You’d have thought that lockdown would have given me plenty of opportunity to write more blogs, but it is well over a month since my last – not because I have not found plenty to think about, but because I have needed to wait for an appropriate moment to reflect on the current TV landscape and to complete viewing a few series which are vying for places on my (now) increasing shortlist, as well as to consider some of the more remarkable results of production under the restrictions of social distancing. So, there’s a lot to catch up on.
Clearly, there were plenty of series already made before the imposition of restrictions which have been released recently, though the broadcasters are wisely spreading them more thinly than usual to make them last until production can return to something approaching normality. These are “normal” programmes (the first of three categories to consider) and where better to start with them than the biggest hit of the last weeks, the appropriately titled Normal People (BBC3 on BBC1).
I actually watched it on BBC1 because I wanted to experience the episodes as a regularly transmitted weekly treat, rather than devour them all at once. This was a good choice, because Normal People actually came across as something of a throwback rather than a modern piece of drama. Its virtues were traditional – a gently unfolding love story; 
brilliantly acted and directed; dialogue which seemed highly conventional rather than being idiomatic of “today’s young people”; lovingly photographed Irish rural landscapes and Dublin vistas. It also allowed a chance to compare the styles of the two excellent directors who realised it – Lenny Abrahamson for the first six episodes and Hettie Macdonald for the remaining six. Would it be a case of the male vs the female gaze? Abrahamson’s approach seemed the more restrained – the pace was slower and the characters artfully framed, with Marianne (Daisy Edgar-Jones) shot in softer focus and often backlit, to emphasise her fragility, while Connell (Paul Mescal) was regularly lit from the side to emphasise his strong features. Macdonald’s episodes were stronger on the key scenes and moved the plot more briskly (she is a veteran of Doctor Who). Of course, this difference was almost certainly down to the content of the episodes, as plot developments came more regularly later in the series, as well as some important location shifts, including Italy and Sweden. However, the fact that two of the MacDonald episodes came in at 25 minutes, while the rest were 30, would seem to bear out my observation, at least in part.
Anyway, the whole thing was totally enthralling and enjoyable throughout and would have been a must for my shortlist even in a normal year.
Last year, I noted in my blog of April 9th how much I had enjoyed the first season of Ricky Gervais’ After Life (Netflix) but reluctantly declined to shortlist it on the grounds that I felt it was not something which had particularly extended Gervais’ considerable 
capabilities. I have no such qualms about the second season, which is in much the same vein, but which now looks like a fully settled sitcom. Characters who had existed mainly in the background of the narrative (and are played by some outstanding performers) were given greater weight this time around, so that it felt more like an ensemble piece. The melancholy feel was still there, but there were considerably more laughs – some sequences, most notably the climactic talent show, had me in tears of laughter. Paul Kaye’s psychiatrist was revealed as a distant cousin of The Office’s Finchy, while Ethan Lawrence as James is clearly the new James Corden (as if we needed one). I’m really pleased to add it to the shortlist.
Also returning for a second series was one of my favourites of 2018: Homecoming (Amazon) continued the story of the first season, though without Julia Roberts. The structure was similar – a main character (Janelle Monae) who has forgotten her role in the Geist projects and spends the series trying to figure it out. It also continued the tradition of having a single directorial vision: this time Kyle Patrick Alvarez, taking over from Sam Esmail and doing a good solid job, though not quite as spectacularly. It was certainly a worthy successor to the brilliant first season, though not quite up to the same standard and, according to my usual practice in such circumstances, not one for the shortlist.
The main attraction of Run (Sky Atlantic) was its connection to Phoebe Waller-Bridge. It was created by her regular collaborator, Vicky Jones, and Waller-Bridge appears in a supporting acting role, as well as being Executive Producer. The premise is clever, the lead performers excellent and the pace frantic. There are a number of great plot twists and at times it comes across as a bit like a mini-Fargo, especially when a quirky female cop character is introduced. The ending was a disappointment in a Killing Eve sort of way, because it is so clearly set up for a second season, without being as conclusive or as satisfactory as the twisting plot required. I enjoyed it, but don’t think I’ll be back for more.
Currently, Michaela Coel’s I May Destroy You (BBC1, BBC i-Player) is looking like it may turn out to be something of real significance, but I am watching it as it is transmitted, so will return to it in a later blog. Meanwhile, The Salisbury Poisonings (BBC1) crept in under the wire – it was apparently shot before lockdown but edited and post produced under social distancing conditions. It is solidly made and performed and has a suitable gravitas, as well as a relevance to the pandemic, but there is not a great deal more to it than a dramatisation of the events of the time. If Run is a mini-Fargo, then The Salisbury Poisonings is a micro-Chernobyl.
As broadcasters have run short of new production, two new styles have emerged: existing programmes adapting to lockdown conditions (“normal” programmes done in a “new” way) and “new” forms of drama and comedy, made under lockdown conditions, the emergence of which I speculated on in my last blog.
To briefly consider the normal programmes, newly made: two entertainment programmes particularly rose to the challenge and actually improved a lot as they got used to the new production methods: Have I Got News for You (BBC1) seemed a bit lost 
without its studio audience at first, but as it adapted, the standard of the humour rose. I have always contended that the true sign of whether something is funny is when you experience it without anybody else laughing and thus prompting your own laughter, and HIGNFY made me laugh out loud many times during its recent socially-distanced run – in particular, Paul Merton’s dry asides were more easily audible than usual. Later, on Friday evenings, The Graham Norton Show (BBC1) proved that it is Norton’s interviewing skills, rather than the interaction of his guests, which is the real secret of the show’s success. But my favourite adapted show of the lockdown has to be Match of the Day : Top 10 (BBC1). At first it seemed like a poor substitute for the real thing for we football-starved fans, but it developed into something very special in its own right. The wonderful rapport between Lineker, Wright and Shearer, even though contributing from their own homes, produced many brilliant moments and the unguarded candour of their conversations was a revelation. Ian Wright in particular was on great form throughout. It may have started as a podcast but seeing the three of them interacting so brilliantly made it great TV.
And in the last few weeks, “new” dramas and comedies have begun to emerge, made under lockdown restrictions. The best of them was also the first to appear. Isolation 
Stories (ITV) was shot in the homes of the actors involved, sometimes with members of the same acting families playing related characters (Robert and Tom Glenister as a father and son) or with family members acting as directors and camera operators under remote professional instruction (Eddie Marsan’s wife Janine – in real life a make-up artist). The fact that all four 15-minute dramas worked so well as drama, while at the same time illuminating aspects of lockdown, is mainly down to writer Jeff Pope, whose idea it was. It was certainly an innovative way of making drama, not least because so many union rules must have been broken. The practicalities of making the series were discussed in this BFI panel – normally, such a thing would have taken place onstage at BFI Southbank but is here necessarily and appropriately virtual:
The episodes of Isolation Stories struck me as being rather like mini-Inside No 9s – they used the same single location format, some of the themes were similar and there was the presence of Sheridan Smith. Now, if only Pemberton and Shearsmith were working on a No 9 lockdown special! Maybe they are, but in the meantime, Isolation Stories makes the shortlist for producing such good episodes in such difficult circumstances.
The BBC’s response, Unprecedented, also did a good job in the circumstances, though with less ambition. The episodes were of similar length but opted for mainly presenting the drama through computer screens and that is not even a new approach (the Stephen 
Mangan series Hang-Ups did much the same a couple of years ago). Also, there was a more didactic and drama-doc feel about the series: the writers were often making points about the crisis rather than using it as a backdrop for the drama – a worthwhile thing to do, for sure, but not as satisfying as the real drama of Isolation Stories, from which similar points emerged without feeling forced.
Most recently, Staged (BBC1, i-Player) joined the ranks of the computer-screen genre and, though clearly set in lockdown, attempts to generate both character and comedy from the situation. Michael Sheen and David Tennant are playing themselves attempting to rehearse their postponed play in virtual space. Their banter is reminiscent of that between Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon in The Trip, but I’m not going to call It a mini-Trip (I’ve used that device enough in this blog) because it just doesn’t have the locations. It’s diverting enough, so far, and may develop into something more.
More comedy was to be found in Comedians at Home Alone (BBC2) which allowed some well-known comedians to contribute brief self-recorded segments from their homes. It was a good idea but, inevitably, the standard was uneven.
So far, most of the “new” forms I have seen have been “about” the lockdown rather than ordinary dramas or comedies, though the imminent re-makes of Alan Bennett’s Talking Heads will break that trend, but judging from the trailers, they will be much as the original versions, so nothing “new” there – just a great idea for the times. But if no really new forms have yet emerged, one point is still worth noting: all the programmes I have listed above were of 15 minutes’ duration. Will the most lasting effect of production under lockdown be that there will be more shorter programmes, or will things just revert to normal when it is “all over”? We shall see.
With less and less original production available, I have, of course, turned to my DVD and Blu-ray collection more and more of late. And I have finally taken the plunge and begun the marathon of watching The Sopranos from beginning to end. That will, no doubt, inform a future TV Catch-up blog. It’s going to take some time, but I have plenty at the moment.
Clement and La Frenais, Linehan and Matthews, and Barry Cryer. However, there is a glaring omission – even these luminaries have somehow managed to produce a top twenty sitcoms list containing nothing by the generally acknowledged masters of the genre – Galton and Simpson. This is not just an oversight – this is mind-bogglingly wrong.
Comedy Lecture, Ben Elton made the case for the traditional sitcom, recorded in a television studio in front of a live audience, and argued that it is a classic genre which is nowadays looked down upon by devotees of newer forms of comedy, made on location without a laughter track. Now, I am probably one of those Elton is thinking about – most of my favourite TV of the past two decades (both British and American) has been half-hour shows which are ostensibly comedy, but which have a serious edge (sometimes a very serious edge). Some of them are made primarily for laughs, but some are not – some are closer to drama than comedy (and never mind the duration). Another thing that sets them apart is narrative development across episodes, whereas a traditional sitcom usually has self-contained episodes which could be shown in any order. There could certainly be a separate list of half-hour comedy-dramas, but it would contain mostly recent material. Perhaps that is one for the future, or perhaps some of the titles may belong on drama lists, but for the present I am going to include both traditional studio and modern single-camera sitcoms on my list, as did the Radio Times, because I can’t think of any better way to do it.
And it was great to see an uncharacteristically unsympathetic performance from (surely soon to be Dame) Olivia Colman, though it is not the only thing on my shortlisted programmes from the first quarter to contain such a thing, as you will discover. An aside on Les Miserables: I was, unfortunately, unable to avoid a spoiler broadcast on BBC2’s quiz Only Connect (of which I am a devotee) just a week before the final episode aired. This came in the form of a question in which the teams were asked to find the connection between four names, of which Inspector Javert was one – the answer being that they were all fictional characters who committed suicide. Don’t they check these things?
campaign in the 2016 referendum. It contained eye-catching, though slightly caricatured portrayals of most of the well-known political figures involved in the debate, which is why Cumberbatch could convince so well as the unknown central figure. It was a timely reminder of how we got into the current mess, though the continuing coverage of the most recent political machinations has rendered it somewhat less remarkable.
in its own right and well told using a classic mix of interviews and archive, but the subsequent revelations that they were part of a cruel and secretive psychological experiment leave you simultaneously shocked and intrigued by the contribution of the results to the nature vs nurture debate.
enough material for four hours of air time. Much better was David Bowie: Finding Fame (BBC2), the third part of Francis Whately’s outstanding trilogy about Bowie, this time looking at his rise to prominence and featuring excellent archival materials. It was a great watch and I am reluctant to leave it off the shortlist, but it is the trilogy that is the really impressive achievement, rather than this particular part.
90s, that is not the case today. His decline and fall has been brilliantly chronicled in I’m Alan Partridge (BBC, 1997-2002) and Mid-Morning Matters (Sky Atlantic, 2012-16), plus a few occasional specials, but this latest development has stretched things too far in striving for familiar comic effects – he truly belongs on North Norfolk Digital, where the humour comes from subtle exchanges. By contrast, the final series of Sharon Horgan and Rob Delaney’s Catastrophe (Channel 4) was well judged and the ending was perfect, but the season as a whole was no advance on the previous ones, which still makes it pretty damn good, but, without the impact it made on its first appearance, not quite shortlist material any more.
Thomas and a marvellous scene in which Andrew Scott’s priest challenged Fleabag’s fourth-wall-breaking asides to the audience, which indicated that she had at last found somebody who understood her, but maybe even put us, the audience, in the same position for her as his God is for the priest. All that and even a variant on the classic fart-in-a-lift joke – wonderful writing. The supporting cast is magnificent, with Sian Clifford outstanding as Fleabag’s sister Claire and, of course, Olivia Colman as the villain of the piece.
the Phoebe Waller-Bridge connection. Both are series in half hour episodes which mix a comedic approach with startling developments to exhilarating effect and both feature women in all the leading roles. So, here are my reasons why Fleabag is better than Killing Eve:
Comedy has regularly used the adult “simpleton” as a staple character and a source of (often cheap) laughs. Some performers created comic personas which can only be understood as adults with (usually mild) learning disabilities – Jerry Lewis and Norman Wisdom spring to mind. The character of Frank Spencer in Some Mothers Do ‘Ave ‘Em (BBC, 1973-78) falls into this tradition and even the person I regard as the greatest comic genius of the 20thcentury, Stan Laurel, is not entirely immune from inclusion in this list. The only comedy character I can recall whose learning disability was acknowledged was Dennis Dunstable in LWT’s Please, Sir (1968-72). However, I should also mention in this context Caroline Aherne and Craig Cash’s wonderful Mrs Merton and Malcolm (BBC, 1999) in which Malcolm’s learning disability was not acknowledged, even though that is the only credible explanation for the character. Described by Time Out (!) as “possibly the most disturbing show on television”, it only ran for one much misunderstood series.
generally conclude that Derek is the one who has things figured out, because he is always so cheerful. That helped me to change my own feelings about Hanna’s condition from one of regret that she will never have a “normal” life to one of acceptance and even gladness that her constantly happy attitude will persist. When you have no concept of what your life could have been, you will have little experience of disappointment, so it should not be a cause for regret. It is possible that this attitude of mine is something of a cop-out for my own peace of mind, but it works for me: besides which, ensuring that she continues to have the appropriate secure environment is enough to keep me occupied. As for Derek, it is also a good example of the sort of series I referred to at the start of this blog – one for which my enthusiasm is engendered by personal connection but is out of step with the general critical consensus.
satisfactory independent life for her disabled daughter – a problem she remarkably solved by outliving her. One of my favourite recent documentaries is How to Dance in Ohio (HBO, 2015) which was about the organisation of a formal prom for a group of autistic youngsters – it was emotional and inspirational, and I certainly recognised my own life in it from accompanying Hanna to the school and college proms and discos which she loves.
stage play which had both film and television adaptations. It has a similar dark humour to There She Goes and was also based on the writer’s own experiences, but it dates from an era when disability was more a private affair and the girl’s disability is severe cerebral palsy. There She Goes is pretty much contemporary to our own experiences and also features a child with undiagnosed disabilities similar to Hanna’s, though a little more severe and much more disruptive.
at work while she had to cope with her worries about Hanna in isolation, so it was very hard for her to watch this and Pye (a writer on Have I Got News For You – my favourite comedy panel show) wisely sought his own wife’s input for the character of Emily, which meant it was spot-on. One flashback scene struck me particularly, because it contained a piece of dialogue which came pretty much verbatim out of my own mouth back in about 2003: after a visit to our excellent consultant neurologist, who was organising all sorts of tests for Hanna, none of which produced a conclusive diagnosis, I wondered aloud whether he was partly motivated by the possibility of getting a syndrome named after himself, as does Simon.
And it was mostly on the BBC that some shows (it seemed to me) started to fight back against this cultural vandalism. The Fast Show interrupted its end credit sequence with its trademark brief sketches, Tony Garnett’s The Cops used police radio chatter instead of a closing theme tune (difficult to talk over) and the medium-savvy Charlie Brooker directly challenged the BBC to interrupt his closing sequence on one of his “Wipe” shows (which they did, in good humour of course). Over on Channel 4, Chris Morris left the end credits off Jam entirely, replacing them with a web address where he had posted them (jamcredits.com – though you won’t find them there any more, just a commercial for how to build your own website).
was that Chris Martin was such an egotist he even insisted on singing the closing song himself. But the joke went even further, because there was no voice over to spoil it. Was the joke that Martin even insisted on singing uninterrupted by continuity? And did Gervais need to negotiate this with the BBC for it to work? Whatever, it only works in the context of every other end credit sequence in the series being interrupted – in other words the joke only works “live”, which makes it really ephemeral!
occupy more half the screen, while Channel 4 splits it in half and has clearly asked its suppliers to provide programmes with credits which only run on the left side of the frame, so they are designed for this form of presentation rather than lost in the squeeze. ITV and Sky still regularly squeeze the credits into a quarter of the screen, though, and, of course, they all continue to use voice over.
TV for Keeps 