Ken Burns' Vietnam

So that's it. All over, just like that. A mere ten hours of compulsive watching, and we've done the Vietnam war. I remember, way back, watching the Ken Burns series on the American Civil War. A bit solemn, but so patient, and with wonderful photographs. The jazz was similarly good to look at, though a bit more controversial in terms of what he did and didn't cover, what kind of look-in contemporary music got. But Vietnam is safely distant in one sense, although - as the programme showed - in some cases the wounds still linger on. But the detail and the photos were stunning, and they've assembled an amazing array of witnesses - Americans, South Vietnamese, North Vietnamese, first hand accounts of what went on, from a range of angles. There is a sad, wise recognition that american exceptionalism has been a hugely expensive curse for the whole planet, let alone America, but although that wouldn't got down well in the White House for the rest of us it's long overdue. It's moving to watch people grow over the length of the war - how a loyal marine gradually becomes a vet against the war, and then witnesses John Kerry's astonishing testimony to congress about what the war has cost. Plus, of course, the astonishing soundtrack. We always said there was no time like the sixties, and here's the proof.   

Stewart on Lawrence

A real TV treat. To accompany the TV showing of Gertrude Bell's Letters from Baghdad, BBC4 have put out two one-hour episodes of Rory Stewart talking about the legacy of T.E.Lawrence.  It's been gorgeous - some fabulous photography of landscape and architecture, but also a detailed, clear analysis of what was going on in Lawrence's mind, and why that might matter now. And it's all done by a guy who idolised Lawrence as a kid, and then explored vast stretches of the middle East on foot, staying in bedouin tents. But also by someone who at a ridiculously young age was a governor in Afghanistan and Iraq, and who saw the idioocy of occupation in heartbeaking detail. as his conclusion spells out, it's tragic that the American military are encouraging their officers to study Lawrence - because he's a winner at fighting in the Middle East - whereas Lawrence himself would actually be telling them "don't do it better; don't do it at all." 

This series is from some time back - it shows Stewart walking thoughtfully through a Damascus souk - but I can't think how or why I missed it. Yet again, thank God for catch-up. 

Partition

There's been a ton of programmes about the India/Pakistan partition of 1947, almost all of them excellent. I feel substantially wiser, and grateful to all the people who've clearly taken this as an opportunity to invest time, thought and money in public education. Lord Reith, for once, might be smiling. Gurinder Chadha's "India's Partition:The Forgotten Story" was possibly the best of the lot, coming towards the end of the sequence, but offering a stunningly clear account of how different elements combined to produce this exceptionally bloody result. There was a lot of rather silly (apparent) toing and froing, from the UK to India, back to the UK and then to a different part of India, as though Chadha,, was jumping on and off various buses around London. But the quality of the programme was the expert witnesses it gathered to explain precisely what was going on, at each stage of the process, and from them we got the sense of how impersonal forces combined with individual personalities (Nehru, Gandhi and Jinna in particular, but also the Brits involved) to produce a toxic juggernaut which by the end was unstoppable - though it could certainly have been handled more wisely - i.e. by taking time, calculating likely consequences, rather than staying out of violent clashes and getting the hell out as fast as possible. There may be parts of our colonial record we should celebrate, but this isn't one of them. 

The State

You can't please some people any of the time. Peter Kosminsky spends a lot of time researching and then making the state, a drama in four parts, one hour each, shown on four successive nights. It's about Brits going to Syria in support of Isis. I thought it was fascinating, and really well done. A bit formulaic, heavily constricted by the need to get in tons of useful information that had been gathered, but not stupid or preachy, and light years ahead of most of the thinking that we get about Isis from politicians or the TV news. you could begin to understand why people like these could initially be attracted by some of what they hear, even if that - inevitably? - leads to later disillusion as they taste the grim and complex reality of what's involved. The Daily Mail was predictably scathing. Kosminsky was a white, middle-aged Oxbridge graduate - he hadn't actually been to Raqqa to find out for himself. Stuart Jeffies in The Guadrian wasn't much better: "Isis Drama fails to offer any answers on radicalisation." Oh right. That's why we watch plays, is it? So they'll give us the answers. Some days I think that if I could speak another language I'd emigrate.  

Hate and the Beautiful Game

It took me a while, but I finally caught up with Gareth Thomas' TV documentary about homophobia in English football. And it is that specific - there's a prominent gay American soccer player who's happy to have come out there, but wouldn't have done so here. And Thomas' own experience in British rugby (backed up by referee Nigel Owens) indicates that that's a much more civilised world in this respect. So Thomas goes looking for answers. He trawls through trolling on line, and listens to the abuse in the stands. He sees how some clubs are much better geared than others to combat it - Cardiff, for instance, have a well-trained team who will identify, remove and then ban fans who abuse black players - but would they be as vigilant about homophobic chants? As with Thomas' own case, it needs prominent players with the nerve to come out - and once that happens, they'll get backing from sponsors (great positive story) and some of the press. But before that happens, the powers that be need to get their act together, produce and then enforce a common pattern of resistance to open homophobia. Thomas tries. He really does. He works out a possible code of practice, with a supportive lawyer. He tries, endlessly, to make an appointment with one top official. He talks to another, gets a load of platitudes and good intentions, and comes out shaking his head "I don't know whether to laugh or cry." As a record of intelligence and determination confronting stupidity and inertia this is a wonderful programme; as an indication of the state of football, it's deeply depressing. 

Binge TV

It's all changed. Back in the day, I'd make a note of what I wanted to watch when, see in advance when commitments clashed with things I wanted to watch, and carefully set the video to record. Oh boy. those were the days.

Saturday night, I have the house - and the TV set - to myself. so I have four hours of solid viewing. an hour of Ozark, courtesy of Netflix. An hour of Top of the Lake:China Girl, which has just been launched, but launched with all six episodes available from the start, courtesy of iplayer. And then there's two episodes, back to back, of I Know Who You Are, thoughtfully transmitted on BBC 4.

Sheer luxury. and, sadly, all foreign. One American, one Australian, one Spanish. None of them perfect, but all stylish and compulsive, and streets ahead of recent Brit series I've sampled in hope and then given up on in despair - Fearless, In the Dark. Interesting ideas, promising starts, but  then they collapse in a tangle of implausible situations and ramped up hysteria.  

The Final Test

So that's it. All over. And nobody wins. But you can't complain, after three rugby matches of that intensity. I'm not a Sky subscriber, never have been, and probably never will be. But in a crisis I'm prepared to cadge, and my friendly neighbour Gary's been happy to oblige. that was for tests 1 and 2. For 3, as it happens, he's committed to a stall in Wenlock, and i'm collecting for amnesty in Newport, on the 11.00 am shift. So there's nothing for it - I'm driving to Newport at 7.30 am, so that I can be settled in the Pheasant before kick off at 8.30, can watch the whole game, and then go and rattle my tin on the streets.

What a game. Yes, the All Blacks had the chance, fluffed three tries and missed two very easy kicks. We didn't really get close to scoring - apart from an intercepted pass that nearly gave them a try - but we kicked our kicks, we made our tackles, and we held out the best team in the world. The two tries the all Blacks did score were truly clinical - they just see what needs to happen, and then do it, very fast - but the Lions didn't collapse, did hold together, and this was pure drama - all of us held together, daring to sustain the dream that we could - despite the odds, against all probability - survive. And thanks to canny Sam Warburton inviting the ref to look at the TMO, and eccentric Roman Poite reckoning that maybe it's accidental offside rather than the other kind, the Lions do scrape through. (See The Luck of the Draw in Poems from the News).   

Getting Over Brexit

Who's going to heal the wounds? Well, Grayson Perry, of course. He will chat up, collect photos from, a range of Leave and Remain voters. Then he'll put together two vases, which will contain the essence of the two sides, and bring them together in a finale of resolution. On a personal level it works well. He is possibly the most engaging interviewer on the whole of television, and his final coup - that if you ask Leave and Remain voters to send in photos of what they value, the results will be very similar - is clever and cheering.

But. But it isn't as simple as he implies. The deep bitterness among Remain voters is not just at the result. It's at the manner of the campaign - deceitful, calculating, demeaning. It's all very well to contrast Arron Banks and Gina Miller as emotion and reason, and say that Remain failed to find an emotional approach that resonated. True enough, but what was he looking for? "Follow LEAVE logic, and you end up killing Jo Cox?"  Arron Banks is personable and witty, but he also spent seven million pounds quite deliberately appealing to brute racism. Perry had one casualty of that, the single migrant in Boston brave enough to appear on camera, and he's still paying the cost. Is everything still OK, Grayson? I think not. 

Three Girls

I don't believe it. I raved at the start of this week about the great TV that was about to be screened, and left out one of the best bits. Three Girls, yet again, sounds appalling but wasn't. I wasn't even sure I'd fit in the time to see it, because there was so much else that I knew I wanted to watch. But then Saturday night arrived and there was nothing on, so I gave it a go - watch for ten minutes, see what it's like. I watched all three epidoes, back to back, over three hours. It's a  painful, patient account of the Rochdale Grooming case, focussing very closely on three girls, who were mates for a time but had very different experiences of and attitudes to what went on. The writing and the acting were stunning, with a heartbreaking analysis of exactly how and why various agencies failed to actually do anything useful to stop this abuse. Very closely based on meticulous research, this showed a police officer getting very close to victims of a crime, falling out with their superiors, and retaining strong links with the victims after they had left the service. Which is also exactly what happened in the final episode of Little Boy Blue, shown on Monday. If I were in the police, that's a coincidence that would worry me.  

Good TV

Oh wow. Just wow. Every week i make this list of what I want to watch on mainstream TV in the week ahead, and it's often very thin. But this week, for some reason, the schedules abound with riches. The last instalment of Little boy Blue, about the killing of a young Everton fan. Should have been deeply depressing, but was done with real sensitivity and conviction. Good documentaries on people facing death, and the historical roots of ISIS; again, don't sound cheerful, but both stimulating and well done. And then there's OJ Simpson:Made in America, five hours of quality documentary, shown an hour at a time over five successive nights. We haven't been spoiled like this for years, and it may never happen again, but I'll grab it while it lasts.

Born to Kill

Sad how TV won't even look at any drama unless it's got some sort of a crime involved. Born to Kill is somewhere in the middle of the heap, not brilliant, not terrible. it's got some pretty crude psychology underpinning it - son of murderer turns out to be psychopathic killer, just like his dad - but a rivetting performance by the lad himself, who's clearly one to watch. Out on the fringes, though, is Daniel Mays as an ex-policeman going through a tricky time. He's a really good actor but he's made a mistake. This is a crap part, lousily written, which makes him look like a pathetic wimp and doesn't give him the chance to build anything of any interest. A tough reminder, as if we didn't know, that it has to be there in the writing or it won't be there at all. 

Line of Duty (again)

Yes, I know. I wrote about this only a couple of weeks ago, bemoaning the fact that it was trying to do action movie stuff when that isn't Mercurio's strong suit. But what is? This is. Tense interrogation stuff, dripping with political manoeuvres, and a devilish capacity for surprise. It all seems to be going according to plan, as the good guys move in on the seriously weird inspector, with an impressive chain of evidence closing around her - when suddenly she's turning it into a serious complaint about unfair treatment, superbly backed up with a ton of her own evidence, which they're forced to watch unfold before their unbelieving eyes. and yes, of course it helps that it's Thandie Newton doing her thing, but it's not just her. The whole thing is gripping, important and convincing. Quite magical.  

Line of Duty

And here we go again. that tense feeling, as a familiar favourite returns to the screen, and you start to wonder "Is this the time they're going to cock it up?" I've been a Jed Mercurio fan since way back (Cardiac Arrest, anyone?), and I love his sense of the politics of places of work, the tense conversational battles for power. He was brilliant on the NHS, and who can blame him for moving into the police, because that's what it has to be about if you want to be on TV. He's got great dialogue, a terrific cast, and fabulous ideas. So why this compulsion to shunt it towards an action movie, as though we were all sitting there getting bored? L o D 4 starts with a tense situation, and Thandie Newton - what more could you ask? But the cliffhanger at the end of the episode is an unconvincing showdown fight that makes me wonder if i'm going to be able to keep watching. It's Ok, Jed, it really is. What you do is terrific. You don't need to tart it up with third-rate Hollywood.

Over the cliff with Brexit

So if I'm going to claim to be an informed citizen, I ought to grit my teeth and watch the Brexit documentary. So glad I did. Nothing much there to cheer me, but I feel wiser, and clearer in my mind.

First off, we do not want a second referendum. Well, we might want the vote, but we certainly don't want the campaign - and the rage and spite of Brexit voters denied their due. It was sad to watch the Lib Dem man struggling to convince Leave voters that most young working migrants don't come to these shores to claim benefits. he's spoken to the migrants and these people haven't, but they've read the Daily Mail and they know they're right.

The real horror show, though, was the MPs. Johnson, Gove and Davies were cheery and bullish, confident that everything would be fine despite clear evidence from the programme and their interviewer that it might not be as simple as that. The Eu can't afford for us to end up better than we were; all EU negotiations take for ever, and are cobbled together at the last minute; substantial identified groups in the UK are going to suffer badly from this deal. So what? They know they've won, and their whole background and identity tells them that blustering through and sounding confident will be enough. Theresa May feels she has to honour the result of the vote, but the vote was always a lie - "Hey, let's just do it!"  We can't just do it. It will be complicated, and if the people in charge of our side of the negotiations think it's simple then it won't end well. We'll get a choice between a lousy deal and no deal at all, and what happens then? 

Prime Suspect?

Prime Suspect 1973. Well, that's what they call it. Much better, much more honest, not to pretend that there's any connection, but we know telly executives, they just can't leave a good thing alone. So I give it a try, just for an hour, and for most of that I'm wishing I hadn't bothered. It's all centred around her - hey, she's Jane Tennison, but younger - so the camera dwells on her, senior officers look for her reaction, the script hastily scurries around to make sure that we know she's young and keen and eager to succeed, even though her family don't understand...

Give me a break. In fact, I gave myself a break. I sat down to watch the original, all three hours and twenty minutes of it, just to remind myself what we've all been missing. It's stunning. And she's a bitch. Driven, selfish, deeply inconsiderate - but rivetting. There's a confidence in the writing, direction and acting that this is important, is worth doing well, which is much more compulsive than the anxious circling around of the current prequel. As they used to say on lemonade bottles when I was a kid "BEWARE OF IMITATIONS."   

Brilliant Broadchurch?

That's what the - misleading - Guardian headline said next day. the "brilliant" actually referred to Series 1, which I agree was stunning. Series Two was a mess (described on this blog, on Jan 6 2015) and it was the triumph of hope over experience to imagine that Series Three would be anything at all, but still, optimist to the end, I gave it a try.

It opened with a stunning procedural sequence, where the victim of a rape went through the process of examination - a slow, respectful piece of observation which was almost like a silent ritual. The David Tennant character, who would very soon reveal himself to be as selfish, impulsive and insensitive as he always was (and needs to be, for the grit of the series), somehow magically maintained a positive calm throughout. but then we have to fit all the old characters into the story, and the sound of creaks got louder. I turned off when Olivia Colman was required to act totally stupid when discovering that her son in school had been involved in handling porn. Sorry. Olivia Colman's not stupid, Ellie in Broadchurch is not stupid, I can't be doing with this...

It was once a good, maybe great, series. don't milk it. Leave it alone. 

Morgan and Farage

Yeah, OK. I should have known. Piers Morgan and Nigel Farage, on screen together for an hour; how can that possibly end well? But I just thought, it might be an interesting take, a different view. Sadly, no. There was a brief moment when they really were at loggerheads, simultaneously shouting at each other with Farage, as ever, relying on bluster to get him through. But Morgan's chosen battleground was "eccentric members of UKIP I have known", which wasn't the point, and which Farage rightly dismissed. the point is the social consequences of Farage's rhetoric, the people who get beaten up, even killed, as a result of promoting "Britain First." We didn't get much about that.

What we did get was Morgan's fantasy, that one day Trump might be in charge of america, Farage in Number Ten, but "Where's my gig in this?"  widespread laughter, and applause. This, after all, is about celebrity vanity, and how good and witty we look. I shan't make the same mistake again. 

Tom Waits

A glorious Tom Waits tribute on BBC4, featuring some fabulous clips, and knowledgeable comments from people who've played with him, as well as devoted fans who've spent a lot of time listening to him - Guy Garvey, Ian Rankin. I have one CD (though that may well change in the next few days) which I love taking on long car journeys, but there was a ton of stuff about his development and endless variety of styles which was new to me. But the icing on the cake, necessarily, was the man himself, who's a stunning incarnation of creative independence. Who else would look at an awards ceremony honouring his contribution to music, and pronounce: "I don't have any hits, and I'm difficult to work with - but they say that as though it's a bad thing."  Maybe I am getting old, but I'm telling you, they don't make them like that any more. 

The Moorside

It didn't sound that promising. gloomy, sordid case (the Shannon Matthews kidnap, cooked up by her mum and a relative), protests by relatives of the girl concerned, and snide rumours about locals being paid for their involvement...money involved in making TV. who knew? Sheridan smith would of course be brilliant, but otherwise...

How wrong can you be? This was a consistently intelligent, sensitive two-part documentary, which wasn't at all interested in the sordid headlines. The core of it was a powerful triangular relationship, involving the sad mum at the centre of it all, and two of her friends, one a passionate activist who wants to assert the qualities of the estate in sticking together, the other more cautious, more sceptical, and quicker to the truth. All three were terrific. We end up sadder and wiser, thinking through what's gone on - high quality TV.   

Apple Tree Yard

The four-part TV series Apple Tree Yard was promoted, very heavily, as finally supplying the truth about middle aged women and sex. I nearly ditched it after the first episode, which had much heavy breathing, instant coupling and a ton of loose ends. A friend persuaded me that episode 2 was an improvement, and by the end I was happy to watch through 3 and 4 to the end. The family stuff, excellently acted, was much better than the sex stuff, and most of the court case was well done.

Until the very end. There's her and him, being tried for murder and manslaughter. they work through the verdicts, him first, with the foreperson simply giving the jury's decision.. Murder? "Not guilty." Her, for murder?  "Not guilty."  Him for manslaughter. "Guilty." Her, for manslaughter? Big pause. "We find the defendant..." another big pause..."not guilty." It's pathetic. In real life, the four verdicts would be given in exactly the same way. But saying " We find the defendant..." every time would slow things down. On the other hand, they can't resist the chance to milk it, to keep us wondering at home, will she go down or not? It would be nice to be treated like an adult.