophobia. They fell through the cracks of a society which, according to Thatcher, didn’t exist. 

Bolstered by impressive research, the programme features contributions from police officers, journalists and a homelessness outreach worker (pictured) who knew one of the victims. Her kindness stands in sharp contrast to the shocking attitudes we encounter elsewhere.

I, Sniper: The Washington Killers – Monday, Channel 4, 10pm

Twenty years ago, a random spate of sniper attacks occurred in the Washington D.C area. Ten people were killed and three were critically injured. The perpetrators were Lee Malvo, who was seventeen at the time, and US Army veteran John Muhammad. 

This grimly absorbing series attempts to explain what motived them to commit such a heinous crime. Not that their motivations will ever make any kind of rational sense, but episode one presents Muhammad as a charismatic yet deeply disturbed individual who seemingly radicalised his vulnerable surrogate son. 

Audio recordings of Malvo being interviewed in prison offer some disquieting insight into his psyche. Other interviewees include two of Malvo’s relatives and some of the victims’ devastated family members.

Jay Blades: Learning to Read at 51 – Wednesday, BBC One, 9pm

Jay Blades, the genial presenter of TV favourite The Repair Shop, left school without any qualifications. He’s been told by experts that he has the reading age of an 11-year-old. 

In this programme, he endeavours to improve his literacy skills with assistance from a charity who offer one-to-one coaching. 

Preview copies weren’t available in time, but this sounds like a worthwhile piece of television. It is reported that over eight million adults in the UK, including half of all prisoners, struggle with their reading. 

Blades meets up with people who share his difficulties, while revealing how he runs a successful upholstery business and presents television programmes without any recourse to the written word.

Katie Price’s Mucky Mansion – Wednesday, Channel 4, 9pm

Time now to follow Katie Price as she renovates her dilapidated 19-room mansion in the Sussex countryside. Price has abandoned it, hence why it’s fallen into such a severe state of uninhabitable disrepair. The interior resembles the aftermath of a furious showdown between the Hulk and at least five werewolves. 

“I’d probably be better off knocking it down and starting again,” she sighs. Or making a television series about doing it up. There are always options. 

Renovating the mansion is, according to Price, a psychological process. Its sorry state is a symbolic manifestation of her turbulent private life. That’s the framing device anyway. I wish her nothing but the best, but this is hardly riveting television.

The Mind of Herbert Clunkerdunk – Wednesday, BBC Two, 10pm

Surreal comedy is a difficult art to pull off. For every successful example such as Monty Python or Vic & Bob, there are a million pretenders who mistakenly think that throwing a load of ‘random’ ideas at the wall will suffice. 

Enter comedian Spencer Jones and his zany alter ego, Herbert Clunkerdunk. Spending time in his mind is like being trapped at an office joker’s power-point presentation. A relentless torrent of self-conscious whimsy and weirdness, it’s utterly exhausting. 

I admire the intent, at least he’s attempting to do something a bit different and unpredictable. He tries very, very hard to please. And that’s the problem, his eccentricity never feels organic. There’s nowt much worse than forced nonsense.

LAST WEEK’S TV

Sue Perkins’ Big American Road Trip – Sunday 16th, Channel 4

You’d be forgiven for sighing at the prospect of yet another famous person enjoying a scenic journey in a campervan, but this new series is actually quite interesting. 

It spotlights a growing subculture of Americans who have swapped their houses for motorhomes. They’ve opted for a life of glorious freedom (while posting about it on social media). 

Perkins’ journey began in California, where she met a young van-lifer who earns a living from vlogging, and a genial hippie Santa who heads an enormous grassroots movement of people who’ve found salvation in this alternative lifestyle. It was quietly inspiring. 

Also, Perkins is a funny and personable traveller who’s interested in finding out about people. A good-natured vehicle.

Dragons’ Den – Thursday 20th January, BBC One

In the latest instalment of this never-ending entrepreneurial fever dream, we met a couple dressed as boy scouts (always enter the Den with a strong visual gimmick). They pitched an idea for the UK’s first summer camp for adults. Alas, the Dragons weren’t impressed by their shaky business plan, so that wacky game of dress-up was pointless. 

Other pitches included a vegan handbag range. The novel twist? Each bag contains some erotic fiction written by the entrepreneurs themselves. They failed to secure an investment.

Believe it or not, Dragons’ Den has actually become a little bit ‘nicer’ of late, possibly because viewers have tired of watching members of the public being belittled by millionaires. I live in hope.

 

 

TV Review: THE SECRET AGENT + ONE NIGHT IN 2012: AN IMAGINE SPECIAL

This article was originally published in The Dundee Courier on 23rd July 2016.

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

The Secret Agent: Sunday, BBC One

One Night in 2012: An Imagine Special: Sunday, BBC One

Terrorist cells. Suicide bombers. Russia flexing its muscles. Late 19^th century Britain was a dangerous place. Thank God we’ve come so far since then.

Adapted from the novel by Joseph Conrad, The Secret Agent is an alarmingly prophetic period thriller starring Toby Jones as Verloc, a Soho sex shop owner who moonlights as an informer for the Russian embassy.

Driven by profit rather than any great ideological impulse, he earns an extra crust by sharing fairly banal information about the anarchist gang whose trust he’s earned. But his life becomes a waking nightmare when the embassy orders him to commit an act of terrorism on the gang’s behalf, thus provoking the British government into hard-line action.

As explained by the Russian secretary, played with reptilian zeal by David Dawson, “England is in need of a jolly good scare, an outrage that will summon this country from its slumber. Then we unleash a law that will clamp down on the anarchist threat.”

This compelling three-part drama is full of such moments, when the prescience of its storyline and themes smacks us full in the face. Granted, there are times when writer Tony Marchant gets slightly carried away with this aspect, and practically turns to the audience to scream, “Do you see?! Do you see what I’m getting at?!” But given the overall strength of the piece, that’s forgivable.

The bold antithesis of most Sunday night period dramas, The Secret Agent is mired in a clammy fog of impending catastrophe. Jones is typically arresting as an essentially amoral, cowardly man who nevertheless invites a kernel of sympathy. After all, he’s in the grip of an appalling moral dilemma. If Verloc refuses his orders, the Russians will sign his death warrant by exposing his true colours to every terrorist group in Europe.

Ian Hart also shines as a truly unsettling nihilist with a home-made bomb strapped under his coat at all times. The crazed embodiment of a terror which can’t be reasoned with, he’s driven solely by a desire to cause pain and chaos for its own sake.

Given the relentlessly horrendous state of the world, this impressive adaptation of Conrad’s prophecy couldn’t be more relevant. Everything changes, everything stays the same.

Still, it was nice of One Night in 2012: An Imagine Special to remind us of that fleeting moment of national pride and optimism engendered by Danny Boyle’s justly lauded Olympics opening ceremony.

An in-depth documentary about the making of this triumphant event, it reinforced the fact that no one expected it to succeed. We expected the worst, because we always do in this country. It’s part of our national character. Disaster beckoned. The knives were out. Britain was about to humiliate itself in the eyes of the world.

Of course, what actually transpired was a heartening, powerful and subversive celebration of immigration, industrialisation, free healthcare and Britain’s vast contribution to world-changing innovations and popular culture. But it was ultimately a tribute to the everyday folk who shape British life.

Alongside revealing contributions from Boyle and his team, the programme devoted just as much time to the dedicated volunteers. They were the real stars of the ceremony.

It also revealed – quelle surprise – that Cameron’s coalition government were opposed to the glorious NHS sequence. To his eternal credit, Boyle threatened to walk if this tribute to one of our greatest institutions was cut. Thankfully, he won. We all did.

TV Review: THE DRIVER and DOWNTON ABBEY

This article was originally published in The Courier on 27th September 2014.

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

The Driver: Tuesday, BBC One

Downton Abbey: Sunday, STV

Paul Whitelaw

Stories about innocent men thrown to the slaughter are to the thriller genre what improbable mishaps are to the world of trouser-dropping farce. Remove these hardy perennials from either genre and both would collapse like a careless round of Buckaroo. Hitchcock famously revisited the wrong man theme on several occasions, thus cementing it as a sturdy template upon which future generations of screenwriters could hammer their own dents.

So it's unfair to criticise three-part crime drama The Driver for cleaving to a well-worn theme. Writer Danny Brocklehurst has every right to chuck another fictional everyman – in this case, David Morrissey's put-upon taxi driver, Vince – onto the bonfire for our nail-biting edification. He's simply carrying on a popular storytelling tradition. No, the most important thing is that he takes this malleable putty and moulds it into surprising shapes. And that's where episode one came unstuck.

Unless you've never witnessed a drama before in your life, Vince's story unfolded much as expected. A decent man who'd had enough of his dreary suburban existence and thankless occupation – Brocklehurst made sure to heap as many foul indignities upon him as possible – Vince was in desperate need of some excitement. Practically ignored at home, he demanded some respect and a renewed sense of purpose. Enter his old mate Colin (Ian Hart). A career criminal just out of jail, Colin offered Vince the chance to opt out of the rat race, and score big to boot, by becoming the personal driver/courier for his boss.

Of course, Colin's boss is a gangster. Not only that, he's a gangster played by Colm Meaney and nicknamed 'The Horse'. You'd have to be, not so much naïve, as thunderingly stupid to think that working for a self-made stereotype with an animal-themed alias was going to be a bed of roses.

When Vince eventually discovered Colin's violent true colours during a brutal kidnapping, his shock was matched only by a few million viewers blaring, “Well what did you expect?!”

Yes, good men are often driven to desperate measures in dire times of need. Terminally ill Walter White becoming a criminal kingpin in Breaking Bad to provide for his family is a grippingly nuanced exploration of this theme. By comparison, a despondent cabbie getting involved with some wrong 'uns to pay off the mortgage lacks a certain dramatic heft.

It's frustrating, as having peeked ahead I can report that The Driver improves in part two, as Vince's predicament gains more emotional depth. It's just unfortunate that this rather thin opener, regardless of the typically fine performances from its leads, did practically nothing that we hadn't seen before. There are only so many stories, but there are infinite ways of telling them.

I'll let you into a trade secret: reviewing Downton Abbey is pointless. Its inherent flaws and obvious appeal are so self-evident and so widely documented, at this stage it would be like trying to offer an original critique of breathing.

It's simply there, still, an unchanging formula dutifully poured into a decorously-carved goblet at yearly intervals. Lord Grantham grumbles exposition at breakfast, Dame Maggie purses sculpted bon mots over luncheon, Carson booms his wry instructions like a rich tea biscuit awaiting the King's own urn. It's unique in TV history in that it became a parody of itself almost instantaneously.

It exists if you want it, like the current touring version of Level 42. Who honestly cares?