Showing posts with label Jimmy Savile. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jimmy Savile. Show all posts

Saturday, 2 October 2021

BROWN & BLAIR: THE NEW LABOUR REVOLUTION + DEMENTIA & US + SAVILE: PORTRAIT OF A PREDATOR

A version of this article was originally published in The Courier on 2nd October 2021.

NEXT WEEK’S TV

Blair & Brown: The New Labour Revolution – Monday, BBC Two, 9pm

This fascinating series traces the epochal rise and fall of New Labour, a nominally successful project in which the Labour Party made itself electable by abandoning its socialist principles.

The timing isn’t accidental: Labour, post-Corbyn, are currently struggling to repeat that trick. The key difference between then and now, as the programme makes clear, is that Tony Blair once presented himself as a plausible and vaguely charismatic leader. 

Episode one illustrates how Labour managed to overhaul its image. Blair comes across as an ambitious, ingratiating salesman. Brown, a serious political thinker, emerges as the better man. 

They both provide telling contributions, as do Mandelson and Campbell. Once Johnson’s reign is over, I hope the team behind this project – who tackled Thatcher’s legacy a few years ago – are able to make a similar series about him.

Scotland’s Sacred Islands with Ben Fogle – Tuesday, BBC Scotland, 8pm

Ben Fogle, with his face like a bemused Easter Island statue, is an affable and mostly harmless buffoon. He presumably means well, as you’ll see in this slightly peculiar Hebridean travelogue/spiritual quest. 

His journey begins in the Inner Hebrides, where he explores its enduring connection with the peaceful tenets of Christianity. These islands have, for aeons, been a magnet for pilgrims, hippies, artists, musicians and poets: people who just want to get away from the noise of life on the mainland. 

One of our host’s interviewees is a transgender woman who hasn’t faced any prejudice at all within her remote island community. If Fogle’s goal was to present the Hebrides as some sort of utopia, then he’s succeeded.

Dementia & Us – Tuesday, BBC Two, 9pm

The symptoms of dementia cannot be strictly diagnosed. It affects people in a complex variety of ways. Filmed over two years, this revealing two-part series follows four people with dementia as they and their loved ones adjust to life with this cruel, debilitating disease. 

The tone at first is somewhat optimistic: people always find a way to thrive with love and laughter. How else are we supposed to get through this unjust ordeal? If you’re diagnosed with dementia, that doesn’t mean your life is over. Far from it. But there is no happy ending. 

Dementia & Us is an honest, sensitive, sad, unflinching and important piece of television. It strikes a nerve. It matters.

Murder Island – Tuesday, Channel 4, 9:30pm

Crime writer Ian Rankin is the brains behind this new genre-bending reality series, in which eight members of the public investigate a specially-written murder mystery. Preview copies weren’t available at the time of writing, but the premise is intriguing. 

Our amateur sleuths pitch up on a craggy island in the hope of solving that week’s case and winning a £50,000 reward. They’ll receive expert guidance from (presumably fictional) police officers while encountering various suspects – all of whom appear to be harbouring dark secrets. Episode one apparently involves a fatal land dispute. 

It sounds, in essence, like a more extravagant version of that old Cluedo TV adaptation from the 1980s, so it could be lots of fun.

Our Lives: Boots & Beards – Wednesday, BBC One, 7:30pm

A Scots-Asian hillwalking group, Boots & Beards is a healthy, heartening community endeavour. This delightful documentary meets its Glasgow-based founders, cousins Naveed and Kashif, who devised the concept five years ago as a way of bringing friends and family members together. It blossomed from there. 

We follow the group – which includes men, women and children - as they return to Scotland’s great outdoors after a year in lockdown. They’re also preparing for their one hundredth walk. 

As with all Our Lives documentaries, this is a sweet celebration of good, inspiring, ‘ordinary’ people. Treat yourselves to a pick-me-up marathon on iPlayer. When viewed from a certain angle, the world’s not so bad after all.

Iceland with Alexander Armstrong – Wednesday, Channel 5, 9pm

According to ‘Xander’ himself, the only thing he knew about Iceland before making this series is that it’s where Bjork comes from. Oh, and there are puffins. So you do get the impression that he’s actually learning something about that beautiful, rugged isle. 

To his credit, he seems genuinely smitten with the geography, people and culture of Iceland. In episode one he circles an active volcano via helicopter, meets a nice woman who believes in elves, hangs out with Iceland’s ‘scary’ 2019 Eurovision entrants, visits a male genitalia museum and marvels at an actual massive organ (oh, please yourselves etc.).

Iceland comes across as an impeccably groovy and eccentric place. They’re way ahead over there. 

Savile: Portrait of a Predator – Thursday, STV, 9pm

How did Jimmy Savile, one of Britain’s most prolific sex offenders, manage to commit his crimes without punishment? This damning report reveals all. Well, sort of. 

Savile was a calculating opportunist who inveigled his way into environments – hospitals, nightclubs, television studios – where he could prey upon vulnerable young people. 

He formed a shield of protection around himself via supposedly altruistic charity work and friendships with powerful establishment figures such as Margaret Thatcher and Prince Charles (neither of whom, the lawyered-up programme hastily points out, were aware of his heinous ulterior motives). 

Those with suspicions either turned a blind eye or felt powerless to challenge him. A sickening saga, it features testimonies from victims, witnesses and a former Yewtree detective. One hopes that programmes such as this will encourage people to listen to victims of abuse.

LAST WEEK’S TV

Spice Girls: How Girl Power Changed Britain – Tuesday 28th September, Channel 4

The final episode of this surprisingly thoughtful and touching series followed the individual Spice Girls in the wake of their split. They weren’t prepared for life in the spotlight on their own; they’d always had each other for protection. 

The grubby tabloid media had a field day with them. The sheer amount of sexism and misogyny they were subjected to was appalling. Mel B also experienced blatant racism. 

This wasn’t ‘just’ the story of a successful pop group, it was a frank critique of the double standards that women are forced to endure in a male-dominated world. And via testimonies from their fans, it proved that the Spice Girls actually meant something. The power of pop is a beautiful thing.

The Cleaner – Friday 1st October, BBC One

Episode four of this enjoyable farce took place in a stately home, where crime scene cleaner Wicky (writer/star Greg Davies) encountered a rude, patronising aristocrat played by the great Stephanie Cole. 

She told the police that a burglar had fallen down the stairs – hence the bloody mess – but it eventually transpired that she’d beaten him to death with a golf club. Her failed attempt to buy Wicky’s silence confirmed that, for all his verbal blundering, he’s a fundamentally decent man who’s good at his job. 

This instalment, which hung together neatly, also featured a fantastic cameo from Donald Sumpter – who’s been an old man since birth – as a mad, bellicose bigot. Good, clean, grisly fun. 

Monday, 17 October 2016

TV Review: LOUIS THEROUX: SAVILE + STILL GAME

This article was originally published in The Dundee Courier on 8 October 2016.


Louis Theroux: Savile: Sunday, BBC Two

Still Game: Friday, BBC One

Paul Whitelaw

When Jimmy Savile was posthumously outed as one of Britain’s most prolific sex offenders, Louis Theroux’s already infamous 2000 encounter with him instantly developed extra layers of gruesome fascination. It appeared to reveal so much in hindsight.

Theroux, to his evident regret, didn’t succeed in exposing the man for the monster he was. Savile hoodwinked Theroux with his obfuscating carapace of eccentricity, just as he duped the nation for over 40 years.

In Louis Theroux: Savile, the documentary-maker sought to make amends by trying to find out how Savile got away with his crimes for so long. He met people who knew him – insomuch as anyone ever knew someone who only revealed his true nature to those he abused – to unearth a grim portrait of a cunning sociopath who hid behind a self-servingly charitable veneer.


One elderly woman with a weird shrine to Savile in her shed – that Lego bust will haunt my dreams - still couldn’t come to terms with the fact that a predatory paedophile raised millions for her hospital. Savile’s long-term PA was in deep denial, despite the fact that he treated her appallingly. An uneasy pall of regret, anger and horror hung over the programme.

Although it was partly preoccupied by Theroux’s guilt over his part in the scandal, his anguish didn’t overshadow that of Savile’s actual victims. Instead he used his experience with Savile as a symbol for how we all failed to recognise the truth, a theme which gradually coalesced with the most important figures in this story.

He spoke to women who’d been abused by Savile, all of whom recounted bravely frank tales of a brazen predator with a repugnant knack for targeting vulnerable children. That was the real Savile. Hearing the harrowing details of their ordeals was essential, as we need to understand the full extent of his crimes.

Theroux also asked what they thought about his original documentary. Without fail, they chastised him for being so naïve.

In a way, this was a self-flagellating apology from Theroux on behalf of the BBC. A noble endeavour, but he needn’t shoulder the burden of guilt here. He was just another one of millions manipulated by the bizarre force of Savile’s personality.

Theroux’s extraordinary, searching film proved that, if Savile had a talent, it was hiding in plain sight.

Time now for a grinding segue into lighter pastures, and how better to oil those wheels than with Still Game? After a nine-year sabbatical, Glasgow’s favourite pensioners Jack and Victor returned last week. It was as if they’d never been away.


Bringing back a beloved sitcom is a dicey manoeuvre, as it automatically invites “not as good as it used to be” concerns. Thankfully, writers/stars Ford Kiernan and Greg Hemphill haven’t lost their touch when it comes to daft farce and colourfully bickering dialogue.

The opening scene, which simply involved Jack and Victor chatting over breakfast, instantly confirmed that they still know these characters inside out. Despite being packed with vinegary one-liners – the poetry of Scottish swearing has rarely been captured so adeptly - the dialogue feels natural, their warm rapport the result of years working together. 

Spending time in their world is a tonic, it’s such a likeable show.

The episode revolved around Jack, Victor and Isa’s endearingly foolish obsession with “innovative” catalogue gadgets. Perhaps inevitably, this resulted in Jack getting stuck in his bath.

As Jack fumed and Victor proved more hindrance than help, Kiernan and Hemphill’s love of Laurel and Hardy was delightfully plain to see. 

Saturday, 24 September 2016

TV Review: NATIONAL TREASURE + PARANOID

This article was originally published in The Dundee Courier on 24 September 2016.


National Treasure: Tuesday, Channel 4

Paranoid: Thursday, STV

Operation Yewtree and the VIP sex scandal is one of the biggest talking points of our age, so it was only a matter of time before it became the subject of a TV drama. Although the estimable Line of Duty recently employed it as a bold thematic plot point, National Treasure places the issue centre stage.

The treasure in question is Paul Finchley, a much-loved fictional comedy legend played by the similarly beloved yet non-fictional Robbie Coltrane.


He’s a charming, loving family man. His wife (Julie Walters) adores him even more than his public. He seems harmless. And then one morning the doorbell rings.

The police question him about an historic rape allegation. He denies all wrongdoing. The press get hold of the story – seemingly after a tip-off from the cops – and his life falls apart.

Gradually it’s revealed that Finchley isn’t as cuddly as he seems. He watches porn, cheats on his wife and sleeps with prostitutes. He’s seedy, dubious, but that doesn’t mean he’s a rapist. Does it?

Taking as his cue the compulsion, both in the media and among sections of society, to judge public figures before they’ve been proven innocent or guilty, writer Jack Thorne encourages us to regard Finchley with cautious suspicion.

An intriguing scene with Finchley and his psychologically damaged daughter (Andrea Riseborough) is key to the ambiguity running throughout episode one. When she tells him about a violent dream she had in which he sexualised her, is she unlocking a traumatic childhood memory?

Coltrane is superb as the pathetic, troubling, yet weirdly vulnerable Finchley, and Thorne handles this sensitive material in a measured way.

When more women came forward to accuse Finchley of sex offences, the stage was set for an exploration of a contentious area. But I worry that, should Finchley be found innocent, then this topical drama may lend credence to the dangerous culture of victim-blaming. Also, in purely dramatic terms, if Finchley is guilty, then the story might unfold exactly as expected. But as we know from real life, such stories often do.

Thorne, having decided to tackle such a complex issue, will have thought about this challenge in some depth – I admired his avoidance of obvious character exposition and authored moralising - so it will be interesting to see if he succeeds in overcoming potential pitfalls.

If he does, then National Treasure could be the nuanced, thought-provoking drama this subject both deserves and demands.

Aren’t you sick of thrillers in which people with mental health issues are portrayed as dangers to society, especially when – cliché of clichés – they’re off their meds? Paranoid was guilty of this and more.


A quotidian police procedural, it features standard beats such as a quipping crime scene investigation, cops receiving cryptic messages from a mysterious stranger ahead of the game, and a psychiatrist helpfully providing simplistic medical exposition. It even threw in a female Scandi-cop for good measure.

It attempts to embellish its investigators with details of their troubled private lives, but Scott & Bailey it ain’t. However, this allows the ever-reliable Robert Glenister to deliver solid work as a depressed copper suffering panic attacks. Elsewhere, Lesley Sharp is unnervingly serene as a strangely observant Quaker (the most sinister kind of Quaker).

Both deserve better than Paranoid. Although billed as a conspiracy thriller, it fails to provide the intrigue, drive and scope that the genre requires. How can you be thrilled when you don’t care about the conspiracy?