for once, a sniff of good news. Well, good news for me, and remainers. For passionate Brexiteers, not so much. three commons defeats for May, and - I think - the most crucial is Grieve’s, giving Parliament the decisive voice about no deal. so if there’s no parliamentary majority for a hard Brexit, and there is a Parliamentary majority against no deal, what we’ll get is either something Norway-ish, or a second referendum. Right? You just don’t know these days, but this does feel like progress. Yes, it’s a shambles, and the continuing uncertainty is a pain for anyone conducting serious business, but nobody conducting serious business can be cheered by these negotiations, or the deal that’s come out of them. I can see the rage that will follow - “So what were we voting for?” - but the phrasing of the question was so inept, the nature of the campaign so negative and divisive, that it’s hard to call anything “the will of the people” - especially with the bacjground mutters of illegal approaches and demographic change. It was a mess, and if MPs are finally resolved not to mortgage our future for a mess, I for one am mildly relieved.
Wonderful little nugget within the BBC documentary about the workings of the Foreign Office. Boris Johnson is being briefed by his expert advisor, before he gives a speech in Paris. He’s rather inclined to do the speech in French. She’s not sure about this, and if he plans to do it she wants to see the script. she’s worried that there are nuances he may miss, things he’ll simplify. He burbles a bit in French, as if to demonstrate just how fluent he is. she stays quiet and tight-lipped. Her French is streets ahead of his, but she’s focussing on the job that needs to be done. He’s busy preening, and the whole trip is regularly interrupted by the need for Boris to pose and record a little snatch for his Twitter feed, which he keeps having to reshoot because he gets things wrong. We were paying for all of this, just like Londoners were lashing out thousands for the various vanity projects that marked his time as Mayor. Dangerous to be too confident, but it does finally look as though we’ve seen the end of the illusion that this vain charlatan might be a possible candidate to be in charge of the country.
Philip Alston, UN rapporteur on poverty, has looked at how the UK operates and says that it’s a disgrace, callous and mean-spirited. Amber Rudd, restored to the cabinet and in charge of DWP, is eager to demonstrate her loyalty and brands Alston’s report “political”. Maybe she means “moral” - because that’s the main basis for his disapproval. than again, Rudd could be right. Because the really deadly thing Alston did was to listen, very carefully, to people at the sharp end. You can see snatches of news reports where he’s doing it. He’s not grandstanding or interrupting, he’s encouraging people to talk. What was their experience? How had they been treated? He puts that together with the figures, and comes up with a pretty damning picture. Rudd insists that she’s not dogmatic, is perfectly willing o listen to expert critics who phrase their criticisms in a way she approves - but what she won’t do is pay serious attention to the people on the receiving end. that’s the beauty and the power of Alston;’s approach, which is why this government sees it as such a threat.
There’s a lovely moment in the documentary about the making of “They shall not grow old” when the woman from the Imperial War Museum describes Peter Jackson’s decisive pitch - “I want to make something which will interest 15-year old kids in the First World War.” He said it, and he meant it, and the resulting collaboration is just stunning - old footage, painstakingly converted into colour, with sound effects added, plus a running commentary precisely selected from hours of recorded archives. There’s no central character, no personal drama, but if you were teaching this in school, this is the resource you’d want to have.
And then there’s Peterloo. Similar case, really. Important part of our history, often not taught, and certainly not taught in detail. Mike Leigh’s film was made for all the right reasons, and wears its heart on its sleeve, but there’s no way any teacher’s going to be showing this to their kids. It’s solemn, far too long and desperately one-sided. If the Prince Regent, the government and the local bigwigs are just going to be shown as “people in costume who don’t care”, why bother giving them screen time? We could have the marchers’ eye view, powerfully presented, in half the time. I wanted to like this, wanted to recommend it, but came out of the cinema bored and angry. .
Today’s Guardian reports that the Saudis have paid the Natural History Museum £23,700 to host an event, days after the Khasoggi killing. Phrased like that, it sounds brutal and calculating, but it probably is. There was another instance earlier, when a member of the Saudi court expressed dismay at the disloyalty of the Turkish government in releasing details of the killing. “We’d given them a lot of money”, he said, as though that really was the only hing that mattered. It clearly is to Trump, but that’s one of the reasons many of us find him repulsive. Killing off a journalist because what he’s writing is embarrassing isn’t OK, no matter who you are or how much money you’ve got. So all we need are some politicians who grasp that, and are prepared to act on it. Don’t hold your breath.
Phew! We got within a point of beating the world champions. Closer than that, we scored a brilliant try which was disallowed after the TMO overruled the ref, but the TMO’s not supposed to do that unless there’s a clear…blah blah blah. On the other hand, if you have a 15-0 lead against the All Blacks and you let it slip, maybe you don’t deserve to win. and we did get a one-point win against the Springboks, on the basis of a very flukey TMO decision, so maybe that’s quits. We had chances, we made mistakes, the line-out was a shambles, and the All Blacks are very resilient. and maybe if the weather had been dry and more conducive to really good rugby, they’d have thrashed us. but it was exciting, and much more cheering than the slough into which the vaunted England team has slipped over the last year. so maybe a bit of the Eddie Jones magic still survives. It was certainly worth watching.
People keep referring back to Bodyguuard as the revival of watercooler Tv, the moment when we were all spellbound by great television. As I’vve explained in a previous post, I don’t share this enthusiasm (though I’m a massive Jed Mercurio fan), but catching up with other stuff makes me even more mystified by this chorus of praise. Informer, for instance, seems to me much better. As it happens, there are a number of close points of comparison. Paddy Considine also acts the part of a troubled male with a grim past, but he does it with more conviction and variety, and the impact on his partner is much more carefully traced. The working context of the two main detectives is depicted in much more plausible detail than the endlessly complex netwioorks hinted at in The Bodyguard. And as for the depiction of Asian characters - Informer wins hands down. One of its triumphs has been the close, heartbreaking depiction of a very particular family with Pakistani roots - light years ahead of the extreme cartoon of the woman in Bodyguard - look, she’s a passive female stereo type - oh no, she isn’t, she’s a calculating killer! So if I end up buying the box set of one of these, it won’t be The Bodyguard.
Oh dear. It would be almost funny if it wasn’t serious. Donald Trump is slowing the pace right down, looking even more self-important than usual, and asking his citizens to come together. Yeah, right. If you say that someone who bodyslams a report is “My kind of guy”, then it’ not totally surprising that another of your supporters thinks it’s a good idea to post a pipe-bomb to CNN. Which makes it slightly tricky if you then want to do the wise leadership thing of asking your countrymen and women to join together in unity and peace.
Making connections, planning consequences, is not something he’s ever had to do, because he’s bought his way out of it, or pretended that the messy results don’t matter. But the running the country stuff really is quite complicated, and you need to think about what you do and say in advance. There may still be enough intelligent adults left in the administration who know this, and could explain it, but somehow I don’t think they’ll get the chance. Trump doesn’t want to listen to anyone except his chanting fan base, and to them he’s bragging about how well he’s behaving, because he and they know this is just a short charade before he goes on the rant again. But we all hold our breath,wondering if the mid-term elections will make any kind of a difference. Experience warns that we shouldn’t be too hopeful. There are, it seems, plenty of Americans who really think this is the best they can manage.
I’ve said it before, but we really are being spoilt with the drama. some diappointments, admittedly. I wrote about Bodyguard on 26.9.18. I had high hopes of Black Earth Rising (spending time and effort exploring the complex morality of Rwanda’s emergence from mass killings, but it’s drifted into self-important solemnity, with Hugo Blick’s vanity being fed right over the top:look, he doesn’t just write, produce and direct - he’s also an actor!
But don’t despair. there’s also Killing Eve, Vanity Fair, The Cry and probably other good stuff I’ve missed. Certainly Informer was far better - tougher, livelier, more complex - than I’d feared it might be, and thanks to reviews I’ve been able to catch up on Butterly. No, a three part drama about a transgender boy/girl on ITV wouldn’t have been my first choice, but it is by Tony Marchant, and it’s definitely worth a look. So, blessings to the gods of television drama, who are keeping us generously supplied. And there’s still Little Drummer Girl to come.
A series of three documentaries, about the recent history of Syria. But with a strong emphasios, and for good reason, on Basher’s family. He’s not meant to be running the country; older brother is being groomed for that, but older brother dies in a car crach. Basher, the shy eye surgeon with the liberated, modern wife, suddenly has to fit in the mould that’s waiting for him - heir to the hawkish, defiant Dad. Ruthless suppressor of criticism or dissent, which actually means he will end up opposed to all the things that he and his wife originally intended to support. Through a series of crises and accidents he blunders his way into destroying large parts of his country, killing his subjects, driving them out of their homes - and all thetime he sounds like an amateur actor who hasn’t learnt the script. There were moments when it could have been different, when advisors with more vision offered him alternatives, but no. He chose to keep his mum happy, to fit into the mould, to make the lying speeches claiming he was defending the country from terrorism, while driving it relentlessly towards oblivion. Heartbreaking, but also fascinating in a morbid kind of way.
That’s the title of Arron Banks account of the campaign, and it catches his self-image perfectly - the cheeky rebel who sticks it to the posh guys who think they know more than he does. It has its down sides. People who work for and with him are frequently exasperated, but he cheerily waves that aside as one of the perks of the job - theirs, presumably.
There is, though, interesting stuff on the details. There’s a mass killing in Orlando, by a Muslim fanatic. Banks and Co surge into gear, offering this as a warning against uncontrolled immigration - though the guy responsible was born and bred American. Farage produced his Breaking Point poster, but has reservations - Banks says it’s fine. It just states the facts. (Really?) Jo Cox is shot. Banks tells Farage he needs to go on radio and apologise for the poster - which has been misinterpreted.
It’s all ruthlessly calculated. don’t say what’s true, say what will get the topic on the agenda. People being horrified is great - it extends the coverage. Banks insists he’s personally charming, not a racist bone in his body, Russian wife etc etc but the impact of what he does and what he spends is massively divisive.
We have, it must be said, paid our dues. Arsenal fans have put up with a load of rubbish and heartbreak over the past few years, so it’s good to have something to warm the cockles of our hearts. Our third goal (from a 5-`1 demolition of Fulham, admittedly) was a thing of beauty - the ball caressed from one player to the next with a series of deft, outrageous touches which somehow transported it from one end of the pitch to the other, enabling Ramsey to guide it into the net with a sublime conjuror’s flick. OK, we haven’t beaten anyone good yet, and the defence very much remains a work in progress, but emery works and he cares, and he’s got the team looking a lot more lively than they have for years. We’ll settle for what we can get, and count ourselves lucky.
That’s right, you can’t escape them. They’re always on the news. But seldom as graphically as today, with tons of footage of them plotting surveillance in the Netherlands, and being tracked every step of the way. Receipts for Russian taxis, compromising documents and equipment - if you were setting out to frame them you couldn’t do it better.
They are, of course, shameless. they will deny everything, scoff and obfuscate, and part of the point of doing it is to show that they can get away with it and they don’t care, but there must nonetheless be some murmurs of discontent swirling around. and there’s news of Putin’s failing popularity - nothing to do with spying on the West, or spending a fortune propping up Assad - he’s not looking after the people at home, and they’ve finally begun to notice. Whether anything will come of this we can only guess - or hope - but it’s cheering to see a few cracks develop in that forbidding edifice. On the other hand, there’s no way that he’ll go quietly or calmly - contriving an end to his supremely profitable control is not going to be easy.
Yeah, all right. There’s always a pleasant little frisson in Europe beating the USA at anything, but particularly at golf, and this year, when everything on paper seemed to point to an American win. and this year there’s the added poignancy that we apparently care less about Europe than ever, thanks to this daft vote bequeathed to us by the lovely David Cameron - and the one benefit of Brexit, So far as I’m concerned, is that it rid us of Cameron and Osborne. But back to the golf…
It seems to have been a total triumph for Thomas Bjorn. the simple prooof of that is the number of points gathered by the “captain’s picks” - golfers who wouldn’’t automatically expect to be there on their current record, but players whom the captain backs to come up with the goods on the day. And the points score for captain’s picks goes “Europe 9 and a half, USA 2 and a half.” Which is seven points difference, almost exactly the difference between the two teams.
Furyk picks Woods and Mickelson, which doesn’t seem like a bad idea - but he doesn’t have the warm, intelligent planning for teamwork which Bjorn has obviously put in, and is passionately appreciated by everyone in the team. All of them contributed, even if they weren’t all used all the time - and keeping those restless egos happy can’t be easy. A stunning triumph of leadership.
Oh dear. Always a Jed Mercurio fan, from Cardiac Arrest on, I have to confess that - despite the hoopla - I thought this was the worst of the lot. It’s partly that although killing off Keely Hawes is a brave, intuitive move, she’s far and away the best of his leading pair, and being left with Budd to rant on his own isn’t that great a pleasure. It’s partly that it takes on far too much. There’s the bodyguard and the minister; there’s the police and the secret services; and now there’s organised crime as well; and if we follow them closely we’ll find who the mole is that’s been leaking all the police secrets - oh, it’s her…whoever she is. There are so many people involved in this intricate web that we don’t know any of them well enough to care. In Line of duty there’s a clear context within which characters work, and we have some sense of their interaction and relationships. Here Budd is always on his own, occasionally meeting up with odd police officers, but not really working with anyone. And then there’s a massive set piece in which he decides to defuse a suicide vest which is far too risky for the explosives expert to tackle - his estimate of his own powers is roughly on a level with Donald Trump. But hey, give the guy a break. He’s been in Afghanistan, he’s suffering from PTS - oh no he isn’t, he’s back with his wife and kids, driving off happily into the sunset….sorry, Jed. It’s dangerous for you to be left alone with all this power. Somebody needs to be reining you in.
OK, it may not be the end, but it could well be the beginning of the end. Theresa May’s beloved Chequers deal, enthusiastically supported by hardly anyone in the UK, is no more attractive to anyone in the EU. They’ve been constructive and polite, but they are finally deciding that time is short and the UK government needs to face reality. Ministers, meanwhile, are chasing around like eager school boys, trying to do solo deals behind the EU’s back - such a cunning plan, that. It has been a total embarrassment, and it’s not surprising that Labour have been happy to stand back and let them make very public fools of themselves, but we really are getting closer and closer to some kind of crash. As I indicate in my current poem, The Brexit Bus (see Poems from the News, elsewhere on this website), where for once I find a suitable central image to convey what I want to get across. It’s not cheering, but it is convenient.
More documentary gold, more pleasure available on catch-up. Didn’t fancy it from the title - “who do these northerners think they are, calling themselves mighty” - but was totally wrong and am delighted to have the chance to change my mind. There’s incidental stuff which isn’t incidental at all - like a brilliant overall commentary, some fabulous photography and really classy contemporary music, all of which add to the pleasure. But the real joy of it is the sympathy with which people are dealt, sometimes even dozy, loser-type people who delude themselves entirely. The stories centre on young people at a very tough time, some of them ludicrously talented, others not so much. but they’re all treated sympathetically, and we get to know and care about them. There’s also a powerful strand running through it, of older mentors, relatives, friends who are looking out for these kids, and trying to help them succeed against the odds. it’s on catch-up. It’s not too late. Go and have a look.
There’s a ton of stuff to watch at the moment, lots of it drama, so I tend to skim over the documentaries. But Linda’s much keener on them, and sometimes as I clock in at 10.00pm to pick up some news I catch the end of something she’s been watching. This is how i latched on to “Passage to Britain” and I’m so glad I did. Kid simple idea. Pick three passenger liners, coming from India to Britain, in 1930s, 1940s, 1950s. Pick out some interesting characters, and tell their stories. Except there’s a lot more to it than that, hours of work and research, and presumably an endless budget. Yasmin Khan is talking to a woman in England about her childhood in India, when hey - she takes her back to Calcutta. All right for some. and Yasmin’s a bit special. she looks like an eager sixth-former, all round faced and enthusiastic, but she’s very clear about the bad stuff - the racism experienced by these people who came here to better their lives, often with our encouragement or at our invitation. It’s a really good, detailed, informative story, and i thank the telly gods yet again who have given us catch-up.
I always have a number of library books on the go, and of course I enjoy some more than others. Yesterday I went into Telford, and saw on their new books shelf "Normal People" by Sally Rooney. I'd reserved it already from the Wenlock library, but hey, why wait if you don't have to.
I had a nighttime novel I was in the middle on - William Boyd's "Sweet Caress". It's decent, readable, interesting - covering a huge watche of history, with a neat use of photogrphs running through the book - the central character is a photographer. But it's a man pretending to write as a woman without total conviction, and it feels a bit pedestrian.
Finding myself awake in the middle of the night, I pottered downstairs and gave myself a treat - started "Normal People." Oh, wow. The electricity of reading a writer who really knows what she's doing. The reviews all raved about this, and they're not wrong. Utterly convincing, compulsive reading - this is the real stuff. It'll break my heart when I finish it, but it's not going to take me long.
Lots of hysteria about Bodyguard, which is fine. I'm a big Mercurio fan, and will happily watch anything he's created. But won't someone say just how clear, careful and intelligent Mother's Day was? the story of the Warrington bombings, and what followed from them. Irt actually suggested a closer link between the parents of the teenager who died and the Irish mother who campaigned as a result, but that's OK. There was nothing articicial or contrived about this, just a measured, slow look at what was happening to the people involved.
for which you need really good actors. Anna Maxwell Martin, Vicky McClure and Daniel Mays is a good start, but the whole thing oozed class and care, avoiding all the plentiful booby traps into which a quicker, louder, shallower production might have fallen. We didn't have to watch people endlessly sobbing to the sound of violins. But they did turn away, restrain themselves, disagree, and have moments of utter helplessness - just like real people. Nobody else is making much fuss about this, but I will - catch it while you can.