THE WALK‐IN | THIS ENGLAND | BLANKETY BLANK

This article was originally published in The Courier on 1st October 2022.

NEXT WEEK’S TV

The Walk‐In ‐ Monday, STV, 9pm

This intensely powerful factual drama confronts the horrifying resurgence of fascism in western society. 

Labour MP Jo Cox was murdered by a racist in 2016. One of the journalists who investigated that appalling tragedy was a former Neo‐Nazi turned anti-fascist campaigner. A brave man, he’s played by the great Stephen Graham. 

The Walk‐In is written by Jeff Pope, a television heavyweight rightly renowned for his outstanding catalogue of assiduously researched dramas steeped in sensitive subject matter. 

This, I assure you, is a searing piece of work. Fuelled by compassion, it seeks to understand the deep‐seated causes of bigotry and radicalisation. TV dramas such as this can make a difference. They matter.

24 Hours in A&E ‐ Monday, Channel 4, 9pm

The 29^th series of this hardy perennial returns to St George’s Hospital in south-west London, which is home to one of Britain’s busiest A&E departments. 

The first patient we encounter is Graham, who’s been involved in a high-speed motorcycle accident. Graham’s doctors fear that he may have suffered significant damage to his back and neck, so he’s sent off for an urgent CT scan. His worried wife, Kate, talks movingly of their relationship and the various unforeseen problems they’ve faced. 

And that’s the very essence of 24 Hours in A&E: unlike so many programme of its ilk, it never fails to remind us that these people are three-dimensional human beings with stories to tell.

Paxman: Putting Up with Parkinson’s ‐ Tuesday, STV, 9pm

Jeremy Paxman is a notoriously short‐tempered man. He doesn’t suffer anything gladly. Eighteen months ago he was diagnosed with Parkinson’s. And this is his response. 

He’s on typically frank form during a programme in which he converses with leading neurological researchers and some other people who have Parkinson’s, while challenging myths about his condition. 

He also attends an English National Ballet therapy dance class and learns how to play bowls. 

Paxman often comes across as a rather blunt and dislikeable person, but that’s his act I suppose. It’s all showbiz. In this context, however, speaking honestly as himself, his no-nonsense approach is tempered with some sensitive insight. 

It should, one hopes, provide a bit of comfort. 

This England ‐ Tuesday and Wednesday, Sky Atlantic, 9pm

An excoriating six‐part drama from that estimable writer/director Michael Winterbottom, This England traces the absolute chaos of Boris Johnson’s first year in office as Prime Minister. 

Preoccupied with getting Brexit done, whatever that actually means, Johnson’s government were utterly unprepared for COVID. That’s understandable, but This England gets its point across in no uncertain terms: for all his Churchillian bluster, Johnson was fatally ill‐equipped to take charge of a national crisis. 

Kenneth Branagh as Johnson pulls off a difficult feat: playing a man who deliberately presents himself as a caricature. He comes across as an irresponsible fool floundering with the consequences of a pyrrhic victory, while sinister Dominic Cummings pulls the strings.

Doc Martin ‐ Wednesday, STV, 9pm

As the final series of this comfort blanket continues, Louisa is understandably perturbed when her estranged father (that fine actor Kenneth Cranham) turns up out of the blue. 

Meanwhile, Doc Martin is still struggling with his blood phobia, so he seeks some counsel with Ruth (that other fine actor, Dame Eileen Atkins). 

The third storyline ‐ there are always three, that’s how these shows operate ‐ involves a squatter who refuses to be budged from a vintage caravan. 

I have no truck with kneejerk cynics who sneer at the likes of Doc Martin. There’s nothing wrong with basking in good‐natured entertainment. You mustn’t always avoid the middle of the road, as Bob Dylan probably once sang.

Taskmaster ‐ Thursday, Channel 4, 11:05pm

Self-effacing sidekick ‘Little’ Alex Horne ‐ the brains behind the entire Taskmaster enterprise, but don’t tell faux-domineering host Greg Davies that ‐ is in his element this week. 

He oversees several tasks involving admin, ducks and flour. As always, his pedantic efficiency while dealing with such nonsense provides much of the humour. I appreciate that I’ve just described the appeal of Taskmaster in the driest possible terms, but Horne would presumably see the funny side of that. 

The whole point of the show is that none of it matters, but it wouldn’t work at all were it not treated with at least some degree of dedicated seriousness. And from thence the comedy arises. You’re welcome.

Jon Richardson: Take My Mother‐in‐Law ‐ Thursday, Channel 4, 12:15am

You’ve got to hand it to the professionally grumpy comedian Jon Richardson, the man has an unerring knack for coming up with vehicles for himself. His pitch meetings presumably involve him reading from a list of things he pretends to find vaguely annoying. 

His latest one, as you’ve presumably surmised, involves his mother‐in‐law. She’s about to retire, so Richardson has to pretend he’s intent on finding her a home in Spain ‐ otherwise she might move in with him and his wife! 

Yes, the premise is knowingly contrived, it’s a post‐modern take on mother‐in‐law gags. But it’s really just an excuse for yet another harmless/pointless TV road trip.

LAST WEEK’S TV

Blankety Blank ‐ Saturday 24th September, BBC One

We all know that Blankety Blank is nothing without Wogan or Dawson, both of whom elevated a daft quiz to knowingly dry‐witted heights, but Bradley Walsh does a decent job of keeping the flame alive. 

He’s an affable character who fundamentally ‘gets it’. A silly format, so let’s poke some fun at it. 

No, he can’t match Wogan’s subtly whimsical approach, nor Dawson’s hilarious decision to treat the whole thing as if it’s something he’s doing under major duress, but Walsh is a likeable pro. He knows how to keep things moving with a quip or two. 

That’s a talent, and I can’t deny the simple pleasures of watching a seasoned comic carrying out their duties proficiently.

Martin Compston’s Scottish Fling ‐ Friday 30th September, BBC Two

The latest leg of Compston’s amiable tour of our great nation took him, and co‐host Phil McHugh, to the Highlands. 

It’s an area of Scotland I have a particular affinity with, as I spent much of my childhood in Invergordon. So it was rather lovely seeing the ‘gordon (as no one calls it) represented on your actual primetime BBC television. 

Last week’s episode involved go‐karting, delectable vegan cuisine and an inspirational strongman story suffused with a positive mental health message. 

If you fancy a bit of respite, something to unwind with, then I thoroughly recommend catching up with this show on iPlayer. It’s a gentle pleasure, a spirit‐lifter.

TV Review: THE MYSTERY OF VAN GOGH'S EAR + AN HOUR TO SAVE YOUR LIFE

This article was originally published in The Dundee Courier on 13 August 2016.

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

The Mystery of Van Gogh’s Ear: Saturday, BBC Two

An Hour to Save Your Life: Tuesday, BBC Two

  

The story of Vincent Van Gogh severing part of his ear as a perversely romantic gesture is almost as famous as his immortal body of work. According to legend, the emotionally fragile artist turned up at the door of a Provence brothel in 1888, and handed a package containing a bloody slice of his own lobe to one of the working girls. 

It’s a sad, shocking story. But did it actually happen? As revealed in The Mystery of Van Gogh’s Ear, contemporary newspaper reports were suspiciously inconsistent when it came to details. Surely there must be accurate archive medical and police reports pertaining to the most notorious incident in the history of modern art?

Intrigued by this murky mystery, art lover Bernadette Murphy embarked on a seven-year mission to uncover the truth. A nice middle-aged lady with a snazzy line in neckerchiefs, the Provence-based adventures of this tenacious amateur sleuth are a Sunday night detective drama just waiting to happen: Vera meets Lovejoy.

Hosted by that other great tortured artist, Jeremy Paxman, in full-blown quizzical gravitas mode (honestly, you sometimes have to wonder if he’s even heard of Chris Morris), this engaging documentary managed to sustain its central conceit, even though the results of Murphy’s investigation recently hit the headlines. The journey was just as interesting as the final destination.

Murphy uncovered several hitherto unknown facts. “Rachel”, the object of Van Gogh’s affections, wasn’t a prostitute after all. She worked at the brothel as a cleaner. It’s possible that, as the victim of a rabid dog attack, she was one of the “wounded angels” with whom Van Gogh felt such empathy.

After poring through research by the author of the Van Gogh biopic starring Kirk Douglas, Murphy finally unearthed a conclusive medical diagram by the doctor who treated Van Gogh post-injury.

The great man didn’t just cut off his lobe, he severed his entire ear.

Understandably, Murphy was reduced to tears. Not only had she solved a mystery that’s eluded experts for over a century, she’d exposed the harrowing depths of a deeply troubled soul.

The programme also reinforced an inescapable point: uniquely among artists, our appreciation of Van Gogh’s work is intrinsically fused with our knowledge of his tragic personal life. He quite unwittingly forged the dubiously romanticised notion that genius and self-destruction are automatic bedfellows. While I understand the impulse to believe that – I include Brian Wilson and Peter Sellers among my heroes - it makes me feel uncomfortable.

Then again, would Van Gogh have created his masterpieces if he hadn’t been mentally ill? It’s a conundrum that even Jeremy Paxman can’t unravel.

The trauma continued in the latest series of An Hour to Save Your Life, in which cameras follow paramedics and doctors as they make critical decisions on behalf of accident victims.

Like most medical documentaries, it’s essentially a form of rubber-necking voyeurism. Yet despite its manipulative bombast – with its ticking clock graphics and split-screen technique, the production team are blatantly influenced by 24 - it does highlight the unflappable professionalism of people who hold lives in the balance on a daily basis.

All at once, it makes you value your wellbeing, worry about the freak fragility of existence, feel humbled in the presence of those who make a difference, and resent the fact that you’ve done nothing worthwhile with your life. 

Marginally less troubling than The One Show, it’s an existential minefield.

TV Column: BRITAIN'S GREAT WAR and OUTNUMBERED

This article was originally published in The Courier on 1st February 2014.

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

Britain's Great War: Monday, BBC1

Outnumbered: Wednesday, BBC1

Paul Whitelaw

The problem with Jeremy Paxman, especially when removed from his natural Newsnight habitat, is that his fundamental settings - wry incredulity crossed with a unique shade of weary bombast - tend to overshadow and infect his every utterance.

Take Britain's Great War, a major new series in which he traces the vast impact of World War One on ordinary British citizens. Paxman's intentions are undoubtedly sincere, but his grave subject matter is frequently undermined by his absurd affectations.

It's impossible to take him seriously when, in full Chris Morris mode, he solemnly declares that "the clock was ticking to catastrophe" in the hours leading up to the declaration of war. His bellowed repetition of the word "doom" in time with the chimes of Big Ben is already one of the comedy highlights of the year. It also doesn't help that he obviously gains unseemly enjoyment from saying "war" with erotically charged zeal. He's a ridiculous figure.

His lack of self-awareness is frustrating, as he's capable of spinning an engaging historical yarn. While tactfully avoiding outright flippancy, his eye for colourful detail illuminated the programme throughout. 

Memorable images included appalled cabinet ministers bursting into tears at the prospect of a cataclysmic war, and, grimly, a distraught woman refusing to let go of her husband's hand as a train carried him off to war. She was dragged underneath it and killed. He also recounted the little-known tale of self-serving MP Horatio Bottomley, a theatrical opportunist who became rich and famous by staging rabble-rousing recruitment rallies in music halls throughout Britain. Fat, tweedy and grey, he resembled a capitalist villain from a Frank Capra fantasia.

While refuting the generally accepted, and rather patronising, assumption that Britain marched into war with Germany on a crashing wave of naive optimism, Paxman showed how Lord Kitchener's infamous and hugely effective recruitment campaign ("Your Country Needs YOU") cunningly manipulated men into signing their own death warrants. Triggered by a sense of patriotic duty, over 33,000 new recruits signed up on one fateful day alone. But that optimism, however falsely manufactured, eventually vanished once the nightmare horrors of modern warfare became unavoidable. One particularly poignant aside was the revelation that many postmen gave up their jobs during the war, as they could no longer stand the trauma of bearing such incessant bad news.

Notwithstanding our host's underlying absurdity - his inability to relate to actual human beings is hilarious - this dynamic essay was mercifully free of distracting gimmickry. One of the benefits of Paxman's no-nonsense approach is that he'd rather die than clown around in period garb a la Andrew Marr (adopting a comedy German accent while reading a satirical piece about the Kaiser was, admittedly, an unfortunate aberration). 

Blessed with evocative archive footage and photographs, Britain's Great War - the expensive tie-in book will doubtless be available soon - is, almost despite itself, an effective and enlightening history lesson.

It won't be as funny when the kids grow up! If you're an Outnumbered fan, then you'll doubtless recognise this oft-repeated prediction. Hell, I've repeated it myself. But I was happily proved wrong by the opening episode of its fifth and final series. While it makes sense to end it now, this gag-packed and sharply well-observed family sitcom has lost none of its endearing sparkle.

The kids may have matured almost beyond recognition - with his lumbering girth and booming baritone, Ben has completed his transformation into Tom Baker - but their defining idiosyncrasies remain. In any case, Hugh Dennis and Claire Skinner have always been more than capable of anchoring proceedings with their deft comic timing. Spending a few more weeks in their company will be a pleasure.