Better Left Unsaid

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In my last blog, I praised the writing and direction of Don’t Forget the Driver for often advancing the narrative wordlessly. I took it for granted that this is an admirable trait and that the opposite, overly heavy-handed exposition, is to be decried, mainly because the speech patterns involved sound so unnatural. Yes, the story has to be advanced, but, even if things are left unclear, I far prefer the minimalist approach and ambiguity can also be a positive virtue. A number of the current new batch of dramas and comedies (and, yes, dramatic-comedies) inspire me to expand upon this theme.

 

The gold standard in this regard is Stefan Golaszewski’s Mum, back on BBC2 (Wednesdays) for its 3rdand final season, and available complete on BBC i-player (and I Unknown-1must admit that I love this show so much I have already watched every episode twice!). As it is actually about a group of people who find it almost impossible to articulate their feelings, it is no surprise that what is left unsaid is more important than what is spoken. I noted in my blog about the second season, back in April last year, that that it contained a number of extended contemplative scenes and found all the characters in a limbo where nothing happened. Well, the third season finds matters resolving at last and difficult conversations are had, but Golaszewski still finds plenty of time for awkward silences and contemplative moments. One big difference is that the season covers a week in the characters’ lives, rather than a year, much as the final season of Him and Her (BBC, 2010-13) took the characters out of their bedsit for the first time. The setting is still a house, though a much grander one, and the action of each day seemingly takes place in close to real time, as before.

 

All the characters have moved on (just a little, of course) from the stasis of season two and their main problems I identified in my earlier blog seem resolved: Cathy and Michael know they want each other, though the difficulty in reconciling both Jason and Dave’s parents to this remains (and forms the main thread of the new season); Jason and Kelly have finally moved into their own flat and Kelly is pregnant (though hopelessly imagestrying to hide the fact); Pauline’s divorce has come through (and her settlement is paying for the week in the grand house), but she is still clearly uncertain about where she is going, and is as obnoxious as ever and doesn’t fit with the group; and Maureen’s dementia seems to have relented somewhat, possibly now that she has discovered the joy of the i-pad.

 

Making the silences and the awkwardness work is as much (if not more) down to the writing and direction, as it is to the acting.  Maybe that’s why Golaszewski took over directing duties for the second and third seasons – because he knew exactly where it was going, what he wanted and how it would work. Again, I mentioned in my previous blog how I was a little uncertain of his initial approach in the second season, but how it had been vindicated by the end – well, now it makes even more glorious sense. His plan was clearly fully formed.

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For me, the key silences of the current season occur in the scenes where Derek does not reply when Pauline asks if she is an awful person and the one between Cathy and Maureen in the final episode, where Cathy says what she wants about moving on two years after Dave’s death while Maureen simply stares silently into the distance. So much in Mum is unsaid or misunderstood that the moments of clarity and honesty are ultra-startling – most notably Michael’s declaration of love to Cathy, made with such gushing eloquence that it must have come as a shock to that usually taciturn character himself. It is inspired by, and echoes, Cathy’s similar outburst near the end of season two. Then there is the magnificent cheer-out-loud moment in the final episode when Cathy tells Pauline to go fuck herself (comparable in impact to David Brent saying much the same to Finchy in the Office finale). And the ending – oh, the ending! – as Golaszewski has his cake and eats it by rewarding us with the sight of Cathy and Michael happy together, but allowing his other cast members to critique it at the same time (“bit trite, just walking into the distance”).

 

It would be too much to hope that Mum should receive the honours it deserves in the categories it deserves them – in other words the proper acting awards, not the ones for comedy performance. I can only honour it by putting it straight onto my own shortlist, which I will also formally enlarge at this point with Back to Life, which finished very well since I blogged about it last time out. And one last aside about Mum – in my previous blog I wondered how the episodes would be titled, given that the first two series had used every month of the year. The answer was that each episode had a day of the week (given the contracted time-scale), from Monday to Saturday, as its title – this came up in white on a black background after the opening credits, which showed the imposing facade of the grand house, and in silence after the last strong beat of “You’re Gonna Miss Me When I’m Gone”, which made it look a bit like The Shining!

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Also in my last blog, I mentioned that new drama series by Russell T. Davies and Shane Meadows were on the horizon. These duly arrived in the same week, on consecutive nights, and so are not only ripe for comparison, but exhibit contrasting versions of the theme under discussion here. Davies’ Years and Years (BBC1, Tuesdays) follows a large family, focussing on four siblings, through a speculative future, beginning in the present. In so doing it addresses pretty much every current political and social issue and then some. The first episode breathlessly covered the years 2019 to 2024, ending in startling fashion with the start of a nuclear war. That, however, proves something of a damp squib (!), and the family’s travails are covered in more depth and at a (slightly) slower pace in subsequent episodes. It is very wordy, very frantic and it (just about) works because of Davies’ trademark wit, though as a speculation on what the future may bring it is no Black Mirror. The characters all have a function as conduits for various issues, but the strength of the cast (Rory Kinnear, Jessica Hynes, Russell Tovey, Emma Thompson et al) ensures that they are not just cyphers.

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This is Davies at his most unrestrained, which is not to everybody’s taste and not particularly to mine, as it can be very hit and miss, with plenty to admire, but almost as much to put you off. Last year’s A Very English Scandal was so good because he found an existing subject which fitted him perfectly. This is nearer to his earlier Cucumber (Channel 4, 2015) which contained some phenomenal moments (and one unforgettable episode in particular), but overall was less than the sum of its parts.

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By total contrast, Shane Meadows’ The Virtues (co-written with This Is England collaborator Jack Thorne) is brooding and intense. Where the opening episode of Years and Years raced through 5 years of narrative, the first of The Virtues covered two days representing a turning point in the life of semi-autobiographical protagonist Joseph (Stephen Graham). Indeed, the entire segment between the first break and the second consists solely of Joseph getting drunk after saying goodbye to his son, who is emigrating to Australia with his mother and her new partner, while the rest of the episode consists of his impulsive journey to Ireland to confront the ghosts of his past. Apart from a confrontation with a jobsworth in the ferry office, very little is said in any scene, but the presence of Graham keeps you riveted to the screen at all times. So far, the formula has been repeated across three of the four episodes as we gradually edge towards what Joseph must face up to.

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Now, obviously these two series are doing different things and the differing scales of narrative demand the different approaches, but for me the minimalist approach of The Virtues communicates a great deal more. Other recent dramas show yet further different approaches to the issue. Stephen Poliakoff has never been shy of employing expository dialogue, though it works better in his most recent offering, Summer of Rockets (BBC2, Wednesdays) than in some of his previous pieces. Indeed, the series itself works better than most recent Poliakoff, which had fallen into an overly-familiar and formulaic pattern of sameness. Despite the usual period setting and sumptuous visuals, this one actually has a decent storyline and some interesting characters and at least I haven’t given up at the first episode, as I did with each of his last three series. Episode two did contain one of the most ludicrous pieces of unnecessary dialogue I have heard of late, though, when a character woke up in bed after a dream sequence and exclaimed “thank goodness that didn’t really happen”!

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Sally Wainwright, on the other hand, has usually employed fairly pithy dialogue, at least images-3in her contemporary dramas, but give her a period piece and a sudden need to explain seems to take over. It certainly has in Gentleman Jack (BBC1, Sundays), which I’m afraid I have given up on. I should have known it wouldn’t be for me when the Radio Times described it as “roistering”, which is one of those buzz words which usually warns me off something (“caper” is another) – subtlety is what I prize most in drama.

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One more of the current glut of interesting dramas should be mentioned here, and it is one in which explanatory dialogue is very necessary but is perfectly naturally integrated in the script. I mentioned in my previous blog that Chernobyl (Sky Atlantic, Tuesdays) had started strongly and it has very much continued in that vein. The international cast is excellent, the locations totally convincing and the effects brilliantly handled, but the most impressive thing is how the magnitude of the event is conveyed in a way which has had a greater impact than any amount of documentaries or writing before – part of this images-4involves lengthy explanations given by scientists to government figures, just as I imagine must have happened in reality, but there are also plenty of moments where the visuals alone tell the story. It’s extremely impressive. Interestingly, Chernobyl also featured in one of the most striking sequences in David Attenborough’s new series for Netflix, Our Planet, in which he showed how nature is now reclaiming the abandoned and still poisonous townscapes near to where the disaster happened.

 

So, The Virtues and Chernobyl are hovering on the edge of my shortlist, awaiting confirmation when they finish, and I will update it at the half-way stage at the end of June. It has already been an outstanding year and I have a couple of recent documentaries to add to the list, plus 63 Up, which is on ITV next week and is, by its very presence, a certainty for the list before I have even seen a minute of it! I guess that is my next blog sorted.

TV Top Tens: No.1- British Sitcoms

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I’ve always intended to start blogging lists of my top titles in various genres, which will be a useful thing to return to in quieter periods, and I am inspired to start now by the list of Top 20 British Sitcoms in the current issue of Radio Times.  I enjoy lists and, much as with awards, usually manage to find something to annoy or even enrage me in them. Of course, it’s all opinion (especially when it comes to comedy!) and I would hope my own lists may cause rage in others – that’s part of the fun. The latest Radio Times list is actually pretty good overall and the reason for that is not hard to find: the list of 42 practitioners who voted on it contains many estimable names, including the likes of UnknownClement 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.

 

The Radio Times list has some other faults, too – there is nothing earlier than 1968, when Dad’s Army started, so nothing made only in black and white – even Whatever Happened to the Likely Lads? is specifically included without its monochrome predecessor, The Likely Lads. It’s usually the case that things which get regularly repeated stand a better chance of inclusion and the original Likely Lads is not only not in colour – much of it is missing. The biggest problem I find with so many lists is the lack of historical perspective – the most recent material usually predominates and, looking back on the roster of contributors to the Radio Times list, it is clear that those who would remember the earliest material are in a small minority.

 

There is one thing I need to get clear before setting out my own list and that is to define the parameters of the genre under consideration. In his inaugural 2017 Ronnie Barker imagesComedy 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.

 

One more consideration before I start – I am not including any titles which are currently still being made, though I may mention them, and some of the titles included here may yet return. Lists are always for future revision.

 

So, my top ten is:

 

  1. Steptoe & Son (BBC, 1962-65, 1970-74)

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Galton and Simpson’s masterpiece – a traditionally made studio sitcom which broke with tradition by casting straight actors in the lead roles and included moments of heartbreaking pathos amongst the laughs. These were real characters with real hopes and disappointments and, when it got serious, you could sense the audience’s uncomfortable reaction, which, of course, released itself in an even bigger guffaw when the laugh line eventually arrived. Four seasons were made between 1962 and 1965, then a further four from 1970 to 1974, when it returned in colour. I was proud to have played my part in recovering a dozen or so missing episodes in the nineties – Ray and Alan knew their worth and had kept them on an early and obsolete home video format.

 

  1. Fawlty Towers (BBC, 1975, 1979)

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Often a poll-topper (not only the Radio Times one, but the BFI’s TV100 in 2000) and for good reason: the highest laugh quotient of any sitcom ever; terrific characters, not all of them particularly empathetic, but all very human; brilliantly constructed plots; memorable quotes – “duck’s off”. It was traditionally made but its impact was revolutionary.

 

  1. The Royle Family (BBC, 1998-2012)

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The key title in the transition from the “traditional” to the “modern” sitcom, thanks to the vision of Caroline Aherne: filmed mostly on a single set, but without an audience, it’s stately pace and minimalist narrative contained a wealth of insight, character, warmth and unspoken humour. Laughter track my arse!

 

  1. Getting On (BBC, 2009-12)

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Certainly one which falls into the category of laughs not being the primary concern, nevertheless there were plenty of them and they hit home. With brilliant characters created and written by the three actresses performing them, and sensitive direction (in the first two series) by Peter Capaldi it literally laughed in the face of death. The final episode said more about life and death than almost anything else I can think of in any genre. The idea was so strong that the American version (made by HBO) was also excellent and Jo Brand has gone on to create more memorable work in a similar vein, Damned (Channel 4) being particularly outstanding amongst current sitcoms.

 

  1. Him and Her (BBC, 2010-13)

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Another minimalist piece, this time not just restricted to a single set, but each episode shot in real time, allowing us to take in the acutely observed characteristics of the sympathetic, though lethargic, central pair and their relatives and friends, who range from the inept to the hateful. When the “action” moves outside the bedsit for the climactic wedding specials, it is apocalyptic. Writer Stefan Golaszewski has since repeated the trick with the beautiful Mum, the resolution of which is eagerly anticipated.

 

  1. The Likely Lads/Whatever Happened to the Likely Lads? (BBC, 1964-66, 1973-74)

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Another sixties sitcom which was revived in the early seventies for colour TV, this could not simply replicate the previous format (as Steptoe did) but had to acknowledge that the lead actors had aged, thus introducing a narrative progression which became the series’ key strength. It became about the passage of time, about nostalgia and life progression and about social change in the north of England. It was also brilliantly funny (Clement and La Frenais) and perfectly performed by James Bolam and Rodney Bewes.

 

  1. The Office (BBC, 2001-3)

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Ricky Gervais and Stephen Merchant not only dispensed with a laughter track, they made a sitcom in the style of an observational documentary, which was a stroke of genius, but an extremely difficult thing to sustain convincingly as the plot became more complex. They pulled it off totally and their inspiration was responsible for so many iconic comedy moments.

 

  1. The Fall and Rise of Reginald Perrin (BBC, 1976-79)

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A trailblazing narrative sitcom in three distinct seasons, linked by memorable characters, all with their own catchphrases, and with Leonard Rossiter’s towering performance at the centre. The repetitive nature of the dialogue (“17 minutes late…”; ”I didn’t get where I am today,,,”; “cock up on the….front”; “I’m not a…..person” etc), creates an oppressive but secure world which simply cannot be escaped.

 

  1. Blackadder (BBC, 1983-89)

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Following Rowan Atkinson’s Edmund Blackadder and his familiar associates down through the centuries was a joy and the format allowed for constant renewal. Much of the humour came from anachronism, a very special trick which Ben Elton continues to show himself the master of in Upstart Crow (BBC), the best thing he has done since Blackadder.  Difficult to choose a favourite season, but if pushed I would probably go for Blackadder the Third.

 

  1. The League of Gentlemen (BBC, 1999-2017)

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Of all my choices, this is the one I think is most arguably not a sitcom – you could say that, with three performers taking all the parts, it is more a series of sketches linked by a fictional location, though with narrative continuity for each set of characters. But, having included it, a top 10 spot was assured. Its triumphant return at Christmas 2017 was testament to the strength of the format and the characters created for it.

 

I intended my lists to be top tens, but the Radio Times sitcom list is a top 20 and, for purposes of comparison, if I were to continue in the same vein, these would be my next ten choices:

 

  1. I’m Alan Partridge (BBC, 1997-2002)
  2. Father Ted (Channel 4, 1995-98)
  3. Till Death Us Do Part (BBC, 1965-75, ITV, 1981)
  4. House of Fools (BBC, 2014-15)
  5. Hancock’s Half Hour/Hancock (BBC, 1956-61)
  6. Red Dwarf (BBC, 1988-99, Dave 2009-17)
  7. The Thick of It (BBC, 2005-12)
  8. Peep Show (Channel 4, 2003-15)
  9. Detectorists (BBC, 2014-17)
  10. Fleabag (BBC, 2016-19)

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Some of these choices require little further justification, but others demand comment: it is hard to overestimate the importance of Till Death in its sixties heyday – the searing impact of the writing and performances – but unfortunately the inevitable focus on its treatment of race makes it difficult to assess in a modern context; in House of Fools, Vic and Bob were not only conquering yet another genre, having produced their own surreal versions of the variety show, the sketch show and the comedy quiz show, but, by using the traditional sitcom model (70s style), subverting it still further; Detectorists drew you in with its relaxed pace, but the shows just flew by – on so many occasions I was astonished to find it finishing when I thought I had only been watching for ten minutes or so (great direction by Mackenzie Crook) – and I’m really enjoying Toby Jones’ own creation, Don’t Forget the Driver, on BBC2 at the moment; and Fleabag has only just finished, though we are assured it is over, so it qualifies for inclusion and I have put it at 20 simply because it feels too soon to proclaim it an instant classic to rank alongside the others here – ask me again in a year’s time and I expect it to be in my top ten.

 

Last thoughts: having made such a fuss about the difference between “traditional” and “modern” sitcoms, I have (not deliberately) managed to come up with a list of 20 which contains 10 of each, evenly spread through the list. I’ve also included 11 of the 20 titles chosen by the Radio Times panel and regret not finding room for The Young Ones (and I suspect One Foot in the Grave is hovering just outside the 20 in both cases). So, I guess I must be reasonably in line with the consensus, but I’m sure there are plenty of things about my list which will make somebody angry – I do hope so!

 

Mum & Damned

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I usually put a basic descriptive working title on my blogs as I write them on Word and then try to replace them with something snappier for publication. In this case, I’m just going to keep the working title, because it somehow sounds right. So, this is about the two series named above.

 

In a blog back in December, I mentioned several series of 30-minute programmes which I said would be amongst my top 10 TV titles of this century and which, though they come from comedy, contain dramatic elements and realistic narratives which make them more like mini-dramas. My two favourites are Stefan Golaszewski’s Him & Her (BBC, 2010-13) and Getting On (BBC, 2009-12), co-created by Jo Brand. The most recent creations by both Golaszewski and Brand have just completed their respective second seasons and both go straight on to my running shortlist for the best of 2018.

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Mum (BBC2) doesn’t even run to 30 minutes now. Apart from the final episode, Golaszewski clearly thought that a 25-minute slot was enough to convey what he needed each time, and this season contained a number of extended contemplative scenes with minimal dialogue – the moment when Karl Johnson’s Reg was simply sitting and thinking about the loss of his son was a deft and necessary reminder of the background to the piece, even though the closing song is always there to reinforce the point that the key character is the one we never met. This has not only been a series where nothing has happened – nothing happening has been the point. All the characters have been in their own limbo for a second full year, as individuals as well as couples – Cathy and Michael still unable fully to understand or accept each one’s need for the other; Jason and Kelly constantly on the brink of moving to their own flat, though Jason clearly finds it Unknownunbearably difficult to leave his mum, both because of the loss of his father and his own domestic needs – meals and washing – which Kelly seems very unlikely to provide for him; Derek and Pauline waiting for the latter’s divorce to be finalised and hiding their own desperate insecurities behind their rather pathetic public personas; and Maureen and Reg, usually in the background, Maureen asleep and Reg seemingly waiting for the moment he will lose his wife as well, all the time tenderly checking that she is still alive, in between swearing and complaining about everything else.

 

I must admit, that, after three or four episodes, I was beginning to wonder if Golaszewski had made a mistake in not advancing any kind of plot dynamic. Nothing happened in the first series of Him & Her either, but the second series gave a definite sense of dramatic development, albeit by stealth. Maybe the difference is that Pauline, obnoxious as she is, lacks the malevolent narrative-driving presence of Laura in Him & Her. I was also concerned that maybe, by assuming the directorial responsibility as well (Richard Laxton directed all four series of Him and Her and the first of Mum), Golaszewski had made it just that little bit too introspective. But I shouldn’t have worried. The final two episodes put the previous four into a different light and completed a magnificent whole, which I am already looking forward to revisiting. In the final ten minutes a combination of Michael’s impending move to Spain and Jason’s clumsy attempt to preserve his own memory of his father by warning Michael against “stealing his wife” prompts Cathy into a desperate declaration of love which stuns both Michael and us. In the penultimate episode we have already seen her give Michael an impromptu hug which doesn’t seem to have advanced matters, so there is no guarantee this will, either. When they tentatively link hands while watching fireworks on bonfire night in the final image of the series we are reminded that the first series ended in much the same way on New Year’s Eve the previous year.

 

So, it is perfectly possible, when the third season arrives, that nothing will have changed, but I trust Golaszewski to have something very special in store for us and, whatever does imagesor doesn’t happen, we are going to miss it when it’s gone. It really seems superfluous to note that the acting performances are out-of-this-world wonderful, but, equally, it would be an oversight to write a blog about Mum without mentioning just how fantastic Lesley Manville and Peter Mullan are, as are all the cast (and a special mention for Karl Johnson as Reg this time round). So much goes unspoken, but you are in no doubt what the characters are thinking and feeling. One other point about the third series – it will be interesting to see how the episodes are titled. So far, each episode has had the name of a month as its title (each season covering a year in the characters’ lives), but all 12 have been used up now.

 

Damned (Channel 4), by contrast, is jam-packed with incident. There is more narrative in the overheard phone conversations than in an entire season of Mum. It also represents the completion of the transformation of Jo Brand from stand-up, presenter and panel show regular to the finest female writer and comic actor we have – and, whereas that was once the late lamented Caroline Aherne’s title for the taking, there is now a great deal of competition from the likes of Sharon Horgan, Julia Davis, Phoebe Waller-Bridge, Michaela Coel and Diane Morgan. But Brand has now been (jointly) responsible for two of the finest series of the last two decades. I regard Getting On as one of the greatest TV achievements of the 21stcentury: it was written and performed by Brand, Joanna Scanlan and Vicki Pepperdine (and the first two series were directed by Peter Capaldi, no less) and I always assumed that each was mainly responsible for their own character (much of it was improvised, anyway), with Brand providing the background knowledge from her time as a psychiatric nurse, which gave it such a ring of authenticity.

 

I believe subsequent career trajectories have borne out my assumption that Brand was the leading creative force behind Getting On (which, incidentally, translated very well to the US version, made by HBO under the auspices of its creators). Scanlan and Pepperdine collaborated on the less-than-inspired Puppy Love (BBC4, 2014), before returning to their acting careers (Scanlan to great acclaim in Paul Abbot’s No Offence for Channel 4), while Brand moved her character of Nurse Kim Wilde on to a brief but highly memorable three-part series, Going Forward (BBC4, 2016). At the same time, she created Damned in collaboration with Morwenna Banks, firstly as a pilot for Sky’s Playhouse Presents, in 2014, which was then developed into a series for Channel 4, with the addition of Will Smith to the writing team, debuting in 2016.

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Much as Getting On drew on Brand’s own experience of nursing, so Damned reflects her mother’s profession as a social worker in a children’s department. She seems to be playing a version of herself in all these series, but that is what makes it so effective and authentic. What is more, Damned is populated by brilliantly drawn characters, both the workplace regulars and the clients. Alan Davies, Kevin Eldon, Georgie Glen and Isy Suttie provide the sort of support you would expect from such reliable performers, but it is two of the other staff members whose roles are most striking: Himesh Patel as uptight ex-cop Nitin and Lolly Adefope as political jargon-spouting trainee Mimi. To cast minority actors in roles which seem mainly there to attract the derisive scorn of the veteran staff is a brave move, but one which works well, especially as both come good at the end of the second series and show a depth of character which is part of the success of the show. Nobody is a stereotype on Damned, and the writers deserve great credit for that. They also deserve enormous credit for producing a narrative and dialogue which delivers many laughs while also being shocking and provocative (sometimes all at the same time).

 

Not joining Mum and Damned on the 2018 shortlist, however, is Hold the Sunset (BBC1). I managed to watch it all and was mildly diverted by it, as anybody would be images-2watching John Cleese, Alison Steadman and Jason Watkins effortlessly investing substandard dialogue with the sort of comic potential it doesn’t deserve. The rest of the high-quality cast, including the aforementioned Joanna Scanlan and sitcom veteran Peter Egan, were largely wasted, though. And, unlike the other two shows, it was really trying to be funny.

 

As for recent new British dramas of a more traditional length, I also watched all of David Hare’s Collateral (BBC2) without being overly impressed, while I didn’t get beyond the first episode of Troy: Fall of a City (BBC1). Meanwhile, on Channel 4, Philip K. Dick’s Electric Dreams concluded its run with a couple of interesting stories but was inconsistent overall and no replacement for Black Mirror. However, I am currently gripped by one particularly impactful new drama, which I reckon is another certainty for the 2018 shortlist, but that will be for my next blog.